A Portal in Time. James A. Costa Jr.

didn’t miss the sarcasm. “What kind of test?”

      “Questions. A couple of questions. Say, three.”

      “What do I get if I answer them correctly?”

      “You get a beer.”

      “Three questions, one beer. That’s not fair.”

      “Okay, three beers.” He pointed a hairy finger. “But you gotta get all three right to collect.”

      “And if I miss?”

      “See that chalkboard over there?” He pointed across the room. “That’s Charlie Modum’s famous Wall of Shame. Lose and your name gets put there-- in big, bold letters. Then you get the big heehaw from me and anybody else who walks in here. Leo Sorge’s name just came off. Stays there a whole week, anybody who loses. Now we’re looking for new blood. You still game?”

      Gary smiled across to him and took a sip. He knew that, in the eyes of the bartender, he was a country bumpkin, a lamb being set up for the slaughter, a sucker waiting to be taken, but he felt strangely confident in this new environment, and in some odd way, superior, as if he were dealing with children. He didn’t know why, but he exuded a cockiness, even an arrogance that he didn’t particularly like in himself, especially since that wasn’t his nature, at least he didn’t think it was. Apparently getting your name on the wall was pretty disgraceful to these people, but he didn’t see it as all that bad. “But your name doesn’t go up there if you lose?”

      “That’s right, kid. I just buy the beers.”

      “All right, go ahead.”

      “Hey, you’re a sport,” Sam said, winking at him. “I like that. Okay.” He looked up, thinking or, as Gary perceived it, pretending to think. “Okay, I got one. What planet is farthest away from the sun?”

      “Pluto,” Gary snapped back.

      Sam’s mouth dropped open. “That’s right, that’s right. I guess that one was easy, too easy, especially for a college kid.”

      “I suppose you’re right,” Gary said, lifting his glass. “You could have asked me how far from the sun Pluto is, now that would have been really tough.”

      Sam eyed him suspiciously, vigorously wiping a glass, sensing a trap, then said, “Okay, college boy, how far is Pluto from the sun?”

      “Is that the second question?”

      Sam hesitated, then said, “Yeah, I’ll make it the second question.”

      “Pluto, ninth planet in the solar system, and smallest, 3,500 million miles, or roughly, three and a half billion miles, discovered about seventy-- I mean, about nine or ten years ago.”

      Sam’s face went chalky. “Goddamn, I thought you were bluffin’. You set me up for that. Snookered me. You said that would be a tough one.”

      “It is a tough one, ask anybody, but I didn’t say I didn’t know the answer.” He raised his glass for another sip.

      “Yeah, well, besides, how do I know your answer’s right, that it’s that far?”

      “You’re supposed to know the answer to your own questions. But it’s right. Look it up if you don’t believe me.”

      “I will. You can bet your ass I will.”

      “That’s two down, one to go.”

      Sam lips went tight and white with concentration. “Okay, here’s one for you… you know what a stirrup is?”

      “Is that the question?”

      “Hell no. I just want to know if you know.”

      “Sure. That’s what you put your foot into when--”

      “You got it. And--this ain’t no question, neither-- you know what an anvil is?”

      “That would be a piece of iron blacksmiths use to--”

      “Okay, you got it, you got it. Easy, right? Now the question is-- and I don’t mean those answers you just gave-- the question is, whereabouts in your body can you find a stirrup and an anvil?”

      “Are they in your body, too?”

      “Of course they are! Everybody’s got’m.” He folded his hairy arms tight across the barrel of his chest and smirked.

      “You said anvil and stirrup? Did I hear you right? In the body. Is that the question?”

      “That’s right,” he said, shaking his head up and down, the smirk fading.

      “Anvil and stirrup. And my ears did hear those two exact words, anvil and stirrup.”

      Sam’s smirk dissolved to a scowl. “Yeah, I said that’s right, anvil and stirrup anvil and stirrup.”

      “Then I did hear what I thought I heard and I’m not going deaf.”

      Sam balled up the towel and flung it down on the bar. “Naw, you ain’t goin’ deef. C’mon, c’mon, answer the goddamned question, I know you know it, and quit the crap.”

      “Hey, Sam,” Gordy called, “how’s about another beer here.”

      “Shut up, Gordy, and go back to sleep.”

      “Bones in the ear,” Gary said, draining his glass.

      Sam looked at him hard and long, then picked up the cloth and began furiously shining glasses. He glowered and muttered and moped around behind the bar. After a while, he said, half-apologetically, “Y’know, kid, I guess maybe you’re all right. Wha’ cher name?”

      “Gary,” he said, noting that he was calling him ‘kid,’ and he couldn’t have been more than a few years older than himself.

      “I’m Sam,” he said, reaching over and shaking hands. “Yeah, you’re okay in my book, Gary. Nobody around here can answer those questions. I get ‘em out of almanacs. You’re the first time I got to buy. My hat’s off to you. I guess I was a little off base there. You’re smart all right. I gotta hand it to ya. Smart like my brother. The old man paid for his college, but no dice for me. Haven’t seen him in years, my brother, that is.”

      “Hey, Nick,” Gordy crowed, “play That Old Gang of Mine. And if I don’t get some goddamned service over here, Sam, I’m taking my business someplace else.”

      Gary looked up at the clock and pushed away from the bar.

      “Hitcha again?” Sam said, holding up the empty glass.

      “No thanks, Sam. It’s five-thirty already.” He dug into his pocket. “How much--”

      “Forget it,” Sam said, waving him off. “It’s on the house. Sort of to make up for my being a wisenheimer. And I still owe you three free ones. But I’m warning ya, I’m still gonna check those numbers you spouted off like a scientist. Stop back when ya get a chance,” he called after him. “Later in the day is best, when the locals bounce in. Always better on weekends.” He laughed. “We get a lot of dummies around here. Maybe you could learn ‘em a thing or two.” He laughed again and went back to wiping down the bar.

      The piano was playing That Old Gang of Mine as Gary went out the door, smiling.

      Sam had given him an idea.

       Chapter 14

      

      Walking cautiously, Gary headed down the street toward his room. Just breathing hurt his chest.

      When in pain, distract yourself. That’s what his Grandpa used to say when he’d pull him onto his lap to watch a television movie after he had fallen and hurt himself. ‘Distract yourself.’