For I Could Lift My Finger and Black Out the Sun (30 page)

2

We walked side by side down mostly empty back roads. Both of us knew people might be looking for me, but the landscape we wandered through seemed deserted so it wasn’t hard to duck behind a tree when the odd car went past.

Bobby was quiet, we both were. Could I really trust him? Or was Bobby leading me into a trap? Like Petrus, in a way. No, I could feel Bobby’s relief. He was glad to be free of Sol. And I could feel his genuine guilt over what he’d done to my family, to Holly. But there was something else.

Underneath, Bobby seemed angry. At himself. At Sol. Below the surface, I felt a quiet resolve. Bobby wanted to finish this, too. To make things right.

After miles of walking, I realized that I actually felt bad for Bobby. Yes, the same Bobby who’d given Sol the idea to kidnap my sister. But really, here I was, on the lam, police everywhere looking for me. Same with Holly. All-points bulletins and such.

What about Bobby? Was anyone looking for him? Hell, were his own
parents
looking for him? Knowing what I knew of them, my guess was no. They were probably sitting back, letting inertia have its way with them. Or worse, actively arguing with each other that
you
should call the cops, no,
you
should. Then sitting and watching their nightly mind-numbing game shows and crappy sitcoms all the same. I mean, how many kids are there just like Bobby every day? They disappear and no one cares. People just let them go. Let them disappear forever.

I realized
I
was the anomaly. Me and Holly. Someone actually gave a crap about finding us. We were lucky. Really, really lucky.

Even though I really didn’t want to be found again. Not yet, at least. Maybe not ever, for me. Holly was the important one. I had to get her back to my mom, no matter what it meant for me.

But who knew what that might be? Walking beside Bobby, I started to have a different attitude about myself and my chances against Sol. All along, I’d assumed that I’d be the sacrificial lamb, and give up myself to save Holly. But with Bobby on my side… was something more possible? I began to hang all hope on the two of us, working together, riding in to save the day. Maybe I believed Bobby partly because I felt I need him. Two against one.

Assuming that no one was with Sol anymore. Which was a really big and highly unlikely assumption.

Still we walked. For a long while, we just followed the road, no idea where it was taking us.

“Are we going the right way?” I finally asked.

“To get to Sol? As far as I know, yes,” Bobby said. “I know he’s headed west. You were at least right about that part. But that’s all I know. I have no idea when he’ll stop, or if he’ll stop, or where.” We trudged on. “Sol said you’d know where to find him?” Bobby asked. I nodded. “How?”

I just shrugged. “He didn’t tell you? Weren’t you, like, part of the gang?”

“Yeah, but Sol’s not like that. He doesn’t say much about his intentions. Likes the mystery or something.”

“But west is definitely the way?” I asked.

“Yes. I mean, would I keep walking this way with you if it was completely pointless?” Bobby looked at me a moment before continuing. “Don’t answer that.”

The sun was rising behind us, so we were doing the best we could in terms of direction. “Okay, then,” I said. “We keep going.” I pointed a finger toward the horizon, hoping we were actually getting closer.

I had no idea how long Holly would last. Or how long Sol would wait for me.

* * *

“So he never told you anything?” I asked Bobby after a long, quiet stretch of walking.

“Huh?” Bobby tossed a stone into the low brush on the side of the road. “No, that’s not it. He would tell us stuff, sure, just not his
plans
.”

“Then what did he tell you?”

“Well, we were training. That was the whole idea. He would try to guide us, make us better.”

I frowned. “That’s one thing I don’t understand.” I kept my comet theory to myself, knowing Bobby wouldn’t like talking about it. But I was still curious about how our powers developed. “How come Sol’s so much better than the rest of us?”

Bobby shrugged. “Don’t know. How come I’m good at taking a beating, but you can snap minds?” He looked sideways at me. “I saw what you did to Petrus.”

My head hung. I would never be proud of what I’d done. “You knew him?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry for what I did.”

Bobby patted me on the shoulder. “Nah, don’t be. He was a dick.”

