He then straightens the man’s collar and takes his gun.
“This is a nice gun.” He looks at Silas. “Make sure to gather all their weapons. No use wasting them.”
“What the hell are you doing?” Boone says, hysteria tripping over his words. “Don’t touch the guns.They’re evidence.”
“I’m so sorry.” Hopper smiles at Boone, tapping his forehead. “I’m a member of the team.”
“Team?” Boone asks, looking at me for more answers that I don’t know how to give.
“Short version?” Silas slouches back as he takes in the scene. “We’re a vigilante organization, and we can’t be here when the cops get here. So we’re gonna speed things along and explain later.”
Boone looks a little shocky. “You’ll do no such thing. Youcannottouch the bodies.”
Hopper goes to say something, then something catches out of the corner of his eye and lets out a disappointed sigh. “This is all wrong.”
Working quickly, Hopper ignores Boone’s protests and aligns the bodies, adjusting them this way and that.
He steps back, then makes a few more adjustments as the sirens grow louder.
Finally, a sigh of relief.
“That’s better.”
He pulls out his phone and takes a picture.
Boone is stunned. “Hopper…”
His words trailer off as, and I’m just guessing here, the full impact of Hopper’s words finally settles in. Boone looks like he’s going to be ill.
Welcome to the party.
“Did you just set them up likeThe Last Supper?” Boone asks, his voice the kind of calm one reserves for a volatile mental patient.
Which…yeah.
Hopper tilts his hand. “For a full rendering ofThe Last Supper, we’d have to get the rest of the dead up here, but we’ve already ashed ’em.”
I look to the one-and-a-half bodies in the doorway. Ashed as in…turned to literal ash.
“Hopper,” Boone says, his demeanor frighteningly neutral. “I am confused about what I’m seeing.”
“Really?” Hopper’s look is so sincere, so him, that I can’t reconcile…any of it. “It’s like Silas explained. We’re vigilantes.”
“You’re not justvigilantes,” Boone says, understanding darkening his eyes like a sudden storm.
He sways, catching himself on a side table. It’s like when Rami does that quantum jump thing in his mind. You can actually see his brain figuring it out.
Boone gestures to Silas. “You’re the one with the scary tattoos. The one who walked that little girl to the police station.” He turns to Hopper, breathless. “Your accent. You’re the one with thefunnyvoice. The New York accent.”
“The little girl said I had a funny voice?” Hopper asks, face lit up like Christmas. “How. Fucking. Adorable.”
“No, it’s not,” Boone says, sweat at his temples. “It means you’re John the Baptist.”
Hopper stands and sends Boone a proud grin. He throws out his arms, giving us a deep bow.
“At your service.”
29
