The Crash of Hennington

by Patrick Ness

  —I wouldn’t have thought you had it in you.

  —Yeah, well, I’ve had a bad week. Meet you outside.

  Jarvis turned and ran up the stairs. Peter went to the bed and picked Luther up. The humming was still there. He said a short prayer of thanks. It’s not over, he thought. The only way out is through. He stepped lightly over the trunk, carrying Luther up the stairs to Jarvis’ waiting car.

  98. The Faces in the Distance.

  Jacki sat in the car outside of Morton and Tucker’s high school in the early hours of morning, the time of long shadows and school buses. Tucker, she knew, drove his own car now and would be bringing Morton to school with him. She didn’t know where exactly he would park or what either of them would be wearing or even if they would both be coming to school that day. But here she was. The high school was over an hour’s drive due north of the warehouse, and she had left before dawn, hoping to escape Hennington under the cover of darkness. Although part of her refused to believe that Thomas would be so fanatical in his search that he would track her this distance, she still drove unobtrusively, careful not to draw attention to herself, keeping to the speed limit for perhaps the first time in her life.

  She had arrived before any other car to the school campus, parking in what she hoped was an unremarkable stretch of street with a long view of the school’s car park. Time slowly passed. She watched as first the cleaning staff and then the teachers began to arrive for the new day. It was so quiet she could hear the pings as the car’s engine cooled. She felt herself to be in a sort of no-man’s-land of anticipation and daring. She was terrified, but also, surprisingly, thrilled. The danger was real, and yet here she was facing it, placing herself squarely in front of the forces coming after her, daring to choose an option that wasn’t flight. Have I been transformed? she thought. Have I transformed myself? How can I know unless I’ve been tested? Or have I already been? And what have I transformed into?

  She took the steering wheel with both hands, gradually tightening her grip until her fingers ached and what small muscles there were in her arms bulged at the tension. She grasped the wheel for as long as she could bear, then forced herself to release it slowly, letting the pain and the effort melt itself away. I’m strong, she thought. Maybe not strong enough, but I will be. I’ll be strong enough.

  The sun had pulled over the trees in the distance now, and the first direct rays of sunlight warmed the interior of the car. It was going to be another scorcher. Batches of kids were starting to arrive at the school. Jacki tried her best to take in each car, each group, each individual as they approached the front of the walkway which led to the large, concrete building. So many faces, so young. She hadn’t realized that teenagers were still so close to being children while somehow being almost grown-up. They all seemed so small, so unprotected, even the tall ones with their outrageously long arms and hunched gaits, struggling to be fit enough for the world. The crowds grew. School buses pulled into a circular driveway, expelling bright groups of half-formed adults. Jacki felt a tenderness so pure and shocking for them that she began to cry. How could I have been so blind to this? How could I have missed this all this time? A hard kernel of hope formed in her chest. Maybe, just maybe it really wasn’t too late for her, maybe this all could work. The past couldn’t be reclaimed, but maybe the present could.

  She saw them. A familiar face, practically her own, driving right by her. Tucker, behind the wheel, exchanging words with a smaller figure in the passenger’s seat that she couldn’t quite see. Morton, it had to be. She turned as Tucker’s profile moved by, both boys oblivious to their mother sitting just a few feet away. She saw Tucker’s head angle back as he laughed. She heard herself laugh in response, there in the silence of her car. The boys pulled away from her and turned into the student parking lot. She watched as the car searched for a space, found one, parked. The passenger side was facing her, and she saw Morton, sweet, tender Morton, open the door and step out. He fumbled with a book bag and stood near the front of the car to wait for his brother.

  Only distantly realizing she was doing it, Jacki took the handle of her door and opened it. A warm breeze drifted past her face as she watched the two boys, her two sons, her two beautiful, beautiful sons join each other and disappear into the crowd of fellow students. She stepped to the pavement and stood up into the morning. Her heart thumped loudly, so loudly she could hear it in her ears, feel it in her throat. She was crying, but it was more like gasping. She couldn’t see them anymore, but she remained, watching all the young almost-men and almost-women funnel forward into their day.

