You’re doing great, Sadie told him, not sure if he was hearing her and not caring. A section of fence still lingered along the property line, and laboriously he hauled himself up it until he was standing. Pain shot through his ankle. “Got to keep moving,” he said through clenched teeth, wavering unsteadily on his feet. “Keep mov—”
His eyes fluttered, and his legs began to buckle at the knees.
Ford! Sadie shouted sharply.
His eyes snapped open and he called “Present!” like a student waking up in class.
It had worked. It had worked. Sadie laughed, and he started to laugh too and mutter, “Present!”
How had that happened? Was that even possible?
Later, she told herself. Later you can think about that. Now you need to get him home.
Somewhere to the south of them more fireworks began to pop. Clutching a decaying fence plank, he leaned out to get a view of them.
“Pretty,” he said to no one. His eyes started to close.
Ford! she shouted.
“Present,” he answered again.
Sadie remembered seeing a bus stop just beyond the next corner, but the lot between them and it was empty, and without anything to hold on to she had no idea how they’d get that far.
Ford let go of the splintery board, took two steps unsupported, and fell down.
Poor boy. Right on your caboose, Sadie commiserated.
“Choo choo,” he said, amazing Sadie again. He had heard her. He had to have heard her.
Later.
Crawling on all fours, he pulled himself to the abandoned house in front of his tree house and dropped down to rest on its short stack of concrete stairs. The first drops of rain started to fall as he sat there. Propping himself on the handrail of the stairs, he stood and pushed off.
He staggered forward and was about to go sprawling when he caught a crooked NO PARKING sign. He stood, eyes closed, hugging it, the rain stinging as it hit the cuts on his face and arms. When he opened his eyes, the corner was in sight, and the bus stop beyond it.
Ford, you have to keep going, Sadie told him. You can do it. You can’t stop now.
“Present,” he said, but it was more like a yawn than a word.
I mean it, Sadie told him. You’re in a no-parking zone. Look at the sign.
He laughed, then grimaced as a bolt of pain shot from his ribs. But he unwrapped his arms from the sign and with a supreme show of effort pushed off and made it the rest of the way to the bus stop.
The bus came, finally, and he dragged himself on, apparently not looking much worse than the other drenched commuters because no one paid any attention. Sadie talked and told every joke she could remember to keep him alert enough to notice when they reached his stop.
Together they counted the steps between the bus stop and his apartment, him out loud, her in his head. The two flights of stairs required the most effort, but finally, sweaty and bloody and dirty, Ford mounted the top one, scraped his key into the front-door lock, and fell face-first onto the couch. He muttered “Present” one last time before passing out.
Sadie didn’t want to think back over the night. She lay very still, listening to his heartbeat and his breathing, letting the familiar rhythms of his body enfold her. She closed her eyes and whispered very quietly, “I love you, Ford Winter.”
She began to sob.
CHAPTER 24
WEEK 5
Ford had been out for almost six days, when Sadie went into his subconscious in search of James. If anything could help rouse Ford it would be roiling him from inside, she thought, and there was clearly something to roil with his brother.
The great hall was quiet when she went through, all the images moving slowly and everyone talking in low voices, if at all. She felt like they were in suspended animation, lacking the will or force to spur them to action. She elicited a tiny bit of curiosity from a handful looking for news, but most were absorbed in themselves. She said hello to Plum as she went by but only got an “Oh, brother” in response.
James was by the shore of the pine-fringed lake, looking out at the icehouse, when she found him.
“You again,” he said. “I’m not sure I should talk to you.”
“Why?”
“It’s been strange down here since you came last time. Look around. Things are dying.”
Sadie shivered. “Since when? Because of me?”
“You can’t just come in and poke at things and go. It’s an ecosystem. You kill what you touch.” His tone was reproachful.
“That’s not true. You’re just saying that to make me feel bad. You want me to go away.”
He looked away from her, his mouth petulant. “Maybe.”
She stayed quiet for a moment, listening to him sigh. Finally she said, “What happened that day on the lake? At the icehouse?”
He rolled his eyes, tossing his blond hair back. “God, you ask the worst questions.”
“What was it?” she pushed.
“Ask him,” he sneered, pointing upward.
“I can’t. He’s sick.”
He nodded to himself. “That explains the Geronimo.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s a piece of the mind that drops off when there’s been trauma. Like a flyer bailing out of a bomber. Takes the important documents with him and parachutes out before the crash. We had one the other day.”
Sadie looked around. “Where is he?”
“Think I saw him hanging around the weighting room on the plain. Most things start there before getting settled in. Lucky for you he didn’t land in the lake. Lots of times that’s where Geronimos end up. Sink deep, don’t see some of them again for years.”
“Ah.”
“Weighting room’s over there,” he said, pointing behind him.
“Okay.”
He looked angry. “Why aren’t you going?”
“Tell me about the icehouse.”
“You have to ask him, I told you that,” he whined. “But I’ll give you this: He knows what he did and what he didn’t do, he’s just lying about it.”
“Why?”
“Talk to the boss,” he said, pointing up.
“Could you at least tell me about the beer cans? They look like they’re all identical.”
“Multiples,” he corrected. “This place is lousy with them. Repeated patterns, same object showing up in different places, sometimes as a distraction, sometimes to stand in for something else. Like say you have—”
“Pine trees.” Sadie pointed toward the lakeshore.
“Sure. Could be a reminder of a great day you spent at the lake with your brother when you learned to skip rocks, or a symbol of winter, or the feeling of pining for someone. Keeps it efficient, one thing, lots of associations. Shortcut for the imagination.” He yawned. “Never touch them myself.”
“Multiples?”
“No, the beer cans.”
She’d bent to look at them closer, and when she stood up, James had disappeared. She walked toward the plain he’d indicated, where there was a structure with a wide arch entrance and clusters of wood benches inside. It looked like photos she’d seen of the waiting room at Central Station before it was abandoned. A couple of figures she didn’t recognize huddled together like refugees on one bench.
She spotted Ford on the other side of the space. He sat alone, shoulders curled in, repeating, “Howdy?” His eyes were wide and looked panicked.
“Howdy,” Sadie answered.
He looked at her like she was nuts. “Howdy fine?”
“Howdy, I’m fine too,” Sadie answered.
He turned his face away from her, holding the toes of his bare feet and murmuring to himself. Sadie bent closer to hear but just kept getting, “Howdy fine,” “Howdy fine.”