Strangers

context of events at the Tranquility Motel, in the context of miracle cures and telekinetic phenomena, and he wondered if there might be some truth in the claims and accusations that the poor frightened man had shouted through the basement window. And wondering, he felt the fine hairs rise on the back of his neck. He shivered.
        Seeing that reaction, Hasterwick said, "Hey, ain't no point takin' it serious, for Christ's sake. You don't think what he said was true? Hell, the guy was a nut. He blowed himself up, didn't he?"
        Father Wycazik ran north along Scott Avenue to the parish car.
        Even before he had arrived in Evanston and discovered the unfolding tragedy at Calvin Sharkle's house, Stefan Wycazik had half-expected to be on a flight to Nevada before the day was through. The events at the Mendozas' apartment and at the Halbourgs' place had set a fire of wonder and curiosity burning in him, and the blaze would not be quenched unless he plunged into the activities of the troubled group in Elko County.
        Now, because of what he had just learned from Hasterwick, the urge to go to Nevada had become a burning need. If only half of what Sharkle had shouted through the basement window was true, Stefan had to go to Nevada, not only to witness a miracle but to do what he could to protect those who had gathered at the Tranquility. All his life, he had been a rescuer of troubled priests, a shepherd bringing lost souls back into the fold. This time, however, he might be called upon to save minds and lives as well. The threat of which Calvin Sharkle had spoken was one that might put body and brain in as much jeopardy as the spirit.
        He slipped the car in gear again. He drove out of Evanston.
        He decided not to return to the rectory to pack. There was no time. He would head straight to O'Hare International Airport and take the first available seat on the first available flight west.
        Dear God, he thought, what have You sent us? Is it the greatest gift for which we could have asked? Or a plague to make all Biblical plagues pale by comparison?
        Father Stefan Wycazik put the pedal to the metal and drove south and then west toward O'Hare like… well, like a bat out of Hell.
        

        
        Ginger and Faye spent the larger part of the morning with Elroy and Nancy Jamison under the pretense that Ginger, supposedly the daughter of an old friend of Faye's, was moving west for unspecified health reasons and was interested in learning about Elko County. The Jamisons were local-history buffs, eager to talk about the county, especially about the beauty of the Lemoille Valley.
        Actually, indirectly and directly, Ginger and Faye were seeking indications that Elroy and Nancy were suffering from the effects of collapsing memory blocks. They found none. The Jamisons were happy, untroubled. Their brainwashing had been as successful as Faye's; their false memories were firmly rooted. Bringing them into the Tranquility family would put them in jeopardy while serving no great purpose.
        In the motel van, as they pulled away from the Jamison house (with Elroy and Nancy waving from the front porch), Ginger said, "Good people. Really nice people."
        "Yes," Faye said. "Reliable. Wish they were standing beside us in this thing. On the other hand, I'm happy they're well out of it."
        Both women were quiet then, and Ginger figured Faye's thoughts were the same as her own: They were wondering if the government car was still parked along the county road, near the entrance to the Jamisons' place, and if the men in it would still be content merely to follow them. Ernie and Dom had armed themselves for their expedition into the mountains around Thunder Hill Depository. However, considering the unprovocative nature of Faye's and Ginger's errands, no one had thought that they might be in special danger, too. Ginger, like many attractive women living alone in a city, knew how to use a handgun, and Faye, a good Marine wife, was something of an expert, but their knowledge and expertise was of no use when they were not armed.
        Having driven only a quarter-mile along the Jamisons' half-mile driveway, Faye stopped the van in one of the deepest pools of shadows cast by the overhanging pines. "I'm probably being melodramatic," she said. She slipped open a few buttons on her coat and reached under her sweater. "And these won't be much good if they point guns at