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“If she’s had the measles, she’ll have the rube immunity to catching it again. That might make her
steam useful in all sorts of ways.”
“The kids get vaccinated against all that crap now,” Crow said.
Rose nodded. “That could work, too.”
Grampa Flick once more began to cycle. It was hard to watch, but Rose made herself to do it.
When she could no longer see the old fellow’s organs through his fragile skin, she looked at Crow and
held up her bruised and scraped hand.
“Also . . . she needs to be taught a lesson.”
2
When Dan woke up in his turret room on Monday, the schedule had once more been wiped from his
blackboard and replaced with a message from Abra. At the top was a smiley-face. All the teeth were
showing, which gave it a gleeful look.
She came! I was ready and I hurt her!
I REALLY DID!!
She deserves it, so HOORAY!!!
I need to talk to you, not this way or ’Net.
Same place as before 3PM
Dan lay back on his bed, covered his eyes, and went looking for her. He found her walking to
school with three of her friends, which struck him as dangerous in itself. For the friends as well as for
Abra. He hoped Billy was there and on the job. He also hoped Billy would be discreet and not get
tagged by some zealous Neighborhood Watch type as a suspicious character.
(I can come John and I don’t leave until tomorrow but it has to be fast and we have to be careful )
(yes okay good )
3
Dan was once more seated on a bench outside the ivy-covered Anniston Library when Abra emerged,
dressed for school in a red jumper and snazzy red sneakers. She held a knapsack by one strap. To Dan
she looked as if she’d grown an inch since the last time he’d seen her.
She waved. “Hi, Uncle Dan!”
“Hello, Abra. How was school?”
“Great! I got an A on my biology report!”
“Sit down a minute and tell me about it.”
She crossed to the bench, so filled with grace and energy she almost seemed to dance. Eyes bright,
color high: a healthy after-school teenager with all systems showing green. Everything about her said
ready-steady-go. There was no reason for this to make Dan feel uneasy, but it did. One very good
thing: a nondescript Ford pickup was parked half a block down, the old guy behind the wheel sipping
a take-out coffee and reading a magazine. Appearing to read a magazine, at least.
(Billy?)
No answer, but he looked up from his magazine for a moment, and that was enough.
“Okay,” Dan said in a lower voice. “I want to hear exactly what happened.”