Cell. Part 35

'Go on, then. Scat.' He watched a moment, then said, 'He's on his way. G.o.d help him, he's a brave kid. Put me down.'

11.

Jordan had gone out on the side of the building away from the roosting flock. Clay, Tom, Denise, and Dan crossed the room to the midway side. The three men tipped the already vandalized snack machine over on its side and shoved it against the wall. Clay and Dan could easily see out the high windows by standing on it, Tom by standing on tiptoes. Clay added a crate so Denise could also see, praying she wouldn't topple off it and go into labor.

They saw Jordan cross to the edge of the sleeping mult.i.tude, stand there a minute as if debating, and then move off to his left. Clay thought he continued seeing movement long after his rational mind told him that Jordan must be gone, skirting the edge of the ma.s.sive flock.

'How long will it take him to get back, do you think?' Tom asked.

Clay shook his head. He didn't know. It depended on so many variables-the size of the flock was only one of them.

'What if they looked in the back of the bus?' Denise asked.

'What if Jordy Jordy looks in the back of the bus and there's nothing there?' Dan asked, and Clay had to restrain himself from telling the man to keep his negative vibe to himself. looks in the back of the bus and there's nothing there?' Dan asked, and Clay had to restrain himself from telling the man to keep his negative vibe to himself.

Time pa.s.sed, giving itself up by inches. The little red light on the tip of the Parachute Drop blinked. Pachelbel once more gave way to Faure and Faure to Vivaldi. Clay found himself remembering the sleeping boy who had come spilling out of the shopping cart, how the man with him-probably not his father-had sat down with him at the side of the road and said Gregory kiss it, make it all better. Gregory kiss it, make it all better. He remembered the man with the rucksack listening to 'Baby Elephant Walk' and saying He remembered the man with the rucksack listening to 'Baby Elephant Walk' and saying Dodge had a good time, too. Dodge had a good time, too. He remembered how, in the bingo tents of his childhood, the man with the microphone would invariably exclaim He remembered how, in the bingo tents of his childhood, the man with the microphone would invariably exclaim It's the suns.h.i.+ne vitamin! It's the suns.h.i.+ne vitamin! when he pulled B-12 out of the hopper with the dancing Ping-Pong b.a.l.l.s inside. Even though the suns.h.i.+ne vitamin was D. when he pulled B-12 out of the hopper with the dancing Ping-Pong b.a.l.l.s inside. Even though the suns.h.i.+ne vitamin was D.

The time now gave itself up in what seemed quarter-inches, and Clay began losing hope. If they were going to hear the sound of the bus's engine, they should have heard it by now.

'It's gone wrong somehow,' Tom said in a low voice.

'Maybe not,' Clay said. He tried to keep his heart's heaviness out of his voice.

'No, Tommy's right,' Denise said. She was on the verge of tears. 'I love him to death, and he was b.a.l.l.sier than Lord Satan on his first night in h.e.l.l, but if he was coming, he'd be on his way by now.'

Dan's take was surprisingly positive. 'We don't know what he might have run into. Just take a deep breath and try to put your imaginations on hold.'

Clay tried that and failed. Now the seconds dripped dripped by. Schubert's 'Ave Maria' boomed through the big concert speakers. He thought, by. Schubert's 'Ave Maria' boomed through the big concert speakers. He thought, I would sell my soul for some honest rock and roll I would sell my soul for some honest rock and roll-Chuck Berry doing 'Oh, Carol,' U2 doing 'When Love Comes to Town'*

Outside, nothing but dark, and stars, and that one tiny red battery-driven light.

'Boost me up over there,' Tom said, hopping down from the snack machine. 'I'll squeeze through that window somehow and see if I can't go get him.'

Clay began, 'Tom, if I was wrong about there being explosives in the back of the bus-'

'f.u.c.k the back of the bus and f.u.c.k the explosives!' Tom said, distraught. 'I just want to find Jor-'

'Hey!' Dan shouted, and then: 'Hey, all right! BABY-NOW!' 'Hey, all right! BABY-NOW!' He slammed one fist against the wall beside the window. He slammed one fist against the wall beside the window.

Clay turned and saw headlights had bloomed in the dark. A mist had begun to rise from the blanket of comatose bodies on the acres of mall, and the bus's headlights seemed to be s.h.i.+ning through smoke. They flicked bright, then dim, then bright again, and Clay could see Jordan with brilliant clarity, sitting in the driver's seat of the minibus and trying to figure out which controls did which.

Now the headlights began to creep forward. High beams.

