The Institute - Stephen King Page 0,77

in sight; Iris had done the same; even the little Gs looked at him with open mouths and shining eyes when he passed. But Kalisha had been with him the longest, they were Institute vets, and roughly the same age. As a couple they were at least possible.

“He fought them,” Kalisha said. “He fought them hard.” She sat up so suddenly she almost knocked Luke off the bed. Her lips were drawn back from her teeth and her fists were clenched on her chest above her slight bosom.

“I should have fought them! We all should have!”

“But it happened too fast, didn’t it?”

“He punched one of them high up—in the throat—and the other one zapped him in the hip. It must have numbed his leg, but he held onto one of the ropes on the ropes course to keep from falling down, and he kicked at that one with his good leg before the bastard could use his zap-stick again.”

“Knocked it out of his hand,” Luke said. He could see it, but saying so was a mistake, it suggested something he didn’t want her to know, but Kalisha didn’t seem to notice.

“That’s right. But then the other one, the one he punched in the throat, he zapped Nicky in the side, and the goddam thing must have been turned all the way up, because I could hear the crackle, even though I was all the way over by the shuffleboard court. Nicky fell down, and they bent over him and zapped him some more, and he jumped, even though he was lying there unconscious he jumped, and Helen ran over, she was shouting ‘You’re killing him, you’re killing him,’ and one of them kicked her high up in the leg, and went hai, like some half-assed karate guy, and he laughed, and she fell down crying, and they picked Nicky up, and they carried him away. But before they got him through the lounge doors . . .”

She stopped. Luke waited. He knew what came next, it was one of his new hunches that was more than a hunch, but he had to let her say it. Because she couldn’t know what he was now, none of them could know.

“He came around a little,” she said. Tears were rolling down her cheeks. “Enough to see us. He smiled, and he waved. He waved. That’s how brave he was.”

“Yeah,” Luke said, hearing was and not is. Thinking: And we’ll see him no more.

She grabbed his neck and brought his face down to hers so unexpectedly and so hard that their foreheads bonked together. “Don’t you say that!”

“I’m sorry,” Luke said, wondering what else she might have seen in his mind. He hoped it wasn’t much. He hoped she was too upset over the red-shirt guys taking Nicky away to Back Half. What she said next eased his mind on that score considerably.

“Did they take samples? They did, didn’t they? You’ve got bandages.”

“Yes.”

“That black-haired bitch, right? Richardson. How many?”

“Three. One from my leg, one from my stomach, one between my ribs. That’s the one that hurts the most.”

She nodded. “They took one from my boob, like a biopsy. That really hurt. Only what if they’re not taking out? What if they’re putting in? They say they’re taking samples, but they lie about everything!”

“You mean more trackers? Why would they, when they’ve got these?” He fingered the chip in his earlobe. It no longer hurt; now it was just a part of him.

“I don’t know,” she said miserably.

Luke reached into his pocket and brought out the bottle of pills. “They gave me these. Maybe you should take one. I think it would mellow you out. Help you to sleep.”

“Oxys?”

He nodded.

She reached for the bottle, then drew her hand back. “Problem is, I don’t want one, I don’t even want two. I want all of them. But I think I should feel what I’m feeling. I think that’s the right thing, don’t you?”

“I don’t know,” Luke said, which was the truth. These were deep waters, and no matter how smart he was, he was only twelve.

“Go away, Luke. I need to be sad on my own now.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll be better tomorrow. And if they take me next . . .”

“They won’t.” Knowing that was a stupid thing to say, maximo retardo. She was due. Overdue, really.

“If they do, be a friend to Avery. He needs a friend.” She looked at him fixedly. “And so do you.”

“Okay.”

She tried on a smile. “You’re a peach. C’mere.” He leaned

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