eyewitnesses over there.”
“Good!” Smith nodded his head enthusiastically. “We need to make sure we've got police chasing anyone running down that side
of the street.”
“Already got it covered, sir.”
“Excellent! Good!” Smith said. “I'll be out there in a few minutes to join the chase.” He turned back to Peck. “Anything you
want to ask me?”
Graham shook his head.
“We know who you are, Mr. Peck. You're an important person downtown. Don't worry. We pay attention to the people working with
Mayor Bridges.”
Graham blinked several times. The detective's words startled him. “Don't you take care of everybody?” he snapped.
“Sure,” Smith said. “But there's so much crime these days we can't keep up with it all. Since those millions of people disappeared
the world's gone crazy. Frankly, some of these cases slip between the cracks. Don't worry. We won't let that happen in this
situation.”
Graham thought the police were on top of everything in Chicago, but this man had told him quite the opposite. The admission
was staggering. It was wrong, but this wasn't the time or place to take up that problem.
The detective walked away and Graham took a look a long, deep breath and walked back into the living room where the police
were starting to thin out. Jackie still lay huddled over the children.
Graham sat down on the floor to be on eye level with George. “Son? Can you talk to me?” He looked straight into George's eyes.
George didn't answer. His eyes looked empty and he didn't move his head.
Graham stared. His son was acting more like a patient coming out of a post-trauma stress crisis. The boy seemed to be completely
detached. George couldn't speak and looked like a person in a dissociative state.
“Son…” Graham reached out for him, but George didn't move. Graham took his son in his arms and hugged him close. The boy didn't
resist, but neither did he respond. George's body felt like it was hanging in suspended animation, limp like a worn-out inner
tube. “Oh George,” Graham whispered in his ear, “I'm so, so sorry.”
George could faintly hear his father's voice, but it sounded like it was coming from the other end of a long tunnel. George
felt locked in a soundproof room where a straightjacket bound him tight and secure. Voices buzzed around his head like gnats
circling in the summertime. He tried to understand even though nothing made any sense.
A terrible, roaring noise returned over and over again. Like two blasts from a car backfiring, the sounds came in rapid succession.
The explosion would occur and then die down sometimes for as long as a minute. After the blasts had almost faded away, suddenly
the cracking and popping would happen again. Two short staccato bangs repeated in the same time sequence. Over and over, over
and over, the sounds ricocheted around in his mind.
Everything happening around George moved in slow motion as if all the clocks in the world had geared down to a slow ticking
where every second lasted a minute. People walked in long extended strides like giants taking slow steps. George watched the
men in blue uniforms who came went through his house but he didn't know who they were. Most of the time he didn't understand
anything they said. Their voices slurred together in a long blur of sound.
And then there was
something
out there in the garage…he couldn't…grasp. Some strange…event had unfolded out there, but George couldn't…quite… remember
what it was at that moment. He let his mind wander in that direction, but he could only go so far…and then a horrible noise
exploded in his ears again. The sound turned into a ringing roar that drowned out every other intonation. The crashing blurred
into a frightening racket that made it impossible for him to think.
George knew that he needed to see what was out there in the garage, what was lying on the floor, and as if struggling through
a moss-filled swamp,
“Good!” Smith nodded his head enthusiastically. “We need to make sure we've got police chasing anyone running down that side
of the street.”
“Already got it covered, sir.”
“Excellent! Good!” Smith said. “I'll be out there in a few minutes to join the chase.” He turned back to Peck. “Anything you
want to ask me?”
Graham shook his head.
“We know who you are, Mr. Peck. You're an important person downtown. Don't worry. We pay attention to the people working with
Mayor Bridges.”
Graham blinked several times. The detective's words startled him. “Don't you take care of everybody?” he snapped.
“Sure,” Smith said. “But there's so much crime these days we can't keep up with it all. Since those millions of people disappeared
the world's gone crazy. Frankly, some of these cases slip between the cracks. Don't worry. We won't let that happen in this
situation.”
Graham thought the police were on top of everything in Chicago, but this man had told him quite the opposite. The admission
was staggering. It was wrong, but this wasn't the time or place to take up that problem.
The detective walked away and Graham took a look a long, deep breath and walked back into the living room where the police
were starting to thin out. Jackie still lay huddled over the children.
Graham sat down on the floor to be on eye level with George. “Son? Can you talk to me?” He looked straight into George's eyes.
George didn't answer. His eyes looked empty and he didn't move his head.
Graham stared. His son was acting more like a patient coming out of a post-trauma stress crisis. The boy seemed to be completely
detached. George couldn't speak and looked like a person in a dissociative state.
“Son…” Graham reached out for him, but George didn't move. Graham took his son in his arms and hugged him close. The boy didn't
resist, but neither did he respond. George's body felt like it was hanging in suspended animation, limp like a worn-out inner
tube. “Oh George,” Graham whispered in his ear, “I'm so, so sorry.”
George could faintly hear his father's voice, but it sounded like it was coming from the other end of a long tunnel. George
felt locked in a soundproof room where a straightjacket bound him tight and secure. Voices buzzed around his head like gnats
circling in the summertime. He tried to understand even though nothing made any sense.
A terrible, roaring noise returned over and over again. Like two blasts from a car backfiring, the sounds came in rapid succession.
The explosion would occur and then die down sometimes for as long as a minute. After the blasts had almost faded away, suddenly
the cracking and popping would happen again. Two short staccato bangs repeated in the same time sequence. Over and over, over
and over, the sounds ricocheted around in his mind.
Everything happening around George moved in slow motion as if all the clocks in the world had geared down to a slow ticking
where every second lasted a minute. People walked in long extended strides like giants taking slow steps. George watched the
men in blue uniforms who came went through his house but he didn't know who they were. Most of the time he didn't understand
anything they said. Their voices slurred together in a long blur of sound.
And then there was
something
out there in the garage…he couldn't…grasp. Some strange…event had unfolded out there, but George couldn't…quite… remember
what it was at that moment. He let his mind wander in that direction, but he could only go so far…and then a horrible noise
exploded in his ears again. The sound turned into a ringing roar that drowned out every other intonation. The crashing blurred
into a frightening racket that made it impossible for him to think.
George knew that he needed to see what was out there in the garage, what was lying on the floor, and as if struggling through
a moss-filled swamp,
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