17

He and Dillon stayed polite to each other through the bedtime routine, almost being formal about it. Sean wondered if Dillon felt the same way. Like all their old habits had to be re-formed around the simple fact that their lives weren’t the same, and would never be again.

Afterward they both left their doors open. Sean lay in the dark and listened to his brother settle into bed with a groan. He asked softly, “That hurt?”

“I told you. Not really. More like stiffness right at the edge of pain.”

Sean stared at the moon beyond his window and said, “Everything’s changed.”

“What do you mean?”

He had no idea how to express what he felt, so he just said, “That’s the first time I’ve ever heard you admit to hurting.”

A blue jay started going crazy outside Sean’s window. Bright moonlight, early summer night, some bird just waking up. Sean listened to it for a while, drifting into sleep.

Then it felt as though the night coalesced.

Sean jerked back to full wakefulness. An eerie tension had invaded his room. The stillness had an edge now, like an unseen threat from some horror movie had just invaded their space. “Dillon.”

“What?” The word was half formed, like he’d been pulled back from near sleep.

Sean didn’t know if what he felt was even anchored in reality. For all he knew, he was just reliving terror from the attack. So all he said was, “Maybe we should shield ourselves before we sleep.”

When Dillon spoke, he sounded fully awake. “We should shield Mom and Dad too.”

Sean didn’t see any need to say he’d already done it. “Probably crazy, though.”

“Yeah. But when we get up at night, we reinforce the shields.”

“Both of us,” Sean agreed. “Every time.”

“Totally nuts, right?”

“Let’s hope so.”

Sean had been asleep several hours when yet another shift in the night woke him. He opened his eyes, blinked in the dark, and listened. He could not hear anything except his brother’s soft snores from the next room. But the longer he lay there, the more certain he grew that something was wrong.

He rose from his bed and walked through the bathroom and crossed his brother’s room. Dillon’s window overlooked the front lawn and the street. Sean stood by the window and searched.

He did not realize his brother was awake until Dillon asked, “You got those heebie-jeebies again?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.” Sean turned around. “You think I could come sleep on your floor?”

He expected some snappish comment from his brother. Instead, Dillon rose to his feet. “You want the bed?”

“No, man. You’re the one who got speared.”

Dillon padded across the carpeted floor to stand beside him. “You see anything?”

“Nada.” Sean walked back into his room, stripped his bed, and returned to the front bedroom. He made up a pallet on the floor by the window, something he hadn’t done in years. “It’s probably nothing.”

Dillon remained by the window. “I’ve got something crazy to say.”

“You mean, crazier than me worried about an empty night?”

“Oh yeah.” He turned around. “It hit me when I woke up. That maybe I can hunt.”

“I don’t follow.”

“Hunt,” Dillon said. “Go out looking for the bad guys. Why sit around waiting and worrying if I can check things out?”

Sean tucked his knees under him, yogi-like. “You mean, like, transit around?”

“Not exactly.” Dillon waved his hands, a habit he probably wasn’t even aware of. He always fought the air when the words didn’t come. “A hunter is somebody who can track the prey, right?”

“Carver called you a warrior.”

“Yeah, I got that. But this idea, I don’t know.”

Sean said, “That’s usually my department. Ideas.”

“Tell me about it. But when I sat up it was there waiting for me. Not words. But these impressions flashed in my head, one after the other, fast as bullets.” He punched the air, then winced when it pulled at his scar. “This is nuts.”

“No, no, let’s hear it.”

“Okay. So I lie back down. And I go for a walk-around.”

Sean got it. “Without your body.”

“I guess. And you have to be here. With me.”

Sean was following him now. “Like your anchor.”

“That’s it. Yeah.” Dillon sounded ashamed. “Will you hold my hand?”

It made Sean intensely uncomfortable to sit beside Dillon’s bed. He fashioned the same safety belt they used in transits, then sat there in the dark, holding Dillon’s hand. Limp and hot. He thought about getting up and pretending to need to go to the bathroom so he could wash his hands and end this craziness.

Then it happened.

The night went utterly quiet.

The absence of sound was as intense as anything he had ever experienced. There were always some noises in the house. The AC blew a soft rush, the fridge thunked from downstairs when it turned on, the floor creaked if his dad got up, Dillon snored, something.

Not now.

Sean sat with his back against his brother’s bed, his eyes wide open, listening to the absence of everything. He decided this was how a vacuum must be like.

Or death.

Strangely, he was not afraid. The heat from his brother’s hand was now accompanied by a current, strong as an electric spark. He knew something was happening. What, he had no idea. But he was comfortable not knowing. He had no idea how long he sat there, encased in a stillness that went much further than just silence.

Finally Dillon released his hand, sat up, and calmly announced, “It’s coming.”

“What is?”

“The enemy.” His brother was intense and serene at the same time. “Shield the folks.”

“I’ve been doing that.”

“You feel it too, don’t you?”

“I feel something. I have no idea what it is.” He watched Dillon ease himself down to the floor. “What just happened?”

“I shut my eyes and I rose up and I went out into the yard. And I hunted.”

Every single word his brother spoke left a charred remnant, like cinders that only needed the slightest spark to ignite. Sean pushed aside all the questions except one. “Should we transit?”

Dillon squinted at the wall by the window, like he could still pierce the night. “I don’t . . . What about Mom and Dad?”

“I know what you mean.” Sean had been worrying about the same thing. “Like, we transit, and the shields leave with us.”

“I can’t risk doing that.”

“No. Me neither. So you go. You’re the one who’s hurt.”

“Don’t even start. Look, shield the folks again, and then try to extend one around the house.”

“Good idea,” Sean agreed. When he was done, he asked, “What did you see?”

“There are four of them. All look like the Examiner.”

“But . . . four?”

“They’re not real. Just like the girls. It’s like . . .”

“Tell me.”

“Like they want the Examiner to be seen.”

“But why—”

The question went unfinished. All the others remained unspoken. Because that was when the world exploded.