"You first," said the boy to the girl.

"No, you."

"You tell."

"You."

Somehow we finally got out of Indiana.

19. I Wish I Had a Wish

The clouds over Jersey had cleared off, and I could get a good look at the countryside. Unlike those in Pennsylvania, most of the Jersey trees and bushes were still green. At first I thought they must all be pines, but then a chilling thought hit me. The porkchop bushes and fritter trees had taken over!

"Could you fly a little lower, Sondra? I want to see something."

"Okay."

Sure enough, the trees were heavy with orange fruit, and the bushes were greasy with meat. These mutant plants seemed to actually be undermining the other vegetation; as I watched, a stately elm tottered and crashed to the forest floor. The fritter trees had eaten its roots.

"What are those big plants?" Sondra asked. "Are those the food trees you were talking about?

"Yeah. Let's land and take a look."

The porkchop-bush thickets were so dense that we couldn't reach the ground. Instead we perched in the fork of a two-hundred-foot fritter tree. From below you could hear the porkchop bushes growing — they made a steady rustling. In the distance, a mighty oak went crashing down.

"Like kudzu," said Sondra. "The vine that ate Dixie."

"Kudzu?"

"It's a Japanese vine they brought into the South to stop erosion. It stopped the erosion, but pretty soon it covered all the other plants up. Not really all of them, but —"

"Well, these things are killing all the other plants. They're tearing down the other trees and eating them!"

"It's really out of control," said Sondra. "You feel how this tree is growing?"

Indeed, our tree was lifting us upward like a slow-motion Jack's beanstalk. Peering down through the leaves, I saw a deer that had been strangled by a porkchop bush's runners.

"These things are going to take over the whole planet!"

"Looks like you've got another wish to make, Joe."

"Oh, brother. Nancy's going to be sore about hunger. Nothing is working out the way it was supposed to. You see now why I just ask for money? It's the only safe wish."

I remounted Sondra and we flew back up into the sky. Here and there were a few remaining patches of real trees, but the green stain of the mutant food plants was spreading steadily. A few isolated farmhouses had been taken over as well. I wondered if the farmers had been able to escape.

New Brunswick looked the same. Troops all around it, and the streets full of Herberites. We whisked in through Harry's bedroom window and hurried down the hall.

Harry was passed out at the kitchen table, his face in a plateful of candied yams. Antie was busy keeping Harry's followers from coming up to visit the throne room.

"Our leader is meditating," she called down the stairs to them. "He is receiving truth."

"Looks like he received a whole fifth's worth."

"Oh, Dr. F., I'm so glad you're back. Those vulgarians keep asking for Harry."

"We'd better pour some water on him. I'm going to need his help to get the blunzer going."

"You found the blue gluons?"

"Yes," said Sondra. "And we didn't have to shoot anyone."

"Thank goodness."

Sondra and I drank a little vodka to keep the Gary-brains off, and then I got to work.

"Harry," I crooned, dribbling a glass of water over his scalp. "Wood, Harry. Wooden thoughts, wooden moods, wooden sensations." I reached down and began pinching his cheek. "Dry martinis, Harry. Cold beer. Fried chicken. Naked women. Come on, you fat slob, wake up!"

Slowly he righted himself. There was a big orange smear of yam around his mouth. "Those brains," said the mouth. "They won't get me again."

"I have the gluons, Harry. Three and a third grams."

"Four minutes' worth," he said, brightening. "Do you know what to wish for?" He dabbed daintily at his mouth with a filthy handkerchief. "I seem to have dropped off for a minute."

"Here, Harry," said Antie, proffering a mug of sweet coffee. "Drink this to clear your head." Harry slurped down the coffee while Sondra and I knocked back a little more vodka.

Finally our leader lurched to his feet. "Let's do it."

"What about the disciples?" fretted Sondra. "They'll smell the liquor and try to —"

"Fletch'll kill them," said Harry. "Did he waste Baumgard?"

"I don't kill anyone," I protested. "I'm no gunsel."

"Then give me the shotgun. Lead the way, Antie."

Antie told the disciples to leave, but one of them wouldn't budge. It was the big fellow I'd spoken to yesterday, the jerk with the stained-glass vocabulary. Suddenly I realized where I'd seen him before. He was the chauffeur who'd carried the first Garybrain over here!

"Behold," he intoned, walking toward us with open arms. "The flesh of our Lord's udder hath been milked to anoint the Father's wen."

"Beat it," snapped Harry. "Or I'll blow your stinking head off."

"He likes that expression," whispered Sondra with a giggle.

"But, master, surely it is written that the oxen low. And where His hoof hath sucked…"

The shotgun blast was very loud in the small store. Fortunately Harry was so ripped that only a few pellets struck his looking-glass disciple. The fellow took off like a whipped dog. A lot of people pressed their faces against the store window to peer in. Antie locked the front door.

"We better go in back," I urged, taking Harry by the arm. He was trying to reload the shotgun. I had the gluons in one hand. "Come on, Harry, don't antagonize them."

"It is the Anti-Gary," the big disciple was wailing outside. "His milk is sour!" An angry mutter swept through the crowded street. The people looking in the window could see we had no slugs on our backs. Harry was leaning over now, trying to pick up a shell he'd dropped.

"Goddamn, Harry, come on!"

Sondra and I dragged him back into the workshop. Antie had already started the blunzing chamber's refrigeration unit.

"Okay, Fletcher," said Harry. He was suddenly sober. "Give me the gluons and go on in there. Just lie down on the hotshot table and put on the breathing mask."

With difficulty I made myself hand Harry the bottle of gluons. I couldn't believe it was already time for me to get blunzed. I hadn't even made up my list of wishes. But the crowd outside was increasingly noisy. Someone was hammering at the back door. They'd be breaking in before long.

"Does the needle hurt much?" I wanted to know.

"Turning chicken?" snarled Harry as he clicked on the microwave cavity. "Would you like me to get blunzed instead of you?"

"Don't let Harry go again," cried Sondra. "It has to be you, Joe. You're the only one with enough sense."

"All right," I sighed. "But I wish I had something I really wanted. I wish I had a wish."

"Maybe you'll think of something," said Sondra soothingly. "I'll try to help you." Lord, she was beautiful.

"Antie, get the gluons," said Harry. "Well, go on, Fletch. Go on in."

The street noise had grown to a steady roar. I opened the blunzing chamber's door and peered in at the grim death table. Flakes of frost formed in the frigid air.

"Is there anything you want, Harry? Any wishes for you?"

"Just get Gary Herber off people's backs. I've had enough excitement for a while."

"Don't forget about me," called Sondra. "Or the fritter trees."

There was a crash from the store's front. They'd broken the big window.

"Here goes," I said, and hurried into the blunzing chamber. It was cold and dark. I lay down on the hotshot table and slipped the breathing mask over my mouth. Sondra slammed the door shut, and then one of them energized the chamber's copper sheathing. The electrostatic field set most of my hair on end. As my eyes adjusted to the dark, I could see faint glow-discharges at the tips of my fingers.