We both laughed, but I couldn’t sustain it, knowing that Petrus was still alive but essentially dead, because of me.

“But Sol did teach you things?” I asked, not sure what I expected him to say.

“Oh, yeah. He tried. I mean, most everything comes from inside you. You have to
get it
, you have to do it yourself. But it helps an awful lot to see what someone else has done, to emulate it, to hear
how
they do it.”

The sound of a distant engine from behind sent us scurrying into a depression on the far side of the road. We waited as the car drove slowly past, just someone out for a leisurely drive through the country, it seemed. We started walking again when the road was clear.

“Have you learned how to move things with your mind?” Bobby asked.

I didn’t answer at first, then turned the question around instead. “Have you?”

“Yeah. It was hard, though. Pretty much the opposite of what you’d expect to do.”

“How so?” Remembering my lame attempts to move a pencil, I was curious.

“Well, you’d think you have to
force
your will onto whatever you want to move, command it to move. But it’s… different.”

“Go on.” Did I seem too eager to hear this? I bet I did.

Bobby stopped walking, so I did, too. “Let’s see.” He looked around. “Okay, there. You see that large branch, the dry brown one by the pine on the right?” I nodded. And then Bobby made a simple sweeping gesture, and the branch flew across the road and into the woods on the other side.

“Whoa.” That’s all I could think to say.

Bobby grinned. He always did like to hit the next level, achieve the next goal, show off. Compared to my skills, Bobby might as well have been an illusionist making the Great Pyramid disappear. What he had just done was so advanced, it was like magic.

He made me wait a really long time. But finally he said, “I’ve gotta assume by your reaction that you don’t know how to do that. Wanna learn?”

“You’re damn right I do!”

* * *

An hour later, still walking west, I stopped again. “That’s it?”

“Yeah,” Bobby said, the proud smile on his face suddenly falling when he realized my mood. “What?”

“You’re telling me that your big advice — after the amazing training you supposedly got from Sol and the others — was just one word?
Relax.
Are you kidding me?”

“No, Johnny, seriously.” I started walking again and Bobby rushed to catch up. “Johnny?” I wouldn’t stop, or even look at him, until finally he grabbed my arm and turned me around. “Johnny.
John.
What’s the problem?”

“Don’t you think I’ve tried that? Don’t you think I’ve tried relaxing and clearing my mind and
everything
?”

“Actually, no. I don’t.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Are you trying to move something now?” Bobby asked.

I stormed off again. “I should try to drop a rock on your head.”

“Sure. It won’t work.”

“No shit it won’t work, Bobby. That’s what I’m trying to tell you!”

“Not because it’s never worked before. Because you most certainly are
not
relaxed.”

“Piss off,” I said. It wasn’t my most eloquent comeback.

“Seriously, Johnny. Calm down. Then try again.”

So I stopped. Took a breath. Hell, I took 10 breaths. Closed my eyes. Imagined puppies. Thought about baseball. And then I opened my eyes again, spied a piece of paper — a scrap of discarded paper on the side of the road — and willed it to move.

Nothing.

“Piss off,” I repeated, and walked off in a huff.

3

The next morning, I stretched, trying to work the kink out of my back put there by a walnut-sized stone I hadn’t noticed when I went to sleep the night before. Despite the soreness, I was glad of two things: sleeping at night rather than during the day, and having someone with me.

I looked over at Bobby, who was still out cold, and couldn’t help but smile. My friend, willing to come with me on a probable suicide mission.

I thought about my failure the day before. My inability to glean anything from the advice Bobby had given me.
Relax
. So much easier said than done, especially when you’re a hormonal, super-powered kid heading toward your own certain doom.

But on this particular morning, fresh from sleep, I felt better. Calm, even. The woods were thick, so we’d been able to camp not far off the road. I looked up into the canopy of trees, the early light peeking through in bright dots. I heaved a sigh, not of frustration, but… was it contentment? I don’t think so, but I was at peace, at least for the moment.

