Most men can't make it through even five words of what I'm about to tell you (22 page)

actually blame me for causing a meteor strike.

We piled into the Caddie, Amy in the back. John clicked his seatbelt, pointed down at the furgun in my lap and said,

"THAT thing is goin' back in the fuckin' box."

We drove away, making one pass of the school on the way through. The remaining windows along the base of the

building had blown out from the heat. It was an inferno in there.

Amy said, "You know, those things might, like, eat fire or something. We don't actually know that it kills them."

We didn't say anything. She could be a bitch sometimes.

"Probably should have, maybe flooded it instead. Broke a water line or something."

I shrugged. "We'll do that next time. I'm sure it's fine."

I heard a fire engine wailing its siren in the distance.

"Well," said John. "I say we get cleaned up, then take me to the hospital."

I told him to go to my place, since it was closer.

"So," said Amy, "Did you guys see that tower thing? What was that?"

"Was?" said John. "You mean that thing right there?"

He pointed out the side window, to the west. I saw nothing, blinked, then saw a tower that filled the window and obscured

the horizon. Massive.

I forced myself not to see it. It sickened me.

"Why couldn't they just eliminate us?" asked Amy. "The shadow people, I mean. Why can't they just go back in the past and wipe us out?"

"Maybe they can't," offered John. "Or maybe they like it better this way."

"Or," Amy said, "Why couldn't they change the past in such a way that we had no choice but to do exactly what they wanted?"

I thought for a moment, then said, "How do you know they didn't do that?"

"Well," said John, around his cigarette. "It's over now, either way. That's the important thing. Everything can go back to normal."

"Yep," I said, with some satisfaction. "All in all, it was a pretty thorough job."

We turned down my street and saw three police cars in my yard.

Crime scene techs were examining Vance Falconer's Porsche and, presumably, his slumped-over dead body.

John let out an annoyed breath.

I said, "Let's go to your place instead. I don't wanna deal with this right now."

John turned around in a driveway four houses down from mine. We headed back toward town.

He shook his head, and flipped his cigarette out of his window. "Man, it's always somethin', isn't it?"

"We could always move."

"I think we should," said John. "As soon as we see what's inside that tower."