And then I closed my lids and let my hand take over—let the golden eyes re-open and peer through Time itself. Let them read Puck’s yesterday as the compies chittered and the Nano-Ts barked, coordinating their attack; as Lisa made her way to Ocean City and the lost souls of the Flashback began to cry and howl their laments.
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The trail had gone cold. I could see it in his eyes as he trotted to a halt at the edge of Highway 109 and sniffed at the air, his white coat blowing.
Come on, boy, I thought, beginning to worry. I was standing by a green and white road sign which read: OCEAN CITY—22 MILES. You can do it. Don’t give up on us.
He sat on his haunches and looked around, panting. At the abandoned motor home Lisa and I had dozed in only a few hours before; at the cracked and poth