'Yeah, honey,' Denise breathed. 'Do 'Do it, my sweetheart.' Standing on her crate, she grabbed Dan's hand on one side and Clay's on the other. 'You're beautiful, just keep on coming.' it, my sweetheart.' Standing on her crate, she grabbed Dan's hand on one side and Clay's on the other. 'You're beautiful, just keep on coming.'

The headlights jogged away from them, now illuminating the trees far to the left of the open s.p.a.ce with its carpet of phoners.

'What's he doing?' Tom almost moaned.

'That's where the side of the funhouse takes a jog,' Clay said. 'It's all right.' He hesitated. 'I think it's all right.' If his foot doesn't slip. If he doesn't mix up the brake and the accelerator, run the bus into the side of the d.a.m.n funhouse, and stick it there. If his foot doesn't slip. If he doesn't mix up the brake and the accelerator, run the bus into the side of the d.a.m.n funhouse, and stick it there.

They waited, and the headlights swung back, spearing the side of Kashwakamak Hall on the dead level. And in the glare of the high beams, Clay saw why it had taken Jordan so long. Not all of the phoners were down. Dozens of them-the ones with bad programming, he a.s.sumed-were up and moving. They walked aimlessly toward any and every point of the compa.s.s, black silhouettes moving outward in expanding ripples, struggling to make their way over the bodies of the sleepers, stumbling, falling, getting up and walking on again while Schubert's 'Ave' filled the night. One of them, a young man with a long red gash running across the middle of his forehead like a worry line, reached the Hall and felt his way along the side like a blind man.

'That's far enough, Jordan,' Clay murmured as the headlights neared the speaker-standards on the far side of the open area. 'Park it and get your a.s.s back here.'

It seemed that Jordan heard him. The headlights came to a stop. For a moment the only things moving out there were the restless shapes of the wakeful phoners and the mist rising from the warm bodies of the others. Then they heard the bus's engine rev-even over the music they heard it-and the headlights leaped forward. 'No, Jordan, what are you doing?' 'No, Jordan, what are you doing?' Tom screamed. Tom screamed.

Denise recoiled and would have tumbled off her crate if Clay hadn't caught her around the waist.

The bus jounced into the sleeping flock. Onto Onto the sleeping flock. The headlights began to pogo up and down, now pointing at them, now lifting briefly upward, now coming back to dead level again. The bus slewed left, came back on course, then slewed right. For a moment one of the night-walkers was illuminated in its four glaring high beams as clearly as something cut from black construction paper. Clay saw the phoner's arms go up, as if it wanted to signal a successful field goal, and then it was borne under the bus's charging grille. the sleeping flock. The headlights began to pogo up and down, now pointing at them, now lifting briefly upward, now coming back to dead level again. The bus slewed left, came back on course, then slewed right. For a moment one of the night-walkers was illuminated in its four glaring high beams as clearly as something cut from black construction paper. Clay saw the phoner's arms go up, as if it wanted to signal a successful field goal, and then it was borne under the bus's charging grille.

Jordan drove the bus into the middle of them and there it stopped, headlights glaring, grille dripping. By raising a hand to block the worst of the s.h.i.+ne, Clay was able to see a small dark form-distinguishable from the rest by its agility and purpose-emerge from the side door of the bus and begin making its way toward Kashwakamak Hall. Then Jordan fell and Clay thought he was gone. A moment later Dan rapped, 'There he is, there!' there!' and Clay picked him up again, ten yards closer and considerably to the left of where he'd lost sight of the kid. Jordan must have crawled for some distance over the sleeping bodies before trying his feet again. and Clay picked him up again, ten yards closer and considerably to the left of where he'd lost sight of the kid. Jordan must have crawled for some distance over the sleeping bodies before trying his feet again.

When Jordan came back into the hazy cone of radiance thrown by the bus's headlights, tacked to the end of a forty-foot shadow, they could see him clearly for the first time. Not his face, because of the backlighting, but the crazy-graceful way he was running over the bodies of the phoners. The ones who were down were still dead to the world. The ones who were awake but not close to Jordan paid no attention. Several of those who were were close, however, made grabs at him. Jordan dodged two of these, but the third, a woman, got him by the tangled mop of his hair. close, however, made grabs at him. Jordan dodged two of these, but the third, a woman, got him by the tangled mop of his hair.

'Let him alone!' Clay roared. He couldn't see her, but he was insanely positive it was the woman who had once been his wife. Clay roared. He couldn't see her, but he was insanely positive it was the woman who had once been his wife. 'Let him go!' 'Let him go!'

