fluorites that capture the light and hold it. The effect is beautiful and eerie,
and the place seems to glow.
I come out into the cool air again and go down into another grotto, another
series
of tunnels, this one with similar stained-glass windows and crystals
built into the rock walls, and angel statues, heads bowed,
hands folded in
prayer.
I pass through a room arranged like a church, rows of seats facing the altar,
where a marble Jesus lies on his deathbed above a base of glittering crystals. I
pass another marble Jesus, this one tied to a pillar. And then I step into a room
that glows from floor to ceiling.
The archangel Gabriel and Jesus are raising the dead. It’s hard to describe
—hands reach upward and dozens of yellow crosses race across the ceiling
like stars or airplanes. The black-light walls are lined with plaques paid for by
families of the dead who are asking the angels to bring their loved ones back
to life and give them a happy eternity.
In the outstretched palm of Jesus, I see it—a plain, non-glittering rock. It’s
the one thing that looks out of place, and so I pick it up and exchange it for
the offering I’ve brought—a butterfly ring that once belonged to Eleanor. I
stay awhile longer and then go blinking into the daylight. In front of me are
two sets of stairs, side by side, and a sign:
PLEASE BE REVERENT. DO NOT WALK ON THE HOLY STAIRS! YOU MAY
ASCEND ON YOUR KNEES. THANK YOU!
I count twenty-eight steps. No one is around. I could probably walk right
up them, but I think of Finch being here before me and know he wouldn’t
have cheated. So I drop to my knees and go up.
At the top, the friar appears and helps me to my feet. “Did you enjoy the
shrines?”
“They’re beautiful. Especially the black-light room.”
He nods. “The Ultraviolet Apocalypse. People travel hundreds of miles to
see it.”
The Ultraviolet Apocalypse
. I thank him,
and on my way to the car, I
remember the rock, which I’m still holding. I open my palm and there it is,
the one he first gave to me, and later I gave to him, and now he has given me
back:
Your turn
.
* * *
That night, Brenda and Charlie and I meet at the base of the Purina Tower.
I’ve invited Ryan and Amanda to join us, and after we’ve climbed to the top,
the five of us sit in a circle, holding candles. Brenda lights them, one by one,
and as she lights them, we each say something about Finch.
When it’s Bren’s turn, she closes her eyes and says, “ ‘Leap! leap up, and
lick the sky! I leap with thee; I burn with thee!’ ” She opens her eyes again
and grins. “Herman Melville.” Then she hits something on her phone, and the
233
night is filled with music. It’s a greatest hits of Finch—Split Enz, the Clash,
Johnny Cash, and on and on.
Brenda jumps up and starts to dance. She waves her arms and kicks out her
legs. She jumps higher and then up and down, up and down,
both feet at a
time like a kid having a tantrum. She doesn’t know it, but she’s flip-flapping
like Finch and I once did in the children’s section of Bookmarks.
Bren shouts along to the music, and all of us are laughing, and I have to lie
back and hold my sides because the laughter has taken me by surprise. It’s the
first time I remember laughing like this in a long, long time.
Charlie pulls me to my feet, and now he is jumping and Amanda is
jumping, and Ryan is doing this weird step-hop, step-hop,
and shake-shake-
shake, and then I join in, leaping and flip-flapping and burning across the
roof.
When I get home, I’m still wide-awake, and
so I spread out the map and
study it. One more place left to wander. I want to save this wandering and
hang on to it, because once I go there, the project is over, which means there’s
nothing left to find from Finch, and I still haven’t found anything except
evidence that he saw these places without me.
The location is Farmersburg, which is
just fifteen miles away from
Prairieton and the Blue Hole. I try to remember what we planned to see there.
The text from him that should correspond—if it lines up the way the others
have—is the last one I received:
Do'stlaringiz bilan baham: 
