No, not me. I’m shining like this because I’ve also got to do something. Just like the Shining Man did something for me, I’ve got something to do, too. But who am I supposed to do it for?

There was the Shining Man, visible again at the foot of his bed, but not shining no more. Now Al Junior realized that he knew this man. It was Lolla-Wossiky, that one-eyed whisky-Red who got himself baptized a few days ago, still wearing the White man’s clothes they gave him when he turned Christian. With the light inside him now, Alvin saw clearer than he ever did before. He saw that it wasn’t likker that poisoned this poor Red man, and it wasn’t losing one eye that crippled him. It was something much darker, something growing like a mold inside his head.

The Red man took three steps and knelt beside the bed, his face only a little way from Alvin’s eyes. What do you want from me? What am I supposed to do?

For the first time, the man opened his eyes and spoke. “Make all things whole,” he said. A second later, Al Junior realized that the man had said it in his Red language. Shaw-Nee, he remembered, from what the grown-ups said when he was baptized. But Al had understood it plain as if it was the Lord Protector’s own English. Make all things whole.

Well, that was Al’s knack, wasn’t it? Fixing things, making things go the way they were supposed to. Trouble was, he didn’t even half understand how he did it, and he surely had no idea how to fix something that was alive.

Maybe, though, he didn’t have to understand. Maybe he just had to act. So he lifted his hand, reached out as careful as he could, and touched Lolla-Wossiky’s cheek, under the broken eye. No, that wasn’t right. He raised his finger until it touched the slack eyelid where the Red man’s other eye was supposed to be. Yes, he thought. Be whole.

The air crackled. Light sparked. Al gasped and pulled his hand away.

All the light was gone from the room. Just the moonlight now coming in the window. Not even a glimmer of the brightness was left. Like as if he just woke up from a dream, the strongest dream he ever had in his life.

It took a minute for Alvin’s eyes to change so he could see. It wasn’t no dream, that was sure. Cause there was the Red man, who had once been the Shining Man. You ain’t dreaming when you got a Red man kneeling by your bed, tears coming out of his one good eye, and the other eye, where you just touched him—

That eyelid was still loose, hanging over nothing. The eye wasn’t healed. “It didn’t work,” whispered Alvin. “I’m sorry.”