Alive…
I knew what I had to do.
“Benjy, come here.”
He finished sliding over to me, his eyes alert and urgent.
“How can you—make him better? What do you need to do?”
“I need to touch him, Mr. Tommy. I have to put my hands where that other man shot him.”
The thought of Benjy’s little hands touching that bloody mess made my stomach turn. Not to mention the image of what Sherm would do if he came back and caught us.
“Couldn’t you touch him with your head or your foot or something? Maybe rest your forehead on his?”
“No, Mr. Tommy. It has to be with my hands. I don’t know why, but that’s the way it always works.”
I took a deep breath, glanced down at John, and focused on Benjy.
“Okay. I’m going to take the tape off your wrists. But Benjy, you’ve got to promise me that you won’t try to get away. If you do, I don’t know what Sherm might do. He could get very, very angry and we don’t want that to happen right now. You were right about him. He might be sick too. I don’t want him to hurt your mommy or any of these other people. So you can’t run away, okay?”
“Okay.” He nodded. “I promise, Mr. Tommy. I just want to help. I’m good at helping.”
“All right,” I agreed. “Hold still. This might hurt a little.”
I ripped the duct tape from his thin wrists as carefully but as quickly as possible. He gritted his teeth and I could tell that it hurt him, but he didn’t make a sound. Just like T.J. would have done. He rubbed his wrists and gave me a reassuring wink. It seemed absurd, this little boy trying to reassure the bank robber who was holding his mother and him captive. But I took comfort in it. Maybe that was part of his power—not just healing people, but also making them feel better in general. Then he knelt over John, placing his palms on the bloody wound.
“I’ll make it all better.”
“I know,” I whispered. “I believe you.”
And I did. I actually did. For the first time in my life, I believed in something other than my wife and my son. I’d demanded that God prove himself to me. I’d expected it immediately, but maybe this was more His style.
While Benjy got started, I crept to the vault doorway and listened. There was silence on the other side. I thought again of that strange, muffled thumping I’d heard earlier and wondered what it had been. It occurred to me that we hadn’t heard a peep from Keith or Lucas since Sherm had taken them away. Keith was right across the hall. Shouldn’t we have heard from him? And where was Sherm? I craned my head around the corner, trying to eavesdrop, but the only sound was the blood ringing in my ears. What the hell was going on?
As if in answer to my question, I heard the faint but unmistakable trickle of piss hitting toilet water, followed seconds later by a long fart. At least I now knew where Sherm had gone and what he was doing. But then it hit me. Sherm had also told me that he locked Lucas inside the bathroom and squirted glue in the lock. So was it Sherm or the delivery driver I heard now?
There was no way to be sure. Had Sherm lied, and if so, why?
I glanced back over my shoulder. Benjy’s eyes were closed and he rocked back and forth, still holding his hands over the bullet’s entry point. The others craned their heads forward, focusing on him, absolutely transfixed by what they were seeing.
I don’t know what we expected. Maybe we’d seen too many movies or read too many novels. There was no glow, no heat, and no blinding flash of white light. Trumpets didn’t sound and no heavenly chorus appeared before us. But one thing did happen. Immediately, John’s chest began to rise and fall. His breathing was harsh, ragged—but his lungs were working again and that was all that mattered.
I’d gotten the proof that I’d demanded. I believed.
And in that newfound belief, I was both exhilarated and terrified.
“Jesus…” Oscar breathed.
“This is—I’ve never seen anything like it,” Kim gasped.
Down the hall, a toilet flushed. Whoever was in the bathroom, Sherm or Lucas, was finishing his business. I reached down, scooped up the torn duct tape that had bound Benjy’s hands, wadded it into a ball, and stuffed it in my pocket.
“Sharon, there’s only the one bathroom in this place, right?”
She didn’t take her eyes off Benjy and John. “Umm, yeah. The one down the hall. It’s the fourth door past Keith’s office, next to the janitor’s closet. That’s all.”
“That’s what I thought. Okay, everybody listen to me carefully. Whatever happens, we can’t let Sherm find out about this. He’ll go ape shit if he sees that I freed Benjy. Even worse, I don’t know what he’d do if he figures out about Benjy’s—power. If he even believes in it, that is.”
“You think he’d try using the boy as a bargaining chip, don’t you?” Roy asked, still watching the miracle unfolding before our eyes.
“It’s a possibility. Shit, it’s more than a possibility. So I’m going to stall Sherm. I’ve let him bum rush this whole thing and it’s time I took it back. Keep an ear out for us and keep quiet for fuck’s sake. If I can’t keep him in one of the other rooms, I’ll start coughing really loud. If you hear that, it’s your signal to get back into your positions. Sheila, if that happens, you’re going to have to do your best to keep Benjy’s hands hidden. Everybody clear?”
They nodded in unison, all except for Benjy.
“Benjy, do you understand, buddy?”
He didn’t respond. Instead, he pressed down harder. I caught a glimpse between his fingers and saw something that looked like flesh-colored cheesecloth. It appeared as if John’s skin was growing, knitting itself back together over the wound in weblike strands.
“He can’t hear you when he’s like this,” Sheila explained. “He goes into a trance or something. But I’ll make sure.”
“Okay.”
John’s breathing was audible by then, and more regulated.
I wanted to stay and watch, wanted it more than anything in the world, but I couldn’t. Instead, I took a deep breath, felt my lungs wheeze in response, and walked out into the hall. I felt helpless and powerless. The desk plaque from Charlie Strauser’s office back at the foundry flashed through my head.
“I have gone out to find myself,” I whispered. “If I should get here before I return, please hold me until I get back.”
Then, even softer, I added, “Peace out.”
The door to Keith’s office was closed. There was a slim window in the door and I could see that the lights inside the office were off. I knew that Sherm must have turned them off, rather than the cops cutting the power on us, because the lights in the vault and the lobby still worked. I turned and looked back. From this spot, even if Sherm were standing directly in front of the vault, John and Benjy would be hidden from view since they were in the corner. I paused, listening. In the bathroom, somebody was washing his hands. Outside, the police called out to one another and their radios crackled with garbled orders and updates. A big part of me wanted to turn left, walk out into the lobby with my hands up in the air, and keep going straight out the door, staring down the barrels of a hundred rifles. Maybe they’d shoot me, and maybe not. What did it matter? I was dead already. I’d seen Benjy’s power, and I knew that it worked. But even if Benjy cured me, without Michelle and T.J. in my life, I would be dead inside anyway. The bathroom door opened and Sherm walked out, still clutching the .357. He jumped when he saw me, and I caught a glimpse of something behind him, something lying on the floor in the shadowy bathroom. Before I could make out what it was, he raised the pistol and pointed it at me. I shouted in surprise, thrusting my hands out in front of me.
“Chill, Sherm! Fuck, man, it’s just me.”