Burn(64)

“I don’t think so, sweetie,” he said, keeping his voice light for her, “but whatever it is, we’re safe here.”

“Are you sure?”

He knelt down in front of her and smiled. “I wouldn’t have built it for you if I wasn’t sure.” He rubbed her hair. “Lie down, baby, try to get some sleep. Daddy has to make a phone call.”

She crawled onto one of the two cots her father had put in the shelter, pulling the blanket around her. There was another rumble, a huge one that shook a few cans of food off the shelves. Her father calmly picked them up and she heard him say to himself, “Gas station.”

He put the cans back, then picked up the government-issue phone he’d had installed in there. It wouldn’t work long in a nuclear war, just long enough for him to make the important calls he needed “if we’re the first strike,” he’d said. He tapped the button a few times, waited to be connected. She heard him curse under his breath, then he sat up straight as someone finally came on.

“Get me General Kraft,” he said. “This is Agent Paul Dernovich. Tell him I’m reporting Scenario 8.”





Nineteen


SHERIFF KELBY DIDN’T wait. He went straight in with the baton, hitting Darlene Dewhurst on the back of her knees, knocking her to the floor. The room stood as one in uproar. Hisao even pointed his shotgun at the sheriff.

Who just sneered. “And what do you plan on doing with that, Hisao?”

Hisao didn’t lower the gun even an inch. “My name is Mr. Inagawa.”

“It’s a crime to point a gun at a law enforcement official,” the sheriff said. “I’ll be hauling you in for that, but not before I get some answers. Who is this girl really?” He looked at Malcolm and Kazimir. “And what seems to be a vagabond and a fruit?”

“I don’t like that word,” Malcolm said, calmly, meeting the sheriff’s eye. “Fruit.”

“I wasn’t talking about you,” the sheriff said, seemingly delighted, “but golly, if the shoe fits.”

The sheriff kept coming, sneering at the upraised shotgun. He stopped; then his hand shot out like lightning and the baton struck the barrel of the gun, knocking it to one side. Mr. Inagawa didn’t drop it, but the lurch was enough for the sheriff to deliver another blow of the baton to Hisao’s face. His nose broke with a crunch, and this time he did drop the gun.

“Dad!” Jason said, leaping to his father. Sheriff Kelby caught him on the elbow with the baton. The blow was so clearly painful that Jason fell all the way to the wooden floor, not too far from where Darlene still half-sat, half-lay.

“That’s everyone I know,” the sheriff said, looking at the three who remained. “So how ’bout one of you starts talking.”

“She told you,” Sarah said. “I’m her niece. These are friends of mine.”

“Visiting the same night I and every other peaceful citizen of Frome, Washington, see a giant something or other flying straight from your farm?”

“You think I built a flying machine, Sheriff?” Darlene said.

He whipped around to face her. “You laughing at me, Darlene? Because that is something I would not recommend.” He spun the baton lightly in the air, then he turned back to Sarah with the ugliest smile in the world. He moved on her, baton rising.

“No,” Malcolm said, calmly.

In two steps, he caught the sheriff, taking hold of his back and the wrist that held the baton. He made the simplest shift in his body weight, and the sheriff fell, the baton tumbling from his hand, his arm bending back painfully. Malcolm kept the sheriff’s wrist in place until the sheriff’s own momentum caused it to break with an even louder snap than the bleeding man’s nose.

The sheriff hit the floor in clear astonishment. “You broke my wrist,” he said.

That’s all Malcolm gave him time to say. He kicked the sheriff in the throat, hard enough to silence him, and in two more steps had one knee on the sheriff’s unbroken arm and the other on his chest. Malcolm moved his arms to release the blades, and in a silky motion, had both tips pressed against either side of the sheriff’s neck.

“Don’t!” Sarah yelled.

“I wasn’t going to,” Malcolm said, and only realized it was true as he said it. “I want no more death on my hands.”

“I’ll do it!” Jason Inagawa grunted, still gripping his elbow.

“No, you won’t,” the girl said, fiercely. “Not again.”

“Again?” the boy said.

“Again?” said the sheriff.

“I wouldn’t speak if I were you,” Malcolm said, pressing both blades slightly, drawing two parallel drops of blood on the sheriff’s neck.

“If this is another universe—” the girl started.

“It is,” Kazimir said, watching Malcolm with an impressed look.

“If it is,” said Sarah, “then we don’t have to do the same things we did back there. They don’t have to have the same outcomes. We could be different.” She looked at her mother. “We could be better.”

“You have no need to be better, Sarah,” Kazimir said, still staring at Malcolm. “You were perfectly fine.”

“That’s a real vote of confidence,” Sarah said, flatly, “thank you.”