'What?'
'You said, 'them.' How many? No. Don't tell me. I don't think I can handle any more of this right now.' Against her will, a sob burst from her. 'Are they all...demented? Deformed? What good does it do any of them, this place? Are they all children?'
'I know a little boy.' When at last he spoke, his voice seemed to come from a long way off. 'A strange little boy everybody used to think was mentally defective.' He smiled faintly to himself. 'Not so little anymore. And so smart it scares the hell out of me.'
'It's hers, isn't it? Her son. That woman you say I remind you of.' She forced a shattered grin. 'And what about us? Just tell me now so I'll know. I can handle anything, just so I know what's coming.' The words tasted like acid in her mouth. 'Were you just using me?' She forced herself only to watch as his expression knotted, forced herself not to speak, not to touch him, only to wait for his words. But no response came. Finally, she turned away.
As though released, he leaned forward, and his hand went to her waist.
'Don't.' She choked back the words. 'You love her.' Her fingers flew to her lips.
'I.' He spoke the syllable with unconscious finality, forming neither the beginning of a sentence, nor the end of one. 'She.' He tried again. 'They need me to...'
'Stop telling me what she needs. What do you need? What do you want? Tell me that for once. Just tell me.'
Behind them, a vase hit the floor and shattered.
'No, leave it. The cat's always knocking things over.'
'The cat ran away, Kit.'
A row of books slid from the bookcase to the floor.
'What's going on? Is the place collapsing? Should we get out?'
'It's the boy,' he explained.
'What do you mean? No. Leave it, I said. Just answer me.'
His face went blood dark. 'I want not to feel all torn up inside.' A fleck of saliva flew from his lips. 'Can't you feel it?' He rubbed at his forehead. 'They do something to us too. Stir something in our brains. Can't you almost touch him in your thoughts?'
'Stop that. You sound even crazier than usual. What is it, Steve? Aren't you allowed to be happy? Do I threaten some kind of bargain you made with yourself?' She looked at the bedroom door. 'He belongs in a hospital, and that's where he's going.'
'And afterwards?'
'I don't know.' Her head twitched.
'The kind of help he needs only I can give him.' He stared hard at the door. 'I guess I always hated them. Wanted to kill them all. But now...when I look at him...' He shook his head. 'Did you see him lying there? How broken? How helpless?' As though to himself, he whispered, 'I'm ready. I can go back now.'
'That's where you want to take him? To those people? To her?' She wouldn't look at him. 'What? Is he some kind of present? Wouldn't flowers do just as well?' She pressed her eyelids down with her fingertips, felt the moisture begin to leak. 'What if you're wrong about him? What if he's not some kind of creature? What if he's just a little boy who's been through hell? What will that do to him?' Abruptly, she rose and crossed to the window. 'What if you're wrong about all of them? What if there are no monsters?'
'You saw.' Patience rasped in his voice.
'I don't know what I saw. There was fog. The storm.'
'Don't do this.'
'All right--what if they really are monsters? And you're helping them?' Gazing out at the sea, she kept her back to him. 'No. This little boy is in shock, you said it yourself. Who knows what taking him to your crazy friends might do to him? If he's not insane now, he soon would be.' She crossed her arms. 'No, I can't allow it.'
'But you helped me.' Behind her, he rose unsteadily. 'You believed.'
'Just in you. I thought I'd found something, something that reminded me of what I used to believe in...about making a difference...but all I found was you, and I just did what you wanted. Whatever you wanted. We didn't save the town. I couldn't even save poor Charlotte who trusted me. I'm too weak.'
'No, you were weak when I met you. Now look at you. You fought to protect the town.'
'Fat lot of good it did.'
'And you'd do anything to protect the boy now, wouldn't you?'
Her fingers dug deeply into her own arms, and she rocked back on her heels. Slowly, she turned to face him.
He stared at her, at the way her curls burned like copper wires in the morning light. 'I really do love you, Kit.' His face had become a mask of stone. 'It's important that you know that.'
She felt her eyes grow hot and milky, and he blurred in her liquid vision. She blinked to find him coming toward her with an extension cord in his hands, the sling hanging empty about his neck.
'Don't be afraid, Kit. You know I'd never hurt you.'
XXXII
'She never knew, did she? Never knew what was happening to her?'
Wintry sunlight flooded over the debris-littered shore, and the gulls wheeled everywhere. Below the road, vines and scrub sloped to clear water that rippled inches above the submerged seawall. Gentle waves rasped and licked against the stones of the hill.
They hiked on. The shore lacked most contours now: coves and hills, pine groves and inlets had all vanished. In places, low waves rolled almost to the roadway.
The sight seemed to fascinate the boy. 'Look! There's some beach left.' He bolted down a sodden incline that led to the edge of the water. Though energy surged in his voice, he moved stiffly.
'Be careful.' Nursing injuries of his own, Steve limped faster. 'Stay where I can see you.' Mounds of drying sea vegetation strewed the rocks, forming huge hillocks.
Sunlight glinted off the ripples. The man caught up to the boy, and they stood together, staring out. The curving shore blurred into mist, and quiet swells emerged from a haze to slap languidly upon the rocks. The shadow of a gull floated on the water.
The man studied him. With the light on his face and the breeze caressing him, the boy seemed perfect, untroubled, his features ripe with budding strength. Then a cloud passed and the illusion vanished in shadow.
The boy turned from the view, his flesh unnaturally pallid, dark smears beneath his swollen eyes. '...sometimes she was better,' he droned in a hiccupping voice, 'and she could walk around like she used to.' He thrust trembling hands deep into his pockets. 'And sometimes I had to feed her. Take care of her. You know? Like a baby?' A larger wave crashed, and droplets settled on him like frigid tears.
Steve led the boy gently along the edge of the sea. The debris resembled bones, and they picked their way across bleached wood and rocks. A powdering of pulverized shell particles coated the mud.
'...because I remember the bad times and want things to be good for her so we hide at night and sleep during the day and we move whenever I think we've been one place too long and...'
'It's just a little farther now.' They skirted an uprooted pine garlanded with seaweed, still twitching in the breeze. 'Do you need to rest?'
'She don't, doesn't like other girls. Makes her mad to see them, like on television and stuff, if they show one kissing a guy she gets all...she gets like...'
'And she never remembered anything? Afterwards?' He halted. 'Look at me. Does your chest feel better? You're sure? There's something I want to say to you, and I want you to listen. About your sister. No, look at me.' He put a hand on the boy's shoulder. 'This is important. On some level, she may have known...and fought it. You have to remember that. She fought it. Because she didn't want to hurt you. Never forget that.'
'She thought I wanted to kill her. She...'
'She was scared. Do you understand? I have...a friend...who believes that's what causes the...the problem...the distortion'--he groped for words--'the changes you saw. You know what I mean? Her face? Her body?'
