“What is your decision, Daniel?” she asks.
I force a smile. I must give her nothing.
Finally I know contentment.
I will be with my friends soon.
Yet that does not mean I wish to die.
“You were lousy in bed,” l say.
She is startled. “What?”
My smile grows. “The answer is no, bitch.”
She is not happy. “Put the gun back in your mouth.”
I have to do what she says.
Something worries her. She glanced uneasily around.
There is smoke in the room.
“Pull the trigger,” she orders.
I am sorry, I must do what she asks.
EPILOGUE
AT THE FUNERALS FOR JAMES YEARN, SAL Barry, Teresa Jettison, Daniel Stevens, and Gale Schrater over a thousand people turned out. Most were students from La Mirada High, but there were numerous adults and even several community leaders present. The sudden loss of five promising young people had shocked the city. What made the pain particularly sharp was that there were still no answers from the police. Only questions and doubts and tears. The authorities said they would issue a definitive statement soon.
But there was one person at the funerals who knew they never would.
Shena Adams stayed by herself, her race covered with a heavy black veil. During the ceremony in the chapel she remained in the last row, and when the coffins were brought out to the grave site for final words and last goodbyes, she stood at the back of the crowd. She noted how small the coffins for Daniel and Gale were. The police had been unable to reconstruct much from the ashes. Certainly no one in the future would ever suggest that Daniel had killed himself. His shattered skull had crumbled in the high temperatures. No one would suspect Gale's role. The police had yet to find the bullet that had finished Daniel. The pieces of the puzzle lay in ruins.
And no one would ever read Daniel's computer files, unless Shena gave them a peek. She had a copy Daniel's last story on a disk in her purse. His modem had been reliable. Too bad she had not reached his house in time, after reading the first pages of his story. At the hospital, when she had awakened after her healing, he had not understood the full extent of the danger. But he had been suspicious, and had told her enough. To be on her guard.
But not enough to save himself. When she had heard the second shot, she had known she was too late to save him. She had sent out her flames with total abandon. The full power of the third center, the secret prison of will. In the midst of her grief, it had been good to hear Gale screaming. And should more of her vile character appear on Earth, Shena knew how to deal with them. The Star Group had been successful: she wished she could tell Daniel to his face. The enemy had been stopped.
The coffins were lowered into the ground.
The Valley of the Shadow of Death.
The rivers of star dust drifting between galaxies.
Shena caught up with Daniel's parents by their car. His father was a big man with gray hair and a gruff face. His brown eyes were warm, though they were much faded on this sad day. The mother looked like her lost son, with her innocent mouth and her long curly brown hair. Yet all was vanquished by her pain. Shena hardly knew what to say. She hugged them before she spoke.
“I am so sorry,” she said. She would like to have confessed why she had not returned to the cabin after her outburst. How she had simply been too embarrassed. But they would not have understood, and besides, the act would not have stopped the demon inside Gale from striking.
Mr. Stevens nodded. “We're going to miss him. Thank God you were spared.”
“Yes, dear. You must have a good life. For their sake at least.” Mrs. Stevens broke down and wept. “He was such a good boy.”
Shena's eyes burned. “He was the best.”
Mrs. Stevens embraced her again. “Come see us some time, dear.”
“I will,” she promised. Then she pulled back her black veil and kissed the woman's cheek and whispered in her ear. “Daniel was filled with love. He was your son. You have much to be proud of. More than you know.”
The woman seemed touched by her words.
Yet Shena's clear face confused Mr. and Mrs. Stevens.
“What happened to your scars?” Mr. Stevens asked. “Your eye?”
Shena dried her eyes and smiled sadly.
“My friends healed me,” she said.
The Star Group Page 14