The Pigman's Legacy (The Sequel to The Pigman) by Paul Zindel

blocking your road?” the old man asked.
    I watched John's face get very serious. For a moment it seemed as though his expression was registering fear. His skin stretched and his jaw quivered, and a moment later it seemed taut with anger. I became very frightened that something horrible was happening to John, like he was on some kind of a crazy mushroom trip, overdosed on imagination . “John, what are you doing?” I asked. I watched as his mouth began to open, and the answer came out. “I'm throwing rocks at it.… I'm kicking it.… I'm trying to smash the wall, but I can't! I can't! ” John almost cried!
    “That is the wall of death,” the old man said, his voice starting to crumple, “and it means that when it comes time for you to die, you will fight against it with all your might. You will fight and you will struggle, and you will claw at it. You will do everything possible to escape it!” Suddenly the old man leaned back in his chair. His eyes closed, and I thought maybe he had died. Instead he started to snore. The paper he had been drawing upon fell to the floor and I scooped it up. John and I looked at it and we could practically feel the Pig-man had returned and was looking over our shoulders.

     

seven
     
    I resent Lorraine saying that my cheeks turned red when it turned out that I had seen such a terrific Tree of Sex. Maybe my face was red, but it wasn't because of the guy saying I was going to be lucky in love. It was because it was getting a little hot in the house. Besides, I was the only one wearing a sweater. The old guy was just sitting there in a pair of dark, shiny trousers and a shirt that looked like it had been borrowed from a bus driver. The poor old guy had some fudge and energy, and there wasn't much else we could do right then and there. But no , Lorraine was just itching to get us into trouble, to get us more involved. She stood there making a big fuss over the man like a vampire actress waiting for a character she could really sink her teeth into. Finally he came out of his stupor and I asked the guy his name.
    “What?” the old man asked, like I was just inquiring about the most absurd thing in the world.
    “I said, ‘What's your name ?’”
    The old man looked like he was really straining his brain, and finally he whispered, “ Gus .”
    “What?” Lorraine asked.
    “ Gus ,” he said again, this time more strongly. And suddenly he sat bolt upright in his chair, his eyes flickering with life. “I just had a vision,” he said.
    “A what?” I asked.
    “A vision,” he said. “Come closer. I can't keep straining my voice or it will disappear.”
    Lorraine and I did as he asked.
    “What vision?” Lorraine wanted to know.
    The old man closed his eyes for a second as though rechecking his images. When he spoke he sounded like a desperate little boy. “I need you to help me,” he said. “I left something at the town house, and I need you to take me back there. My trunk , I need my black trunk .”
    I could see Lorraine's face light up. Even my nostrils twitched as though I sensed an adventure.
    “How can we take you?” Lorraine asked. “Shall we call a cab? Or go to Eddy and Victory and take the bus?”
    “I've got wheels,” Gus said, sticking the rest of the fudge into his shirt pocket. He began to struggle with a dull-brown cardigan sweater, shoving his arms into the sleeves with excitement.
    “Help me stand up,” he ordered, “and get me to the garage.”
    Lorraine and I looked at each other, and this time we knew that unless we walked out of that house alone, just the two of us, and left the old guy there right that minute, we would end up getting so involved we could never let go until we knew his whole story. Lorraine made the decision for us as she moved quickly to one side of the old guy and I got on the other, and we became a pair of human crutches. We lifted him up onto his feet and then we started to walk him like a giant Barbie doll. Once we got him