Chapter 28

Michael Whyte

Mike sat at the kitchen table, looking at the box. His camera rested near his hand, and with one finger he tapped it in a simple rhythm. The window facing him looked out into darkness; only the pool of yellow illumination from a streetlight was visible.

His phone rang. Not AJ. A number he didn’t recognize. He hesitated for a few rings before answering. “Hello, this is Michael Whyte.”

“Michael. This is Alan.” Michael recognized the gruff voice.

“Oh. Hi. Are you using a different phone?”

“Yes.”

“What do you want?”

“The package. You still have it?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you open it?”

“Of course.”

“I told you not to.”

“But you knew I would, right? I mean, I’m not just gonna hang on to a suspicious package from a person I don’t know without actually checking to see what it is, right? Not that I know what it is any better now.” Michael stood and moved around the table while he spoke. With one hand he slid the strange metal stack of pancakes onto the table.

The gruff voice was silent.

“Okay, Alan. What exactly do you want me to do with this?” Michael tapped a fingernail on the metallic shell of the object.

“Just hang onto it for now. I sent it so it would be at a safe location. I intend to come pick it up. I may have to stop by Chicago first.”

“Okay, see, that is exactly what you shouldn’t have said. So I’m a ‘safe location?’ Implying that wherever it was wasn’t safe. And I am concerned that this package will bring the unsafeness along with it, to my location. I’m going to get rid of it.”

“Not yet.”

“Why the hell am I even the safest location you could think of? You don’t even know me! Do you just send stuff like this to your daughter’s friend’s siblings all the time?”

“Trust me, Michael. Or barring that, trust Jimothy. Is it turned on?”

“What? I have no idea.”

“Turn it on.”

“I thought you didn’t want me to open it!”

“I didn’t, until now. Turn it on.”

“Ok. How?”

“There is a switch on the bottom.”

“What will it do?”

“For you, the most important thing it will do is alert you to possible danger. Keep close to it the next few days, and keep your brother close to it.”

“Danger? What the hell, Alan. If any danger is coming, it’s only because some guy mailed me a…whatever this is.”

“No. I don’t know if you actually will be in any danger. I hope not, but I want you to be prepared for that possibility. And if it comes, it will not be because of the package I sent you.”

“Alan, does somebody know about Jim? Do you know?”

“What do you mean, Michael?”

“I’m talking about how he can paint things he hasn’t seen! He can find anything just by thinking about it and guessing!”

“Calm down, Michael. Your brother isn’t the only strange thing in the world.”

“Tell me what we’re in danger from.”

“October Industries. Be on the lookout for grey and orange vans. It’s not you or your brother they want, or the device I sent you. They’re after something they’re calling ‘angels.’”

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Michael didn’t know how to respond to that.

“You’ll have to trust me. Call me if anything comes up.” Alan hung up.

Michael shook his head. Unbelievable. The only thing stopping him from leaving the strange device and driving Jimothy far away was Jimothy’s own insistence that Alan could be trusted. Jimothy was not often wrong about those things. Michael sighed, pocketed his phone, and flipped the switch on the bottom of the device. It vibrated slightly. The readouts on top came to life, showing numbers and flowing charts. If this was supposed to alert Michael to danger, he had no idea how.

Jimothy stepped around the corner into the bright fluorescent lights of the kitchen. He held out a blue ball toward Mike, grinning as if in triumph.

Mike was startled at first; it appeared that something horrible had happened to Jimothy. His hands, as well as large parts of his face, were a mottled mixture of brown, red, orange, and black. The smell of fresh paint began to fill the room.

“Jim, how many times do I have to tell you to wash up after you paint? You get it…uh, everywhere…” His attention turned toward the ball. It took him a moment to remember Jim talking about a ball bouncing all by itself. This must be the one.

A moment of silence.

Mike looked at him.

They both looked at the ball.

“Um…” said Mike.

Jimothy let go of the small blue sphere. He said, “Aha!”

They both watched as the ball bounced once, then again, then faster and faster. At last it lay still on the ground, rolling to a stop near the refrigerator. It had brown and red smudges on it, and it had left minute traces of this fact on the white tile floor of the kitchen.

Mike scratched the back of his neck and said, “Is that the one?”

“Yep!” said Jim.

Mike cast a meaningful glance at the inert orb near the fridge. “So it’s going to…start bouncing?”

“Hmm.” Jimothy looked at the ball as well. “Maybe.” Then he looked back at Mike. “You believe me, right?”

“Well, no. I think you were imagining things again.”

“I’m not, though. I checked the Line.”

Even though Mike had only a vague idea about what manner of psychological construct the Line actually was, it had never failed Jim. But balls don’t bounce all by themselves, and Mike told this to Jim.

Jimothy’s confused and disappointed expression pained Mike. “I know it’s impossible,” said Jim slowly, as though working through his thoughts out loud. “But I guess that’s why I was so excited about it…” He bit his lip and stared at the ball. He reached a hand up to massage the side of his head.

“Hey,” said Mike in an attempt to prevent Jimothy from dwelling on this and getting another headache. “Why don’t you go for a walk? It’s a nice night. And think about what to pack. We’re going on a trip tomorrow.”

Jim nodded slowly. He turned toward the back door.

“And try not to fall,” Mike added. “Take your cane.”

Jimothy nodded and disappeared around the corner. The back door opened, and Hazel began barking and jumping around in excitement. Jim always went to say hi to Hazel when leaving the house.

Mike went to the fridge and picked up the ball. It was, unless he was mistaken, a racquetball. He had never played racquetball. He gave it a few experimental bounces. Satisfyingly bouncy, yes, but it obeyed the laws of physics. He put it up on the counter. It was important not to leave things that could be tripped over on the floor, because Jim would always somehow find them. And with Jim the range of trip-able objects was extensive. More worryingly, the list seemed to be growing. Michael feared that Jim would eventually need a wheelchair. Someday. Not soon, hopefully, but…what about his room being on the second floor? The stairs were tricky enough for Jim; he had already considered looking into those lift-chair things. Were they expensive? Probably.

He turned his attention back to Alan’s device, and noticed Jim’s cane leaning against the table. Jim had forgot again. Or maybe he’d left it deliberately. Jim didn’t like the cane very much, even though it significantly reduced his time spent sitting on the ground.

Michael turned the heavy metal device over in his hands, and he noticed a small symbol near the switch he had flipped to power it on. For the first time, it occurred to him that this might be a clue. It could be a logo. It was an orange line within a grey oval, a bit like an eye with a vertical slit.

Several minutes of internet searching later, Michael considered that they might be letters—specifically, the letters “O” and “I.” From here he was at last able to identify the icon. It appeared to be the logo of October Industries. He began looking them up.

Someone knocked politely at the front door.

Mike stood, and was on his way to answer it when he heard a sound behind him:

Thock.

While he was turning to look, the front door exploded.