  She didn’t flinch when she felt the pull at her arm. It all seemed inevitable now, the man with the sunglasses, the somehow slightly-too-shiny car she now saw parked two spaces down from her, the grip on her firm and forceful, the sliding-away of the jacket to expose the gun. It all passed in a glimmering sheen. She wondered for a moment if she was strong enough. I’ll just have to find out, she thought.

  99. Thrust, Parry, Feint, Touch.

  —What the hell are you doing in here?

  —Cora, I have to talk to you—

  —Get out of my office at once, Jon. At once! I’ll have you thrown in jail—

  She moved towards her phone. Jon grabbed her hand. She slapped his face, very hard, with the back of her free hand. He relented. She lifted the receiver and began to dial.

  —Cora. Something’s going to happen. I have to warn you—

  —Don’t you threaten me. My patience with you has long since expired. Hello? This is the Mayor. There’s an intruder in my office—

  —I’m not threatening you. I’m here to warn you. For your own safety.

  —Then put me through to security, Goddamnit! It’s an emergency!

  —I believe someone’s going to try and kill Thomas Banyon.

  —I beg your pardon?

  —And I think you might be in danger as well. I think we all might be.

  —You’re deranged. You’ve completely lost it.

  —Cora, however I have acted, I would never put your personal safety at risk. However it is you feel about me, however you view the things I have done, you know that much is true. I knew you would throw me out. I knew your reaction to me would be violent, but something’s going to happen. I came to warn you.

  She looked at him closely, still holding the receiver in her hand. A voice chimed into the headset. She paused another second.

  —It may be a false alarm. But stay ready.

  She replaced the receiver.

  —If this is a ploy, Jon, believe me, you will live to regret it.

  —It’s not a ploy.

  —Fine then. Who would want to kill Thomas Banyon? I imagine lots of people, actually, but who now? And why on Election Day? And what does this have to do with me?

  —We haven’t much time, so I’ll try to be brief. I worked on getting Thomas Banyon elected, true, but my interest was only ever in getting someone besides you elected Mayor and had nothing to do with Thomas Banyon personally.

  —Be quick about getting to the point, Jon. It’s a hell of a busy day for me as you may just possibly be able to imagine.

  —It’s also true that Thomas Banyon is a reprehensible man, but he was the only one around with the power to get elected on his own, without city help.

  —Which is exactly what makes him so dangerous.

  —Irrelevant. He was handy. I only wanted you to see how far I would go to free you from your obligations here. I wanted you to see me, to really see me, without anything tying you to this place.

  —Forgetting, of course, my husband?

  —You know I’ve never regarded Albert as a serious contender for your hand.

  —Really, now, this is such an old argument. There’s a saying around here, Jon, ‘That joke isn’t funny anymore'.

  —I’m digressing. The point is that I no longer have any interest in Thomas Banyon, and I’ve set in motion actions that will prevent him from being elected, actions that will bring your de
puty the Mayor’s office.

  —So now you imagine you have that sort of power?

  —I don’t imagine it. I know it. I’ve enlisted the help of a former teacher who carries a great deal of influence among the, shall we say, religiously-oriented minds of this city. This man has been helping me in my work here, gathering support, spreading the message, so to speak. Applying pressure at strategic points. He has more than enough numbers to affect the outcome at the ballot box.

  —The reports I’ve been hearing about the rise in a prophetic sect of the Bondulay.

  —Yes. The size of which I wasn’t even aware.

  Cora was silent for a moment, holding Jon’s gaze without blinking.

  —You’ve lost control of your ‘former teacher', haven’t you?

  —I’m afraid so.

  —You. Dumb. Shit.

  —I know—

  —You traipse in here, into this city, into my city, after four decades with some crackpot idea of winning my hand. Out of spite you enlist the worst possible candidate to run for Mayor, and you dabble irresponsibly with some mysterious figure who you’ve now lost control of, putting not only your candidate but apparently everyone else in danger. Is that all about right?

