as strange as though she were looking at a moonscape or the hidden hills of Venus. Nothing looked familiar; even the moon suddenly became a leering frightening thing that could come closer and closer and closer. Lea hid her face in the bend of her elbow and drew her knees up sharply to support her shaking arms.
“What am I doing here?” she whispered. “What on earth am I doing here? I don’t belong here. I’ve got to get away. What have I to do with all these-these-creatures? I don’t believe them! I don’t believe anything. It’s madness. I’ve gone mad somewhere along the way. This must be an asylum. All these evenings-just pooling madnesses to see if a sanity will come out of it!”
She shuddered and lifted her head slowly, reluctantly opening her eyes. Determinedly she stared at the moon and the hills and the billowing clouds until they came back to familiarity. “A madness,” she whispered. “But such a comforting madness. If only I could stay here forever-” Wistful tears blurred the moon. “If only, if only!
“Fool!” Lea buried her face fiercely on her knees again. “Make up your mind. Is this or isn’t this insanity? You can’t have it both ways-not at one time.” Then the wistful one whispered, “If this is insanity-I’ll take it anyway. Whatever it is it makes a wonderful kind of sense that I’ve never been able to find before. I’m so tired of suspecting everything. Miss Carolle said the greatest was believing. I’ve got to believe, whether I’m mistaken or not.” She leaned her forehead against the cold glass of the window, her eyes intent on the far light. “I wonder what their wakefulness is,” she sighed.
She shivered away from the chin of the glass and rested her cheek on her knees again.
“‘But it is time,” she thought. “Time for me to take a hand in my drifting. That’s all it is, my staying here. Drifting in the warm waters of prebirth. Oh, it’s lovely here. No worries about earning a living. No worries about what to do. No wondering which branch of the Y in the road to take. But it can’t last.” She turned her face and looked up at the moon. “Nothing is forever,” she smiled wryly, “though unhappiness comes pretty close to it.
“How long can I expect Karen to take care of me? I’m no help to anyone. I have nothing to contribute. I’m a drag on her whatever she does. And I can’t-how can I ever get cured of anything in such a protected environment? I’ve got to go out and learn to look the world full in the face.” Her mouth twisted.
“And even spit in its eye if necessary.”
“Oh, I can’t, I can’t,” one of her wailed. “Pull the ground up over me and let me be quit of everything.”
“Shut up!” Lea answered sternly. “I’m running things now. Get dressed. We’re leaving.”
She dressed hastily in the darkness beyond the reach of the moonlight, tears flooding down her face. As she bent over to slip her shoes on she crumpled against the bed and sobbed deep wrenching sobs for a moment, then finished dressing. She put on her own freshly laundered clothes. She shrugged into her coat-“nearly new”-and gathered up her purse.
“Money-” she thought. I have no money—
She dumped the purse on the bed. The few articles clinked on the bedspread. “I threw everything else away before I left-” able at last to remember having without darkness descending upon her, “and spent my last dollar-” She opened her billfold and spread it wide. “Not a cent.”
She tugged out the miscellany of cards in the card compartment-little rectangles out of the past. “Why didn’t I throw these out, too? Useless-” She started to cram them back blindly into the compartment, but her fingers hesitated on a projecting corner. She pulled out a thin navy-blue folder.
“Well! I did forget! My traveler’s checks-if there’s anything left.” She unsnapped the folder and fingered the thin crisp sheaf. “Enough,” she whispered. “Enough for running again-” She dumped everything back into her purse, then she opened the top dresser drawer. A faint blue light touched the outline of her face. She picked up the koomatka and turned it in her hand. She closed her fingers softly over it as she tore the margin from a magazine on the dresser top. She scrawled on it, “Thank you,” and weighted the scrap of paper with the koomatka.
The shadows were so black, but she was afraid to walk in the light. She stumbled down from the house toward the road, not letting herself think of the miles and miles to be covered before reaching Kerry Canyon or anywhere. She had just reached the road when she started convulsively and muffled a cry against her clenched fists. Something was moving in the moonlight. She stood paralyzed in the shadow.
“Oh, hi!” came a cheerful voice, and the figure turned to her. “Just getting ready to leave. Didn’t know anyone was going in, this trip. You just about got left. Climb in-“
Wordlessly Lea climbed into the battered old pickup.
“Some old jalopy, isn’t it?” The fellow went on blithely, slamming the door and hooking it shut with a piece of baling wire. “I guess if you keep anything long enough it’ll turn into an antique. This turned long ago! That’s the only reason I can think of for their keeping it.”
Lea made a vague noise and clutched the side of the car grimly as it took off and raced down the road a yard above the white gravelly surface.
“I haven’t noticed you around,” the driver said, “but then there’s more people here than ever in the history of the Canyon with all this excitement going on. It’s my first visit. It’s comforting somehow, knowing there are so many of us, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is.” Lea’s voice was a little rusty. “It’s a wonderful feeling.”
“Nuisance, though, having to make all our trips in and out by night. They say that they used to be able to lift at least across Jackass Flat even in the daytime and then wheel in the rest of the way. But it’s getting mighty close to dude season and we have to be more careful than during the winter. Travel at night. Wheel in from Widow’s Peak. Lousy road, too. Takes twice as long. Have you decided yet?”
“Decided?” Lea glanced at him in the moonlight.
“Oh, I know I have no business asking,” he smiled, “but it’s what everyone is wondering.” He sobered, leaning his arms on the steering wheel. “I’ve decided. Six times. Thought I’d finally decided for sure. Then comes a moonlight night like this-” He looked out over the vast panorama of hills and plains and far reaches-and sighed.
The rest of the trip was made in silence. Lea laughed shakily at her own clutching terror as the wheels touched down with a thud on the road near Widow’s Peak. After that, conversation was impossible over the jolting bumping bouncing progress of the truck.
They arrived at Kerry Canyon just as the sunlight washed across the moon. The driver unhooked the door for her and let her out into the shivery dawn.
“We’re in and out almost every morning and evening,” he said. “You coming back tonight?”
