Getting Home

Part 27

Sophia asked, "Where are we going?"

Sean slowed the cruiser to a crawl to get around an errant ambulance that hadn't pulled far enough over. It was odd—focusing so hard on his driving was making it feel like his mind was settling a bit.

There you go, get it together.

"Sophia, listen—I'm sorry. I didn't mean to drag you into my drama back there." Sean squeezed past the ambulance, and cautiously continued on through the gauntlet of emergency vehicles. "I can drop you off somewhere if you want. Home?"

"I couldn't go home now," she said, her voice soft. Her head was turned, watching the still and empty police vehicles slowly stream by her window. "There's no way I could sleep... I don't think any of us are going to be sleeping for a long, long time."

"Henry Avenue," Sean said, feeling a sudden surge of anger. God, I hate that name. "We're going back where that stupid kid started all this."

I wish... I wish I had actually—

Fury began circling anxiously in the back.

"We don't know it was him," Sophia said.

"No." Sean slowed the car to a stop again as they reached the end of the police blockade. "But he's connected. Somehow."

"I certainly agree with you there."

In front of them, two giant empty County Sheriff F-150's stood side-by-side, gating the open road beyond the blockade behind a narrow passage.

"I've got to call my mom," Sophia said, suddenly digging in her pocket. "She'll be worried sick if I don't tell her I won't be home."

Sean felt a sudden pang of guilt.

Congrats—not only are you the worst brother in the world, you're the worst son too. Bravo.

Malloy's voice was suddenly in his head: Worry about that later. Focus on the task.

"Huh." Sophia shook her phone. "Phone's dead."

Sean eased the cruiser into the gap between the giant trucks. "There's a charging dock under the MDT."

"No, it's not that—this phone has been on the charger for the last three—Sean, what are you doing?!"

There was a violent snap as the side mirror on Sophia's door suddenly exploded straight up into the air, squeezed too far against one of the F-150's doors. It twirled and spun, the mirror casting rays of light before clattering to the ground.

"Oops," Sean said sheepishly.

Sophia eyed him warily. "Point is—this phone should be fully charged. Can I use yours?"

Sean distractedly dug in his pocket, pretending he couldn't hear the piercing squeal of metal scraping against metal going on outside the cruiser. "Here."

They broke free from between the two trucks, the open night road opening out wide in front of them. Sean immediately accelerated, tapping the foot switch under the kick-panel to trigger the overhead lights. The red and blue rays blasted into the gray bubble of soft fog surrounding them, strobing like rainbow helicopter blades.

"Yours is dead too," Sophia said curiously.

"Can't be," Sean said, suddenly paying attention—his phone never ran out of battery. "It had at least—"

His mind flashed to something.

"Sophia, remember that file you gave to me and Officer Malloy earlier? You said there was no evidence because all the phones and cameras in the area had been wiped. And you said it was getting..."

He glanced at her.

"Stronger."

Sophia nodded. "The second report of a vehicle explosive was wrong, Sean. There was no explosive—it was a blunt force impact from something that left no markings or residue. It also knocked out all the surveillance and cell phone cameras for three blocks—the report from early this morning only scrambled the camera across the street from the scene. And even then, I was still able to salvage something. But now?" She shook her head. "No way. It's growing, Sean... it's evolving."

Sean watched the empty, hypnotizing road, contemplating what she had said. The car jolted as he hit a pothole.

"I've never even seen it," he said finally.

"Me either... and maybe never will." She sighed, looking back out the window. "It's strange. Whatever it is, it can't be photographed or recorded on any device—ever. There will never be an image of it, never be a picture of it in the history books, never a single sound to be recorded from it. It's like if a word came to life—how do you describe something that is the explanation?"

She looked at him, haunted. "Ultimately, its entire existence will always be confined to our imaginations."

Fury whined nervously.

"Wow," Sean said after a moment. "I never thought about it like that before, I guess."

In fact, he was pretty sure he couldn't think about it like that, even if he tried.

"Sorry," Sophia said. "My mother always tells me I think too much about weird stuff." She looked back out the window, her voice regretful. "Story of my life."

"I don't think it's weird at all," Sean said softly. "But the real question is..."

He scrolled a small dial on the back of the steering wheel. The flashing blue and red of the overheads slowed, casting a lazy, vivid alternating glow through the haze.

"How do we stop something like that?"

Sophia took a long time to answer. When she did, her voice was so sullen, so soft, that Sean could barely hear it.

"I don't think we can."