Part 27 (2/2)

'-wiped, yes, yes,' Dan said, as if this were the most elementary thing in the world.

'Are you-were you-a scientist of some sort?' Tom asked.

Dan gave him a smile. 'I was the entire sociology department at Haverhill Arts and Technical,' he said. 'If the President of Harvard has a worst nightmare, that would be me.'

Dan Hartwick, Denise Link, and Ray Huizenga had destroyed not just one flock but two. The first, in the back lot of a Haverhill auto junkyard, they had stumbled on by accident, when there had been half a dozen in their group and they were trying to find a way out of the city. That had been two days after the onset of the Pulse, when the phone-people had still been the phone-crazies, confused and as apt to kill each other as any wandering normies they encountered. That first had been a small flock, only about seventy-five, and they had used gasoline.

'The second time, in Nashua, we used dynamite from a construction-site shed,' Denise said. 'We'd lost Charlie, Ralph, and Arthur by then. Ralph and Arthur just took off on their own. Charlie-poor old Charlie had a heart attack. Anyhow, Ray knew how to rig the dynamite, from when he worked on a road crew.'

Ray, hunkered over his cooker and stirring the beans next to the sausages, raised his free hand and gave it a flip.

'After that,' Dan Hartwick said, 'we began to see those Kashwak No-Fo signs. Sounded good to us, didn't it, Denni?'

'Yep,' Denise said. 'Olly-olly-in-for-free. We were headed north, same as you, and when we started seeing those signs, we headed north faster. I was the only one who didn't absolutely love the idea, because I lost my husband during the Pulse. Those f.u.c.ks are the reason my kid's going to grow up not knowing his daddy.' She saw Clay wince and said, 'Sorry. We know your boy's gone to Kashwak.'

Clay gaped.

'Oh yes,' Dan said, taking a plate as Ray began pa.s.sing them around. 'The President of Harvard knows all, sees all, has dossiers on all* or so he'd like us to believe.' He gave Jordan a wink, and Jordan actually grinned.

'Dan talked me around,' Denise said. 'Some terrorist group-or maybe just a couple of inspired nutcases working in a garage-set this thing off, but no one had any idea it would lead to this. The phoners are just playing out their part in it. They weren't responsible when they were insane, and they aren't really responsible now, because-'

'Because they're in the grip of some group imperative,' Tom said. 'Like migration.'

'It's a group imperative, but it ain't migration,' Ray said, sitting down with his own plate. 'Dan says it's pure survival. I think he's right. Whatever it is, we gotta find a place to get in out of the rain. You know?'

'The dreams started coming after we burned the first flock,' Dan said. 'Powerful dreams. Ecce h.o.m.o, insa.n.u.s Ecce h.o.m.o, insa.n.u.s-very Harvard. Then, after we bombed the Nashua flock, the President of Harvard showed up in person with about five hundred of his closest friends.' He ate in quick, neat bites.

'And left a lot of melted boomboxes on your doorstep,' Clay said.

'Some were melted,' Denise said. 'Mostly what we got were bits and pieces.' She smiled. It was a thin smile. 'That was okay. Their taste in music sucks.'

'You call him the President of Harvard, we call him the Raggedy Man,' Tom said. He had set his plate aside and opened his pack. He rummaged and brought out the drawing Clay had made on the day the Head had been forced to kill himself. Denise's eyes got round. She pa.s.sed the drawing to Ray Huizenga, who whistled.

Dan took it last and looked up at Tom with new respect. 'You drew this?'

Tom pointed to Clay.

'You're very talented,' Dan said.

'I took a course once,' Clay said. 'Draw Fluffy.' He turned to Tom, who also kept their maps in his pack. 'How far is it between Gaiten and Nashua?'

'Thirty miles, tops.'

Clay nodded and turned back to Dan Hartwick. 'And did he speak to you? The guy in the red hoodie?'

Dan looked at Denise and she looked away. Ray turned back to his little cooker-presumably to shut it down and pack it up-and Clay understood. 'Which one of you did he speak through?' through?'

'Me,' Dan said. 'It was horrible. Have you experienced it?'

'Yeah. You can stop it from happening, but not if you want to know what's on his mind. Does he do it to show how strong he is, do you think?'

'Probably,' Dan said, 'but I don't think that's all. I don't think they can talk. They can vocalize, vocalize, and I'm sure they think-although not as they did, it would be a terrible mistake to think of them as having human thoughts-but I don't think they can actually speak words.' and I'm sure they think-although not as they did, it would be a terrible mistake to think of them as having human thoughts-but I don't think they can actually speak words.'

'Yet,' Jordan said.

'Yet,' Dan agreed. He glanced at his watch, and that prompted Clay to look at his own. It was already quarter to three.

'He told us to go north,' Ray said. 'He told us Kashwak No-Fo. He said our flock-burnin days were over because they were settin up guards-'

'Yes, we saw some in Rochester,' Tom said.

'And you've seen plenty of Kashwak No-Fo signs.'

They nodded.

'Purely as a sociologist, I began to question those signs,' Dan said. 'Not how they began-I'm sure the first No-Fo signs were posted soon after the Pulse, by survivors who'd decided a place like that, where there was no cell phone coverage, would be the best place on earth to go. What I questioned was how the idea-and the graffiti-could spread so quickly in a cata-strophically fragmented society where all normal forms of communication-other than my mouth to your ear, of course-had broken down. The answer seemed clear, once one admitted that a new new form of communication, available to only one group, had entered the picture.' form of communication, available to only one group, had entered the picture.'

'Telepathy.' Jordan almost whispered the word. 'Them. 'Them. The phoners. They The phoners. They want want us to go north to Kashwak.' He turned his frightened eyes to Clay. 'It really us to go north to Kashwak.' He turned his frightened eyes to Clay. 'It really is is a frigging slaughterhouse chute. Clay, you a frigging slaughterhouse chute. Clay, you can't can't go up there! This is all the Raggedy Man's idea!' go up there! This is all the Raggedy Man's idea!'

Before Clay could respond, Dan Hartwick was speaking again. He did it with a teacher's natural a.s.sumptions: lecturing was his responsibility, interruption his privilege.

'I'm afraid I really must hurry this along, sorry. We have something to show you-something the President of Harvard has demanded demanded we show you, actually-' we show you, actually-'

'In your dreams, or in person?' Tom asked.

'Our dreams,' Denise said quietly. 'We've only seen him once in person since we burned the flock in Nashua, and that was at a distance.'

'Checkin up on us,' Ray said. 'That's what I think.'

Dan waited with a look of exasperated patience for this exchange to conclude. When it had, he resumed. 'We were willing to comply, since this was on our way-'

'You're going north, then?' Clay was the one to interrupt this time.

Dan, looking more exasperated now, flicked another quick glance at his watch. 'If you look at that route-sign closely, you'll see that it offers a choice. We intend to go west, not north.'

'f.u.c.kin right,' Ray muttered. 'I may be stupid, but I'm not crazy.'

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