Slain Falcon Heights couple.

He felt as if a previously unsuspected trapdoor had opened in the middle of his mind, and only one thought—clear, hard, and strong—kept him from falling through it: they might be watching. He didn’t believe they knew about the Mr. Griffin site, and his ability to use it to access the outside world. He didn’t believe they knew the lights had caused some fundamental change in his brain, either; they thought the experiment had been a failure. So far, at least. Those were the things he had, and they might be valuable.

The Minions of Sigsby weren’t omnipotent. His continuing ability to access Mr. Griffin proved it. The only kind of rebellion they expected from the residents was the kind that was right out front. Once that was scared or beaten or zapped out of them, they could even be left alone for short periods, the way Joe and Hadad had left him and George alone in C-11 while they got their coffee.

Slain.

That word was the trapdoor, and it would be so easy to fall in. From the very start Luke had been almost sure he was being lied to, but the almost part kept the trapdoor closed. It allowed some small hope. That bald headline ended hope. And since they were dead—slain—who would the most likely suspect be? The MISSING SON, of course. The police investigating the crime would know by now that he was a special child, a genius, and weren’t geniuses supposed to be fragile? Apt to go off the rails?

Kalisha had screamed her defiance, but Luke wouldn’t, no matter how much he wanted to. In his heart he could scream all he wanted, but not out loud. He didn’t know if his secrets could do him any good, but he did know that there were cracks in the walls of what George Iles had so rightly called this hole of hell. If he could use his secrets—and his supposedly superior intelligence—as a crowbar, he might be able to widen one of those cracks. He didn’t know if escape was possible, but should he find a way to do it, escape would only be the first step to a greater goal.

Bring it down on them, he thought. Like Samson after Delilah coaxed him into getting a haircut. Bring it down and crush them. Crush them all.

At some point he dropped into a thin sleep. He dreamed that he was home, and his mother and father were alive. This was a good dream. His father told him not to forget to take out the trashcans. His mother made pancakes and Luke drenched his in blackberry syrup. His dad ate one with peanut butter while watching the morning news on CBS—Gayle King and Norah O’Donnell, who was foxy—and then went to work after kissing Luke on the cheek and Eileen on the mouth. A good dream. Rolf’s mother was taking the boys to school, and when she honked out front, Luke grabbed his backpack and ran to the door. “Hey, don’t forget your lunch money!” his mom called, and handed it to him, only it wasn’t money, it was tokens, and that was when he woke up and realized someone was in his room.

29

Luke couldn’t see who it was, because at some point he must have turned off the bedside lamp, although he couldn’t remember doing it. He could hear a soft shuffle of feet from near his desk, and his first thought was that one of the caretakers had come to take his laptop, because they had been monitoring him all along, and he’d been stupid to believe otherwise. Maximo retardo.

Rage filled him like poison. He did not get out of bed so much as spring from it, meaning to tackle whoever it was that had come into his room. Let the intruder slap, punch, or use his goddam zap-stick. Luke would get in at least a few good blows. They might not understand the real reason he was hitting, but that was all right; Luke would know.

Only it wasn’t an adult. He collided with a small body and knocked it sprawling.

“Ow, Lukey, don’t! Don’t hurt me!”

Avery Dixon. The Avester.

Luke groped, picked him up, and led him over to the bed, where he turned on the lamp. Avery looked terrified.

“Jesus, what are you doing here?”

“I woke up and was scared. I can’t go in with Sha, because they took her away. So I came here. Can I stay? Please?”

All of that was true, but it wasn’t the whole truth. Luke understood this with a clarity that made the other “knowings” he’d had seem dim and tentative. Because Avery was a strong TP, much stronger than Kalisha, and right now Avery was . . . well . . . broadcasting.

“You can stay.” But when Avery started to get into bed: “Nuh-uh, you need to go to the bathroom first. You’re not peeing in my bed.”

Avery didn’t argue, and Luke soon heard urine splattering in the bowl. Quite a lot of it. When Avery came back, Luke turned off the light. Avery snuggled up. It was nice not to be alone. Wonderful, in fact.

In his ear, Avery whispered, “I’m sorry about your mumma and your daddy, Luke.”

For a few moments Luke couldn’t speak. When he could, he whispered back, “Were you and Kalisha talking about me yesterday on the playground?”

“Yes. She told me to come. She said she would send you letters, and I would be the mailman. You can tell George and Helen, if you think it’s safe.”

But he wouldn’t, because nothing here was safe. Not even thinking was safe. He replayed what he’d said when Kalisha was telling him about Nicky fighting the red caretakers from Back Half: Knocked it out of his hand. Meaning one of the zap-sticks. She hadn’t asked Luke how he knew that, because she almost certainly knew already. Had he thought he could keep his new TP ability a secret from her? Maybe from the others, but not from Kalisha. And not from Avery.

“Look!” Avery whispered.

Luke could look at nothing, with the lamp off and no window to admit ambient light from outside, the room was completely dark, but he looked anyway, and thought he saw Kalisha.

“Is she all right?” Luke whispered.

“Yes. For now.”

“Is Nicky there? Is he all right?”

“Yes,” Avery whispered. “Iris, too. Only she gets headaches. Other kids do, too. Sha thinks they get them from the movies. And the dots.”

“What movies?”

“I don’t know, Sha hasn’t seen any yet, but Nicky has. Iris, too. Kalisha says she thinks there are other kids—like maybe in the back half of Back Half—but only a few in the place where they are right now. Jimmy and Len. Also Donna.”

I got Donna’s computer, Luke thought. Inherited it.

“Bobby Washington was there at first, but now he’s gone. Iris told Kalisha she saw him.”

“I don’t know those kids.”

“Kalisha says Donna went to Back Half just a couple of days before you came. That’s why you got her computer.”

“You’re eerie,” Luke said.

Avery, who probably knew he was eerie, ignored this. “They get hurty shots. Shots and dots, dots and shots. Sha says she thinks bad things happen in Back Half. She says maybe you can do something. She says . . .”

He didn’t finish, and didn’t have to. Luke had a brief but blindingly clear image, surely sent from Kalisha Benson by way of Avery Dixon: a canary in a cage. The door swung open and the canary flew out.

“She says you’re the only one who’s smart enough.”

“I will if I can,” Luke said. “What else did she tell you?”

To this there was no answer. Avery had gone to sleep.

ESCAPE

1

Three weeks passed.