Part 27 (1/2)

6.

The refugees who had taken shelter in the Kent Pond Town Hall had left plenty of supplies behind when they decamped, presumably en ma.s.se, for TR-90 and Kashwak. Clay, Tom, and Jordan made a meal of canned chicken salad on stale bread, with canned fruit salad for dessert.

As they were finis.h.i.+ng, Tom leaned over to Jordan and murmured something. The boy nodded. The two of them got up. 'Would you excuse us for a few minutes, Clay? Jordan and I need to have a little talk.'

Clay nodded. While they were gone, he cracked another fruit salad cup and read Johnny's letter over for the ninth and tenth times. He was already well on the way to having it memorized. He could remember Alice's death just as clearly, but that now seemed to have happened in another life, and to a different version of Clayton Riddell. An earlier draft, as it were.

He finished his meal and stowed the letter away just as Tom and Jordan returned from the hall, where they had held what he supposed lawyers had called a sidebar, back in the days when there were were lawyers. Tom once more had his arm around Jordan's narrow shoulders. Neither of them looked happy, but both looked composed. lawyers. Tom once more had his arm around Jordan's narrow shoulders. Neither of them looked happy, but both looked composed.

'Clay,' Tom began, 'we've talked it over, and-'

'You don't want to go with me. Perfectly understandable.'

Jordan said, 'I know he's your son and all, but-'

'And you know he's all I've got left. His mother*' Clay laughed, a single humorless bark. 'His mother. Sharon. Sharon. It's ironic, really. After all the worry I put in about It's ironic, really. After all the worry I put in about Johnny Johnny getting a blast from that G.o.ddam little red rattlesnake. If I had to pick one, I would have picked her.' There, it was out. Like a chunk of meat that had been caught in his throat and was threatening to block his windpipe. 'And you know how that makes me feel? Like I offered to make a deal with the devil, and the devil actually came through for me.' getting a blast from that G.o.ddam little red rattlesnake. If I had to pick one, I would have picked her.' There, it was out. Like a chunk of meat that had been caught in his throat and was threatening to block his windpipe. 'And you know how that makes me feel? Like I offered to make a deal with the devil, and the devil actually came through for me.'

Tom ignored this. When he spoke, he did so carefully, as if he were afraid of setting Clay off like an unexploded land mine. 'They hate us. They started off hating everyone and progressed to just hating us. Whatever's going on up there in Kashwak, if it's their idea, it can't be good.'

'If they're rebooting to some higher level, they may get to a live-and-let-live plane,' Clay said. All of this was pointless, surely they both must see that. He had had to go. to go.

'I doubt it,' Jordan said. 'Remember that stuff about the chute leading to the slaughterhouse?'

'Clay, we're normies and that's strike one,' Tom said. 'We torched one of their flocks. That's strike two and strike three combined. Live and let live won't apply to us.'

'Why should it?' Jordan added. 'The Raggedy Man says we're insane.'

'And not to be touched,' Clay said. 'So I should be fine, right?'

After that there didn't seem to be any more to say.

7.

Tom and Jordan had decided to strike out due west, across New Hamps.h.i.+re and into Vermont, putting KASHWAK=NO-FO KASHWAK=NO-FO at their backs- and over the horizon-as soon as possible. Clay said that Route 11, which made an elbow-bend at Kent Pond, would serve them both as a starting-point. 'It'll take me north to 160,' he said, 'and you guys can follow it all the way to Laconia, in the middle of New Hamps.h.i.+re. It's not exactly a direct route, but what the h.e.l.l-you don't exactly have a plane to catch, have you?' at their backs- and over the horizon-as soon as possible. Clay said that Route 11, which made an elbow-bend at Kent Pond, would serve them both as a starting-point. 'It'll take me north to 160,' he said, 'and you guys can follow it all the way to Laconia, in the middle of New Hamps.h.i.+re. It's not exactly a direct route, but what the h.e.l.l-you don't exactly have a plane to catch, have you?'

Jordan dug the heels of his hands into his eyes, rubbed them, then brushed the hair back from his forehead, a gesture Clay had come to know well-it signaled tiredness and distraction. He would miss it. He would miss Jordan. And Tom even more.

'I wish Alice was still here,' Jordan said. 'She'd talk you out of this.'

'She wouldn't,' Clay said. Still, he wished with all his heart that Alice could have had her chance. He wished with all his heart that Alice could have had her chance at a lot of things. Fifteen was no age at which to die.

'Your current plans remind me of act four in Julius Caesar, in Julius Caesar,' Tom said. 'In act five, everyone falls on their swords.' They were now making their way around (and sometimes over) the stalled cars jamming Pond Street. The emergency lights of the Town Hall were slowly receding behind them. Ahead was the dead traffic light marking the center of town, swaying in a slight breeze.

