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The plows had made a narrow path down the center of the two southbound lanes。 Now Janas steered into the thicker snow to the right of this path； the truck's wheels spurning up a haze of snow which the wind quickly whipped away。 The guardrail reflectors were very bright； glaring in the dark like cat's eyes。
pull over here
Janas screamed with pain。 From a great distance he heard himself shouting； 'Okay； okay； I am！ just stop it！ Quit yanking me！' Through watering eyes he saw a dark form rear up on the far side of the guardrails not fifty feet ahead。 As the headlights struck the shape fully； he saw it was a man wearing a parka。
Andy Janas's hands no longer felt like his own。 They felt like gloves with someone else's hands inside them。 This was an odd and entirely unpleasant sensation。 They turned the steering wheel farther to the left entirely without his help； and the pickup truck coasted to a stop in front of the man in the parka。
3
This was his chance； with Mr Gray's attention entirely diverted。 Jonesy sensed that if he thought about it he would lose his courage； so he didn't think。 He simply acted； knocking back the bolt on the office door with the heel of his hand and yanking the door open。
He had never been inside Tracker Brothers as a kid （and it had been gone since the big storm of '85）； but he was pretty sure that it had never looked like what he saw now。 Outside the dingy office was a room so vast Jonesy couldn't see the end of it。 Overhead were endless acres of fluorescent bars。 Beneath them； stacked in enormous columns； were millions of cardboard boxes。
No； Jonesy thought。 Not millions。 Trillions。
Yes； probably trillions was closer。 Thousands of narrow aisles ran between them。 He was standing at one edge of eternity's own warehouse； and the idea of finding anything in it was ludicrous。 If he ventured away from the door into his office hideout； he would bee lost in no time。 Mr Gray wouldn't need to bother with him； Jonesy would wander until he died； lost in a mind…boggling wasteland of stored boxes。
That's not true。 I could no more get lost in there than I could in my own bedroom。 Nor will I have to hunt for what I want。 7his is my place。 Wele to your own head； big boy。
The concept was so huge that it made him feel weak 。 。 。 only he couldn't afford to be weak right now； or to hesitate。 Mr Gray； everyone's favorite invader from the Great Beyond； wouldn't be occupied with the truck driver for long； If Jonesy meant to move some of these files to safety； he had to do it right now。 The question was； which ones？
Duddits； his mind whispered。 This has something to do with Duddits。 You know it does。 He's been o your mind a lot lately。 The other guys were thinking of him； too。 Duddits is what held you and Henry and Pete and Beaver together … you've always known that； but now you know something else； as well。 Don't you？
Yes。 He knew that his accident in March had been caused by thinking he'd seen Duddits once again being teased by Richie Grenadeau and his friends。 Only 'teased' was a ludicrously inapt word for what had been going on behind Tracker Brothers that day； wasn't it？ Tortured was the word。 And when he'd seen that torture being reenacted； he had plunged into the street without looking； and…
His head was off； Beaver suddenly said from the storeroom's overhead speakers； his voice so loud and sudden it made Jonesy cringe。 It was laying in the ditch and his eyes were full of mud； A d sooner or later every murderer pays the price。 What a fuckarow！
Richie's head。 Richie Grenadeau's head。 And Jonesy had no time for this。 He was a trespasser in his own head now； and he'd do well to move quickly。
When he had first looked out at this enormous storeroom； all the boxes had been plain and unmarked。 Now he saw that those at the head of the row closest to him were labeled in black grease…pencil： DUDDITS。 Was that surprising？ Fortuitous？ Not at all。 They were his memories； after all； stored flat and neatly folded in each of the trillions of boxes； and when it came to memory； the healthy mind was able to access them pretty much at will。
Need something to move them with； Jonesy thought； and when he looked around he was not exactly amazed to see a bright red hand…dolly。 This was a magic place； a make…it…up…as…you…go…along place； and the most marvelous thing about it； Jonesy supposed； was that everybody had one。
Moving quickly； he stacked some of the boxes marked DUDDITS on the dolly and ran them into the Tracker Brothers office at a trot。 He dumped them by tipping the dolly forward； spilling them across the floor。 Untidy； but he could worry about the Good Housekeeping Seal of Approval later。
He ran back out； feeling for Mr Gray； but Mr Gray was still with the truck…driver 。 。 。 Janas； his name was。 There was the cloud； but the cloud didn't sense him。 It was as dumb as 。 。 。 well； as dumb as fungus。
Jonesy got the rest of the DUDDITS boxes； and saw that the next stack had also acquired scribbled grease…pencil labels。 These latter said DERRY； and there were too many to take。 The question was whether or not he needed to take any of them。
He pondered this as he pushed the second load of memory…boxes into the office。 Of course the Derry boxes would be stacked near the Duddits boxes； memory was both the act and the art of association。 The question remained whether or not his Derry memories mattered。 How was he supposed to know that when he didn't know what Mr Gray wanted？
But he did know。
Mr Gray wanna go south。
Derry was south。
Jonesy sprinted back into the memory storehouse； pushing the dolly ahead of him。 He'd take as many of the boxes marked DERRY as he could； and hope they were the right ones。 He would also hope that he sensed Mr Gray's return in time。 Because if he was caught out here； he would be swatted like a fly。
4
Janas watched； horrified； as his left hand reached out and opened the driver's…side door of his truck； letting in the cold； the snow； and the relentless wind。 'Don't hurt me anymore； mister； please don't； you can have a ride if you want a ride； just don't hurt me anymore； my head…'
Something suddenly rushed through Andy Janas's mind。 It was like a whirlwind with eyes。 He felt it prying into his current orders； his expected arrival time at Blue Base 。 。 。 and what he knew of Derry； which was nothing。 His orders had taken him through Bangor； he'd never been to Derry in his life。
He felt the whirlwind pull back and had one moment of delirious relief … I don't have what it needs； it's going to let me go … and then understood that the thing in his mind had no intention of letting him go。 It needed the truck； for one thing。 It needed to shut his mouth； for another。
Janas put up a brief but bitterly energetic struggle。 It was this unexpected resistance that allowed Jonesy time to remove at least one stack of the boxes marked DERRY。 Then Mr Gray once more resumed his place at Janas's motor controls。
Janas saw his hand shoot out and up to the driver's…side visor。 His hand gripped the ballpoint pen and yanked it free； snapping the rubber band which held it。
No！ Ja