“You mean you think George did it? Why don’t you ask him?”
“He’s been too sick; besides, I’m not sure he knows. He didn’t know much about that little girl’s leg, and I know he did that.”
“George, did you make me feel better when we were on the train? Were you the one that made the gas go away?”
“Is it all right if I have this soda pop?”
“Yes. Did you do those things on the train?”
“I don’t know,” Little Tib said. He wondered if he should tell them about the beer.
Nitty asked, “How did you feel on the train?” His voice, which was always gentle, seemed gentler than ever.
“Funny.”
“Naturally he felt funny,” Mr. Parker said. “He was running a fever.”
“Jesus didn’t always know. ‘Who touched me?’ he said. He said, ‘I felt power go out from me.’ ”
“Matthew Fourteen: Five—Luke Eighteen: Two. In overtime.”
“You don’t have to believe he was God. He was a real man, and he did those things. He cured all those people, and he walked on that water.”
“I wonder if he saw the lion.”
“Saint Peter walked on it too. Saint Peter saw Him. But what I’m wondering about is, if it is the boy, what would happen to you if he was to go away?”
“Nothing would happen to me. If I’m all right, I’m all right. You think maybe he’s Jesus or something. Nothing happened to those people Jesus cured when he died, did it?”
“I don’t know,” Nitty said. “It doesn’t say.”
“Anyway, why should he go away? We’re going to take care of him, aren’t we?”
“Sure we are.”
“There you are, then. Are you going to put his costume on him before we go?”
“I’ll wait until you’re inside. Then when he comes out, I’ll take him back here and get him dressed up and take him over to the meeting.”
Little Tib heard the noise the blinds made when Mr. Parker pulled them up—a creaky, clattery little sound. Mr. Parker said, “Do you think it would be dark enough by the time we got over there?”
“No.”
“I guess you’re right. That window is still loose, and I think he can get through—get between the bars. How long ago was it we looked? Was that three years?”
“Last year,” Nitty said. “Last summer.”
“It still looks the same. George, all you really have to do is to let me in the building, but it would be better if I didn’t come through the front door where people could see me. Do you understand?”
Little Tib said that he did.
“Now it’s an old building, and all the windows on the first floor have bars on them; even if you unlocked some of the other windows from inside, I couldn’t get through. But there is a side door that’s only used for carrying in supplies. It’s locked on the outside with a padlock. What I want you to do is to get the key to the padlock for me, and hand it to me through the window.”
“Where is the computer?” Little Tib asked.
“That doesn’t matter—I’ll deal with the computer. All you have to do is let me in.”
“I want to know where it is,” Little Tib insisted.
Nitty said, “Why is that?”
“I’m scared of it.”
“It can’t hurt you,” Nitty said. “It’s just a big number grinder. It will be turned off at night anyway, won’t it, Mr. Parker?”
“Unless they’re running an overnight job.”
“Well, anyway, you don’t have to worry about it,” Nitty said.
Then Mr. Parker told Little Tib where he thought the keys to the side door would be, and told him that if he could not find them, he was to unlock the front door from inside. Nitty asked if he would like to listen to the television, and he said yes, and they listened to a show that had country and western music, and then it was time to go. Nitty held Little Tib’s hand as the three of them walked up the street. Little Tib could feel the tightness in Nitty. He knew that Nitty was thinking about what would happen if someone found them. He heard music—not country and western music like they had heard on the television—and to make Nitty talk so he would not worry so much, he asked what it was.
“That’s Dr. Prithivi,” Nitty told him. “He’s playing that music so that people will come and hear his sermon, and see the people in the costumes.”
“Is he playing it himself?”
“No, he’s got it taped. There’s a loudspeaker on the top of the bus.”
