Jim lay down on the warm pavement.
He was on a country highway, half a mile from the jumble of mismatched buildings called St. Militrude’s Home for the Insane and Elderly and Orphaned. A daytime rain had just finished, the kind that never even blots out the sun, leaving an earthy musk in the air. Jim put his cheek to the damp pavement and felt an intense connection. Religion, science, magic. Whatever ran things, the universe was waxing spiritual.
The Combo had held proper funeral services for Oz, Nero, and their Companions. Jim had even insisted they pass a moment of silence for Boyd, Bo Peep, and all the casualties at U.H. Four. Then they’d returned to New Zealand and released the millions of un-proxied aphids into the wild in small groups. Jim and Zoë finally got some quality time together, exchanging secrets about root beer and mustaches and whatever else came to mind. Sharing was easy, and the time passed quickly.
The refugee children of Asphyxia House were doing well. Those with families had been returned to their homes, and those without stayed with Nurse Gail and Ada Baulhayr at St Mili’s. They turned out to be pretty good kids once freed from systemized instruction on mayhem and malice, and were just militant enough to help keep some of the more disorderly residents in line.
Jim’s kiss on the Big Man in Bar Mars had been designed for empathy, but he’d probably overdone it a bit by thinking about Zoë. Big Man was now in a coma after putting the moves on a Black Panther he’d mistaken for Pink. With Big Man contained in an EKG, Barry and the rest of the Pink Panthers returned from vacation and resumed hanging out at Bar Mars, which had been left to Sebastian.
The Brothers of the Abbey abided as always, occasionally sending the Combo book-filled care packages that always contained a couple bottles of dandelion wine. They wished Zoë continued success, hoped Jim, Barney, Mars, and Panzer were well, and expressed tremendous interest in meeting Buck the next time they visited. Jim sent back the Combo’s love along with a crate of better-late-than-never dodgeballs.
Max’s coverage of the U.H. Four Proxy Fiasco became the highest rated JRN story of the decade and Jim’s correct prediction of Boyd’s plan was christened Guess of the Century. The High Rollers developed a great interest in Jim and his future exploits, some of them having made exorbitant sums of money after Boyd’s unlikely demise.
Norway’s largest funeral on record was held for Carmine Cibulkova. The Norwegian Parliament unanimously supported a national day of mourning, and even more special, the deceased’s name entered the Norwegian lexicon. If someone was an alright guy or girl, you’d say they were a “carmine,” akin to a mensch, good samaritan, or anyone worth vouching for.
Jim inhaled deeply, taking in the last remnants of evaporating rain and savoring the sweet scent that would never be duplicated despite the tireless efforts of those good people at candle companies. His old life was gone, dashed against the welcome roots of the new. He was engaged, empowered, and flush with years to spare.
The school bus pulled into the grass before coming to a jerky halt. Buck leaned out the driver’s side window and killed the engine, waving to Jim. “I think I’m getting the hang of this thing,” she called, her voice carrying easily on the fertile currents of air.
Jim got to his feet and boarded the bus.
Zoë was at Buck’s side. “She is indeed getting the hang of it. Boys are in back, ready to plot our first route. They’re waiting for you.”
“Sounds good,” Jim nodded to the pilots and walked down the middle aisle. The seats in the back half of the bus had been taken out to make room for bunkbeds, a cute kitchenette, and an open area for strategizing, where Panzer and Barney had spread out a massive road map, Barney sporting his new, Buck-whittled peg leg. Panzer offered Jim a flask of Marshmallow Bear.
“Hey Jim,” Barney said, “Where should we go next?”
“Hmm, good question. How about we just drive for a while.”
“Sounds great,” Barney beamed. “Jim says let’s just drive a while,” he yelled to Buck and Zoë.
“Okay!” Buck shouted back.
Mars, comfortably sprawled over Canada, joined Jim as he opened the back emergency door and sat on the edge. The janitor put his work boots to the side and drank from the flask, scratching Mars behind the ears as the bus bumped its way onto the road.
Jim watched the pavement slip by under his socks as they passed through an intersection, its yellow light lasting the normal amount of time.