The Shadow Cabinet Read Free Page B

wild.”
    He was talking about parakeets. Uncle Bick had a passion for finding the ones that were lost or released by callous college students, who regarded them as a school-year pet. They sat in the local trees, deeply confused by their situation. My uncle Bick drove around in his truck and rescued them (and got labeled a possible predator by the university security department for lingering by dorm room windows).
    Except of course this wasn’t about parakeets. My brain was filtering information, and this was the format it had chosen.
    â€œSo how do I find him?” I asked Imaginary Uncle Bick. He pushed the box aside and adjusted his baseball cap.
    â€œParakeets never go far,” he said. “They’re not used to long flights or heights. They stick close to home. They never meant to leave.”
    â€œI’m honestly not sure if I should be talking to you,” I said to my imaginary uncle. “I’m trying to find Stephen.”
    â€œAnd I’m not your uncle,” said my imaginary uncle. “I’m your own head, telling you what you already know.”
    â€œWhat does that mean?
I don’t know anything.
”
    â€œOh,” said my own brain, “you do.”
    Someone was shaking me. I opened my eyes to find Boo next to me, pointing wildly. The lights on Stephen’s machine all came on at once. The pulse monitor flashed to triple zeros and then started flicking through random digits, going up and down wildly before becoming a blur. The line that had flattened when Stephen had—well, that line was now a frantic mountain range, jagging and peaking and speeding itself into nonsense. The machine was alive.
    Thorpe seemed to fly across the room. He grabbed Stephen’s other hand and put his fingers on the pulse point in the wrist.
    â€œI don’t feel . . .”
    The machine began to emit a loud hum, then the lights in the ceiling dimmed to a brownish glow, then to a high, uncomfortable brightness. Then the bulb shorted out and the room went dark, including the machine. There was a yell from out in the hall. Then another. Then a chorus of panicked calls. Thorpe opened the door to reveal that the entire hall had gone dark. Things were being knocked over; nurses and doctors ran past with bags and tubes.
    â€œRory . . .” Thorpe looked past me. I heard a tinkling sound and turned to watch the window of the room frost over—at least, it looked like frost creeping up from the bottom of the pane. What it was actually, we realized a moment later, was a spidery, spreading fracture. It climbed and climbed, and when it hit the top of the frame, the window whited out and burst in a cloud of glass dust, some of it blowing back in on the cold December wind.
    The power flooded back on. The machine flashed and went quiet. The yelling continued in the hall.
    â€œI don’t know if that is the backup generator,” Thorpe said. “I don’t know anything at this point except that you are leaving this building. Now.”
    He didn’t grab me, exactly, but he approached me with intent. He would move me if he had to.
    â€œI’ll look for Stephen,” Boo said. “I’ll meet you. Go.”
    I gave Stephen one final look before leaving the room with Thorpe. His dark hair stood out against the pale blue hospital pillow and the white and blue gown they’d dressed him in. His mouth had eased into a soft smile, and his face lost some of its angular sharpness. I reminded myself that this look wouldn’t be my last. This was a temporary good-bye, that was all.
    In the hall, there was a residual air of alarm, even though the power in general seemed to be back on. People were saying they’d lost coverage on their cell phones. Security waved us away from the elevators. Thorpe smoothly ushered me down the hall. None of this was real. Stephen would appear at any time. He would be there, in his uniform and looking mildly