Isaiah led Bill the few blocks to the cemetery, where they found a mausoleum with an open door and went inside.
“Spooky in here,” Isaiah said, his voice echoing a bit in the space.
“Can’t have nobody watching us,” Bill explained. “Here. Take hold o’ my hands, now,” Bill said, and the boy laid his own palms, soft and unformed, against the rough calluses of Bill’s. “You good, little man?”
Isaiah nodded, then remembered Bill’s blindness. “Yes, sir,” he answered.
“All right, then. No tickling now. ’Cause I’m real ticklish!” Bill reached out and tickled Isaiah under the chin, making him laugh. The boy sounded happy enough. Good. Bill needed him relaxed. He took the boy’s hands again. “Let’s start easy. Gonna make a connection with me, now. You tell me if you see a lucky policy number for your old Uncle Bill, and if I win some money, I’ll buy you a new baseball. Just close your eyes.”
Isaiah took his hands away. “I’m scared.”
“Nothing to be scared of. I’ma take care of you.”
Isaiah put his hands back.
“Nice and easy now. Just a little taste…”
There was nothing but the sound of leaves skittering across the tombstones. And then, suddenly, a pull on Isaiah’s fingers, like the first nibble of a fish on a baited hook. The connection trickled up Bill’s arm, warming into a pleasant, electric buzz under the skin. The boy’s body stiffened, but his voice had the calm of a sleepwalker. “I see a house and long road. A lot of sky.”
“Yeah? You see a number, little man?” Power flowed from Isaiah’s body to Bill’s. He had to be careful not to drain the boy. He just needed a number.
“A tree.” Isaiah jerked. He sounded a little scared. “Tree.”
“You ain’t scared of no tree, is ya?” Bill said, impatient.
Isaiah twitched twice, yanking on Bill’s grip. Dammit. He couldn’t stay too much longer or he might hurt the boy. But Dutch needed Bill’s money, and that meant Bill needed a number.
“What about a number? What numbers you see?”
Isaiah’s whole body trembled. Bill could feel it traveling up his arms.
“One, four, four,” the boy said. “One, four, four,” he repeated, louder.
That couldn’t be right. One, four, four was the number Isaiah had given him the last time, and it had done very nicely for Bill. But odds weren’t good that it would be a winner again so soon. “You sure you seeing that right, little man? Look close—”
“One, four, four! One, four, four! Ghosts on the road! Gonna come for us. Ghosts on the road. Ghosts on the road, Ghosts on the road…”
God Almighty, his skin burned! The boy had a grip on him but good. Bill couldn’t break it. “I-sai-ah…” he grunted, biting down on his back teeth.
“The snake and the tree and the ghosts on the road. The man, the man, the man in the hat is coming.…”
Isaiah’s body started to twitch and jerk. Another few seconds and it’d be too much. With a yelp, Bill broke the grip, catching the boy in his arms as he fell.
“Easy now, easy now,” Bill said, though Isaiah was beyond hearing. He put a hand on the boy’s chest. The rise and fall of his breathing was a relief, and a moment later, Isaiah’s voice called out, a little sleepy, “Mr. Johnson?”
“I’m right here, little man. Your Uncle Bill’s here. You all right?”
“Mm-hmm. Did I have another fit?” the boy asked, and Bill could hear the fear in his voice as he came around.
“Nah. Weren’t no fit. Just… when you see that other world, it’s like you go to sleep for a bit. That’s all. Just a little sleep. No harm in it. How you feel now?”
“Fine. A little tired, though.”
“But you ’member what I told you now, ’bout this being our secret?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And you ain’t gonna tell nobody that we practicing till you can show ’em all how good you got?”