Transcriber's Note:
This etext was produced from Fantastic Universe March 1954. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.
to remember charlie by
by ... Roger Dee
Just a one-eyed dog named Charlie and a crippled boy namedJoey—but between them they changed the face of the universe... perhaps.
nearly stumbled over the kid in the dark before I saw him.
His wheelchair was parked as usual on the tired strip of carpet grassthat separated his mother's trailer from the one Doc Shull and I livedin, but it wasn't exactly where I'd learned to expect it when I rolledin at night from the fishing boats. Usually it was nearer the west endof the strip where Joey could look across the crushed-shell square ofthe Twin Palms trailer court and the palmetto flats to the Tampahighway beyond. But this time it was pushed back into the shadows awayfrom the court lights.
The boy wasn't watching the flats tonight, as he usually did. Insteadhe was lying back in his chair with his face turned to the sky,staring upward with such absorbed intensity that he didn't even know Iwas there until I spoke.
"Anything wrong, Joey?" I asked.
He said, "No, Roy," without taking his eyes off the sky.
For a minute I had the prickly feeling you get when you are watching amovie and find that you know just what is going to happen next.You're puzzled and a little spooked until you realize that the reasonyou can predict the action so exactly is because you've seen the samething happen somewhere else a long time ago. I forgot the feeling whenI remembered why the kid wasn't watching the palmetto flats. But Icouldn't help wondering why he'd turned to watching the sky instead.
"What're you looking for up there, Joey?" I asked.
He didn't move and from the tone of his voice I got the impressionthat he only half heard me.
"I'm moving some stars," he said softly.
I gave it up and went on to my own trailer without asking any morefool questions. How can you talk to a kid like that?
Doc Shull wasn't in, but for once I didn't worry about him. I wastrying to remember just what it was about my stumbling over Joey'swheelchair that had given me that screwy double-exposure feeling offamiliarity. I got a can of beer out of the ice-box because I thinkbetter with something cold in my hand, and by the time I had finishedthe beer I had my answer.
The business I'd gone through with Joey outside was familiar becauseit had happened before, about six weeks back when Doc and I firstparked our trailer at the Twin Palms court. I'd nearly stumbled overJoey that time too, but he wasn't moving stars then. He was juststaring ahead of him, waiting.
He'd been sitting in his wheelchair at the west end of thecarpet-grass strip, staring out over the palmetto flats toward thehighway. He was practically holding his breath, as if he was waiti