said Stats. “Makes sense.”
“Right on. And now the big news. Just before I came here, I had a dream.”
Billee held both palms toward Stats as if framing the scene. “I’m floating in the air, high above Fenway Park. But below me, the land is filled with all this bulrush and swamp grass andthese ponds of water. The ballfield was there, I could see it, chalk lines and all, but everything was underwater. So instead of the field being some manicured lawn, it was this boggy swamp. And out in the middle of center field there was this huge oak tree. And way up in the tree I see a bird’s nest built out of all these long leaves of grass and foxtails and twigs.”
“A hawk’s nest?”
“That’s what I figured, but it was empty. So I turn around and I see the modern-day press box we have right now, full of tall windows, high above home plate, with that metal catwalk running along the base of the glass.”
“Okay.”
“But then I look closer and I see a red-tailed hawk sitting on the edge of the catwalk. But no nest. And then this huge dark cloud rises up above me.” He waved his arms in a slow circle. “Casts a shadow over everything. Then when I look back down, the hawk is gone. Vanished. Nothing. That’s when I woke up.”
Billee sat back with his hands on his knees. “So now I know what the walls said to us. Through the hawk.”
“You do? Out of
that
dream?” No way did Stats see a connection. “What?”
Billy brought his hands to his mouth in the shape of a narrow cup and softly called, “Chee. Chee.”
Stats slumped. “Ha ha. Yeah, right, I heard that, too.”
“No, but wait. Here’s how it all ties in.” He leaned even closer. “Guess what the ancient Chinese word happens to be for that special life-force energy.”
Stats stared into Billee’s misty gray eyes. Did he really think Stats would be able to answer that? He made the only guess he could. “Chee?”
“Exactamundo, Stat Man. You got it. It’s spelled ‘c-h-i’ or sometimes ‘q-i.’ But it’s pronounced ‘chee.’”
“Really?” Stats stared into the ceiling tiles as he processed all this new information. He closed his eyes. He saw lightning cut across the Fenway sky.
“I used to take tai chi classes,” Billee continued. “To help my focus. That’s what made me think of it.”
“Mark did, too,” said Stats, remembering where he’d heard that term before. “So what does it all mean?”
“Well, for one thing, it means we have to keep our energies focused. The ballpark
is
out of whack. And once we find out why, all we gotta do is whack it back in.”
Oh, thought Stats. Is that all?
Billee shuffled in his seat. Stats took a moment to focus his energy, then wiggled onto his side. He opened his eyes.
The room was dark.
CHAPTER 13
Stats caught a little more dreamless sleep before two nurses came in to check on him, double-check the oxygen tubes, and offer a meager breakfast.
“You have a visitor,” said one.
In walked Mark, smiling, full of energy. “How’s it going, Freddy? Doc says you’re gonna live. How’d you sleep?”
“Fine. Sort of. Did you know Billee was here?”
“Billee Orbitt?”
Stats nodded. “A couple of hours ago.”
Mark shook his head. “Not likely. It’s only six thirty in the morning. You must’ve been dreaming.”
Still feeling a bit groggy, Stats offered no protest. “Where’s Pops?”
“Coming. He’s getting coffee.”
Mark pulled the blackout curtains open, and sunlight exploded all around. “There, that’s better.” He turned. “Holycheese, Freddy, you look like you dove headfirst into home plate.”
“I do?”
“Don’t worry. Doc Roberts said you’re gonna be all right. Rough night, that’s all. Said they have to do some tests.”
“I know I’d feel a lot better if the Sox started winning again. I hate it when they get swept by the Yanks. Did they say when I get to go home?”
“I think you’re staying one more night.”
“Oh, man.
“Right on. And now the big news. Just before I came here, I had a dream.”
Billee held both palms toward Stats as if framing the scene. “I’m floating in the air, high above Fenway Park. But below me, the land is filled with all this bulrush and swamp grass andthese ponds of water. The ballfield was there, I could see it, chalk lines and all, but everything was underwater. So instead of the field being some manicured lawn, it was this boggy swamp. And out in the middle of center field there was this huge oak tree. And way up in the tree I see a bird’s nest built out of all these long leaves of grass and foxtails and twigs.”
“A hawk’s nest?”
“That’s what I figured, but it was empty. So I turn around and I see the modern-day press box we have right now, full of tall windows, high above home plate, with that metal catwalk running along the base of the glass.”
“Okay.”
“But then I look closer and I see a red-tailed hawk sitting on the edge of the catwalk. But no nest. And then this huge dark cloud rises up above me.” He waved his arms in a slow circle. “Casts a shadow over everything. Then when I look back down, the hawk is gone. Vanished. Nothing. That’s when I woke up.”
Billee sat back with his hands on his knees. “So now I know what the walls said to us. Through the hawk.”
“You do? Out of
that
dream?” No way did Stats see a connection. “What?”
Billy brought his hands to his mouth in the shape of a narrow cup and softly called, “Chee. Chee.”
Stats slumped. “Ha ha. Yeah, right, I heard that, too.”
“No, but wait. Here’s how it all ties in.” He leaned even closer. “Guess what the ancient Chinese word happens to be for that special life-force energy.”
Stats stared into Billee’s misty gray eyes. Did he really think Stats would be able to answer that? He made the only guess he could. “Chee?”
“Exactamundo, Stat Man. You got it. It’s spelled ‘c-h-i’ or sometimes ‘q-i.’ But it’s pronounced ‘chee.’”
“Really?” Stats stared into the ceiling tiles as he processed all this new information. He closed his eyes. He saw lightning cut across the Fenway sky.
“I used to take tai chi classes,” Billee continued. “To help my focus. That’s what made me think of it.”
“Mark did, too,” said Stats, remembering where he’d heard that term before. “So what does it all mean?”
“Well, for one thing, it means we have to keep our energies focused. The ballpark
is
out of whack. And once we find out why, all we gotta do is whack it back in.”
Oh, thought Stats. Is that all?
Billee shuffled in his seat. Stats took a moment to focus his energy, then wiggled onto his side. He opened his eyes.
The room was dark.
CHAPTER 13
Stats caught a little more dreamless sleep before two nurses came in to check on him, double-check the oxygen tubes, and offer a meager breakfast.
“You have a visitor,” said one.
In walked Mark, smiling, full of energy. “How’s it going, Freddy? Doc says you’re gonna live. How’d you sleep?”
“Fine. Sort of. Did you know Billee was here?”
“Billee Orbitt?”
Stats nodded. “A couple of hours ago.”
Mark shook his head. “Not likely. It’s only six thirty in the morning. You must’ve been dreaming.”
Still feeling a bit groggy, Stats offered no protest. “Where’s Pops?”
“Coming. He’s getting coffee.”
Mark pulled the blackout curtains open, and sunlight exploded all around. “There, that’s better.” He turned. “Holycheese, Freddy, you look like you dove headfirst into home plate.”
“I do?”
“Don’t worry. Doc Roberts said you’re gonna be all right. Rough night, that’s all. Said they have to do some tests.”
“I know I’d feel a lot better if the Sox started winning again. I hate it when they get swept by the Yanks. Did they say when I get to go home?”
“I think you’re staying one more night.”
“Oh, man.
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