at the end of the movies, and they chanted now.
Think of the sparkler. Think of the sparkler. Think of the sparkler.
The dots came, brighter than they had ever been. The hum came, louder than it had ever been. The sparkler came, spitting brilliance.
And suddenly they weren’t just eleven. Suddenly they were twenty-eight.
Ignition, Kalisha thought. She was terrified; she was exultant; she was holy.
OH MY GOD
19
When Tim finished telling Luke’s story, Sheriff Ashworth sat silent for several seconds in the dispatch chair, his fingers laced together on his considerable belly. Then he picked up the flash drive, studied it as if he had never seen such a thing before, and set it down. “He told you he doesn’t know what’s on it, is that right? Just got it from the housekeeper, along with a knife he used to do surgery on his earlobe.”
“That’s what he said,” Tim agreed.
“Went under a fence, went through the woods, took a boat downriver just like Huck and Jim, then rode a boxcar most of the way down the East Coast.”
“According to him, yes,” Wendy said.
“Well, that’s quite a tale. I especially like the part about the telepathy and mind over matter. Like the stories the old grannies tell at their quilting bees and canning parties about rains of blood and stumpwater cures. Wendy, wake the boy up. Do it easy, I can see he’s been through a lot no matter what his real story is, but when we look at this, I want him looking with us.”
Wendy crossed the room and shook Luke’s shoulder. Gently at first, then a little harder. He muttered, moaned, and tried to pull away from her. She took his arm. “Come on, now, Luke, open your eyes and—”
He surged up so suddenly that Wendy stumbled backward. His eyes were open but unseeing, his hair sticking up in front and all around his head like quills. “They’re doing something! I saw the sparkler!”
“What’s he talking about?” George Burkett asked.
“Luke!” Tim said. “You’re okay, you were having a dre—”
“Kill them!” Luke shouted, and in the station’s small holding annex, the doors of all four cells clashed shut. “Obliterate those motherfuckers!”
Papers flew up from the dispatch desk like a flock of startled birds. Tim felt a gust of wind buffet past him, real enough to ruffle his hair. Wendy gave a little cry, not quite a scream. Sheriff John was on his feet.
Tim gave the boy a single hard shake. “Wake up, Luke, wake up!”
The papers fluttering around the room fell to the floor. The assembled cops, Sheriff John included, were staring at Luke with their mouths open.
Luke was pawing at the air. “Go away,” he muttered. “Go away.”
“Okay,” Tim said, and let go of Luke’s shoulder.
“Not you, the dots. The Stasi Li . . .” He blew out a breath and ran a hand through his dirty hair. “Okay. They’re gone.”
“You did that?” Wendy asked. She gestured at the fallen paperwork. “You really did that?”
“Something sure did it,” Bill Wicklow said. He was looking at the night knocker’s time clock. “The hands on this thing were going around . . . whizzing around . . . but now they’ve stopped.”
“They’re doing something,” Luke said. “My friends are doing something. I felt it, even way down here. How could that happen? Jesus, my head.”
Ashworth approached Luke and held out a hand. Tim noticed he kept the other on the butt of his holstered gun. “I’m Sheriff Ashworth, son. Want to give me a shake?”
Luke shook his hand.
“Good. Good start. Now I want the truth. Did you do that just now?”
“I don’t know if it was me or them,” Luke said. “I don’t know how it could be them, they’re so far away, but I don’t know how it could be me, either. I never did anything like that in my life.”
“You specialize in pizza pans,” Wendy said. “Empty ones.”
Luke smiled faintly. “Yeah. You didn’t see the lights? Any of you? A bunch of colored dots?”
“I didn’t see anything but flying papers,” Sheriff John said. “And heard those cell doors slam shut. Frank, George, pick that stuff up, would you? Wendy, get this boy an aspirin. Then we’re going to see what’s on that little computer widget.”
Luke said, “This afternoon all your mother could talk about was her barrettes. She said someone stole her barrettes.”
Sheriff John’s mouth fell open. “How do you know that?”
Luke shook his head. “I don’t know. I mean, I’m not even trying. Christ, I wish I knew what they were