“Aw, was she poorly?” Bill asked.
Sheriff John ignored this. “Assuming y’all haven’t been smoking dope, could I get a coherent story here?”
“Sit down,” Tim said. “I’ll bring you up to speed, and then I think we might want to watch this.” He put the flash drive down on the dispatch desk. “After that, you can decide what comes next.”
“Also might want to call the police in Minneapolis, or the State Police in Charleston,” Deputy Burkett said. “Maybe both.” He tilted his head toward Luke. “Let them figure out what to do with him.”
Ashworth sat. “On second thought, I’m glad I came back early. This is kind of interesting, wouldn’t you say?”
“Very,” Wendy said.
“Well, that’s all right. Not much interesting around here as a general rule, we can use the change. Do the Minneapolis cops think he killed his folks?”
“That’s the way the newspaper stories sound,” Tag said. “Although they’re careful, him being a minor and all.”
“He’s awesomely bright,” Wendy said, “but otherwise he seems like a nice enough kid.”
“Uh-huh, uh-huh, how nice or nasty he is will end up being someone else’s concern, but for now my curiosity’s up. Bill, stop fiddling with that time clock before you bust it, and bring me a Co’-Cola from my office.”
18
While Tim was telling Sheriff Ashworth the story Luke had told him and Wendy, and while Gold team was approaching the I-95 Hardeeville exit, where they would double back to the little town of DuPray, Nick Wilholm was herding the kids who had remained in the screening room into the little Back Half lounge.
Sometimes kids lasted a surprisingly long time; George Iles was a case in point. Sometimes, however, they seemed to unravel all at once. That appeared to be happening to Iris Stanhope. What Back Half kids called the bounce—a brief post-movie respite from the headaches—hadn’t happened for her this time. Her eyes were blank, and her mouth hung open. She stood against the wall of the lounge with her head down and her hair in her eyes. Helen went to her and put an arm around her, but Iris didn’t seem to notice.
“What are we doing here?” Donna asked. “I want to go back to my room. I want to go to sleep. I hate movie nights.” She sounded querulous and on the verge of tears, but at least she was still present and accounted for. The same seemed true of Jimmy and Hal. They looked dazed, but not exactly hammered, the way Iris did.
Not going to be any more movies, Avery said. Not ever.
His voice was louder in Kalisha’s head than it had ever been, and for her that just about proved it—they really were stronger together.
“A bold prediction,” Nicky said. “Especially coming from a little shit like you, Avester.”
Hal and Jimmy smiled at that, and Katie even giggled. Only Iris still seemed completely lost, now scratching unselfconsciously at her crotch. Len had been distracted by the television, although nothing was on. Kalisha thought maybe he was studying his own reflection.
We don’t have much time, Avery said. One of them will come soon to take us back to our rooms.
“Probably Corinne,” Kalisha said.
“Yeah,” Helen said. “The Wicked Bitch of the East.”
“What do we do?” George asked.
For a moment Avery seemed at a loss, and Kalisha was afraid. Then the little boy who had thought earlier in the day that his life was going to end in the immersion tank held out his hands. “Grab on,” he said. Make a circle.
All of them except Iris shuffled forward. Helen Simms took Iris’s shoulders and steered her into the rough circle the others had formed. Len looked longingly back over his shoulder at the TV, then sighed and put out his hands. “Fuck it. Whatever.”
“That’s right, fuck it,” Kalisha said. “Nothing to lose.” She took Len’s right hand in her left, and Nicky’s left hand in her right. Iris was the last one to join up, and the instant she was linked to Jimmy Cullum on one side and Helen on the other, her head came up.
“Where am I? What are we doing? Is the movie over?”
“Hush,” Kalisha said.
“My head feels better!”
“Good. Hush, now.”
And the others joined in: Hush… hush… Iris, hush.
Each hush was louder. Something was changing. Something was charging.
Levers, Kalisha thought. There are levers, Avery.
He nodded at her from the other side of their circle.
It wasn’t power, at least not yet, and she knew it would be a fatal mistake to believe it was, but the potential for power was present. Kalisha thought, This is like breathing air just before the summer’s biggest thunderstorm lets rip.
“Guys?” Len said in a timid voice. “My head’s clear. I can’t remember the last time it was clear like this.” He looked at Kalisha with something like panic. “Don’t let go of me, Sha!”
You’re okay, she thought at him. You’re safe.
But he wasn’t. None of them were.
Kalisha knew what came next, what had to come next, and she dreaded it. Of course, she also wanted it. Only it was more than wanting. It was lusting. They were children with high explosives, and that might be wrong, but it felt so right.
Avery spoke in a low, clear voice. “Think. Think with me, guys.”
He began, the thought and the image that went with it strong and clear. Nicky joined him. Katie, George, and Helen chimed in. So did Kalisha. Then the rest of them. They chanted at the end of the movies, and they chanted now.
Think of the sparkler. Think of the sparkler. Think of the sparkler.
The dots came, brighter than they had ever been. The hum came, louder than it had ever been. The sparkler came, spitting brilliance.
And suddenly they weren’t just eleven. Suddenly they were twenty-eight.
Ignition, Kalisha thought. She was terrified; she was exultant; she was holy.
OH MY GOD
19
When Tim finished telling Luke’s story, Sheriff Ashworth sat silent for several seconds in the dispatch chair, his fingers laced together on his considerable belly. Then he picked up the flash drive, studied it as if he had never seen such a thing before, and set it down. “He told you he doesn’t know what’s on it, is that right? Just got it from the housekeeper, along with a knife he used to do surgery on his earlobe.”
“That’s what he said,” Tim agreed.
“Went under a fence, went through the woods, took a boat downriver just like Huck and Jim, then rode a boxcar most of the way down the East Coast.”
“According to him, yes,” Wendy said.
“Well, that’s quite a tale. I especially like the part about the telepathy and mind over matter. Like the stories the old grannies tell at their quilting bees and canning parties about rains of blood and stumpwater cures. Wendy, wake the boy up. Do it easy, I can see he’s been through a lot no matter what his real story is, but when we look at this, I want him looking with us.”
Wendy crossed the room and shook Luke’s shoulder. Gently at first, then a little harder. He muttered, moaned, and tried to pull away from her. She took his arm. “Come on, now, Luke, open your eyes and—”
He surged up so suddenly that Wendy stumbled backward. His eyes were open but unseeing, his hair sticking up in front and all around his head like quills. “They’re doing something! I saw the sparkler!”