Elsewhere

by Dean Koontz

“I’ve been totally brainwashed.” “Fathers don’t brainwash their children.” “Bullsugar.” “No, really. We propagandize them.” “What’s the difference?” “Propaganda is gentler than brainwashing. You often don’t even know it’s happening.” “Oh, I know it’s happening, all right,” she said. “’Cause it’s like always happening.” “You’re so terribly, terribly oppressed.” She sighed. “I endure.” Jeffy smiled and shook his head. The incredible, magical thing that he, a dreamer, sometimes anticipated had in fact happened a long time ago. Her name was Amity.

Father daughter talking about brainwshing vs propoganda

By law, Michelle had been missing long enough to be declared dead by a court, but Jeffy hadn’t taken that solemn step. He refused to think it could be true. If he believed that she was happy in a new life . . . well, then she must be. Belief was a powerful force. He proceeded with a legal action only to dissolve their marriage. This week, his petition had been approved.

So much sadness and death

“I’m giving it to you.” Jeffy raised his hands, palms toward his guest in a gesture of polite decline. “That’s kind of you, Ed, but I can’t accept. I’ve got a house key, a car key. That’s all I need. I wouldn’t know what to do with a key to everything.” Snatching the box off his lap and holding it against his chest, Ed declared, “No, no. You must do nothing with it! Nothing! You must not open it. Never! ” Previously just quaint and quirky, Ed seemed to be crossing a mental bridge from eccentric to a condition more disturbing.

Ed giving Jeffy the box to keep 'them' from getting it

Before she risked getting a dog, she also had to find out how she would deal with the loss of Snowball when he died. If losing a mouse wrecked her, then a dog’s death would absolutely destroy her, no doubt about it, none at all. She’d been only four, much too little to understand what was happening, when her mother walked out. She hardly remembered Michelle. Yet the loss was still with her, not really a pain, more like an emptiness, as if something that ought to be inside of her were missing.

Amity seems very grown up for a child so young

“Sorry, Ed. I should’ve taken you seriously.” He put the package on the workbench and tugged at the knot and stripped away the string. As someone on the front porch rang the doorbell again, someone began to hammer insistently at the back door. He took the lid off the box and then hesitated. The object was swaddled in plastic bubble wrap. Hide it well, Jeffrey. Save yourself and your girl! A man appeared at the window, veiled by the sheer curtain, a shadowy form backlit by the bright morning sun. Jeffy quickly unraveled the bubble wrap. The key to everything resembled a sleek smartphone, maybe five inches by less than three, but the stainless-steel casing featured neither buttons nor a charging port, nor any markings. The black screen wasn’t inset, but seemed to be an integral part of the case, as if the device had not been manufactured, but had been built one atom at a time by some 3-D printer more advanced than anything currently known.

Jeffy didn't take Ed seriously but now he's opened the box and looked at the contents.

Snowball peered at the dark mirrored surface under him, in which he could see his murky reflection. After a few seconds, a soft gray light filled the previously glossy black screen. Jeffy held his breath, and Amity coaxed the mouse to come to her. “Here, boy, come to Mommy. Come to Mommy, Snowball.” Something appeared on the screen under the mouse. Jeffy could see two large buttons—one blue, the other red—that contained white lettering half obscured by the rodent. Simultaneously, Jeffy and Amity reached for Snowball. Her hand grasped the mouse, and her father’s hand seized hers— —and the kitchen vanished, leaving them in an all-encompassing whiteness. A nearly blinding blizzard showered down.

He key to everything has opened the door

Jeffy handed the book to his daughter. He spoke softly. “He’s less likely to suspect you than me. Loosen your belt, tuck this in your jeans, button up your jacket.” “We’re stealing it?” she whispered. “No, sweetheart. It’s not stealing.” “What is it, then?” “Informal borrowing. We’ll return it later.” “Cool.” “It’s not cool. Even though it isn’t stealing, it’s still not cool. It’s a one-time thing.”

Informal borrowing...OK

If she’d been a tedious rescue-me kind of girl, she would have screamed as if her hair were on fire and would have run to Daddy, but she restrained herself for two reasons. First, she wasn’t that kind of girl. She would kick her own ass from here to Cucamunga if she ever found herself acting like such a dullard. Second, if she showed the teeth to him, Daddy would flash Amity and himself home to Earth Prime as fast as he could push a button, and they would never pay a visit to the Jamison house on Bastoncherry Lane in this world, where maybe her mother waited.

