Part 11 (1/2)

He reached for his gla.s.ses, unfolded them, and put them on. The prescription was so strong and the image so distorted it made his eyes water. He took them off and the world was crystal clear again. Jesus, he thought, not swearing. Jesus.

He'd read the paper. He knew what the ”angels” had been saying. Had it really happened? Was this a sighting like the others?

No. It was more than that. A lot more. If it had really happened.

He looked every direction, gawking at what he could see with no lenses before his eyes. The prices on the wall, the selections in the candy machine, the pattern of the linoleum. Old Mrs. Tobin came in, her same crabby self, and found his stare offensive. ”What are you gawking at?”

”You look beautiful!” he exclaimed.

”Yeah, well put your gla.s.ses on!”

He giggled with glee. ”They are on! I mean, it's like they're on but they aren't! I can see you! I can see everything! It's a miracle, that's what it is!”

She put out her hand. ”Stay away from me.”

He ran to the door and burst out of the building. The whole, beautiful, clear-as-a-bell town of Antioch lay before him. He clasped his hands to the sides of his head, crazy with joy and amazement. He was staggering, stumbling, turning in every direction. He could read anything and everything. VCRs repaired. Main Street, 200. In loving memory of John Nathan Anderson, husband, father, and friend. No parking within twenty feet. Kiley's Hardware. Hey! His friend, Matt Kiley! Matt had to see this! What am I talking about Matt seeing this! I'm the one who can see! This is incredible!

He ran across the street and burst through the door. ”Matt! Matt, you won't believe it! I can see! I can see!”

MATT WAS STANDING behind the counter, his hands resting gently on the cash register to steady himself. He was trembling, gasping in shock and disbelief, his eyes darting everywhere. A few feet away, his wheelchair stood empty.

Bev Parsons, an employee, came out of aisle two with a question. ”Matt, we don't have enough-” Her hand flew over her mouth.

Norman touched Matt's shoulder. ”You-you're-” He stopped. ”He was here, wasn't he? You saw him.”

Matt just nodded. ”Yeah. Yeah. A guy with long hair and a beard.”

Norman squealed, his face red with excitement. ”It was Jesus!”

”Jesus . . .” Bev whispered in shock.

Matt scowled. ”You're crazy.”

”You're standing! Get a clue!”

”I'm standing,” Matt admitted.

”You're . . . standing.” Now Bev's hand was over her heart.

”What'd he do, what'd he do?” Norman urged.

Matt lifted one hand from the counter. His legs were steady under him. He reached toward the shelves behind him, reenacting the event as he described it. ”He came up here, and told me he wanted a screwdriver set-you know, these little jeweler's screwdrivers-”

”Yeah? Yeah?”

”I said, *Go ahead and grab one and I'll ring you up,' and he said, *Grab 'em yourself,' and then he poked me with his finger.”

Norman slapped the counter.

”And I did,” said Matt. ”I wasn't thinking, you know . . .” He was recovering from his shock. His voice was getting strong. He was beginning to believe it. ”I stood up. I got up out of the wheelchair and I grabbed the screwdrivers!” By now he shouted it. ”I grabbed the screwdrivers! I grabbed 'em!”

Norman shook Matt by both shoulders. ”Look at me, Matt! You see any gla.s.ses? You see any? No gla.s.ses, Matt! I can see! I can see everything!” His eyes fell on a pen on the counter. ”Pilot Precise V7 Fine Rolling Ball! See that? I can read it right where it is!” Then it occurred to him. ”Where'd he go?”

Matt looked around. ”I don't know.” He looked at Bev. She just shook her head, still staring.

Norman was desperate. ”Where'd he go? Which way?”

Matt shrugged. ”I don't know. He paid for the screwdrivers and he left.”

”Come on, we gotta find him!”

Matt looked at the floor stretched out so far below him.

”Come on, you can walk!”

Matt put his hand on the counter and extended his right foot. It came to rest a short step away. Yeah. Sure. He remembered what this felt like. He'd done it before. He could do it.

He did it. First another step, then another, then two more, and then he was walking, around the counter, out into the store, past the rakes and line trimmers, past the stacks of lawn fertilizer. By now he was jumping a little, flexing his knees. He danced a little jig and Norman went crazy.

They bolted out of the store, Norman reading every sign he saw, Matt hopping, skipping, turning circles, the two of them laughing like idiots.

They encountered a stranger and his wife. Both had cameras.

”Have you seen Jesus around?” Norman pleaded.

Their eyes got wide. ”No,” said the man. ”Have you seen him?”

Matt and Norman looked at each other. They started laughing and Matt started dancing. ”Oooooh, have we!” said Norman.

AT THE FORDYCE HOME, Meg heard Sally answer the phone, gasp, squeal some unintelligible questions, gasp some more, and then run out the front door. It happened so suddenly and loudly that it scared Meg. She ran into the living room and found the receiver dangling off the table and the front door still open.

Something terrible must be happening, she thought. ”Sally?” By the time she got to the front door, Sally was in the car and pulling out onto Highway 9, headed for Antioch. ”Sally!”

A WILDFIRE HAD BEGUN in Antioch. The first spark ignited in the laundromat, then spread to Kiley's Hardware and from there into the street. First two visitors heard, then four more, then three customers at Anderson's Furniture and Appliance. Norman waved down a carload of visitors from Moses Lake and told them. Then the pilgrims at Our Lady's heard about it, followed by the cloud watchers who presently had no clouds to watch. Pagers began beeping, phones began ringing, and up and down the street, through the storefronts, and back into the neighborhoods, the fire spread: He has been seen. Have you seen him? Where is he?

Brett Henchle got the call he'd been wanting ever since this weird stuff began. Jesus had shown up at Kiley's Hardware, the caller said. Yeah, Brett thought. It's him, the guy I'm looking for, my little angelic huckster. He switched on his siren and flashers and got over there.

From where Brett parked, Matt's store looked like a stirred-up hornet's nest. People in tight little cl.u.s.ters were squeezing past each other as they came and went through the front door. More were arriving from across the street, up the highway in both directions, and from the quiet neighborhood behind. And just as many were leaving, eager to fan out in all directions and spread the news, whatever it was. They were agitated, talking excitedly, creating a constant buzz in front of the building.

Brett got out of the car, nervously checked his handcuffs, and felt for his gun. Then he crossed the street. Those on the fringes greeted him, ”Have you heard? Have you heard?”

”Everybody take it easy,” he cautioned, putting just enough edge in his voice to let them know there would be no unruliness today. ”Excuse me, please,” he said, and worked his way through the door and into the store.

He'd never seen so many people in Matt's store at one time, not even during the big Christmas Open House. The front of the store was packed, but no one was shopping. Some he knew, some were strangers. All were excited and chattering. Cameras were flas.h.i.+ng, camcorders were blinking their little red lights. He could hear Sally Fordyce whining from somewhere in the crowd, ”You don't understand! He's come here for me! We have an appointment!”

”He's come here for all of us,” someone responded, and everyone wanted to know, Where is he?

”Let's get organized and start searching,” one man suggested.

Finally, Brett could see Matt through the crowd, standing by the checkout counter, answering questions and looking wide-eyed. Hold on. Matt was standing?