Mr. Fahrenheit (26 page)

But the ghost forms of Benji and his friends were detailed sculptures of snow and dust, their faces achingly familiar as they argued silently with Spinney to let them go. In a few seconds, Benji knew, the ghost form of CR would hurl a stone at Spinney's phone.

And yet there was one clear detail where CR's memory differed from Benji's.

In CR's memory, Benji was much taller than CR.

That wasn't the way it really was. I was way shorter
, Benji thought, but seeing the event through CR's eyes only drove home the point Benji had been learning all night: Envisioning the future is an act of imagination, but so is remembering the past.

“Let's go,” the real CR said weakly, snapping Benji back to his senses. Benji nodded, looked around for the ray gun. It had landed inside the living room a few feet away. He ran for it—

Suddenly, the living room wall blasted apart, sending him stumbling backward.

Holding a ray gun in Its claw, the Voyager floated in the storming air outside the House. It soared into the room and was upon Benji instantly, placing Its claw against his forehead.

The familiar agony consumed Benji. As their minds fused and the Voyager began to search his memory one final time, Benji saw something he did not think the Voyager intended him to see: a message transmitted psychically to Its children.

The Voyager removed Its claw from his head. As the creature had done with McKedrick, It began to thrust the barrel of the ray gun into Benji's chest, plunging it in like a dagger, as if to maximize the pain before death.

“Hey, asshat,” Ellie said. “You're in our House.”

Ellie's ray gun blast hit the Voyager square in the chest. Like magic, a hole appeared. The Voyager's claws released Benji and the creature flew backward into the night, for one moment seeming to float out there like the Wicked Witch of the West. Then It fell out of sight and was gone.

“Holy crap, Ellie,” Benji said, stupefied and weak with relief, “that was
awesome
.”

The House lurched beneath them, dropping closer to the ground and pitching back and forth like a fragile ship ill equipped for the storm. Large holes began to appear in the walls and floor: With the Voyager dead, the House was falling apart.

“Banjo and Eleanor,” CR said, “let's get the hell outta here.”

“I never liked this place anyway,” Benji said shakily.

At the end of the entry hall, just outside the front door to the porch, Benji saw something that made his heart almost burst: It was the shades of the three children they had been, helping one another to safety. The emotions Benji felt were overwhelming and unnameable, all terror and ache and revelation and hope,
but together they formed the shape of a fierce love.

He ran with his best friend and the love of his life toward the front door, and as they leaped off the crumbling porch together, the three of them physically merged for one fleeting fragment of time with the children they had been. The dust enveloped them, and Benji knew that their childhood had never truly ended. They were still twelve years old, but they were also thirteen and fifteen and thirty and ninety-nine, their selves composed of all the ways they had imagined their past and remembered their future. Then Benji, Ellie, and CR burst free from the bounds of those children of dust, tumbled through space, and landed side by side on the earth.

Benji rolled onto his back. The last of the pods had ascended, though the tractor beam still burned bright.

“We have to stop them from leaving,” he said. “We have to stop them all.” When the Voyager had touched him, Benji had seen something: In Its first and final moments with Its newborn children, the Voyager had psychically passed all Its knowledge to Its offspring. It had no past to guide It, and could only give Its children a bleak rage, and the knowledge that humans from Bedford Falls had hurt It. If the creature had originally come to Earth for anything resembling a peaceful purpose, Benji had made that peace impossible. The Voyager's only legacy would be destruction.

Benji spotted the ray gun, which Ellie had dropped during their fall, a few feet away. He scooped it up and fired directly at hull of the saucer.

But when the rays were a few feet from impact, a semitransparent shell of white light appeared around the ship, a force field protecting the ship from the blast. Benji fired at the still-open portal; again his assault was blocked.

The ship was coming for them now, the tractor beam nearing them and ripping the earth apart, a mere hundred feet away.

What do I do? What the hell do I do, Papaw?

“Come on, Benji, we have to get out of here!” Ellie said, pulling him back toward the Dream Machine.

Benji tried to shake her off. He looked back and saw Papaw's Cadillac, saw the reflection of the mothership clearly on the mirror-like hood of the car.

The carnival
, he thought.
The mirror mansion. The ray gun bounced off a mirror. What if the tractor beam will, too?

“I've got an idea!” Benji said, leading them toward the car. “I need your help! I'm going to drive into the tractor beam!”

“
What?
” Ellie said.

“I'll jump out right before I reach it! And CR, when I do, I need you to shoot the car.”

“You want to blow up your grandpa's car?”

