Wild Cards [07] Dead Man's Hand (47 page)

His hand was on the doorknob when Digger called out after him. "Ackroyd."

Jay looked back over his shoulder. "Yeah?"

Downs regarded him thoughtfully. "How much money?" the reporter asked.

Midnight

They stopped at the Red Apple Rest, a twenty-four-hour restaurant on Route 17. Brennan got out and went inside. "I need seventeen cheeseburgers, twelve foot-long hot dogs with chili, three with mustard and sauerkraut, twentysix large fries, fifteen Cokes, ten Seven-Ups, and one large coffee. Black."

"Jesus, mister," the counterman said, "what ya got in your van, a pack of starving animals or something?"

"Just a few friends," Brennan said, laying his money on the counter.

Brennan turned as the counterman went to fill his order, and looked back over the parking lot. The moon had nearly set. Hanging on the rim of the horizon, it looked to Brennan like a skull, smiling. It took little imagination to add eyes of deepest blue and lips of coral red. He smiled back as it slipped below the horizon, and said softly, "Good-bye."