Amity has her own reasons and wants to stay for a bit

Its deeply disturbing facial features were frightening and pathetic at the same time, really and truly, suggesting a human child in chimp makeup. No ape in a zoo cage had ever turned a face with such human qualities toward those who came to be amused by its antics. Amity remembered The Island of Dr. Moreau by H. G. Wells, where animals with human qualities had prowled the jungle, and she shuddered. Her teeth chattered, they really did, if only briefly. This apparition stood about four feet tall and weighed ninety or a hundred pounds. If it was an exotic species of chimpanzee, its costume was bizarre. Some people put sweaters and funny hats on dogs or dressed them six ways crazy for Halloween. Maybe this was that kind of fun, but it felt different, like cruel mockery, as though someone meant to make fun of the Justice Wolves or else of this man-monkey hybrid. The beast seemed to pose with self-conceit, much as snarky Rudy Starkman had taken pride in his silly uniform, as though it believed it was admired and possessed authority.

Creepy creature inside the house they entered...

The door bucked, and Jeffy was jolted harder than before, an inch-wide gap opening along the jamb. Good Boy’s shrieks were louder and more ferocious, but Jeffy pushed back with everything he had, closing the gap. And here came Amity with a straight-backed chair taken from the vanity. She knew what needed to be done, and she had the courage to do it. She was no coward, never had been. She tilted the chair, jammed the headrail under the knob, bracing the door, a kid with the right stuff.

Amity one smart girl...brains of the pair

Indeed, as Good Boy realized, however dimly, the extent of the change that had occurred, the beast didn’t politely express its puzzlement and request an explanation, but instead went batshit crazy.

Oh no they brought Good Boy along with them

He had never before raised his voice to her, so when he raised it this time, she flinched as if she’d been slapped. But she retreated into the bathroom and closed the door. Truth be known, he didn’t want to leave this room and find Good Boy. A freak hunt had about as much appeal as handling a live cobra while playing Russian roulette with a revolver. He wanted to wait here until the police arrived.

Jeffy actually raised his voice to Amity but is he going to hunt down Good Boy or just let it go?

Her fear was increasing, too, because every second without Daddy was another second in which he might be killed. He was her world. If he died, she couldn’t go on, she really couldn’t, because what happened to him would be her fault. She wouldn’t kill herself or anything like that, because suicide was wrong. She would just become anorexic and wither away, until she was skin and bones, until she was dust that a cold wind would blow into Hell. If Hell existed. She was of two minds about that.

Amity growing more fearful of loosing her only parent

More importantly, he held fast to the pistol. Chisel-edged teeth snapped an inch short of his nose; the powerful hands clasped his head as though to crush it between them like an eggshell or to hold it steady for a series of savage bites. He brought the gun up between the creature’s arms and jammed the muzzle under the hairy chin and squeezed the trigger.

Good Boy smarter than Jeffy thought but the ambush still got him shot

“Who are you?” He said, “It’s me.” Amity knew perfectly well—perfectly, perfectly—that Good Boy had a supercreepy voice and bad grammar and terrible syntax, knew that such a half-baked mutant couldn’t convincingly imitate Daddy’s voice, but she was cold and pale and scared, so she said, “How do I know it’s you?” After a hesitation, he said, “You want a dog, but you’ve got a mouse for practice, which was your idea, not mine. I’d have bought you a puppy.”

Amity so freaked out she's making sure it's her dad on the other side of the door

With a nonchalance that astonished Amity, her hand not even trembling, she returned the key to everything, as if to say, You did right to trust me with it. Her father shrugged as if to say, I knew I could count on you, and he put the device in a jacket pocket.

Amity a strong smart girl not given to histerics. But imaging the questions Good Boy's body will raise!

“We need to check out Ed Harkenbach’s book, Infinite Worlds.” “You had it already. What happened to it?” “I dropped it somewhere, maybe scrambling up a garden wall or running from Good Boy. It’s been a pretty physical day, in case you hadn’t noticed. They’ll probably have a copy in this library, too.”

Jeffy lost the mysterious book and hopes to find another

The visitor, who is Ed Harkenbach from a parallel world, could approach this version of himself and collude with him to ensure the success of his mission here, but he has no intention of doing that. In some worlds, sad to say, there are versions of himself who have come unglued because of what he’s done and because of being hunted by agents of the shadow state. It’s too distressing—and potentially dangerous—for this Ed to come face-to-face with one of those Eds.

