But Moonlight Cove Central, as the combination junior-senior high school was called, stood on the west side of Roshmore Way, two blocks west of Harry's house and a full block south. In ordinary times it was a pleasant five-minute walk. But with the streets under surveillance and every house potentially a watchtower occupied by enemies, reaching Central high School now without being seen was easy as crossing a minefield.
"Besides," Chrissie said, "they're still in class at Central. You couldn't just walk in there and use a computer."
"Especially," Tessa said, "since you can figure the teachers were among the first to be converted."
"What time are classes over?" Sam asked.
"Well, at Thomas Jefferson we get out at three o'clock, but they go an extra half hour at Central."
"Three-thirty," Sam said.
Checking his watch, Harry said, "Forty-seven minutes yet. But even then, there'll be after-school activities, won't there?"
"Sure," Chrissie said. "Band, probably football practice, a few other clubs that don't meet during regular activity period."
"What time would all that be done with?"
"I know band practice is from a quarter to four till a quarter to five," Chrissie said, "because I'm friends with a kid one year older than me who's in the band. I play a clarinet. I want to be in the band, too, next year. If there is a band. If there is a next year."
"So, say by five o'clock the place is cleared out."
"Football practice runs later than that."
"Would they practice today, in pouring rain?"
"I guess not."
"If you're going to wait until five or five-thirty," Tessa said, "then you might as well wait just a little while longer and head over there after dark."
Sam nodded. "I guess so."
"Sam, you're forgetting," Harry said.
"What?"
"Sometime shortly after you leave here, maybe as early as six o'clock sharp, they'll be coming to convert me."
"Jesus, that's right!" Sam said.
Moose lifted his head off his master's lap and from beneath the arm of the wheelchair. He sat erect, black ears pricked, as if he understood what had been said and was already anticipating the doorbell or listening for a knock downstairs.
"I believe you do have to wait for nightfall before you go, you'll have a better chance," Harry said, "but then you'll have to take Tessa and Chrissie with you. It won't be safe to leave them here."
"We'll have to take you too," Chrissie said at once. "You and Moose. I don't know if they convert dogs, but we have to take Moose just to be sure. We wouldn't want to have to worry about him being turned into a machine or something."
Moose chuffed.
"Can he be trusted not to bark?" Chrissie asked. "wouldn't want him to yap at something at a crucial moment. I guess we could always wind a long strip of gauze bandage around his snout, muzzle him, which is sort of cruel and would probably hurt his feelings, since muzzling him would mean we don't emtirely trust him, but it wouldn't hurt him physically, of course and I'm sure we could make it up to him later with a juicy steak or—"
Suddenly recognizing an unusual solemnity in the silence of her companions, the girl fell silent too. She blinked at Harry, Sam, and frowned at Tessa, who still sat on the bed beside her.
Darker clouds had begun to plate the sky since they had come upstairs, and the room was receding deeper into shadows. But at the moment Tessa could see Harry Talbot's face almost clearly in the gray dimness. She was aware of how he was struggling to conceal his fear, succeeding for the most part, managing a genuine smile and an unruffled tone of voice, betrayed only by his expressive eyes.
To Chrissie, Harry said, "I won't be going with you, honey."
"Oh," the girl said. She looked at him again, her gaze slipping down from Harry to the wheelchair on which he sat. "But you came to our school that day to talk to us. You leave the house sometimes. You must have a way to get out."
Harry smiled. "The elevator goes down to the garage on the cellar level. I don't drive any more, so there's no car down there and I can easily roll out into the driveway, to the sidewalk."
"Well, then!" Chrissie said.
Harry looked at Sam and said, "But I can't go anywhere on these streets, steep as they are in some places, without somone along. The chair has brakes, and the motor has quite a lot of power, but half the time not enough for these slopes."
"We'll be with you," Chrissie said earnestly. "We can help."
"Dear girl, you can't sneak quickly through three blocks of occupied territory and drag me with you at the same time," Harry said firmly. "For one thing, you'll have to stay off the streets as much as possible, move from yard to yard and between as much as you can, while I can only roll on pavement, especially in this weather, with the ground so soggy."
"We can carry you."
"No," Sam said. "We can't. Not if we hope to get to the school and get assistance and get a message out to the Bureau. It's a short distance, but full of danger, and we've got to travel light. Sorry, Harry."
"No need to apologize, " Harry said. "I wouldn't have it any other way. You think I want to be dragged or shoulder-carried like a bag of cement across half the town?"
In obvious distress, Chrissie got off the bed and stood with her small hands fisted at her sides. She looked from Tessa to Sam to Tessa again, silently pleading with them to think of a way to save Harry.
Outside the gray sky was mottled now with ugly clouds that were nearly black.
The rain eased up, but Tessa sensed that they were entering a brief lull, after which the downpour would continue with greater fury than ever.
Both the spiritual and the physical gloom deepened.
Moose whined softly.
Tears shimmered in Chrissie's eyes, and she seemed unable to bear looking at Harry. She went to a north window and stared down at the house next door and at the street beyond — staying just far enough back from the glass to avoid being spotted by anyone outside.
Tessa wanted to comfort her.
She wanted to comfort Harry too.
More, than that … she wanted to make everything right.
As writer-producer-director, she was a mover and shaker, good at taking charge, making things happen. She always knew how to solve a problem, what to do in a crisis, how to keep the ball rolling once a project had begun. But now she was at a loss. She could not always script reality with the assurance she brought to the writing of her films; sometimes the real world resisted conforming to her demands. Maybe that was why she had chosen a career over a family, even after having enjoyed a wonderful family atmosphere as a child. The real world of daily life and struggle was sloppy, unpredictable, full of loose ends; she couldn't count on being able to tie it all up the way she could when she took aspects of it and reduced them to a neatly structured film. Life was life, broad and rich … but film was only essences. Maybe she dealt better with essences than with life all its gaudy detail.
Her genetically received Lockland optimism, previously as bright as a spotlight, had not deserted her, though it definitely had dimmed for the time being.
Harry said, "It's going to be all right."
"How?" Sam asked.
"I'm probably last on their list," Harry said. "They wouldn't be worried about cripples and blind people. Even if we learn something's up, we can't try to get out of town and get help. Mrs. Sagerian — she lives over on Pinecrest — she's blind, and I'll bet she and I are the last two on the schedule. They'll wait to do us until near midnight. You see if they don't. Bet on it. So what you've got to do is go to the high school and get through to the Bureau, bring help in here pronto, before midnight comes, and then I'll be all right."
Chrissie turned away from the window, her cheeks wet with tears. "You really think so, Mr. Talbot? You really, honestly think they won't come here until midnight?"