them, in truth, I was the one who was kooking out, shattered by even the
prospect of losing Bobby.
With a lurch, the elevator started down.
Bobby groaned.
I said, “Please, Bobby.”
“Kahuna, ” he reminded me.
“You’re not Kahuna, you kak.” His voice was thin, shaky, “Pia thinks I
am.”
“Pia’s a dithering airhead.”
“Don’t ths my woman, bro.” We stopped on the seventh and final level.
The doors opened on darkness. But it wasn’t that view of starry space,
merely a lightless alcove.
With Roosevelt’s flashlight, I led the others out of the elevator, into
a cold, dank vestibule.
Down here, the oscillating electronic hum was muffled, almost inaudible.
We put Bobby on his back, to the left of the elevator doors. We laid him
on my jacket and Sasha’s, to insulate him from the concrete as much as
possible.
Sasha fiddled in the control wiring and temporarily disabled the
elevator, so it would be here when we returned. Of course, if time past
phased completely out of time present, taking the elevator with it, we’d
have to climb.
Bobby couldn’t climb. And we could never carry him up a service ladder,
not in his condition.
Don’t think about it. Ghosts can’t hurt you if you don’t fear them, and
bad things won’t happen if you don’t think them.
I was grasping at all the defenses of childhood.
Doogie emptied stuff out of the backpack. With Roosevelt’s help, he
folded the empty bag and wedged it under Bobby’s hips, elevating his
lower body at least slightly, though not enough.
When I put the flashlight at Bobby’s side, he said, “I’ll probably be
way safer in the dark, bro. Light might draw attention.”
“Switch it off if you hear anything.”
“You switch it off before you leave, ” he said. “I can’t.” When I took
his hand, I was shocked at the weakness of his grip.
He literally didn’t have the strength to handle the flashlight.
There was no point leaving him a gun for self-defense.
I didn’t know what to say to him. I had never been seriously speechless
with Bobby before. I seemed to have a mouth full of dirt, as if I were
already lying in my own grave.
“Here, ” Doogie said, handing me a pair of oversize goggles and an
unusual flashlight. “Infrared goggles. Israeli military surplus.
Infrared flashlight.”
“What for? ”
“So they won’t see us coming.”
“Who? ”
“Whoever’s got the kids and Orson.” I stared at Doogie Sassman as if he
were a Viking from Mars.
Bobby’s teeth chattered when he said, “The dude’s a ballroom dancer,
too.” A rumbling noise rose, like a freight train passing overhead, and
the floor shook under us. Gradually, the sound diminished, and the
shaking stopped.
“Better go, ” Sasha said.
She, Doogie, and Roosevelt were wearing goggles, with the lenses against
their foreheads rather than over their eyes.
Bobby had closed his eyes.
Frightened, I said, “Hey.”
“Hey, ” he replied, looking at me again.
“Listen, if you die on me, ” I said, “then you’re king of the assholes.
” He smiled. “Don’t worry. Wouldn’t want to take the title away from
you, bro.”
“We’ll be back fast.”
“I’ll be here, ” he assured me, but his voice was a whisper.
“You promised me a beer.” His eyes were inexpressibly kind.
There was so much to be said. None of it could be spoken. Even if we’d
had plenty of time, none of what was in my heart could have been spoken.
I switched off his flashlight but left it at his side.
Darkness was usually my friend, but I hated this hungry, cold, demanding
blackness.
The fancy eye wear featured a Velcro strap. My hands were so unsteady
that I needed a moment to adjust the goggles to my head, and then I
lowered the lenses over my eyes.
Doogie, Roosevelt, and Sasha had switched on their infrared flashlights.
Without the goggles, I had not been able to see that wavelength of
light, but now the vestibule was revealed in various shades and
intensities of green.
I clicked the button on my flashlight and played the beam over Bobby
Halloway.
Supine on the floor, arms at his sides, glowing green, he might already