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“We just want to…” Caine couldn’t actually think of precisely what it was he just wanted to do.
“Well, come on inside,” the girl said.
There was no movement. No walking, no climbing the steps. The farmhouse seemed to warp for a second, and then it was suddenly around them. Caine was standing in a gloomy living room. There were plastic slipcovers on the sagging couch and on a corduroy La-Z-Boy.
Emily was maybe twelve. Dressed in jean shorts and a pink Las Vegas sweatshirt. As Caine had expected, she was holding a huge, double-barreled shotgun.
The boy came in from outside. He seemed completely unsurprised to see that Caine and Bug were standing in his living room. As though this kind of thing happened all the time.
Caine wondered if he was hallucinating.
“Have a seat,” Emily said, indicating the couch. Caine sat gratefully. He was exhausted.
“That’s a pretty good trick,” Caine said.
“It’s useful,” Emily said. “Makes it hard for people to find us if we don’t want to be found.”
“You have any electricity?” the brother asked Caine.
“What?” Caine peered at him. “In my pocket? How would I have electricity?”
The boy pointed mournfully at the TV. A Wii and an Xbox were attached. All indicator lights off, of course. Game cartridges were stacked high.
“That’s a lot of games.”
“The other ones bring them to us,” Emily said. “Brother likes the games.”
“But we can’t play them,” the boy said.
Caine looked at him closely. He did not strike Caine as any sort of genius. Emily, on the other hand, seemed shrewd and focused. She was the one in charge.
“What’s your name?” Caine asked the boy.
“Brother. His name is Brother,” Emily supplied.
“Brother,” Caine said. “Okay. Well, Brother, those games aren’t much fun if you don’t have electricity. Are they?”
“Those others told me they’d get some of that.”
“Yeah? Well, only one person can bring electricity back,” Caine said.
“You?”
“Nope. A kid named Computer Jack.”
“We met him,” Brother interjected. “He fixed my Wii, long time back. Games still worked back then.”
“Jack works for me,” Caine said. He sat back and let that sink in. It was a lie, of course. But he doubted Emily would know that. She wouldn’t know that Jack was in Perdido Beach. And that according to Bug he wa
s sitting in a squalid room reading comic books and refusing to do anything.
“You can get the lights on?” Emily asked with a glance at her anxious brother.
“I can,” Caine lied smoothly. “It would take about a week.”
Emily laughed. “Kid, you look like you can’t even feed yourself. Look at you. You look like a scarecrow. Dirty, hair falling out. And lying like a rug. What can you do?”
“This,” Caine said. He raised one hand and the shotgun flew out of Emily’s hand. It hit the wall so hard, the barrel stuck in the plaster like a crossbow bolt. The wood stock quivered.