Different versions with different issues and goals

He closed the book and pointed to the key to everything. “Maybe I should mix up a barrelful of cement right after dinner, sink that gismo in it, and take it out to sea.” “Bad idea, Dad. We might need it if that Falkirk guy comes around again. Remember?” “But we’re in way over our heads, Amity. We shouldn’t have this thing.” Bringing plates to the table, she said, “Have you wondered why Ed gave it to you?” “I’ve wondered until I’m sick of wondering.” “He liked you.” “So he pulls the pin on a hand grenade and gives it to me.” “The gismo isn’t that dangerous,” she said. “It’s more dangerous than a grenade.” “It’s his life’s work.” “His life’s work will get us killed.” “He couldn’t bring himself to destroy his life’s work. You can understand that.” Jeffy looked at her, his life’s work. Amity said, “So he trusted you to keep it safe.” “He shouldn’t have trusted me.” “He shouldn’t have trusted anyone else but you.”

Jeffy wants to understand 'the key to everything' but!!!??@#

The darn thing had an aura about it that drew the eye. Even if you didn’t know what it did, you’d have known in your bones that some terrible power coiled in it, evil magic . . . but maybe some good magic, too, if you used it for the right purpose. It seemed to have a sorcerous glimmer akin to that of the One Ring, the Master of all Rings, that had been made in Mordor and which could be destroyed only by returning it to the fire where it was forged.

Aura but still dangerous!!!

He supposed the John Falkirk who lived in that other timeline had been arrested, tried, and sent to prison. However, as much as Earth Prime Falkirk loved himself, he simply didn’t possess the capacity to love thousands of himself with the same fervor. He suffered no distress at the thought of another John being martyred in his name.

Falkirk killed his stepmom from another timeline

After a bit of cheese and a single fig, Ed extracted an object from a pocket of his sport coat and put it on the table. It somewhat resembled an iPhone. “This,” he said, “is the most valuable but also most dangerous technology in history. A quantum miracle. The key to everything. It can undo tragedy. It’s an instrument of evil in the wrong hands, but it can also make you whole again, dear girl. You and your precious family, whole again. It can bring them back to you.”

Ed knows Michele from this Earth and has another key device

“You’re terrified of what’s out there, the places this thing can take you, worse even than the terror of that other America you described—and yet you want me to use it.” “Only carefully, with my guidance. To undo the tragedy, connect with a version of your husband and child who live elsewhere and have lost you, bring back together a family that should never have been torn asunder. During this past year, I’ve come to love you as I might a daughter, Michelle. I want to cure your sorrow, put an end to your loneliness, so you can be happy.”

Ed wants to bring them together to heal each group

From the second-story window of Marty and Doris Bonner’s residence, which he’d been caring for while they were on vacation, Jeffy had a clear view of his bungalow, diagonally across the street, when suddenly it was besieged by phantoms. They swarmed the house, coming along the lane from the east and west—and no doubt from Oak Hollow Road to the north—at least twelve of them. The sole sound he heard was the sudden hard knocking of his heart as he slid off the window seat and got to his feet. He stepped back from the glass, removing himself from what meager moonglow might pass through the panes and paint paleness on his face.

The house was swarmed just as Jeffy feared but he was able to watch intruders

“Before we go,” Amity said, “do you see that weird car in the driveway?” He’d been peripherally aware of the vehicle, off to the right, but in the blanketing dark, he’d not discerned anything especially strange about it. Stepping off the brick walk, making her way through the tall grass and weeds, Amity played the beam of her flashlight over the sedan. Following her, Jeffy felt a frisson of fear quiver across his scalp and down his spine, not because anything about the car was overtly ominous, but because it was as anachronistic as would have been Alexander Graham Bell making the first telephone call with an Apple iPhone. The car revealed something about this timeline that was as important as it was at first impossible for him to compute.

Amity is way more observant than her dad

Amity played the flashlight beam across the driveway. Leaves and litter covered the pavement, and stiff weeds flourished through the cracks. If this car had been driven recently, the weeds would be flattened and the dry leaves crushed—but they weren’t. The overhanging oak tree shed a leaf and then another. They fell onto what should have been the hood of the vehicle. The instant they landed, they were flung away, each in a different direction, as though conflicting currents of a breeze swept them off the car, though the strange night remained as still as it was dark. “The thing repels stuff. It cleans itself,” said Amity.

