second-story flames on the backyard snow, either. The blaze was still
largely at the front of the house.
Toby was standing in his red-and-black ski suit at the head of the
porch steps, his back to the door. Snow churned around him. The
little point on the hood gave him the look of a gnome.
The dog was at Toby's side. He turned his burly head to look at Jack,
wagged his tail once.
Jack put down the gasoline cans and hunkered beside his son. If his
heart didn't turn over in his chest when he saw the boy's face, he felt
as if it did.
Toby looked like death.
'Skipper?'
'Hi, Dad.'
His voice had little inflection. He seemed to be in a daze, as he had
been in front of the computer that morning. He didn't look at Jack but
stared uphill toward the caretaker's house, which was visible only when
the dense shrouds of snow were drawn apart by the capricious wind.
'Are you between?' Jack asked, dismayed by the tremor in his voice.
'Yeah. Between.'
'Is that a good idea?'
'Yeah.'
'Aren't you afraid of it?'
'Yeah. That's okay.'
'What're you staring at?'
'Blue light.'
'I don't see any blue light.'
'When I was asleep.'
'You saw a blue light in your sleep?'
'In the caretaker's house.'
'Blue light in a dream?'
'Might have been more than a dream.'
'So that's where it is?'
'Yeah. Part of me too.'
'Part of you is in the caretaker's house?'
'Yeah. Holding it under.'
'We can actually burn it?'
'Maybe. But we've got to get all of it.'
Harlan Moffit clumped onto the back porch, carrying two cans of
gasoline.
'Lady in there give me these, told me to bring em out here. She your
wife?'
Jack rose to his feet. 'Yeah. Heather. Where is she?'
'Went down for two more,' Harlan said, 'like she doesn't know the house
is on fire.'
In the backyard, there were reflections of fire on the snow now,
probably from the main roof or from Toby's room. Even if the blaze
hadn't yet spread all the way down the front stairs, the whole house
would soon be engulfed when the roof fell into second-floor rooms and
second-floor rooms fell into those below them.
