The Talisman

few ideas,’ Jack said. ‘What was so weird about practice?’
    ‘Remember I told you that Coach Frazer got some friend of his to handle it today? Well, he said we’d all get punishment laps if we tried to cut out, so I thought his friend would be some Al Maguire type, you know, some real hotshot. Thayer School doesn’t have a very good athletic tradition. Anyhow, I thought his replacement must be somebody really special.’
    ‘Let me guess. The new guy didn’t look like he had anything to do with sports.’
    Richard lifted his chin, startled. ‘No,’ he said. ‘No, he didn’t.’ He gave Jack a considering look. ‘He smoked all the time. And his hair was really long and greasy – he didn’t look anything like a coach. He looked like somebody most coaches would like to step on, to tell you the truth. Even his eyes looked funny. I bet you he smokes pot.’ Richard tugged at his sweater. ‘I don’t think he knew anything about basketball. He didn’t even make us practice our patterns – that’s what we usually do, after the warm-up period. We sort of ran around and threw baskets and he shouted at us. Laughing. Like kids playing basketball was the most ridiculous thing he’d seen in his whole life. You ever see a coach who thought sports was funny? Even the warm-up period was strange. He just said, “Okay, do pushups,” and smoked his cigarette. No count, no cadence, everybody just doing them by themselves. After that it was “Okay, run around a little bit.” He looked . . . really wild. I think I’m going to complain to Coach Frazer tomorrow.’
    ‘I wouldn’t complain to him or the headmaster either,’ Jack said.
    ‘Oh, I get it,’ Richard said. ‘Mr Dufrey’s one of them. One of the Territories people.’
    ‘Or he works for them,’ Jack said.
    ‘Don’t you see that you could fit anything into that pattern? Anything that goes wrong? It’s too easy – you could explain everything that way. That’s how craziness works. You make connections that aren’t real.’
    ‘And see things that aren’t there.’
    Richard shrugged, and despite the insouciance of the gesture, his face was miserable. ‘You said it.’
    ‘Wait a minute,’ Jack said. ‘You remember me telling you about the building that collapsed in Angola, New York?’
    ‘The Rainbird Towers.’
    ‘What a memory. I think that accident was my fault.’
    ‘Jack, you’re—’
    Jack said: ‘Crazy, I know. Look, would anyone blow the whistle on me if we went out and watched the evening news?’
    ‘I doubt it. Most kids are studying now, anyway. Why?’
    Because I want to know what’s been happening around here , Jack thought but did not say. Sweet little fires, nifty little earthquakes – signs that they’re coming through. For me. For us.
    ‘I need a change of scenery, Richard old chum,’ Jack said, and followed Richard down the watery green corridor.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
THAYER GOES TO HELL
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    1
    Jack became aware of the change first and recognized what had happened; it had happened before, while Richard was out, and he was sensitized to it.
    The screaming heavy metal of Blue Oyster Cult’s ‘Tattoo Vampire’ was gone. The TV in the common room, which had been cackling out an episode of Hogan’s Heroes instead of the news, had fallen dormant.
    Richard turned toward Jack, opening his mouth to speak.
    ‘I don’t like it, Gridley,’ Jack said first. ‘The native tom-toms have stopped. It’s too quiet.’
    ‘Ha-ha,’ Richard said thinly.
    ‘Richard, can I ask you something?’
    ‘Yes, of course.’
    ‘Are you scared?’
    Richard’s face said that he wanted more than anything to say No, of course not – it always gets quiet around Nelson House this time of the evening . Unfortunately, Richard was utterly incapable of telling a lie. Dear old Richard. Jack felt a wave of affection.
    ‘Yes,’ Richard said. ‘I’m a little scared.’
    ‘Can I ask you something else?’
    ‘I guess so.’
    ‘Why are we both whispering?’
    Richard looked at him for a long time without saying anything. Then he started down the green corridor again.
    The doors of the other rooms on the corridor were either open or ajar. Jack smelled a very familiar odor wafting through the half-open door of Suite 4, and pushed the door all the way open with tented fingers.
    ‘Which one of them is the pothead?’ Jack asked.
    ‘What?’ Richard replied uncertainly.
    Jack sniffed loudly. ‘Smell it?’
    Richard came back and looked