The tractor beam was gaining on them, seventy-five feet distant now. “Trust me,” Benji said, “this is the only chance we've got.”

“In that case, Benji,” Ellie said, “
I
better drive.”

And before he could object, she was in the car, driving straight toward the beam. As Ellie roared toward the beam, the Dream Machine glowed like a comet.

“Now, Ellie!” Benji shouted. “Jump out!”

She did, opening the door and barrel-rolling through the snow. The Dream Machine's momentum carried it forward. Benji raised the ray gun, but right before he pulled the trigger, CR grabbed his wrist and steered his aim.

“
Banjo, I told you, aim for where it's going to be!
”

And he did.

The atomic ray gun light hit the Dream Machine just as it entered the beam. The car detonated, bursting into a hundred
pieces, the brilliant chrome transforming into a hundred mirrors flying through the air. And those pieces did something that would not have been possible if Papaw's teenage dream had remained a single intact piece: They reflected the tractor beam in a hundred directions, back at the saucer. The beams tore the ship apart. Its own power, turned in on itself, was the only thing that could have stopped it, because it was the only thing against which it did not know how to defend itself.

Benji felt someone take his hand.

It was CR.

Ellie ran to them and took Benji's other hand. And the three of them stood together, watching as the ship destroyed itself and crashed to the earth, a constellation they had ripped out of the sky.

The more he knows, the more he will find to wonder at.

—Harry Houdini

From the Bedford Falls
Exponent-Telegram:

AN UNFORGETTABLE HOMECOMING

BY THE EXPONENT-TELEGRAM STAFF

It has been five days since the most bizarre homecoming in memory shook Bedford Falls.

For the crowd gathered at Bedford Falls High football field, the homecoming game was meant to be a battle for the ages, not a battle for their lives. It may be weeks or months before the whole story becomes clear, but here are the facts as we currently know them.

At 8:49 p.m., moments before the end of the homecoming game, a small aircraft plummeted from the sky and crashed onto the middle of the football field. Initially described by some witnesses as a darkly colored helicopter, it has since been identified by the National Weather Service as an unmanned, “drone”-type craft.

Said National Weather Service Regional Director Donald Bray: “These are relatively new aircraft, outfitted with sensitive
measuring instruments. They can be inserted directly into extreme weather conditions; they're more accurate and less expensive than Doppler radar; and unlike most Doppler systems, these crafts are manufactured in America. It's a win-win-win.” When asked to elaborate on how an aircraft that crashed in a populated stadium could be described as a win, Mr. Bray paused before answering, “Well, as I say, these are relatively new. But we hope to amp up production soon, and our department is currently assessing whether Bedford Falls is a viable location for a manufacturing facility.”

Mr. Bray declined to comment on whether this proposed facility should be viewed as the government's mea culpa for the crash.

Whatever the case, it is clear that the drone had been dispatched earlier that night due to the National Weather Service's detection of a small tornado in the vicinity of Bedford Falls. It was this tornado that would destroy the county fairgrounds, devastate much of the outlying farmland, and seemingly cause the explosion of an undiscovered natural gas deposit beneath the football field.

The tornado would also be indirectly responsible for sending one beloved local lawman to Bedford Falls Community Hospital with grave injuries.

[CONTINUED ON PAGE 2]

Benji Lightman wore a tuxedo and goose bumps, performing there in the footlights on the celebrated Magic Lantern Theatre stage. His nerves showed only once—he dropped a Ping-Pong ball during a technically difficult sleight—but that was understandable: He'd only been in Chicago a few months, since right after graduating from high school, and he was still growing accustomed to the genuinely unexpected fact that his dreams seemed to be coming true.

When he finished the act he'd spent several weeks designing, he turned to face the audience, taking a deep bow. Out in
the great cavern of the theater, one person—and only one person, for he was the only one there—applauded.

“That was real nice, Benjamin,” Papaw said. “How 'bout I become your agent? I deserve a cut, don't ya think, since you got all your talent from me?”

[“AN UNFORGETTABLE HOMECOMING” continued]

From his hospital room, Sheriff Robert Lightman, 73, told the Exponent-Telegram staff his story. “I was sitting on the porch, cleaning my old six-shooter. When I heard that commotion at the field, I sprung right up, and I guess I just fumbled my gun. It fell, it fired, and boy did I get one heck of a bellyache. I just thank the good Lord that Zeeko was there.”

Zeeko Eustice, a senior at Bedford Falls High School, is the football team's trainer and a neighbor of Lightman's. Eustice had contracted a stomach bug that afternoon and was unable to attend the game. Hearing the gunshot, he rushed to Lightman, but was unable to reach 911, as operators were overwhelmed with calls from the football stadium.

