'Yeah. They're brothers…'
I dragged deep on my cigarette, watching the dog pack. 'You got any doubts?' I asked him.
'No. Neither do you. So what am I doing here?'
'Diagnosis.'
'Bullshit. You do diagnosis as well as I do. Probably better. Never met anyone who could spot a freak like you— you got a built-in detector. And I can't treat him in one session.'
'There's a piece missing, between diagnosis and treatment. We know what he is— we don't know why.'
'You don't mean why, hoss…you mean who.'
'Yeah. That's your piece.'
'And then…'
'That's mine.'
68
Simba came out of the bunker first, Luke right behind him. Then Terry.
'Burke, it's great down there!' Luke greeted me.
'Yeah? What'd you see?'
'A laser. A real laser! It cuts right through steel. And an earthquake machine…wow!'
I didn't ask him whether he was talking about the Mole's seismograph or the panel of buttons that would launch big pieces of the junkyard like NASA.
'You ready to go to work now, kid? In the cave?'
'Sure! Can Simba come too?'
I caught Terry's eye. He stepped in next to Luke. 'Simba can't come, pal. He's got to go on patrol. Make sure everything's safe. But I'll come with you,' his eyes daring me to refuse.
'Okay,' Luke said.
Simba trotted off. I led the way downstairs. I sat down on a stool next to the Mole's workbench. Doc pulled up the ottoman to the old leather chair, made himself comfortable. Luke took the armchair, Terry standing next to him, his hand on the smaller boy's shoulder.
Underground. Diffused, natural-sunlight quartz lighting. The industrial ionizer gave the air a fresh, just-after- the-rain smell. Faint hum of machinery. A panel of LEDs blinked a message only Terry and the Mole could understand. Luke gripped the arms of the chair.
Doc started talking, low, soft tones. Just about anything, engaging, drawing Luke along. The kid grew less and less guarded…flashing, showing his brilliance, giggling happily when he solved math problems in his head. 'You know what this is?' Doc asked, taking a vitreous stone out of his pocket. It was attached to a thin platinum chain.
'A gem?'
'It's a girasol, Luke. A fire opal. Look closely, see the fire, see all the colors?'
The girasol moved in a gentle arc, back and forth. A liquid light show, soft, infinity-depthed. Fire in a teardrop.
The boy's eyes tracked the gem, like he knew what was coming. I breathed through my nose, shallow, measured breaths. Luke slumped in his chair, eyelids fluttering. Doc talked him to it, no pressure, telling the boy how sleepy he was getting.
'Sleepy…' Luke agreed, baby-voiced.
'Can I talk to the others?' Doc asked. 'Can you let them come out for a minute?'
Luke's eyes rolled straight up into his head, only the whites showing. He blinked rapidly. 'Baby, baby, baby.' A toddler's voice, maybe two years old. Happy-babble. 'Baby, baby, baby.'
'What's the baby's name?' Doc.
'Baby. Baby Doll. Doll Baby. Sweet Baby.' The boy's features softened, bloblike, drool in one corner of his mouth.
'Hello, Doll Baby. My name is Doc. Want to be friends?'
'Baby, baby, baby…'
'Yes, you're a good baby. A handsome little boy…'
'She's a girl, stupid.' My eyes flicked up to Terry, but he hadn't spoken— standing there, mouth wide open, the color leached from his face.
'What's your name?' Doc asked Luke.
'Toby. Don't you recognize me? What's wrong with you?' Smartass kid's voice, maybe eleven, twelve years old.
'Hello, Toby.'
'Yeah, hello. What do you want?'
'I want to talk to you…to talk to the others.'
'One at a time, pal. That's the way it works. It's my time now.'
