The Ward A kids had no musical instruments, and all they made when they joined hands was the same circle—irregular, because the access tunnel was narrow—but they had the same… there was a word for it…
“Synchronicity,” Nicky said.
She looked around, startled. He smiled at her, brushing his hair back to give her a better look at eyes that were, let’s face it, sort of fascinating.
“That’s a big word even for a white boy.”
“I got it from Luke.”
“You hear him? You’re in touch with him?”
“Sort of. Off and on. It’s hard to tell what’s my thinking and what’s his. It helped that I was asleep. Awake, my thoughts get in the way.”
“Like interference?”
He shrugged. “I guess. But if you open your mind, I’m pretty sure you can hear him, too. He comes through even clearer when they make one of their circles.” He nodded to the Ward A kids, who had resumed their aimless wandering. Jimmy and Donna were walking together, swinging their linked hands. “Want to try?”
Kalisha tried to stop thinking. It was surprisingly hard at first, but when she listened to the hum, it got easier. The hum was sort of like mouthwash, only for the brain.
“What’s funny, K?”
“Nothing.”
“Oh, I get it,” Nicky said. “Mindwash instead of mouthwash. I like that.”
“I’m getting something, but not much. He might be sleeping.”
“Probably is. But he’ll wake up soon, I think. Because we’re awake.”
“Synchronicity,” she said. “That’s some badass word. And it sounds just like him. You know the tokens they used to give us for the machines? Luke called them emoluments. That’s another badass word.”
“Luke’s special because he’s so smart.” Nicky looked at Avery, who was leaning against Helen, both of them dead asleep. “And the Avester’s special just because… well…”
“Just because he’s Avery.”
“Yeah.” Nicky grinned. “And those idiots went and souped him up without putting a governor on his engine.” His smile was, let’s face it, as fascinating as his eyes. “It’s the two of them together that put us where we are, you know. Luke’s chocolate, Avery’s peanut butter. Either of them alone, nothing would have changed. Together they’re the Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup that’s going to rip this joint.”
She laughed. It was a stupid way to put it, but also pretty accurate. At least she hoped so. “We’re still stuck, though. Like rats in a plugged pipe.”
His blue eyes on her brown ones. “We won’t be for much longer, you know that.”
She said, “We’re going to die, aren’t we? If they don’t gas us, then…” She tilted her head toward the Ward A kids, who were circling again. The hum strengthened. The overhead lights brightened. “It’ll happen when they cut loose. And the others, wherever they are.”
The phone, she thought at him. The big phone.
“Probably,” Nicky said. “Luke says we’re going to bring them down like Samson brought the temple down on the Philistines. I don’t know the story—nobody in my family bothered with the Bible—but I get the idea.”
Kalisha did know the story, and shivered. She looked again at Avery, and thought of something else from the Bible: a little child shall lead them.
“Can I tell you something?” Kalisha said. “You’ll probably laugh, but I don’t care.”
“Go for it.”
“I’d like you to kiss me.”
“Not exactly a tough assignment,” Nicky said. He smiled.
She leaned toward him. He leaned to meet her. They kissed in the hum.
This is nice, Kalisha thought. I thought it would be, and it is.
Nicky’s thought came at once, riding the hum: Let’s go for two. See if it’s twice as nice.
13
One-fifty.
The Challenger touched down on the runway of a private airstrip owned by a shell company called Maine Paper Industries. It taxied to a small darkened building. As it approached, a trio of motion-activated lights on the roof triggered, illuminating a boxy ground power unit and a hydraulic container-loader. The waiting vehicle wasn’t a mom van but a nine-passenger Chevrolet Suburban. It was black with tinted windows. Orphan Annie would have loved it.
The Challenger pulled up close to the Suburban and its engines died. For a moment Tim wasn’t entirely sure that they had, because he could hear a faint hum.
“That’s not the plane,” Luke said. “It’s the kids. It’ll get stronger when we’re closer.”
Tim went to the front of the cabin, threw the big red lever that opened the door, and unfolded the stairs. They came down on the tarmac less than four feet from the Suburban’s driver’s side.
“Okay,” he said, returning to the others. “Here we are. But before we go, Mrs. Sigsby, I have something for you.”
On the table in the Challenger’s conversation area he had found a goodly supply of glossy brochures advertising the various wonders of the totally bogus Maine Paper Industries, and half a dozen Maine Paper Industries gimme caps. He handed one to her and took another for himself.
“Put this on. Jam it down. Your hair’s short, shouldn’t be a problem getting it all underneath.”
Mrs. Sigsby looked at the cap with distaste. “Why?”
“You’re going first. If there are people waiting to ambush us, I’d like you to draw their fire.”
“Why would they put people here when we’re going there?”
“I admit it seems unlikely, so you won’t mind going first.” Tim put on his own gimme cap, only backward, with the adjustable band cutting across his forehead. Luke thought he was too old to wear a hat that way—it was a kid thing—but kept his mouth shut. He thought maybe it was Tim’s way of psyching himself up. “Evans, you’re right behind her.”
“No,” Evans said. “I’m not leaving this plane. I’m not sure I could if I wanted to. My foot is too painful. I can’t put any weight on it.”
Tim considered, then looked at Luke. “What do you think?”
“He’s telling the truth,” Luke said. “He’d have to hop down the stairs, and they’re steep. He might fall.”
“I shouldn’t have been here in the first place,” Dr. Evans said. A fat tear squeezed from one of his eyes. “I’m a medical man!”
“You’re a medical monster,” Luke said. “You watched kids almost drown—they thought they were drowning—and you took notes. There were kids who died because they had a fatal reaction to the shots you and Hendricks gave them. And those who lived really aren’t living at all, are they? Tell you what, I’d like to step on your foot. Grind my heel right into it.”
“No!” Evans squealed. He shrank back in his seat and dragged his swollen foot behind the good one.
“Luke,” Tim said.
“Don’t worry,” Luke said. “I want to but I won’t. Doing that would make me like him.” He looked at Mrs. Sigsby. “You don’t get any choice. Get up and go down those stairs.”
Mrs. Sigsby tugged on the Paper Industries cap and rose from her seat with such dignity as she could manage. Luke started to fall in behind her, but Tim held him back. “You’re behind me. Because you’re the important one.”