'Don't be such a f.u.c.king pessimist,' Clay said. He had promised himself not to become annoyed-he wouldn't part with his friends that way if he could possibly help it-but his resolve was being tried.

'Sorry I'm too tired to cheerlead,' Tom said. He stopped beside a road-sign reading JCT RT JCT RT 112 MI 112 MI. 'And-may I be frank?-too heartsick at losing you.'

'Tom, I'm sorry.'

'If I thought there was one chance in five that you had a happy ending in store* h.e.l.l, one in fifty fifty* well, never mind.' Tom shone his flashlight at Jordan. 'What about you? Any final arguments against this madness?'

Jordan considered, then shook his head slowly. 'The Head told me something once,' he said. 'Do you want to hear it?'

Tom made an ironic little salute with his flashlight. The beam skipped off the marquee of the Ioka, which had been showing the new Tom Hanks picture, and the pharmacy next door. 'Have at it.'

'He said the mind can calculate, but the spirit yearns, and the heart knows what the heart knows.'

'Amen,' Clay said. He said it very softly.

They walked east on Market Street, which was also Route 19A, for two miles. After the first mile, the sidewalks ended and the farms began. At the end of the second there was another dead stoplight and a sign marking the Route 11 junction. There were three people sitting bundled up to the neck in sleeping bags at the crossroads. Clay recognized one of them as soon as he put the beam of his flashlight on him: an elderly gent with a long, intelligent face and graying hair pulled back in a ponytail. The Miami Dolphins cap the other man was wearing looked familiar, too. Then Tom put his beam on the woman next to Mr. Ponytail and said, 'You.'

Clay couldn't tell if she was wearing a Harley-Davidson T-s.h.i.+rt with cutoff sleeves, the sleeping bag was pulled up too high for that, but he knew there was one in the little pile of packs lying near the Route 11 sign if she wasn't. Just as he knew she was pregnant. He had dreamed of these two in the Whispering Pines Motel, two nights before Alice had been killed. He had dreamed of them in the long field, under the lights, standing on the platforms.

The man with the gray hair stood up, letting his sleeping bag slither down his body. There were rifles with their gear, but he raised his hands to show they were empty. The woman did the same, and when the sleeping bag dropped to her feet, there was no doubt about her pregnancy. The guy in the Dolphins cap was tall and about forty. He also raised his hands.

The three of them stood that way for a few seconds in the beams of the flashlights, and then the gray-haired man took a pair of black-rimmed spectacles from the breast pocket of his wrinkled s.h.i.+rt and put them on. His breath puffed out white in the chilly night air, rising to the Route 11 sign, where arrows pointed both west and north.

'Well, well,' he said. 'The President of Harvard said you'd probably come this way, and here you are. Smart fellow, the President of Harvard, although a trifle young for the job, and in my opinion he could use some plastic surgery before going out to meet with potential big-ticket donors.'

'Who are you?' Clay asked.

'Get that light out of my face, young man, and I'll be happy to tell you.'

Tom and Jordan lowered their flashlights. Clay also lowered his, but kept one hand on the b.u.t.t of Beth Nickerson's.45.

'I'm Daniel Hartwick, of Haverhill, Ma.s.s,' the gray-haired man said. 'The young lady is Denise Link, also of Haverhill. The gentleman on her right is Ray Huizenga, of Groveland, a neighboring town.'

'Meetcha,' Ray Huizenga said. He made a little bow that was funny, charming, and awkward. Clay let his hand fall off the b.u.t.t of his gun.

'But our names don't actually matter anymore,' Daniel Hartwick said. 'What matters is what we are, are, at least as far as the phoners are concerned.' He looked at them gravely. 'We are insane. Like you.' at least as far as the phoners are concerned.' He looked at them gravely. 'We are insane. Like you.'

8.

Denise and Ray rustled a small meal over a propane cooker ('These canned sausages don't taste too bad if you boil em up ha'aad,' Ray said) while they talked-while Dan talked, mostly. He began by telling them it was twenty past two in the morning, and at three he intended to have his 'brave little band' back on the road. He said he wanted to make as many miles as possible before daylight, when the phoners started moving around.

'Because they do not not come out at night,' he said. 'We have that much going for us. Later, when their programming is complete, or come out at night,' he said. 'We have that much going for us. Later, when their programming is complete, or nears nears completion, they may be able to, but-' completion, they may be able to, but-'

'You agree that's what's happening?' Jordan asked. For the first time since Alice had died, he looked engaged. He grasped Dan's arm. 'You agree that they're rebooting, like computers whose hard drives have been-'