Terminal

And I did. I actually did. For the first time in my life, I believed in something other than my wife and my son. I’d demanded that God prove himself to me. I’d expected it immediately, but maybe this was more His style.

While Benjy got started, I crept to the vault doorway and listened. There was silence on the other side. I thought again of that strange, muffled thumping I’d heard earlier and wondered what it had been. It occurred to me that we hadn’t heard a peep from Keith or Lucas since Sherm had taken them away. Keith was right across the hall. Shouldn’t we have heard from him? And where was Sherm? I craned my head around the corner, trying to eavesdrop, but the only sound was the blood ringing in my ears. What the hell was going on?

As if in answer to my question, I heard the faint but unmistakable trickle of piss hitting toilet water, followed seconds later by a long fart. At least I now knew where Sherm had gone and what he was doing. But then it hit me. Sherm had also told me that he locked Lucas inside the bathroom and squirted glue in the lock. So was it Sherm or the delivery driver I heard now?

There was no way to be sure. Had Sherm lied, and if so, why?

I glanced back over my shoulder. Benjy’s eyes were closed and he rocked back and forth, still holding his hands over the bullet’s entry point. The others craned their heads forward, focusing on him, absolutely transfixed by what they were seeing.

I don’t know what we expected. Maybe we’d seen too many movies or read too many novels. There was no glow, no heat, and no blinding flash of white light. Trumpets didn’t sound and no heavenly chorus appeared before us. But one thing did happen. Immediately, John’s chest began to rise and fall. His breathing was harsh, ragged— but his lungs were working again and that was all that mattered.

I’d gotten the proof that I’d demanded. I believed.

And in that newfound belief, I was both exhilarated and terrified.

“Jesus . . .” Oscar breathed.

“This is— I’ve never seen anything like it,” Kim gasped.

Down the hall, a toilet flushed. Whoever was in the bathroom, Sherm or Lucas, was finishing his business. I reached down, scooped up the torn duct tape that had bound Benjy’s hands, wadded it into a ball, and stuffed it in my pocket.

“Sharon, there’s only the one bathroom in this place, right?”

She didn’t take her eyes off Benjy and John. “Umm, yeah. The one down the hall. It’s the fourth door past Keith’s office, next to the janitor’s closet. That’s all.”

“That’s what I thought. Okay, everybody listen to me carefully. Whatever happens, we can’t let Sherm find out about this. He’ll go ape shit if he sees that I freed Benjy. Even worse, I don’t know what he’d do if he figures out about Benjy’s— power. If he even believes in it, that is.”

“You think he’d try using the boy as a bargaining chip, don’t you?” Roy asked, still watching the miracle unfolding before our eyes.

“It’s a possibility. Shit, it’s more than a possibility. So I’m going to stall Sherm. I’ve let him bum rush this whole thing and it’s time I took it back. Keep an ear out for us and keep quiet for fuck’s sake. If I can’t keep him in one of the other rooms, I’ll start coughing really loud. If you hear that, it’s your signal to get back into your positions. Sheila, if that happens, you’re going to have to do your best to keep Benjy’s hands hidden. Everybody clear?”

They nodded in unison, all except for Benjy.

“Benjy, do you understand, buddy?”

He didn’t respond. Instead, he pressed down harder. I caught a glimpse between his fingers and saw something that looked like flesh-colored cheesecloth. It appeared as if John’s skin was growing, knitting itself back together over the wound in weblike strands.

“He can’t hear you when he’s like this,” Sheila explained. “He goes into a trance or something. But I’ll make sure.”

“Okay.”

John’s breathing was audible by then, and more regulated.

I wanted to stay and watch, wanted it more than anything in the world, but I couldn’t. Instead, I took a deep breath, felt my lungs wheeze in response, and walked out into the hall. I felt helpless and powerless. The desk plaque from Charlie Strauser’s office back at the foundry flashed through my head.

“I have gone out to find myself,” I whispered. “If I should get here before I return, please hold me until I get back.”

Then, even softer, I added, “Peace out.”