Charles Grant - Night Songs

The fire cast their shadows.

At the patrol car Peg balked at getting in.

Colin knew what she was thinking.

When none of the others moved to help, he took Hugh's long flashlight and walked with her around the deadfall, turning the beam on the path their car had taken into the yard. They spent an hour searching through the rubble, through the rooms, this time opening closets and poking under tables. They spent an hour, and they found nothing. And when they came outside again, Peg had lost the armor she'd forged from her revenge.

At the sidewalk she stopped.

"I… we can't go until we find him," she said.

"In the morning," he said. "We'll never find him tonight."

"I won't go."

"You don't have to."

"Hugh said-"

"Hugh says a lot of things. And if he insists, well, there's more than one boat, you know." He put an arm around her waist, held her close. "We'll find him. I promise."

She seemed ready to agree, then shook herself and stared at him. "No. You go if you want. I can't. I just can't."

He touched a hand to her shoulder, nodded it's all right, and they walked toward the edge of the woods, toward the path to the cliffs. The trees still whipsawed in the dying storm, the flashlight's beam was coated with spray that had it glittering, fogging, picking out things moving where nothing moved at all.

They stopped at the edge of the path, and he licked at his lips. The way ahead was dark, filled with the growl of the sea climbing the rocks. Peg took his arm; they left the road behind.

"Peg," he whispered, wanting to tell her how fruitless this was. But she tightened her grip to silence him, and he stared ahead, trying to see beyond the reach of the light, swinging it side to side, hunting for a telltale break in the undergrowth.

Five minutes and he was freezing.

Five more and she stumbled, nearly knocking them both down.

He sensed her resolve weakening, yet she pulled him on gently until they reached a widening of the path and saw the body ahead.

"Oh my God," she murmured.

The flashlight poked closer, and the body elongated.

"It's El," he said flatly.

Peg looked away, a cheek against his shoulder, and he had a hand out when he felt her stiffen and clutch him fiercely. He turned quickly, and saw the figure in the middle of the road, the shadow waiting for them in the middle of the path.

It was then he realized he hadn't brought a weapon.

Like a man with a torch fending off a jungle beast, he thrust the flashlight ahead of him, jabbing at the figure as it staggered toward them. Peg whimpered, was ready to bolt and run, when suddenly the light caught the figure's face.

"Matthew!" Peg screamed, and ran to take him in her arms.

His hair was matted in cords over his face, his clothes torn and drenched, but as far as Colin could tell, the boy wasn't injured.

A brief pain in his chest then when Peg cradled and lifted Matt, rocking him while she held him and tried to clean him off at the same time; another draining when he realized.that finally it was over. He waited until the boy noticed him as well, and in a three-way joyous spate of talking, yelling, laughing, explaining, he heard something that made him hush them all with a sharp wave.

"What?" he said, taking the boy by the shoulder.

"I said," Matt told him as if he should have known, "I went to find Lilla and make her give you and Mom back. And she did! She really and truly did!"

"Lilla," Peg said dully.

Matt's eyes widened in excitement, in relief. "Yes, honest, Mom! She was in the cave. I went there and she was there. I was real scared at first because she was acting all funny, but then I told her what I wanted and she said okay, and then… then…" The boy's face darkened, and suddenly he was crying.

Peg carried him back to the car, Colin trailing and swinging the flashlight. As he watched them climb into the back seat, heard Peg's joyous laughter and Hugh's brisk professional manner, he shook his head and walked around to stand next to Lee.

"Lilla," he said.

"Should we look for her?"

"I'm tempted," he answered.

"Colin, no. I'll tell you the truth-I don't know what the hell it was we've just been through, and I don't think I want to know. Ever. Lilla, as far as I'm concerned, can rot alone in this hell."

He hated himself, but he nodded. "I only said I was tempted. I have no intention of finding her. I don't care what Matt says. She could have killed him out there, no matter what she was like after Gran was… taken care of."

"Good," she said. "Good."

He took the driver's seat, Lee beside him and holding his arm tightly. A false start and the engine caught, and he drove as fast as he could back toward the village.

As they passed the gas station, Hugh leaned over the back. "It's done, right?" ' "Damn right," Lee said. "You're sure?"

"Hugh," Colin said, "why don't you shut up?"

"I was referring to Lilla," Montgomery said before slipping back to his seat.

"Yes," he said, and turned to look out the window. "I know."

They passed Naughton's Market, the theater, the bank, the luncheonette.

"Hope you can run a boat," Lee said with a forced laugh as they drove toward the marina.

"I can," Matt volunteered. And when Peg hushed him with a mock scowl and Colin began to laugh, he crossed his arms over his chest and pushed himself into the corner. "Well, I can," he insisted grumpily. "Gee. Nuts. Goddamn."

Twilight. Silence.

The snow little more than flurries that looped and twirled over the bay's restless waters. A solitary gull coasted, wheeled away; the breeze faded with the light, gusted briefly and set the forest to trembling.

Colin stood behind the nail keg, a booted foot atop it, one gloved hand holding the binoculars while the other flattened the yellow wool cap closer around his ears. He imagined himself encased in a block of clear ice, a contemporary natural sculpture to be discovered by some astonished wanderer who would admire the realism and doubt the medium, and by the first light of Easter he would be a puddle on the landing.

He wanted to laugh, but the effort was too great.

A glance at his watch.

Three hours, not one minute of it passing quickly. It never had, not since he'd started. Every time he took position he remembered, and in remembering could not ignore a single moment. Three hours to relive a weekend no sane man should have survived.

And he'd wondered about that, fretted over it, examined it, and could not yet find an answer.

Sane. He didn't know anymore if he were indeed in his right mind. There were times when he truly believed he had retained his equilibrium, and times when he felt himself constantly, helplessly falling in maddening slow motion, with nothing below him but a pit filled with dead white eyes.

It certainly hadn't been sane that last day on the island, or the day after.

They returned to Peg's house and made the best of a night when no one could sleep. Hugh sat with Lee on the sofa, an arm around her shoulders while she spent the night weeping; Peg took Matt to bed with her, frowning when Colin stood in the doorway hoping to become a part of their waiting. When it didn't happen, he understood-too much had gone on, too many people had died, this wasn't the time for a walk into the sunset.

So he went to the study, sat at the desk and stared at the wall. He didn't know if he slept; perhaps he dozed off. But the next thing he knew, he and Hugh were at Gran's shack, sitting in his car, looking away from the damage the nightcrabs had started.

"We can't bury them all," Hugh said.

"No."

"You see, the police will want to know what happened, and all those graves…"

"Yes. I know."