  —Yes, but—

  —Why?

  —'Why'?

  —Yes, why? Putting aside how on earth I’m going to solve this problem, why? How can you possibly think you could have ever succeeded in your wildest dreams? How can there be any explanation for this but delusion? I mean, can you even grasp what you’ve done?

  —We have something, you and I—

  —We had a friendship, a decent one, for a short time. Then you went and challenged Albert to a duel, for heaven’s sake, assuming somehow that my opinion in the matter counted not at all. An insult for which alone I would have cut you off. But then you disappeared and solved that embarrassing problem for all of us.

  —We had something more than that. I think you know we did. I loved you. I love you. I’ve never stopped.

  —Then I have news for you, Jon. I stopped. And that, unfortunately for you, is where the story ends.

  —Cora—

  —Enough of this. You think your accomplice would go as far as killing Thomas Banyon?

  —Yes, I think so.

  —Have you warned him?

  —His life is his own to manage. My greater fear is that they won’t stop there.

  —Meaning what?

  —Theophilus, my former teacher, seems to think he’s fulfilling a prophecy from the Book of Ultimates. He’s used avenues in the Rumour Underground, which despite all evidence to the contrary, seems to actually exist, though how much is formalized and how much is just people talking, God only knows. I’m not even sure how much of it is even Rumour, but Theophilus is determined to use it to drive out what the prophecy calls the ‘dark wind'.

  —Thomas being the ‘dark wind'?

  —That was my idea at first, but I think they’ve run with it. I think Theophilus has set his sights higher.

  —So the whole city is in danger, more or less?

  —I believe it may be.

  —Today?

  —It’s the most likely day. Today would be when any action against Thomas would happen, and if they’re not going to stop there, then today would be the beginning of it all.

  —So you’re giving me no warning whatsoever.

  —I’m warning you in enough time for you to escape with me. That’s why I’m here. To take you to safety.

  —To take me to safety from a danger that you yourself have created.

  —Cora—

  —You poor, sad, misguided fool.

  —Cora—

  —As if I would ever leave my city when it’s under attack. As if I would ever even have that impulse in my body. After a long, storied history of misunderstanding me, you’ve managed to do it yet again. So, now I mean it, get out, or I’ll call security.

  —Let me just—

  —Somehow I have to save the life of a man I detest as well as possibly the entire future of the city where I’ve spent my life, and I have to do it all today. I don’t really have time to listen to you anymore, Jon.

  She reached for the phone, dialing numbers quickly.

  —The Mayor again. I need you to remove a trespasser from my office immediately.

  —Cora—

  —You’ve got about thirty seconds to leave before a bunch of really large men come in here to drag you away.

  —Listen—

  —Shut up! Not another word! You no longer have any say in this. None. No more opinion, if you ever even had the right to one. Leave. Now. And never show your face to me again. Ever.

  Cora raised her hand from across her desk and made a short, sharp dismissive motion to him.

  —I no longer see you.

  She reached for her phone again.

  —Angie? I need you to track down Thomas Banyon for me. Yes, I know. I’m going to be on the phone with Albert, but I want you to interrupt me the second you get hold of him, all right? It’s an emergency.

  Jon stood and watched her as she ignored him, going about her business. The sounds of heavy footsteps would be arriving at any second. At last, with an effort he found excruciatingly difficult, he took his gaze from her for the last time and all but ran out of Cora’s office.

  100. The Message to the Light Wind.

  My brothers and sisters. It does the heart of an old man good to see so many faces here, both familiar and new, and I know that each face here represents ten, twenty more out in the reaching arms of our great movement. Rumour and non-Rumour alike, banding together by divine right. More than good, it does my heart proud to see you and to know the extent of the unseen. My message to you this fateful morning, my dear disciples, this morning of the day that will live forever in the hearts and minds of the faithful, this morning of the day of satisfaction of the greatest prophecy our beloved Sacraments contains, my message to you this fine, fine morning is simple.