Creepy car? Repels leaves...coffin?

“It’s a big multiverse,” she said. Out in the street, something shrieked past the building, an aircraft, nothing big, maybe a drone. Maybe a fleet of drones. Startled, Amity let go of him and swept her light toward the windows, which was when the little turning wheel stopped turning. Jeffy was enveloped in a blizzard of white light and in an instant flashed back to Prime. Alone.

Oh no the key got it's signal and Jeffy went home alone

“I’m Jeffy. Jeffrey Coltrane. This is my daughter, Amity. And this”—he took Harkenbach’s quantum voodoo from his daughter’s hand—“is the key to everything, a beam-me-up-Scotty teleporting gismo that can shoot you across the multiverse to parallel worlds. I curse the scientist who invented it, the day he gave it to me, and Albert Einstein, who started the whole mess with his theories. So tell me—who’re you?” The hotelman peered down at him in silence. Processing. Finally he said, “What was that damn hideous thing?” “What damn hideous thing?” “That six-legged saucer-eyed door-busting thing.” Jeffy looked at Amity, who said, “It was a humongous bug-form robot, one of an army controlled by the totally insane AI that went to war against the human race and probably killed everybody on that world, a lot of the time by gassing them in the streets, like I saw them trying to do back there on one point seventy-seven.” Jeffy shuddered and, with a quiver in his voice, said to the big man, “Did you hear that?” “I heard it clear enough. Can’t say it made a lot of sense.” “You still haven’t told me who you are?” Jeffy said. “Charlie Pellafino. People call me Duke.” Jeffy got to his feet, holding Amity close. “What now?” Pellafino considered for a moment. “I imagine some people are looking for that doohickey of yours.” “You imagine right.” “And they’re not sweethearts.” “They’re vicious scum.” Amity said, “They leave a mess when they search a place.” Pellafino nodded. He chewed on his lowe...

Poor Duke is at least trying to sort things out...for the moment he's in shock

He asked her if she was all right, and she said she was, and then she asked him if he was all right, and he said, “Yeah, sure.” But she was thinking—and he probably was, too—that maybe nothing would ever be all right again. Repeatedly, she looked at the windows, expecting to see another Good Boy capering on the patio or a bug-form robot clambering over the ivy-covered wall between properties. If there were a trillion times a gajillion worlds, all somehow existing side by side or even in the same place but invisible to one another, you had to wonder if sometimes things leaked from one universe to others.

Leakage a terrifying concept...poor Amity that's going to give her nightmares

Chief Phil Esterhaus said, “I’m not even to the beach yet to start my run, I get a call about Falkirk. He was shot five times.” “Dead?” “No. He was wearing Kevlar. Four rounds were stopped, but one took him in the left thigh. He’s in the hospital, no doubt making the entire staff wish they’d never pursued a career in medicine. You know who shot him?” “Not me.” “I didn’t think you. If I thought you, the first thing I’d have said is, I’ll pay for dinner, after all.” “So who shot him?” “Two hulks in his goon squad were stationed across the street from where it happened. They’re raising hell with my people, as if they never told us to back off. They want arrests made yesterday. Anyway, it was dark, but they had night-vision gear, so they saw a little. They say it was this traitor Harkenbach and some woman. The perps got away, which makes no sense to me, with Falkirk’s crew of numbnuts right there and armed to the teeth.” “Who do they want you to arrest?” “Well, Harkenbach and the woman—”

Five shots but only one wound...

In the most secret room of Amity’s heart, of which not even Daddy knew the existence, she’d dwelt with the probability that the mother who walked out on them seven years earlier was dead. Long dead. If two private detectives hadn’t been able to find any trace of that Michelle, then something terrible must have happened to her; she never had a chance to follow her music and all, because soon after she set out on her new life, someone purely evil had taken her and done something horrible to her. Such grisly stories were in the news every week. Faces of the missing showed up on posters and true-crime TV programs. Later, bodies were found discarded like trash. This was that kind of world. In Mother’s case, no body was found. The lack of a body didn’t mean there might still be hope; it only meant that the killer buried the corpse well or was so seriously sick that he kept it in his basement as a memento. This was that kind of world, too, and even a girl of eleven knew about the dark side of human nature and all, so that such scenes evolved in her imagination, though Amity always forced herself not to dwell on them.