After administering first aid, Eustice drove Lightman to the hospital, where Dr. Elroy Eustice, Zeeko's father, was able to stabilize Lightman during emergency surgery.

Lightman said, “What do you call a policeman who never took a bullet except the one he shot himself with? ‘Ready to retire.' I always planned to slow down someday when the conditions were right. Well, I'm done waitin'. Sometimes you just got to cast the die and then make the best of whatever comes.”

Given that he has been sheriff for decades, is Lightman concerned about who will be able to fill his shoes, the Exponent-Telegram asked.

“Not in the least,” Lightman said. “I've got some fine deputies. And this generation coming up, they'll surprise you with how
good and smart some of 'em are. Heck, look at what happened with Spinney the other night. . . .”

[For more information on Shaun Spinney, please see “FORMER BFHS QUARTERBACK BECOMES HOMECOMING HERO ONCE MORE” on page 5.]

It was the last afternoon of Papaw's two-day visit, which was why Benji's manager had let them into the theater. Usually, Benji just spent his day as the grunt-worker-slash-custodian for the Magic Lantern's front shop, but he didn't mind the work. Even scrubbing toilets is kind of appealing when you get to the bathroom via a passageway hidden behind a bookshelf. And he knew how absurdly lucky he was to have gotten the apprenticeship. It wouldn't have been possible without the audition video Ellie had made for him.

It had been months since he'd seen Papaw. Papaw moved slower these days, but also looked younger somehow, and retirement seemed to suit him. Even when he complained about how expensive everything in the city was, he did so with a kind of delight.

Benji felt a wonderfully strange sort of pride as he showed Papaw the city, like he'd built Chicago with his own two hands. In a way, maybe he had. He was creating
his
Chicago here. His Chicago had a studio apartment with uneven floors and perhaps the world's most unreliable toilet.

But it was
his
.

FORMER BFHS QUARTERBACK BECOMES HOMECOMING HERO ONCE MORE

BY THE EXPONENT-TELEGRAM STAFF

Bedford Falls owes a debt of gratitude to BFHS alumnus Shaun Spinney. Spinney, 21, was in the football field's parking lot during the chaos that erupted following the drone's crash.
When the entrance to the lot became blocked by a multi-car collision, it was Spinney who took action and directed the frantic drivers and cleared the pileup to make way for the arrival of emergency workers.

How can Spinney explain his heroic actions?

“I'm super good at telling people what to do, and I like being in charge,” said a somber Spinney in a telephone interview. “I'll be real truthful, okay? I could be a real cocky son of a [gun] sometimes. Then I hurt my knee in college, and all of a sudden, bam, I couldn't see a future for myself anymore. When those people crashed in the parking lot, and everyone was losing their [minds], I thought, ‘Somebody better step up, right in this moment.'

“And I'll tell you what,” said Spinney, with obvious emotion, “that was the first time I felt proud of myself in a [darn] long time.”

When asked if he would be interested in pursuing a career in local law enforcement, owing to the looming personnel changes, Spinney said, “I'm thinking about it. I'm thinking about it a lot. . . .”

As night came, they headed to the restaurant Benji had chosen for dinner: Rita's Retro Café, which was modeled after 1950s diners, all chrome stools and tabletop jukeboxes.

“This is quite a home ya got here, bud,” Papaw said after they ordered.

“It's nice,” Benji said. “Well, not always ‘nice,' but exciting, I guess.”

Papaw nodded. “Sure, every place'll have its good and its bad.” It came so easily, the way he agreed with Benji, supported him, even though Benji knew Papaw would have liked for him to stay at home.

“Zeeko's been askin' after ya,” Papaw said.

“How is he?”

“Doin' real good. Taking EMT classes at the community college. I'm sure he'd love to hear from you. Have y'all talked at all since graduation?”

“No.”

“How 'bout CR?”

Benji smiled a little. “He sends me the same text once a week: ‘What are you wearing?'”

Papaw laughed. “That boy's got too much time on his hands, I'd reckon. Doin' a lot of bench-warmin' this year. But Notre Dame's a competitive program. He'll get his day. So what do you say back to him?”

“Not much. He asked me if I wanted to come back for homecoming next week. I never answered, though.”

“Benjamin, y'know, I've gotta ask. . . . I appreciate you callin' me every once in a while. But don't you ever get lonely, son?”

“Yeah. I do. But I wanted to be lonely, honestly.”