She didn't, but Jordan grabbed her wrist, twisted it, went to one knee, and scrambled past. The woman made another grab, just missed the back of his s.h.i.+rt, and then tottered off in her own direction.

Many of the infected phoners, Clay saw, were gathering around the bus. The headlights seemed to be drawing them.

Clay leaped off the snack machine (this time it was Dan Hartwick who saved Denise from a tumble) and grabbed the crowbar. He leaped back up and smashed out the window he'd been looking through.

'Jordan!' he bawled. he bawled. Around back! Get around back!' Around back! Get around back!'

Jordan looked up at the sound of Clay's voice and tripped over something-a leg, an arm, maybe a neck. As he was getting back up, a hand came out of the breathing darkness and clutched the kid's throat.

'Please G.o.d, no,' Tom whispered.

Jordan lunged forward like a fullback trying for a first down, pistoning with his legs, and broke the hand's grip. He stumbled onward. Clay could see his staring eyes and the way his chest was heaving. As he neared the hall, Clay could hear Jordan's sobbing gasps for air.

Never make it, he thought. he thought. Never. And he's so close now, so close. Never. And he's so close now, so close.

But Jordan did make it. The two phoners currently staggering along the side of the building showed no interest in him at all as he lunged past them and around to the far side. The four of them were off the snack machine at once and racing across the hall like a relay team, Denise and her belly in the lead.

'Jordan!' she cried, bouncing up and down on her toe-tips. 'Jordan, Jordy, are you there? For chrissake, kid, tell us you're there!'

'I'm'-he tore a great gasp of breath out of the air-'here.' Another whooping gasp. Clay was distantly aware of Tom laughing and pounding him on the back. 'Never knew'-Whooo-oooop!-'running over people was so* hard.'

'What did you think you were doing?' Clay shouted. It was killing him not to be able to grab the kid, first to embrace him, then shake him, then kiss him all over his stupid brave face. Killing him to not even be able to see him. 'I said get close close to them, not drive right the f.u.c.k to them, not drive right the f.u.c.k into into them!' them!'

'I did it'-Whooo-ooop!-'for the Head.' There was defiance as well as zbreathlessness in Jordan's voice now. 'They killed the Head. Them and their Raggedy Man. Them and their stupid President of Harvard. I wanted to make them pay. I want him him to pay.' to pay.'

'What took you so long to get get going?' Denise asked. 'We waited and waited!' going?' Denise asked. 'We waited and waited!'

'There are dozens of them up and around,' Jordan said. 'Maybe hundreds. Whatever's wrong with them* or right*or just changing* it's spreading really fast now. They're walking every which way, like totally lost. I had to keep changing course. I ended up coming to the bus from halfway down the midway. Then-' He laughed breathlessly. 'It wouldn't start! Do you believe it? I turned the key and turned the key and got nothing but a click every time. I just about freaked, but I wouldn't let myself. Because I knew the Head would be disappointed if I did that.' Do you believe it? I turned the key and turned the key and got nothing but a click every time. I just about freaked, but I wouldn't let myself. Because I knew the Head would be disappointed if I did that.'

'Ah, Jordy*' Tom breathed.

'You know what it was? I had to buckle the stupid seatbelt. seatbelt. You don't need em for the pa.s.senger seats, but the bus won't start unless the driver's wearing his. Anyway, I'm sorry it took me so long, but here I am.' You don't need em for the pa.s.senger seats, but the bus won't start unless the driver's wearing his. Anyway, I'm sorry it took me so long, but here I am.'

'And may we a.s.sume that the luggage compartment wasn't empty?' Dan asked.

'You can a.s.sume the s.h.i.+t out of that. It's full of what look like red bricks. Stacks and stacks of them.' Jordan was getting his breath back now. 'They're under a blanket. There's a cell phone lying on top of them. Ray attached it to a couple of those bricks with an elastic strap, like a bungee cord. The phone's on, and it's the kind with a port, like for a fax or so you can download data to a computer. The power-cord runs down into the bricks. I didn't see it, but I bet the detonator's in the middle.' He grabbed another deep breath. 'And there were bars on the phone. Three bars.'

Clay nodded. He'd been right. Kashwakamak was supposed to be a cell dead zone once you got beyond the feeder-road leading to the Northern Counties Expo. The phoners had plucked that knowledge from the heads of certain normies and had used it. The Kashwak=No-Fo graffiti had spread like smallpox. But had any of the phoners actually tried making a cell-call from the Expo fairgrounds? Of course not. Why would they? When you were telepathic, phones were obsolete. And when you were one member of the flock-one part of the whole-they became doubly obsolete, if such a thing was possible.