Amity really wondering about her birth mother...dark turn to her thoughts

To be perfectly safe, to have a chance to use the key to everything to exploit the knowledge of the multiverse and make himself wealthier and more powerful than any emperor in history, he would have to secure this timeline as his base, rather than split for a better one, and then he would need to murder as many versions of himself as he could find on other worlds. This prospect would have seemed daunting, exhausting, if not for the wonder of Dr. Burnside’s little pills and the effects of fine brandy. Freed from physical pain, clear of mind, he knew exactly what he must do.

Falkirks is a Megalomaniac with chilling plans

When the cigarette was half smoked, he realized that he no longer heard the sound of falling water. He couldn’t be sure how long ago the shower in the adjacent bathroom had been cranked off. That realization led to another of equal importance. If neither Ellen Esterhaus nor her husband was a smoker, firing up a cigarette had been a mistake. A sudden sense of jeopardy made him wonder if he might not be as clearheaded as he believed, which was when Philip Esterhaus came out of the bathroom. Falkirk had seen the chief before, more than once, but never when the man had been wearing so little. In only a pair of briefs, Esterhaus proved to be a more muscular and impressive specimen than he was in uniform, as if sculpted out of stone. “You look like a demigod,” Falkirk said, surprised to have made such a statement, though his compliment was sincere. The chief held a pistol.

Smoking and lots of pain meds not a good combo...chief has a gun hand bad too

He had no concern about leaving fingerprints, DNA, or other evidence. Because this murder would be blamed on Jeffrey Coltrane and because Coltrane was part of the Harkenbach case, over which Falkirk had jurisdiction, nothing incriminating him would be found by the federal CSI team that would probe the premises.

OMG he killed the police chief!

If Falkirk didn’t nail them this time and seize the key, he very likely would never have another chance. If he failed, his future would be as empty as the glass on the drainboard. He must set aside conventional thinking, abandon the protocols of standard SWAT assaults, and go big, as the Oracle of the Empty Glass had undoubtedly been instructing him.

Looney tunes time...

If earlier Duke hadn’t been hurled to an apocalyptic parallel world and escaped it with Amity, there were moments during Ed’s explanation that he would have gotten up, stopped listening, and washed the dishes, certain that all this was bushwa. Instead he remained at the table with a coffee mug in hand, in front of a plate on which a residue of egg congealed, and gradually he listened less for lies and more like a child sitting with his troop around a campfire in an eerie wilderness.

Duka a simple guy who needs structure and not given to flights of fantasy

He took a sip of the brew, cried out—“Shit!”—and slammed the mug down, splashing coffee across the counter and onto the floor. For an instant, Duke thought Harkenbach had burned his tongue. Then he realized the man had been looking out the window and had seen something that shocked him. “They’re here,” Harkenbach said, and he already had the key to everything in his hand.

Ed saw the badies out the window...LOL just as predicted

Someone gripped him by the shoulder. Abruptly the kitchen was swept away by the familiar white blizzard, and though his vision remained blurry, he knew his rescuer must be Ed Harkenbach. But what of Amity?

Did everyone escape together?

Falkirk was disappointed that a deadly nerve agent or poisonous gas was not available for immediate use. To obtain either, he would have incurred a wait of between twelve and twenty-four hours while his requisition was sent to Central Ordnance, considered, fulfilled, and delivered to him.

Oh good the gas wasn't deadly

In the garage, after retrieving the first now-empty tank, Lucas Blackridge inserted a second pressurized container into the furnace. This subsequent round released a high-velocity counterpoising gas that, in chemical reaction with the initial sedative, eliminated every trace of that material and of itself, leaving zero residue of either, returning the air within the home to a normal condition.

Clearing all traces of knockout gas...

As he pressed the muzzle of the gun to Charles Pellafino’s temple, however, he saw past him to a box of pastries on the table, next to which lay the key to everything. For a moment, he disbelieved his eyes. Then he realized that if the radio repairman and his wiseass daughter had ported out with the Ed Harkenbach from another timeline, this must be the key Coltrane had gotten from the Harkenbach of this world, who had eluded Falkirk for so long.

Falkirk finally sees the key he's been searching for

Frowning, Ed put his shotgun on the bed and began to search his pockets. “You didn’t notice if by chance I put the key down in the study, when we were raiding the gun cabinet?”

