command broken. When he had left, they were almost to the drawing-straws level of assigning responsibilities. It frightened Doug to see how easily such a trained group of individuals, such a structured organization, could fall apart, and he was glad when he was once again in the Bronco and driving.
He wondered now what the police were doing.
He thought of calling, but decided against it.
He finished off the last swallow of his fifth beer and stared up at the stars. Far above, one of the lighter heavenly bodies was traveling west to east in a steady line. A satellite. Lower, he saw the blinking lights of an airplane pass by, though the airplane made no sound.
Outside Willis, the world continued on.
He had called Tritia every half-hour, but she kept telling him there was no change, Billy was still sleeping. The last call had obviously woken her up, and she had irritably told him to stop calling, she would tell him when something happened.
Stop calling.
He wondered if she blamed him for what had happened.
He lay back in the soft seat, unmoving, unthinking, ready himself to drift drowsily into sleep, when he realized suddenly that the atmosphere had changed.
Something was not quite right. He sat up, alert and awake. The crickets were silent, he noticed. There was no sound, no noise at all.
Yes, there was a noise.
From up the road, from the direction of the Nelsons', he heard the low purr of an engine drawing closer.
He froze, unable to react, unable to do anything.
The sound approached, growing louder in the stillness. He wanted to run and hide, to get into the house and lock the door and shut the curtains, but he remained in place.
And there it was, at the far end of the drive, the red car of the mailman, pulling in front of the mailbox.
He was dead. Doug had seen him shot, had seen him fall over the edge of the ridge. He was dead.
Doug stared at the red car. The driver's window rolled partially down and a white hand emerged from the dark interior, placed a letter in the box, then waved tauntingly good-bye as the car pulled away.
It was several moments later before the crickets started up again.
Doug's heart slowed, but he remained on the porch, unmoving. The mailman could not be killed. He could not die. There was nothing they could do. Doug prayed to a God he had not talked to in decades, but there was silence on the other end of the line. He sat there, unmoving.
He was still awake five hours later when dawn arose in the east.
47
He called the hospital before he went over, but Billy was still asleep.
Good. That would give him time to get there. He wanted to be at his son's side when he awoke.
Tritia was seated, bleary-eyed, on her bed next to Billy's. She was dressed, her clothes wrinkled from having been slept in, her hair mussed and tangled. He hugged her tightly.
'You look like hell,' she said.
'You don't look much better.'
They both looked at Billy. Asleep, his features seemed restful, normal, as though nothing had happened to him and he was going to awaken the same as always. But he would not be the same. He would never be the same again.
'He's back,' Doug said. 'The mailman. I saw him last night. He delivered our mail.' He had told her the mailman had been shot and killed, leaving out the part about his disappearing body, hoping against hope that they had merely not seen him in the night, that the flashlights had not illuminated the contents of an overlooked shadow or that he had crawled off somewhere to die.
Tritia paled. 'He died and came back?'
'Or he didn't die at all.'
Her expression collapsed, bravery fleeing in the face of overwhelming despair. 'That's it, then.'
Billy stretched, yawned, groaned in his sleep. Doug sat down on the edge of the bed and put a hand on his son's forehead. He found himself wondering why the mailman had not actually harmed Billy or Tritia . The mailman had been after him and his family from the beginning, but when he had finally caught Billy and Tritia , when he had had them in his power, he had done virtually nothing to them. Maybe he couldn't do anything to them.
Billy sat upright in bed. 'No!' he screamed. 'No!'
Doug grabbed Billy's shoulders, guiding him down. 'It's okay, Billy,' he said gently. 'You're safe now. You're in the hospital. It's over now. You're safe.'
The boy looked around with wild-rabbit eyes.
'We're here. It's okay.'
Tritia moved over to the bed and hugged Billy. She was crying. 'We're here,' she said. 'We're with you. Everything's going to be all right.'
Doug felt the tears in his own eyes as he held his son's hand.
'Mom?' Billy said tentatively. 'Dad?'
'Is everything okay?' The doctor hurried into the room. He saw that Billy was awake and moved over to the bed. 'How are you feeling?'
The boy looked at him dully. 'Tired.'
'Effects of the tranquilizer,' the doctor explained to Doug and Tritia . He turned toward Billy. 'You're not in any pain, are you?'
Billy shook his head.
'Good. Probably just the shock, then.' He smiled at Billy. 'I'll be wanting to do a few tests later, when you feel up to it. Right now, I'll leave you alone with your mom and dad, okay?'
Billy nodded.
The doctor smiled at Doug and Tritia , gave a surreptitious thumbs-up sign, and left the room.
Left alone, the three of them were silent for a moment.
'Do you remember what happened?' Doug asked softly.
'Doug!' Tritia glared at him.
'Do you remember?'
'Leave him alone.'
Billy nodded silently, not able to look at his parents' faces.
'Did he hurt you?' Doug asked.
Billy shook his head. 'He couldn't touch me,' he said. His voice was a cracked whispered croak. 'He wanted to, but he couldn't.'
Doug's blood was racing. 'What do you mean he couldn't touch you?'
'He couldn't touch me.'
'Why?'
Billy turned toward his father, then looked away, ashamed, embarrassed, unable to make eye contact. 'I don't know.'
'Think.'
'Doug,' Tritia said.
'He tried to give me mail,' Billy whispered. 'He wanted me to read it and he got really angry when I didn't. He said it was an . . . an invitation. I
thought he was going to hit me, but it was like . . . like he couldn't touch me.
Like something was stopping him. He started yelling at me and calling me names and threatening me, but I wouldn't take his invitation and he started going crazy, but he didn't touch me.'
'You've been through a lot,' Tritia said. 'It's no wonder you think --'
'Let him talk.' Doug nodded encouragingly at his son. 'Go on.'
'That's it.'
'He couldn't touch you?'
Billy shook his head.
