Jamie spewed forth words rarely heard from a 15-year-old, banged the bat against the cell and vowed to kill the balding, goateed prisoner who was about Ben’s age. He spat as he shouted at the prisoner. Only when one deputy grabbed him around the chest and another swiped the bat did Jamie’s temperament dissolve from screaming lunatic to rabid, trapped animal. His curses became grunts, and his tears returned in steady streams.
Jamie didn’t realize what he did until he heard the whispers at his parents’ funeral. He saw the frowns that mingled sympathy with fear. Many of the kids who expressed their condolences in the first few days distanced themselves. Rumors flew of Jamie having fought mental disorders for years and once threatening his parents with a pistol. The stories grew into myths that never died in a town such as Albion. That’s when Jamie began jogging through the town at night, allowing the bubbling stress of life in Albion to become more endurable.
He forgot all about his vow as he stood barefoot in the basement of Walt Huggins’ lake house at 4:30 a.m., glaring at Ben. Jamie had grown like a string bean in the past two years, and he almost faced his brother at eye level. Jamie didn’t realize he balled his fists until, suddenly, he reared back with his right arm and leaped forward while delivering a cross that smacked Ben in the left eye. His brother staggered.
Jamie took to the offensive, marshalling the tempest built the past few hours. Both fists found their targets, and his legs showed no signs of having been bound; they danced and kicked with abandon. Ben didn’t try to fight back; he blocked his brother’s blows with open-faced hands. He grunted then pleaded with Jamie to stop.
“This is all your fault,” Jamie told him between blows. “I knew you were the reason they’ve been trying to kill me. Dude, you’re a waste.”
“Jamie, c’mon. Get hold of yourself.”
“Screw you. You done nothing for me since Mom and Dad got …”
“Yes. I’ve done wrong by you … but listen to me, will you?”
“Go to hell.”
“I will, J. Guaranteed. But you gotta listen. You gotta calm down and hear me out. There’s little time, and we have work to do. You hear me?”
Jamie flailed at random, and his fists missed as the bountiful energy dwindled. Ben, with one eye blackened and blood pouring from a busted lip, let loose with a lightning-fast left kick, cutting Jamie’s legs out from under him. Jamie landed on his back with a thud and a groan. Ben backed away, tended to his bloody lip and gathered his breath.
“I deserved that,” Ben said. “Long time coming. Dammit, Jamie. You got no idea how sorry I am. You gotta let me try to explain. I don’t know if there’s enough time to tell you the whole sordid business.”
Jamie grabbed a sore spot in the nap of his back. “Dude, I ain’t in the mood for some crazy-ass story. I heard enough of that already. You tell me one thing, Ben. You just tell me nobody’s coming after me anymore. Can you promise me that?”
Ben’s eyes widened. “What have you heard?”
Jamie narrowed his eyes into suspicious slits. “Nothing I believe. Some whacked-out lady … shows up out of nowhere. She’s just …”
“Jamie, did this woman … did she call herself Mentor?”
Death passed through Jamie with icy fingers. He fought back the terror and gritted his teeth.
“How could you know?”
Ben wiped his forehead and sighed. “Oh, damn, J. We figured something was wrong with the program, but why did it wait until tonight to unlock? Did she tell you about the Jewel?” Ben didn’t wait for a response. “The fold? The observers?”
Jamie felt a tremor in his heartbeat. All he could do was nod.
“Chancellors?” Ben asked. Again, Jamie nodded. “Everything at once. Makes no sense. Why would the Mentor …?” Ben paused. “The Caryllan Wave pulse. Must be it. Did it … you called it a woman … did she mention the pulse and what’s happening to you now?”
Jamie crinkled his face. “You tell me this is all some kind of giant put-on.” He wouldn’t allow reality to set in, but he felt the walls pressing against him from all sides.
“Please, Ben.”
Ben turned his back on Jamie and placed his hands on his hips. “It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. But here we are. Jamie, as much as you hate the idea, you’re going to have to follow my instructions.”
Jamie released a mocking laugh. “Why should I start now?”
Ben started up the stairs. Without turning around, he said, “Get your head together. We have things to do before you die.”
16
4:15 a.m.
T HE MORE FAMILIAR faces he saw, the less Michael could fathom the depth of this late-night pursuit of his best friend. Michael saw a cross-section of Albion join forces and come loaded for bear. These people gathered in a field south of town, arriving in three cars: A teacher, a fellow student, a track coach, two mechanics, a writer, and a married couple who operated a bed-and-breakfast. He recognized every face, if not the names, right away. Everyone sported a weapon – most carried pistols, but at least two (the Cobb brothers) packed AK-47s.
As he looked at these white faces, illuminated by headlights, Michael drew upon the stories of his grandfather, who lived through the depths of the Jim Crow era and the battle for civil rights. He came to an inescapable conclusion.
“This must have been what it was like for a black boy to get drug to a Klan meeting,” he mumbled even as he felt the butt of a