Oops not good

Just then Ed said, “Ah, here it is. Why did I tuck it in a hip pocket? I never carry it in a hip pocket.” Jeffy went to him and clutched his arm. “For God’s sake, Ed, let’s go! They think I’m Dillinger.” “Get my shotgun.” Jeffy snatched it from the bed. The physicist pressed a forefinger to the home circle on the key. Instead of subjecting them to a four-second wait, the device brightened at once. And there was no period of gray light. The three buttons appeared immediately: blue, red, green; Home, Select, Return. Jeffy said, “Why doesn’t mine work this well?” “Because it was designed by the Ed of your world, and I’m a smarter Ed than he is.” The smarter Ed pressed Return.

Ed found his key at last and it works somewhat better than Jeffy's version???

He holstered the gun and went into the pantry and shouted at her to get to her feet. She tried to curl up like a pill bug, so he cuffed her hard alongside the head, cuffed her again. He grabbed her by the hair and dragged her, screaming, out of the closet, into the kitchen. She flailed at him vigorously, without effect. He twisted the fistful of hair as though to tear it out by the roots, until her scream became as thin as an electronic squeal. She so infuriated him that he wanted to forget about securing her in a chair to witness her mother’s murder, wanted to deal with her now, put a foot in her face, stomp that smart mouth so she’d never be able to smirk again.

This guy is a psycho and wants to make others suffer

He suspected Falkirk just wanted a few minutes alone with the unconscious woman because she was something of a looker. Blackridge knew his boss to be an arrogant ass, knew he hated women in general and pretty women in particular, and suspected him of being a pervert who liked to inflict pain on them. An unconscious woman wouldn’t give Falkirk the pleasure of a response to what torment he visited on her body. But maybe he intended to do the damage while she slept and have the gratification of her agony when she woke.

Blackridge has Falkirk pegged

There was something inside her that she had never known was there until now, a ferocious sense of her right to be respected, to be left alone, to live. This creep hadn’t given to her the right to life, so he had no authority to take it from her. No one had given it to her, she’d been born with it, and this life was hers as long as she could defend it. Fighting for your life wasn’t just instinct, but also a duty, because life was a gift that came with a mission to fulfill. You were here for a purpose, and you needed to figure out what it was, and to let yourself be killed without a hell of a fight meant you had failed everyone you loved and everyone you might one day have loved. So as this creep dragged her out of the pantry by her hair, she on her back, even though he still held the gun in one hand, she cried out, “Asshole,” and reared up and punched him in the balls.

Nice shot Amity....that should drop him

Blackridge appeared to be in a bad way, true enough, but the two men who had done that to him were pale faced and sweaty and obviously sickened by the violence they had committed. They didn’t have the guts for this, and if you didn’t have the guts for the game, you were dead men standing. “Let’s be reasonable,” Vince said. “A little negotiation, and we can all be winners here.” The volume of gunfire came as a surprise to him.

He just underestimated the geek and the professor

The shotgun roared twice. Jeffy fired the Sig Pro ten times without hesitation or any expectation of remorse, blasting the two men even after they were down, because maybe they were protected by Kevlar and because, crazy as it sounded, there was something almost supernatural about their deadpan faces and their self-assurance when confronted with imminent death, so that maybe even two point-blank head shots weren’t enough to stop them.

Ed and Jeffy got the two guys upstairs

Falkirk snarled, “You stole my inheritance, little sister, you and your brother and your deceiving whore of a mother. But what’s all that money worth to you now, you little shit?” He was crazy, really and truly, and Amity expected she’d be dead without ever knowing he pulled the trigger—it would be that fast—but she did what she had to do, anyway. With her right hand, she slapped at the pistol, which surprised him, and the front sight of the weapon nicked the skin at the corner of her eye socket, but the muzzle swung wide of her head. Her mother drove the knife down with all the force she could muster, stabbed it deep into Falkirk’s back.

Tag teamed Falkirk

Even as Amity reached for Falkirk’s ankle, Daddy stooped to retrieve the pistol he’d put on the floor. Staggering off balance, Falkirk fired one wild shot, and Daddy squeezed off two. Because a girl couldn’t hide from the hardness of the world forever, because she had to grow up sometime, and because Amity was going on twelve, she didn’t look away, but saw the head shot, the chest shot, and knew that what had happened was as terrible as it was right and good.

Amity brave and an intelligent girl