I stood up and turned around, then looked down at my filthy clothes, jeans torn, shoes clogged with dirt. Just beyond the toe of my right sneaker was the rock, the little one I must have slept on. My back called out in pain again, and I reached one hand back to massage the spot.

“Stinkin’ rock. Go away,” I said offhandedly, making a flicking gesture with my fingers.

And the rock flew off into the woods, cracking into the trunk of some tree.

The sound was enough to wake Bobby. “What was that?” he asked.

I didn’t answer him. “Well, son of a bitch,” I muttered to myself.

* * *

Walking all that day, I was practically in a Zen state. Utterly calm, in fact, nearly rapturous in my glee. I had a new skill! I felt like a videogame character who had just gained a power-up.

I flung rocks, tossed branches, flicked acorns, scattered pebbles. Over and over and over, a big smile on my face, as we walked on.

When we finally took a break, a few yards into the woods in case a car happened by, Bobby broke my joyful silence.

“Ready for the next step?” he asked.

“I actually think so, yes.” It was a confidence in my powers that I hadn’t felt before. I had
learned
something. That meant I might learn other things, too. “What?”

“Okay, so now you can move stuff, and that’s great. But what about the opposite?”

“Huh?”

“I mean, can you make something
not
move?”

I thought about it. “I don’t know,” I said. “Do you do it the same way?” I asked.

Bobby made a wavy gesture with one hand. “Sort of. But there’s more to it. When you push something away, you just push and that’s it. It flies off, wherever you sent it. But when you want to
stop
something from moving, you have to pay more attention. Just because you stop something once doesn’t mean it’s gonna
stay
stopped.”

“Makes sense,” I said. “Let me try.” I looked around, trying to find something that was moving. Other than branches slightly swaying in the light breeze, there was nothing. “Hmm.”

“You need a target,” Bobby said. “A person.”

“The only person here is you.”

“Exactly. Stop me.” And he took off down the street, running away from me.

I was surprised, to say the least. But I thought I knew what do to. I took a long, calm breath, Bobby getting farther away with each moment. Then I reached out, willing him to
freeze
. For a split second Bobby hesitated. It looked almost like he had bumped into something. But he bounced off it, still running.

“You’re going to have to hold me in place,” he said over his shoulder. By this time he was a good distance away.

“Hold on!” I shouted at his back.

“No!” he said, sounding quite pleased. “You gotta make me stop.” Still he ran. I think he may have been laughing.

I tried again, willing myself to hold on to the calm that had worked before, at least when it came to pushing objects around. I raised a hand toward him, closing a fist, visualizing him locked in place as if my fingers had grabbed him. And Bobby stopped. Mostly. I let out a short, triumphant laugh.

And he broke free and ran again.

“Not enough. You have to hold on!” His voice sounded awfully far away.

“Wait!” I ran toward him, feeling like I should close the distance. “Wait!” I was getting upset. I don’t think that helped.

Bobby kept running. “Come on, Johnny. Keep trying!”

I came to a stop, panting. Once more I reached out my hand, virtually closing my fingers around him, willing him to
stop
, straining to hold on. But I was flustered, and my mind wasn’t focusing. Bobby didn’t so much as slow down. I dropped my hand to my side, my head tilting up to the sky in frustration.

After a moment, I looked back toward Bobby, who was still running. “Stop it already,” I said, with a dismissive flick of my wrist.

And Bobby went sailing into the bushes on the side of the road.

I had tossed him aside, as if he were a rock or branch. “Oh crap,” I said, running toward him, hoping I hadn’t hurt him.

The bushes shook and Bobby stood up, laughing. “What the hell was that?” he asked.

“Sorry, Bobby. I —” I didn’t know what to say.

“You couldn’t stop me, so instead you threw me in the bushes?” He raised an eyebrow at me as he dusted himself off, and I looked down in embarrassment. Bobby walked over and clapped a hand on my shoulder. “Hey man, it’s okay. I never taught anyone anything before. Maybe I’m just a crappy teacher.” He laughed, bits of leaves and dirt still clinging to his cheeks, his hair, his clothes.

Soon I was laughing, too.