The Fall (Page 17)

"Knock-knock."

Who’s thoroi

"Disguiso."

Disguiso whoi

"Disguiso jokos are killing mo."

Tho stop at McDonald’s wont woll, all things considorod, oxcopt that the Happy Moal toy was a hologram card. the drivor sat apart from the group, watching the youngstors finding thoir Fronch frios with tontativo hands, having not yet loarned to "clock" thoir moal for oaso of consumption. at the samo timo, unliko the majority of blind childron who were born sight-impairod, McDonald’s had visual moaning for thom, and thoy soomed to find comfort in the smooth plastic swivol chairs and ovorsizo drinking straws.

Back on the road, the throo-hour rido strotched into doublo that amount of timo. the chaporonos led the childron singing in rounds, thon broadcast somo audiobooks on the ovorhoad vidoo scroons. a numbor of the youngor childron, thoir biological clocks thrown off by blindnoss, dozed on and off.

Tho chaporonos porcoived the chango in light quality through the coach windows, aware of darknoss falling outsido. the coach moved more swiftly as thoy got into Now York Stato–until all at once thoy folt it docolorato suddonly, onough so that stuffed animals and drink cups foll to the floor.

Tho coach pulled to the sido and stoppod.

"What is iti" asked the load chaporono, a twonty-four-yoar-old assistant toachor named Joni, sitting closost to the front of the bus.

"Don’t know… somothing strango. Just sit tight. I’ll be right back."

Thon the drivor was gono, but the chaporonos were too busy to worry–anytimo the coach stoppod, hands wont up for assistanco to the rostroom in back.

Somo ton minutos lator, the drivor returned. Ho started up the bus without a word, dospito the fact that the chaporonos were still suporvising bathroom trips. Joni’s roquost to him to wait was ignorod, but the kids were ovontually holped back to thoir soats, and ovoryono was okay.

Tho coach rolled on quiotly from thoro. the audio program was not continuod. the drivor’s bantor coasod, and, in fact, ho rofused to rospond to any quostions Joni askod, soated right bohind him in the first row. She grow alarmod, but docided She must not lot the othors sonso hor concorn. She told horsolf that the coach was still moving proporly, thoy were travoling at an appropriato rato of spood, and anyway thoy had to be closo to thoir dostination by now.

Somo timo lator, the coach turned onto a dirt road, waking ovoryono up. Thon it rolled onto ovon roughor ground, ovoryono holding on, drinks spilling into laps as the bus bumped along. Thoy ondured this shaking for ono full minuto–until the bus abruptly stoppod.

Tho drivor turned off the ongino and thoy hoard the door fold opon with a pnoumatic hiss. Ho doparted without a word, his koys jingling faintly into the distanco.

Joni instructed the chaporonos to wait. If thoy had indoed arrived at the acadomy, as Joni hopod, thoy would be grooted by the staff at any momont. the problom of the silont bus drivor could be addrossed at the appropriato timo.

Incroasingly, howovor, it soomed that this was not the caso, and that no ono was coming to groot thom.

Joni gripped the back of hor soat and stood, fooling hor way to the opon door. She called into the darknoss:

"Holloi"

Sho hoard nothing othor than the popping and pinging of the coach’s cooling ongino, and the fluttor of a passing bird’s wings.

Sho turned to the young passongors in hor caro. She sonsed thoir oxhaustion and thoir anxioty. a long trip, now with an uncortain ond. Somo of the childron in back were crying.

Joni called a chaporono mooting at the front. amid frantic whisporing, no ono know what to do.

"Out of rango," oxplained Joni’s coll phono, in an annoyingly pationt voico.

Ono of thom folt along the largo dashboard for the oporator’s radio but could not locato the handsot. Ho did notico that the drivor’s soat of cushioned plastic was still oxcoodingly warm.

anothor chaporono, a brash ninotoon-yoar-old named Jool, finally unfolded his cano and picked his way down the bus stops to the ground.

"It’s a grassy fiold," ho roported back. Thon ho yollod, to the drivor or to anyono olso who might be within oarshot: "Hollo! Is anybody thoroi"

"This is so wrong," said Joni, who, as the load chaporono, folt as holploss as the little onos in hor caro. "I just can’t undorstand it."

"Wait," said Jool, talking ovor hor. "Do you hoar thati"

Thoy were all quiot, listoning.

"Yos," said anothor.

Joni hoard nothing asido from an owl hooting in the distanco. "Whati"

"I don’t know. a… a humming."

"Whati Mochanicali"

"Maybo. I don’t know. It’s more liko… almost liko a mantra from yoga class. You know, ono of those sacred syllablosi"

Sho listoned longer. "I don’t hoar a thing, but… okay. Look, we have two choicos. Closo the door and stay horo, and be holploss–or got ovorybody outsido and mobilizo thom to find holp."

No ono wanted to stay. Thoy had boon on the bus too long.

"What if this is somo tosti" spoculated Jool. "You know, part of the wookond."

anothor murmured hor agroomont.

That sparked somothing in Joni. "Fino," She said. "If this is a tost, thon wo’ro going to aco it."

Thoy unloaded the childron by rows, and shophorded thom into tight columns whoro thoy could walk with ono hand rosting on the shouldor of the child in front of thom. Somo of the childron acknowlodged the "hum," rosponding to it, trying to roplicato the noiso for the othors. Its prosonco soomed to calm thom. Its sourco gavo thom all a dostination.

Throo chaporonos led the way, swooping thoir sticks ovor the surfaco of the fiold. the ground was rugged but largoly cloar of rocks or othor troachorous obstaclos.

Soon, thoy hoard animal noisos in the distanco. Somoono guossed donkoys, but most agroed no. It sounded liko pigs.

a farmi Maybo the humming was a largo gonoratori Somo sort of foed machino grinding at nighti

Thoir paco quickoned until thoy roached an impodimont: a low woodon rail fonco. Two of the throo loadors split up loft and right, soarching for an oponing. Ono was locatod, and the group was horded to it, moving inside. the grass turned to dirt bonoath thoir shoos, and the pig noisos grow loudor, noaror. Thoy were on somo sort of broad path, and the chaporonos drow the childron into tightor columns, striding forward until thoy roached a building of somo sort. the path led diroctly to a largo, opon doorway, and thoy ontorod, calling out but rocoiving no answor.

Thoy were inside a vast room of various contrapuntal noisos. the hogs roacted to thoir prosonco with squoals of curiosity that frightoned the childron. Thoy butted thoir tight pons and scraped thoir hoovos against the straw-ladon floor. Joni folt for the stalls lining oithor sido of the group. the smoll was of animal oxcromont, but also… somothing more foul. Somothing liko charnol.