Later

50

I walked to the Palace on Park, much older and taller than the little boy who’d come from his school one fall day holding his mother’s hand on one side and his green turkey on the other. Older, taller, and maybe even wiser, but still that same person. We change, and we don’t. I can’t explain it. It’s a mystery.

I couldn’t go inside the building, I had no key, but I didn’t need to, because Professor Burkett was sitting on the steps in his brown traveling suit. I sat down beside him. An old lady walked by with a little fluffy dog. The dog looked at the professor. The old lady didn’t.

“Hello, Professor.”

“Hello, Jamie.”

It had been five days since he died on the airplane, and his voice was doing that fade-out thing they do. As if he was talking to me from far away and getting farther all the time. And while he seemed as kind as ever, he also seemed sort of, I don’t know, disconnected. Most of them do. Even Mrs. Burkett was that way, although she was chattier than most (and some don’t talk at all, unless you ask them a question). Because they are watching the parade instead of marching in it? That’s close, but still not quite right. It’s as if they’ve got other, more important things on their minds, and for the first time I realized that my voice must be fading for him, as well. The whole world must be fading.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes.”

“Did it hurt? The heart attack?”

“Yes, but it was over soon.” He was looking out at the street, not at me. As if storing it up.

“Is there anything you need me to do?”

“Only one thing. Never call for Therriault. Because Therriault is gone. What would come is the thing that possessed him. I believe that in the literature, that sort of entity is called a walk-in.”

“I won’t, I promise. Professor, why could it even possess him in the first place? Because Therriault was evil to start with? Is that why?”

“I don’t know, but it seems likely.”

“Do you still want to hear what happened when I grabbed him?” I thought of his email. “The details?”

“No.” This disappointed me but didn’t surprise me. Dead people lose interest in the lives of the living. “Just remember what I’ve told you.”

“I will, don’t worry.”

A faint shadow of irritation came into his voice. “I wonder. You were incredibly brave, but you were also incredibly lucky. You don’t understand because you’re just a child, but take my word for it. That thing is from outside the universe. There are horrors there that no man can conceive of. If you truck with it you risk death, or madness, or the destruction of your very soul.”

I had never heard anyone talk about trucking with something—I suppose it was another of the professor’s old-school words, like icebox for refrigerator, but I got the gist. And if he meant to scare me, he had succeeded. The destruction of my soul? Jesus!

“I won’t,” I said. “I really won’t.”

He didn’t reply. Just looked out at the street with his hands on his knees.

“I’ll miss you, professor.”

“All right.” His voice was growing fainter all the time. Pretty soon I wouldn’t be able to hear him at all, I’d only be able to see his lips moving.

“Can I ask you one more thing?” Stupid question. When you ask, they have to answer, although you might not always like what you hear.

“Yes.”

I asked my question.