Crisp. Trying not to sound like a man who’s won the big jackpot.
He understands that Wendy might be a problem, Luke thought, because she knows the names of a bunch of missing kids, but that’s a problem he thinks he can solve. The flash drive’s a bigger deal, harder to dismiss as fake news. I’m offering it to him pretty much on a silver platter. How can he refuse? Answer: he can’t.
“Luke—” Tim began.
Luke shook his head: not now, not while I’m thinking.
He knows his situation is still bad, but now he sees a ray of light. Thank God Tim reminded me of what I should have thought of myself: it doesn’t end with Sigsby and Stackhouse. They have to have their own bosses, people they answer to. When the shit hits the fan, Stackhouse can tell them it could have been much worse; in fact they should be thanking him for saving the day.
“Will you be calling me before you take off?” Stackhouse asked.
“No. I trust you to make all the arrangements.” Although trust wasn’t the first word that came to mind when Luke thought of Stackhouse. “The next time we talk will be face-to-face, at the Institute. Van at the airport. Bus waiting by the flagpole. Fuck up at any point and Officer Wendy starts making her calls and telling her tale. Goodbye.”
He ended the call and sagged.
7
Tim handed Wendy the Glock and gestured at their two prisoners. She nodded. Once she was standing guard, Tim drew the boy aside. They stood by the fence, in a blot of shadow cast by one of the magnolias.
“Luke, it will never work. If we go there, the van may be waiting at the airport, but if this Institute is what you say it is, the two of us will be ambushed and killed when we get there. Your friends and the other kids, as well. That leaves Wendy, and she’ll do her best, but it will be days before anyone shows up there—I know how law enforcement works when something comes up outside of normal protocol. If they find the place, it will be empty except for the bodies. They may be gone, too. You say they have a disposal system for the . . .” Tim didn’t know exactly how to put it. “For the used kids.”
“I know all that,” Luke said. “It’s not about us, it’s about them. The kids. All I’m buying is time. Something’s happening there. And not just there.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I’m stronger now,” Luke said, “and we’re over a thousand miles from the Institute. I’m a part of the Institute kids, but it’s not just them anymore. If it was, I never could have pushed up that guy’s gun with my mind. Empty pizza pans were the best I could do, remember?”
“Luke, I just don’t—”
Luke concentrated. For a moment he had an image of the telephone in their front hall ringing, and knew if it was answered, someone would ask, “Do you hear me?” Then that image was replaced by the colored dots and a faint humming sound. The dots were dim rather than bright, which was good. He wanted to show Tim, but not hurt him . . . and hurting him would be so easy.
Tim stumbled forward into the chainlink fence, as if pushed by invisible hands, and got his forearms up just in time to keep from dashing his face.
“Tim?” Wendy called.
“I’m okay,” Tim said. “Keep your eyes on them, Wendy.” He looked at Luke. “You did that?”
“It didn’t come from me, it came through me,” Luke said. Because they had time now (a little at least), and because he was curious, he asked, “What was it like?”
“A strong gust of wind.”
“Sure it was strong,” Luke said. “Because we’re stronger together. That’s what Avery says.”
“He’s the little kid.”
“Yes. He was the strongest one they’ve had in a long time. Maybe years. I don’t know exactly what happened, but I’m thinking they must have put him in the immersion tank—given that near-death experience that enhances the Stasi Lights, only with none of the limiting injections.”
“I’m not following you.”
Luke didn’t seem to hear him. “It was punishment, I bet, for helping me get away.” He tilted his head toward the van. “Mrs. Sigsby might know. It might even have been her idea. Anyway, it backfired. It must have, because they mutinied. The Ward A kids have got the real power. Avery unlocked it.”