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just the sa-me.
"I'm sorry," I sa-id. "That was a bad joke. I didn't me-an 'drop-ped' of
co-ur-se."
"No, don't apo-lo-gi-ze. It's okay."
In the li-ving ro-om, Ke-vin stir-red une-asily on the co-uch. He cal-led
out for Lo-ri and then tur-ned his he-ad and went back to sle-ep.
"Poor guy," I mut-te-red. "He'll li-ve with that for the rest of his
li-fe."
Sarah nod-ded.
We sat in si-len-ce for a few mi-nu-tes, lis-te-ning to the ra-in
be-ca-use the-re was not-hing el-se to lis-ten to, ex-cept for the
oc-ca-si-onal sno-re from Carl, drif-ting down the hal-lway li-ke a ghost.
"Why don't you go back to bed," Sa-rah sa-id gently. "I'll ta-ke watch for
aw-hi-le."
"Oh, that's all right," I rep-li-ed. "I ha-ven't be-en sle-eping too go-od
any-way. It's the ni-co-ti-ne withd-ra-wal. Gi-ves me night-ma-res."
"I can't sle-ep, eit-her. I dre-amed abo-ut Salty and Corn-well and the
crash."
"Well, I rec-kon we can ke-ep each ot-her com-pany then."
"It's qu-i-et," Sa-rah sa-id. "You'd think the so-und of the ra-in wo-uld
lull us to sle-ep, but it do-esn't."
"Nothing fri-endly or com-for-ting abo-ut that ra-in," I ag-re-ed. "It's
un-na-tu-ral."
"So you de-fi-ni-tely ag-ree with Ke-vin's the-ory?"
"I've be-en thin-king abo-ut it so-me mo-re sin-ce din-ner.
I ag-ree that the-se events we-ren't the re-sult of glo-bal war-ming or
so-me ot-her eco-lo-gi-cal di-sas-ter. As for the spell bo-ok he men-ti-oned,
it co-uld be, I gu-ess. The-re's we-ird stuff in this world. We've all se-en
it. Go-es back to pre-his-tory. Pe-op-le in the Bib-le prac-ti-ced black
ma-gic. I don't pre-tend to un-ders-tand everyt-hing in our uni-ver-se, but I
know the-re are things that sci-en-ce can't exp-la-in. Call it pa-ra-nor-mal
or su-per-na-tu-ral or wha-te-ver, but it exists. My own mot-her had a bo-ok
cal-led The Long, Lost Fri-end. Lots of folks in the Ap-pa-lac-hi-an
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Mo-un-ta-ins had a copy back in the old days. It was a spell bo-ok, but mostly
harm-less stuff-how to cu-re warts and de-worm yo-ur cat-tle and pro-tect
yo-ur-self from the evil eye-things li-ke that. Folks back then, even
God-fe-aring Chris-ti-ans, swo-re by it. All I know is the stuff wor-ked. I
re-mem-ber one ti-me, when I was lit-tle, we we-re all out chop-ping wo-od. My
grand-dad-dy cut his leg with the ax and my grand-mot-her put her hands over
the wo-und, sa-id a few words out of the bo-ok, fol-lo-wed them with a
pra-yer, and the ble-eding stop-ped-just li-ke that. So it did work. You don't
see it much the-se days, be-ca-use now everyt-hing is exp-la-ined and cu-red
by sci-en-ce. May-be that's why we're in the mess we're in now-be-ca-use of
our re-li-an-ce on sci-en-ce. May-be we lost to-uch with so-met-hing el-se.
Our spi-ri-tu-al si-de.
The part that still be-li-eves in-and ne-eds-ma-gic."
Sarah sta-red at me with a be-mu-sed lo-ok. "Why Teddy, I didn't know you
we-re a phi-lo-sop-her, too."
I la-ug-hed qu-i-etly. "Only one in Pun-kin' Cen-ter, un-less you co-unt
yo-ung Er-nie Whitt or Old Man Ha-ub-ner down in Re-nick-and he ain't be-en
the sa-me sin-ce his hor-se kic-ked him in the he-ad."
"And whe-re are they now?" she as-ked. "Ernie and Ha-ub-ner?"
I shrug-ged. "Go-ne off with the Na-ti-onal Gu-ard. De-ad, may-be. I don't
know. Du-ring yo-ur tra-vels from Bal-ti-mo-re to he-re, did you see any signs
that our go-vern-ment was hel-ping folks? FE-MA set-tle-ments or tent ci-ti-es
or anyt-hing li-ke that?"
"No. The-re was not-hing. The-re's not a lot of dry gro-und left, at
le-ast in the pla-ces we flew over. Li-ke I sa-id ear-li-er, just the
mo-un-ta-in-tops.
