demolition derby . . . not on purpose.”
“And?”
“He gave me a two-week suspension.”
“ What? ” The other troopers stopped what they were doing and stared at the man.
“That’s what I said.” DeWitt started limping for the door. “Go try to tell somebody the truth and we’ll all be watching TV in the daytime.”
Roy watched the officers turn to their typewriters. He watched them reading over their respective reports. Some cops exchanged forced smiles. Then, as if some invisible puppeteer pulled simultaneously on five strings, five right hands reached into five typewriters and yanked out five n217 forms, crumpled them, and dropped them into wastebaskets.
“Go ahead, talk, mister,” one officer said to Roy, smiling sheepishly as he inserted a new report form in his typewriter. “Be my guest.”
Neary searched for a friend in the room and immediately understood the general situation. He got up and left.
10
I t was after four by the time Neary got home. From somewhere he had inhaled a new burst of energy while charging down the hall to the bedroom, shouting “Ronnie! Ronnie!” Neary couldn’t control himself, every muscle was vibrating from an unforeseen reserve of adrenaline. He was nauseated from all the excitement and his second word almost blew Ronnie out of bed.
“Honey, wake up.”
Her two blue eyes filled with terror, her long blond hair sprang tangled with sleep.
“What’s it, kids . . . and fire, wh—?”
“It’s okay, kids are okay,” he said again. “Honey, you won’t believe this.”
Ronnie caught her breath and stared at the luminous clock dial. “Right. I don’t believe you’re waking me up at ten minutes after four.”
“You’re not going to believe what’s happening.”
“I’m not listening,” Ronnie said distinctly, and pulled the covers over her head.
“You don’t have to listen.” Roy’s breathing reminded Ronnie of the way little Toby would wolf down dessert. “They don’t make any noise at all. There was nothing but air and all of a sudden, whoosh . . . then whoosh . . . then a little red whoosh . . . Jesus!”
From under the covers Ronnie absorbed the whooshes before remembering. “The Department’s been trying to reach you. They couldn’t reach you . . .”
“Yeah, I know. I shut my phone off.”
She started to wake up. “Roy, you shouldn’t do that. They have to talk to you . . . all kinds of crazy things are going on. The phone has been ringing off the hook. I remember now. They want you to call them now!”
Neary saw that words weren’t enough so he used two hands to pull his wife out of bed.
“Come on! Get outta bed. What do you want to wear, dammit? The sun’s gonna put the stars out.”
“Roy! What are you talking about?”
“Nothing. I’m not talking nothing until you see ’em yourself. Ronnie, oh, Ronnie. This is so important. I need you to see this with me. I really need you with me now.”
Ronnie saw no humor in his face and softened immediately. “Well, we can’t leave the kids.”
“The kids, yeah, the kids . . . lads!! kids!!”
While he prodded his family into their clothes and out of the house, Neary collected cameras, binoculars, opera glasses and blankets.
“Are we going to a drive-in?” Brad asked, still half-asleep.
“You stole my luminous paints,” Toby remembered.
“You’ll get your luminous paint!” Neary was jubilant. “Everything’s going to be luminous!”
He got everyone as far as the kitchen, where Ronnie diverted to the refrigerator. She opened the door and grabbed her raw vegetable pouch. The refrigerator light was an unappetizing green, and Toby said, “That green light makes me barf.”
“I’ll change it after I lose another three pounds,” his mother told him for the twentieth time.
Neary started hustling them all out of the house again and toward the family’s Chevy station wagon parked around the back of the driveway.
“Roy.” Ronnie was leaking steam.
“And?”
“He gave me a two-week suspension.”
“ What? ” The other troopers stopped what they were doing and stared at the man.
“That’s what I said.” DeWitt started limping for the door. “Go try to tell somebody the truth and we’ll all be watching TV in the daytime.”
Roy watched the officers turn to their typewriters. He watched them reading over their respective reports. Some cops exchanged forced smiles. Then, as if some invisible puppeteer pulled simultaneously on five strings, five right hands reached into five typewriters and yanked out five n217 forms, crumpled them, and dropped them into wastebaskets.
“Go ahead, talk, mister,” one officer said to Roy, smiling sheepishly as he inserted a new report form in his typewriter. “Be my guest.”
Neary searched for a friend in the room and immediately understood the general situation. He got up and left.
10
I t was after four by the time Neary got home. From somewhere he had inhaled a new burst of energy while charging down the hall to the bedroom, shouting “Ronnie! Ronnie!” Neary couldn’t control himself, every muscle was vibrating from an unforeseen reserve of adrenaline. He was nauseated from all the excitement and his second word almost blew Ronnie out of bed.
“Honey, wake up.”
Her two blue eyes filled with terror, her long blond hair sprang tangled with sleep.
“What’s it, kids . . . and fire, wh—?”
“It’s okay, kids are okay,” he said again. “Honey, you won’t believe this.”
Ronnie caught her breath and stared at the luminous clock dial. “Right. I don’t believe you’re waking me up at ten minutes after four.”
“You’re not going to believe what’s happening.”
“I’m not listening,” Ronnie said distinctly, and pulled the covers over her head.
“You don’t have to listen.” Roy’s breathing reminded Ronnie of the way little Toby would wolf down dessert. “They don’t make any noise at all. There was nothing but air and all of a sudden, whoosh . . . then whoosh . . . then a little red whoosh . . . Jesus!”
From under the covers Ronnie absorbed the whooshes before remembering. “The Department’s been trying to reach you. They couldn’t reach you . . .”
“Yeah, I know. I shut my phone off.”
She started to wake up. “Roy, you shouldn’t do that. They have to talk to you . . . all kinds of crazy things are going on. The phone has been ringing off the hook. I remember now. They want you to call them now!”
Neary saw that words weren’t enough so he used two hands to pull his wife out of bed.
“Come on! Get outta bed. What do you want to wear, dammit? The sun’s gonna put the stars out.”
“Roy! What are you talking about?”
“Nothing. I’m not talking nothing until you see ’em yourself. Ronnie, oh, Ronnie. This is so important. I need you to see this with me. I really need you with me now.”
Ronnie saw no humor in his face and softened immediately. “Well, we can’t leave the kids.”
“The kids, yeah, the kids . . . lads!! kids!!”
While he prodded his family into their clothes and out of the house, Neary collected cameras, binoculars, opera glasses and blankets.
“Are we going to a drive-in?” Brad asked, still half-asleep.
“You stole my luminous paints,” Toby remembered.
“You’ll get your luminous paint!” Neary was jubilant. “Everything’s going to be luminous!”
He got everyone as far as the kitchen, where Ronnie diverted to the refrigerator. She opened the door and grabbed her raw vegetable pouch. The refrigerator light was an unappetizing green, and Toby said, “That green light makes me barf.”
“I’ll change it after I lose another three pounds,” his mother told him for the twentieth time.
Neary started hustling them all out of the house again and toward the family’s Chevy station wagon parked around the back of the driveway.
“Roy.” Ronnie was leaking steam.
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