But cell phones did did work within this one small area, and why? Because the carnies were setting up, that was why-carnies working for an outfit called the New England Amus.e.m.e.nt Corporation. And in the twenty-first century, carnies-like rock-concert roadies, touring stage productions, and movie crews on location-depended on cell phones, especially in isolated places where landlines were in short supply. Were there no cell phone towers to relay signals onward and upward? Fine, they would pirate the necessary software and install one of their own. Illegal? Of course, but judging by the three bars Jordan was reporting, it had been workable, and because it was battery-powered, it was work within this one small area, and why? Because the carnies were setting up, that was why-carnies working for an outfit called the New England Amus.e.m.e.nt Corporation. And in the twenty-first century, carnies-like rock-concert roadies, touring stage productions, and movie crews on location-depended on cell phones, especially in isolated places where landlines were in short supply. Were there no cell phone towers to relay signals onward and upward? Fine, they would pirate the necessary software and install one of their own. Illegal? Of course, but judging by the three bars Jordan was reporting, it had been workable, and because it was battery-powered, it was still still workable. They had installed it on the Expo's highest point. workable. They had installed it on the Expo's highest point.

They had installed it on the tip of the Parachute Drop.

12.

Dan recrossed the hall, got up on the snack machine, and looked out. 'They're three deep around the bus,' he reported. 'Four deep in front of the headlights. It's like they think there's some big pop star hiding inside. The ones they're standing on must be getting crushed.' He turned to Clay and nodded at the dirty Motorola cell phone Clay was now holding. 'If you're going to try this, I suggest you try it now, before one of them decides to get in and try driving the d.a.m.n bus away.'

'I should have turned it off, but I thought the headlights would go out if I did,' Jordan said. 'And I wanted them to see by.'

'It's okay, Jordan,' Clay said. 'No harm done. I'm going to-' But there was nothing in the pocket from which he'd taken the cell phone. The sc.r.a.p of paper with the telephone number on it was gone.

13.

Clay and Tom were looking for it on the floor-frantically looking for it on the floor-and Dan was dolefully reporting from atop the snack machine that the first phoner had just stumbled on board the bus when Denise bellowed, looking for it on the floor-and Dan was dolefully reporting from atop the snack machine that the first phoner had just stumbled on board the bus when Denise bellowed, 'Stop! SHUT UP!' 'Stop! SHUT UP!'

They all stopped what they were doing and looked at her. Clay's heart was fluttering high in his throat. He couldn't believe his own carelessness. Ray died for that, you stupid s.h.i.+t! Ray died for that, you stupid s.h.i.+t! part of him kept shouting at the rest of him. part of him kept shouting at the rest of him. He died for it and you lost it! He died for it and you lost it!

Denise closed her eyes and put her hands together over her bowed head. Then, very rapidly, she chanted, 'Tony, Tony, come around, something's lost that can't be found.'

'What the f.u.c.k is that? that? Dan asked. He sounded astonished. Dan asked. He sounded astonished.

'A prayer to St. Anthony,' she said calmly. 'I learned it in parochial school. It always works.'

'Give me a break,' Tom almost groaned.

She ignored him, focusing all her attention on Clay. 'It's not on the floor, is it?'

'I don't think so, no.'

'Another two just got on the bus,' Dan reported. 'And the turn signals are going. So one of them must be sitting at the-'

'Will you please shut up, Dan,' Denise said. She was still looking at Clay. Still calm. 'And if you lost it on the bus, or outside somewhere, it's lost for good, right?'

'Yes,' he said heavily.

'So we know it's not in either of those places.'

'Why do we know that?'

'Because G.o.d wouldn't let it be.'

'I think* my head's going to explode,' Tom said in a strangely calm voice.

Again she ignored him. 'So which pocket haven't you checked?'

'I checked every every-' Clay began, then stopped. Without taking his eyes from Denise's, he investigated the small watch-pocket sewn into the larger right front pocket of his jeans. And the slip of paper was there. He didn't remember putting it there, but it it was there. He pulled it out. Scrawled on it in the dead man's laborious printing was the number: 207-919-9811. was there. He pulled it out. Scrawled on it in the dead man's laborious printing was the number: 207-919-9811.

'Thank St. Anthony for me,' he said.

'If this works,' she said, 'I'll ask St. Anthony to thank G.o.d.'

'Deni?' Tom said.

She turned to him.

'Thank Him for me, too,' he said.

14.