Everything is flo-oded."
"And it's still ra-ining," I sa-id. "Gu-ess it's just a mat-ter of ti-me
be-fo-re the wa-ters re-ach us."
"Unless the worms do first."
"Well, I don't think much el-se will hap-pen to-night, but just in ca-se,
you ought to get so-me sle-ep."
"You ne-ed it mo-re than I do," she sa-id. "Why don't you go to bed? Let
me ta-ke over?"
"No. If I go to bed now, I'll just lay the-re ha-ving a ni-co-ti-ne fit."
She la-ug-hed softly. "I tho-ught Salty had be-en bad when it ca-me to
ne-eding a ci-ga-ret-te."
I stop-ped bre-at-hing. Du-ring his story, Ke-vin had men-ti-oned that
Salty was a smo-ker, but I'd for-got-ten all abo-ut it.
Could the-re be ci-ga-ret-tes out-si-de?
"I rec-kon he ran out of them, too." I was on the ed-ge of my se-at,
wa-iting for her res-pon-se.
"Salty? Oh no. We ra-ided a gas sta-ti-on in Wo-ods-tock that was still
abo-ve wa-ter, and he ha-uled out as many car-tons as he co-uld carry."
"Huh. Go-od for him. He tho-ught ahe-ad. Wish I'd do-ne that." I kept up
the small talk and tri-ed not to gi-ve myself away, to re-ve-al what I was
thin-king. Be-ca-use what I was thin-king wasn't just crazy. It was down-right
su-ici-dal.
And I was go-ing to at-tempt it any-way.
I wa-ited a few mi-nu-tes and then I sa-id, "Beg-ging yo-ur par-don,
Sa-rah, but I've got to go to the bath-ro-om."
"Out the-re?"
"Well, just out on-to the back porch. Don't want to use the car-port, on
ac-co-unt of all tho-se worms on it. But the back porch is clo-se eno-ugh to
the ho-use. It sho-uld be sa-fe."
"Couldn't you just pee in the sink or so-met-hing?"
"At my age? Sho-ot, I'd be lucky if I co-uld aim it that high. Be-si-des,
that's just down-right un-sa-ni-tary."
"Well," she sa-id re-luc-tantly, "just be ca-re-ful. I'll wa-it he-re and
stand gu-ard."
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"Okay. Be back in a bit. This might ta-ke me a few mi-nu-tes. And no
pe-eking. It do-esn't al-ways work as qu-ick as it did when I was yo-un-ger. I
think he gets sta-ge fright so-me-ti-mes. Es-pe-ci-al-ly if the-re's a pretty
yo-ung wo-man sta-ring at him from the win-dow."
She gig-gled. "I'll watch thro-ugh the win-dow po-in-ting out at yo-ur
car-port. How's that?"
"Much bet-ter."
I put on my ra-in ge-ar and wal-ked to the back do-or. The fog was thick
and I co-uldn't see mo-re than a few fe-et away from the ho-use. I lis-te-ned,
but the only so-und was the ra-in. I chec-ked the rif-le and ma-de su-re a
ro-und was cham-be-red.
Taking a de-ep bre-ath, I step-ped out on-to the porch and clo-sed the
do-or be-hind me. It wasn't just black out-si-de. It was ob-si-di-an. With no
po-wer or lights, and with the stars and the mo-on bloc-ked out by the
per-pe-tu-al ha-ze, the dark-ness was a so-lid thing-a li-ving cre-atu-re. It
se-emed to cling to me. Com-bi-ned with the fog, it ma-de sight al-most
im-pos-sib-le. I'd for-got-ten the flash-light on pur-po-se, be-ca-use I
didn't want Sa-rah to know what I was do-ing-and be-ca-use I didn't want to
at-tract the at-ten-ti-on of anyt-hing lur-king out the-re in the night. Now I
wis-hed for the flash-light, for a ligh-ter, for anyt-hing to push the
dark-ness back.
"Teddy Gar-nett," I sa-id to myself un-der my bre-ath, "you are a dam-ned
old fo-ol, and you're abo-ut to get yo-ur-self kil-led."
I step-ped off the porch and my bo-ots sank in-to the mud with a
squ-elc-hing so-und.
"Well, I'm ti-red of be-ing old and I al-ways was a fo-ol."
I star-ted for the crash si-te.
"And I don't ha-ve much of a li-fe left any-way."
The ra-ind-rops ec-ho-ed in my ears.
Chapter Twelve
I glan-ced back at the ho-use to ma-ke su-re that Sa-rah wasn't watc-hing
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