Lexicon

and muted sound, as if something was stuck in Wil’s ears, and eyes, and possibly brain. He shook his head to clear it, but the world grew dark and angry and would not stay upright. The world did not like to be shaken. He understood that now. He wouldn’t shake it again. He felt his feet sliding away from him on silent roller skates and reached for a wall for support. The wall cursed and dug its fingers into his arm, and was probably not a wall. It was probably a person.
    “You gave him too much,” said the person.
    “Safe than sorry,” said another person. They were bad persons, Wil recalled. They were kidnapping him. He felt angry about this, although in a technical kind of way, like taking a stand on principle. He tried to reel in his roller skate feet.
    “Jesus,” muttered a person, the tall one with calm eyes. Wil didn’t like this person. He’d forgotten why. No. It was the kidnapping. “Walk.”
    He walked, resentfully. There were important facts in his brain but he couldn’t find them. Everything was moving. A stream of airport people broke around him. Everyone going somewhere. Wil had been going somewhere. Meeting someone. To his left, a bird twittered. Or a phone. The short man squinted at a screen. “Rain.”
    “Where?”
    “Domestic Arrivals. Right ahead.” Wil found this idea amusing: rain in the terminal. “Do we know a Rain?”
    “Yeah. Girl. New.”
    “Shit,” said the short man. “I hate shooting girls.”
    “You get used to it,” said the tall man.
    A young couple passed, gripping hands. Lovers. The concept seemed familiar. “This way,” said the tall man, steering Wil into a bookstore. He came face-to-face with a shelf that said NEW RELEASES . Wil’s feet kept skating and he put out a hand to catch himself and felt a sharp pain.
    “Problem?”
    “Possibly nothing,” murmured the tall man, “or possibly Rain, passing behind us now, in a blue summer dress.”
    In glossy covers, a reflection skipped by. Wil was trying to figure out what had stabbed him. It was a loose wire in the NEW RELEASES sign. The interesting thing was that being stabbed had helped to clear the fog in his head.
    “Busiest part of any store, always the new releases,” said the tall man. “That’s what attracts people. Not the best. The new. Why is that, Wil, do you think?”
    Wil pricked himself with the wire. He was too tentative, could hardly feel it, and so tried again, harder. This time a blade of pain swept through his mind. He remembered needles and questions. His girlfriend, Cecilia, was out front in a white SUV. She would be in a two-minute parking bay; they had arranged that carefully. He was late, because of these guys.
    “I think we’re good,” said the short man.
    “Make sure.” The short man moved away. “All right, Wil,” said the tall man. “In a few moments, we’re going to cross the hall and walk down some stairs. There will be a little circumnavigating of passenger jets, then we’ll board a nice, comfortable twelve-seater. There will be snacks. Drinks, if you’re thirsty.” The tall man glanced at him. “Still with me?”
    Wil grabbed the man’s face. He had no plan for what to do next, so wound up just hanging on to the guy’s head and staggering backward until he tripped over a cardboard display. The two of them went down in a tangle of beige coat and scattered books.
Run
, Wil thought, and yes, that was a solid idea. He found his feet and ran for the exit. In the glass he saw a wild-eyed man and realized it was him. He heard yelps and alarmed voices, possibly the tall man getting up, who had a shotgun, Wil recalled now,
a shotgun
, which was not the kind of thing you would think could slip your memory.
    He stumbled out into an ocean of bright frightened faces and open mouths. It was hard to remember what he was doing. His legs threatened treachery but the motion was good, helping to clear his head. He saw escalators and forged toward them. His back sang with potential shotgun impacts, but the airport people were being very good about moving out of his way, practically
throwing
themselves aside, for which he was grateful. He reached the escalators but his roller skate feet kept going and he fell flat on his back. The ceiling moved slowly by. The tiles up there were filthy. They were seriously disgusting.
    He sat up, remembering Cecilia. Also the shotgun. And, now he thought about it, how about some security? Where were they? Because it was an airport. It was