Suppose he left the yard, found Krupke and Schrank and tried to do them in with the icepick? Or suppose he just ran down Columbus Avenue and gave it to every man or boy PR over ten that he saw? What headlines he would get! But suppose he ran into—Tony Wyzek?

Baby-John held to the pole with both hands to keep from falling, he had become that dizzy. Would he kill Tony? Or was it his duty to defend Tony against the Sharks? Right now he needed leadership. If Batman and Robin wanted to find him it would be easy for they had X-ray eyes and hearing keen enough to tune in on his thoughts. But until his heroes came, he wanted someone up front in the Jets to tell him what to do.

Who’d asked the PR’s to come here? Baby-John sobbed as he slid down the pole, looked around, and started toward the truck. Who’d asked them to come here and kill Riff, a really good guy?

“Anybody in there?” Baby-John whispered into the darkness of the truck. “This is Baby-John sending.”

“Shut up and come in,” A-Rab replied. “Over and out.”

“It’s good to be with someone,” Baby-John sighed after he cleared his throat, wiped at his eyes and nose, and raised his grimy right hand in signal to any and all of his heroes, so that they would know where he was. “Krupke and Schrank—I came around a corner and there they were. For a second I thought it was all over for sure.”

“All right.” A-Rab was impatient. “You got a smoke? You know where some of the other guys are? You seen Tony?”

“Nobody has,” Baby-John answered the last question and flipped his last cigarette to A-Rab, who was trembling as if he needed a fix. “I guess the other guys’ll show up soon, I hope. Maybe they went home.”

“Are you nuts?” A-Rab lit the cigarette and flicked the match at Baby-John. “That’s where the cops’re gonna look first. So don’t you go home for at least a coupla days,” he warned.

“I won’t, A-Rab. Say, did you get a look at ’em?”

“Look at who?”

“Riff and Bernardo, after they got it. You know, there’s lots of blood in people.”

“Shut up!” A-Rab shuddered. “I’m gonna clout you one if you don’t shut up.”

“I’m only talking. Gee, I wish it was yesterday.” Baby-John sighed. “Or tomorrow. Only there shouldn’t’ve been a today. A-Rab, whad’ya say we run away?”

A-Rab slid to the floor of the truck and smoked with his head bowed low. “You’re scared?”

“If you’ll keep it a secret—yeah.”

“Then you cut it out,” A-Rab warned him. “You’re making me scared and that scares me.”

At the sound of a police siren in the black street outside the yard and the sound of running feet, A-Rab dropped to the floor and Baby-John crouched in a corner where the shadow was deepest. A prowl car raced down the street and Baby-John was sure he heard a cop shout that he was going to use his gun if the runner didn’t stop.