That loneliness, the leaving behind of all the people and places that had defined him, was a big part of why he had wanted to come. Of course, he knew he hadn't really left everything: He and his hometown and friends were so intertwined that it was hard to tell where they ended and he began. The real magic wasn't making his past vanish from him; it was becoming big enough to accommodate other things, too.

There was another reason Benji didn't talk to them regularly: He worried that their phone calls and texts would be monitored. None of them had been “disappeared,” and he assumed this was because the government wasn't sure they had been involved. He had seen Agent McKedrick's memory; he knew the man in black had never told his superiors the names of the high school seniors he believed might have been involved with the alien incident. Even if any agents had survived the Battle
of the Bedford Falls Homecoming Carnival (and Benji had no clue if they had), they apparently hadn't gotten close enough to positively identify Benji, Papaw, Ellie, or Zeeko. In other words, it was possible that no living person knew for sure what Benji and his friends had done.

Which wasn't to say Benji didn't sleep with the ray gun on his nightstand, and carry it with him everywhere he went.

The door of the café opened behind Benji, the city's ambient symphony of honks and shouts and famous wind filtering in. Papaw's face lit up as he saw the one person Benji had
not
gotten away from since moving to Chicago.

“Ellie, honey, how are you?” Papaw said, standing to give Ellie a hug.

“Better now that I've got my two handsome Lightmans with me, Sheriff,” she said. She took off her winter hat and shook out her hair, which she'd recently pixie-cut after years of wearing it long.

“Ellie, somethin' happened to your head.”

“I got my hair cut.”

“On purpose?”

“How I've missed you, Atomic Bob,” Ellie grinned.

She slid into the booth beside Benji. “Sorry I'm late, sweets,” she said. “Cinema History ran over.” She kissed him on the cheek. No apology necessary.

It was all pretty new, him and Ellie, still the first tentative steps. But it was a wonderful mystery.

Papaw and Ellie talked awhile, just catching up, just a normal conversation.
This is so nice
, Benji thought. He'd once been so certain that life was only and always measured by huge, grand moments. He'd thought that people who chose not to chase those moments were somehow less significant, somehow less alive.

He'd learned better when he went to the emergency room after they'd destroyed the saucer. Many of the normally reserved people of Bedford Falls wept in relief and joy as they found their loved ones safe. All those people had their own stories, ones as complex as Benji's own. On the surface, it might seem that people in small towns all made the same cookie-cutter life choices. But it was like old rock 'n' roll. If you weren't paying attention, you might think,
These songs are all the same. They're just playing the same chord progressions over and over.

But within those similar progressions, you could make masterpieces.

Ellie walked with them to the train station. She gave Benji a kiss and Papaw a hug before catching the “L” train back to her dorm at Northwestern University.

Benji and Papaw stayed outside on the open-air platform; Papaw's train back to Indiana would depart in a couple of minutes.

An announcer came over the speakers. “
Ladies and gentlemen, the train scheduled for Indianapolis has been delayed. The delay is anticipated to be no more than ten minutes. We thank you for your understanding.
”

Papaw rolled his eyes. “Your tax dollars at work,” he muttered. He didn't sound lighter, like he had all day; he sounded genuinely bitter about the government, as he had for most of Benji's life.

Same old Papaw
, Benji thought.

And almost before he realized what he was doing, he stepped closer and pulled Papaw into a hug, feeling a fierce wave of love. He loved his grandfather: all his kindness and crankiness and generosity and stinginess, all the imperfections that made up the mystery of him.

After a moment of surprised stiffness, Papaw eased, hugging Benji back.

“Oh, thank you so much, Benjamin,” Papaw said. “I keep thinking, ‘You're a good boy, Benjamin.' But you're not. You're a good man, Benji.”

“So are you, Papaw.”

They sat on a bench until the train came. There was not much to say, and they no longer needed to fill silence to enjoy it.

As boarding began, Papaw said, “You sure I can't talk ya into comin' with me for a couple days? I mean, look at this old man before you, Benji. Do you really trust him to be okay on his own?”

“I'll be home for Thanksgiving.”

“Good. With something to look forward to, I'll almost certainly not die before then.”

“Papaw!” Benji laughed.

They were almost to the train, small red lights blinking on it to indicate its imminent departure, but Papaw stopped in his tracks. He peered upward, into the gap between the roof and the open air. “Will ya look at that, bud,” he said.

“What?”

“You can see some of the stars comin' out.”

Benji stood there on the platform while the train pulled out, stood in the city wind and the silver billowing steam. He felt a pang deep down in his chest as the train carried Papaw toward the horizon, and for one moment part of Benji thought,
Maybe I should move back to Indiana.
And maybe he would.