Read Online Hearts In Atlantis by Stephen King - Free Book Online Page B

“Signs that my . . . my old friends are about.”
    â€œWhat are they?”
    â€œOn your travels around town, keep an eye out for lost-pet posters on walls, in shop windows, stapled to telephone poles on residential streets. ‘Lost, a gray tabby cat with black ears, a white bib, and a crooked tail. Call IRoquois 7-7661.’ ‘Lost, a small mongrel dog, part beagle, answers to the name of Trixie, loves children, ours want her to come home. Call IRoquois 7-0984 or bring to 77 Peabody Street.’ That sort of thing.”
    â€œWhat are you saying? Jeepers, are you saying they kill people’s pets? Do you think  . . .”
    â€œI think many of those animals don’t exist at all,” Ted said. He sounded weary and unhappy. “Even when there is a small, poorly reproduced photograph, I think most are pure fiction. I think such posters are a form of communication, although why the men who put them up shouldn’t just go into the Colony Diner and do their communicating over pot roast and mashed potatoes I don’t know.
    â€œWhere does your mother shop, Bobby?”
    â€œTotal Grocery. It’s right next door to Mr. Biderman’s real-estate agency.”
    â€œAnd do you go with her?”
    â€œSometimes.” When he was younger he met her there every Friday, reading a TV Guide from the magazine rack until she showed up, loving Friday afternoons because it was the start of the weekend, because Mom let him push the cart and he always pretended it was a racing car, because he loved her .But he didn’t tell Ted any of this. It was ancient history. Hell, he’d only been eight.
    â€œLook on the bulletin board every supermarket puts up by the checkout registers,” Ted said. “On it you’ll see a number of little hand-printed notices that say things like CAR FOR SALE BY OWNER. Look for any such notices that have been thumbtacked to the board upside down. Is there another supermarket in town?”
    â€œThere’s the A&P, down by the railroad overpass. My mom doesn’t go there. She says the butcher’s always giving her the glad-eye.”
    â€œCan you check the bulletin board there, as well?”
    â€œSure.”
    â€œGood so far, very good. Now—you know the hopscotch patterns kids are always drawing on the sidewalks?”
    Bobby nodded.
    â€œLook for ones with stars or moons or both chalked near them, usually in chalk of a different color. Look for kite tails hanging from telephone lines. Not the kites themselves, but only the tails. And  . . .”
    Ted paused, frowning, thinking. As he took a Chesterfield from the pack on the table and lit it, Bobby thought quite reasonably, quite clearly, and without the slightest shred of fear: He’s crazy, y’know. Crazy as a loon .
    Yes, of course, how could you doubt it? He only hoped Ted could be careful as well as crazy. Because if his mom heard Ted talking about stuff like this, she’d never let Bobby go near him again. In fact, she’d probably send for the guys with the butterfly nets . . . or ask good old Don Biderman to do it for her.
    â€œYou know the clock in the town square, Bobby?”
    â€œYeah, sure.”
    â€œIt may begin ringing wrong hours, or between hours. Also, look for reports of minor church vandalism in the paper. My friends dislike churches, but they never do anything too outrageous; they like to keep a—pardon the pun—low profile. There are other signs that they’re about, but there’s no need to overload you. Personally I believe the posters are the surest clue.”
    â€œÂ â€˜If you see Ginger, please bring her home.’ ”
    â€œThat’s exactly r—”
    â€œBobby?” It was his mom’s voice, followed by the ascending scuff of her Saturday sneakers. “Bobby, are you up there?”

III. A MOTHER’S POWER. BOBBY DOES HIS JOB. “DOES HE