  It’s time. The time of the driving out of the dark wind has arrived. Many of you have asked me about the exact nature of the light wind which will save us from the dark wind, the light wind which will reveal to us the truth, which will enter us into a new place and new time of worship. Some of you have even, with touching though misguided devotion, suggested that I might be the light wind. My beloved people. I am not a demagogue or a guru. I am not the Divine come to earth. I am merely a man who has heard the words of our Sacraments, just like all of you. If anything, I am a messenger, and I have waited my entire life to deliver this message to you. No, my brothers and sisters, I am not the light wind. Look around you. Look to your neighbor, in front and behind. Think to those outside the confines of this small church who have also heard the message. We are all the light wind. All of us who have heard the message, who have understood the prophecy, who have purged our church of scoffers and non-believers, who have grown our church outside of its very boundaries, who have swept through this city like wildfire. The light wind is here, and it is us.

  Our mission is at hand. The hour of action has arrived. Are you ready? I ask you again, are you ready? If anyone has doubt in their heart, then you should leave this place. You should return to your homes and wait for whatever fate is meant to befall you. The moment has come. There is neither room nor time for doubters now. If you doubt what we do, what we are about to do, leave. I ask my brothers and sisters once more. Are you ready?

  The dictates of our very own Book of Ultimates tell us what we must do. We must drive out the dark wind. Word has spread among you that the dark wind is represented in our city by the personage of Thomas Banyon. I put to you this morning that Thomas Banyon is only the beginning. He is only the symbol of the dark wind which we must drive out. Are we brave enough to truly seize our destiny? Are we strong enough to go the distance to reach what is prophesized as ours? Thomas Banyon, yes, but only for a start. Look into your hearts. When you greet Hennington with your opened eyes, with your pure hearts, with t
he fire of the Sacraments burning in your minds, you will know what to do. I give no specific order for, as I say, I am merely one of you, I am merely one representative among many of the light wind, but I will say this:

  Let us not commit the sin of timidity. The power is ours. Let us not be afraid to use it. That is my message to you, and I want you to spread this message to our brothers and sisters who still await guidance on this bright morning. The day is here. The time for action is now. Waste no time. Brook no hesitation. Leave this place and begin your divine mission.

  It’s time to act. Go. You have my blessing.

  101. In the Last Quiet Hours.

  —I’m not sure I understand.

  —I’m not sure I do either, but I’d bet my eyeteeth that the attack on The Crash was just the beginning.

  —I thought that was somehow Thomas’ doing.

  —So did I, but things seem to have changed. The alarming quiet that had taken hold of Hennington spread to the table between Max and Cora. On his way to City Hall, answering Cora’s urgent summons, Max had noticed that half the city seemed to have vanished. Stores were closed, traffic was light, even more so than the Election Day holiday would have suggested. The few polling places he passed also seemed under-populated, some even deserted. Where was everyone?

  Cora, meanwhile, had been unable to reach either Thomas or Albert. She had talked to the Chief of Police to tell him about Jon’s warning, but he had told her that the opposite seemed to be true, that the streets were strangely quieter than usual, Election Day notwithstanding, a fact that Max had confirmed unsolicited on his arrival. And, forget Thomas, where was Albert? No answer at home or the gallery or on his mobile. Why on this morning of all mornings, when something momentous may or may not be about to happen, was she unable to locate her husband?

  —The question I suppose then is whether you believe him or not. Would he lie? Is he delusional? Is it a ruse to woo you somehow, like you say?

  —Delusional is definitely possible, but it’s the way he put it that worries me. He didn’t come here to threaten me with this action, whatever it is. He came here to save me. He thought I was in danger. He’s a dangerous man, but for him to admit that he’s lost control of this situation is a big deal. That’s not his normal bravura. He seemed genuinely concerned for me, and to be honest, I don’t know how to read that.