PERILS
Chapter Four
At five the next morning, Nick woke the Doctor, handed him work clothes that were only slightly too large, and showed him where to shower. "You have to be at the pickup site by six," he explained, over breakfast, courtesy Annie - not her real name, she hastened to inform him in a whisper, but Mrs. Colie believed that all people of color should be named "Annie" or "George." Not-Annie also handed the Doctor a huge sack bursting with the contents of his jacket, since she was, on the Royces' instruction, having his entire outfit dry cleaned. "Where have you been that you got that stuff all over you, and why does a grown man carry around a yo-yo?" She also provided him with a paper bag with "Doctor" scribbled on it: his bag lunch. Colie requisitioned the large sack and set it down in the guest room, telling the Doctor he was welcome to sleep there again that night, since he obviously couldn't leave his clothes and other belongings behind.
At the pickup site (in Brooklyn), Nick just dropped the Doctor off and sped away. The Doctor looked around at the men in whose company he found himself, all in clothes much more worn and less clean than his, most of whom had not showered that morning, if even that week, and they were all looking him up and down in a less than friendly manner: his smooth pink skin, his uncalloused hands, indeed even his posture, screamed "fresh fish." He smiled uncertainly and got no smiles back. Before he could decide whether he was going to be attacked or ignored, a pickup truck pulled up to the curb and he followed the other men into its bed. There were no seats; they all stood packed together like crayons in a box, except there were a lot more than eight of them.
The drive was short; they were all dropped off at the corner of Fifth Avenue and West 37th Street, where they were met by a foreman who set them to carrying supplies up to the eighth story of the steel-framed building being rather rapidly constructed there. Every time the Doctor delivered his load to the mostly Mohawk skywalkers, one of them, referred to by the rest as A.J., thanked him with mock gravity and sent him running for more. For some reason everyone called the Doctor "Jack," and he was surprised, the fifth or sixth time he turned to see who was addressing him, to find another runner answering. It seems all the day laborers were "jacks." However, every time A.J. called for a jack, he meant the Doctor.
"Hey, jack," said A.J., around mid-morning, "you ever aiming to be a skywalker?"
"Like you? No, I don't think I'd be as good as you."
"As good as…." A.J. laughed. "I don't think you could do it at all!"
The Doctor knew he should smile and keep his mouth shut, but something made him blurt out, "Oh, I could do it, just not beautifully."
The other metal workers had a good laugh over "beautifully."
A.J. said, "Well, now, I don't suppose you would like to demonstrate your ugly skywalking, would you?"
"What's going on?" interrupted a foreman. "Who's walkin' ugly?"
"This jack here," said A.J. "He wants to do some tip-toeing for us."
"Oh, I…" started the Doctor, and then looked down. It was, after all, only eight stories. The Pharos Project had been a mile high. On the other hand, he had not survived his fall from Pharos. The other skywalkers were all moving off the nearest girder to make room for his demonstration, but he had, in fact, been watching them put one foot after another, like tightrope walkers, their eyes fixed on the girder straight ahead, not in the distance and definitely not down. I can do that, he thought. Or I could, if these clothes were not so loose." At least he was wearing his own trainers, which Not-Annie had scrubbed for him early that morning. He made a mental note to ask her what her real name was.
"Go on, then," said A.J., standing aside. "Shhhh," he admonished the others.
The Doctor stepped out onto the girder.
He didn't look down. He didn't look up. He didn't look into the distance. He didn't look at his feet. He fixed his eyes on the girder directly ahead of him and trusted his sense of balance. He had always felt his sense of direction was dreadful but his balance was another story. It crossed his mind that he should close his eyes but he rejected that idea right away. It also crossed his mind that he should forget everything he had ever learned about life and death and just allow himself to fly. That's crazy, he thought, and regained his focus immediately. When he got to the end of the girder there was no floor (some of the lower stories had floors already) but there was some framework to hold onto and he grabbed that, leaned against it and started back along the girder. It wasn't until he came close enough to the other end that the skywalkers came into his field of vision. Why hadn't he heard them? They were cheering! They pulled him off the girder and took turns embracing him.
"What's your name, jack?" demanded A.J.
"The Doctor…."
"Burning Sky," declared A.J. "Your name is Burning Sky."