Page 48 - DivineSparkRising II-TheMirrorofSilenceFinal

Divine Spark Rising
Wind threaded a broken gutter; a slip in the field
let one rusted screw vibrate against another. That
tiny vibration kissed the mic. A line rose on the
screen. Carolina’s shoulders dropped half an inch.
“Got you,” she whispered, at last able to hear
her own voice again.
The field collapsed like a tent in bad weather—
no ceremony, no warning. Sound slammed back:
glasses shattered in the bar, the freighter’s horn
finished its roar, the dog’s bark hurt Henry’s ears.
The boy in the yard hiccuped once and wailed.
The man on his knees began to sob into his hands,
loud and human.
Henry grabbed Carolina’s elbow. “You all
right?”
“Headache,” she said. “And a file worth
bleeding for.”
Inside was dust and a smell like damp wool. A
half-lit cavern of forgotten crates and crates
pretending to be forgotten. Carolina kept her
headlamp on a low beam and led the way between
stacks. Henry’s shoes squeaked in the returning
damp, obscene after the vacuum.
In the center, a scaffold of cheap steel and cable
leaned against an inner office like a parasite. The
mirror frame they’d seen outside continued inside
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