Bentley Little - The Walking

He'd dreamed about all these things, and he felt a cold coil of fear wrap around his heart. Sure, the spoon had come from his father's batch of items, and he might have dreamed about it because he had seen it. But that did not explain the jar or the doll or the lamp. Those things had belonged to Janet's uncle. There was no way he could have known about them.

May set those items aside, then begn sorting through the things he did remember. She drew out the necklace of teeth, the plastic bag containing the dried, flattened frog.

"Wear these for protection," she said. She ran her hands above the necklace, tracing patterns in the air in a manner that seemed oddly sensual and that, in some strange way, spoke to him, though he had never seen such a thing before. She held the necklace out and he took it gingerly. He had no intention of ever wearing such a thing, but she held his gaze and refused to continue until he put it on. Shivering with revulsion, he obliged.

She performed similar hand movements over the frog, took it out of the bag, and handed it to Garden. "Keep this in the left front pocket of your pants."

Garden looked like he wanted to object, but he did not and pocketed the frog.

Janet received a ring of bone, Hal a carved wood fetish, Claire a bracelet made out of some type of dried weed. May herself opened one of the bottles and ingested a pinch of some foul-scented powder.

"Now--" May began. But she never finished. From the dark, swirling sky came a bright yellow lightning bolt that was not accompanied by thunder and did not flash instantly to earth but descended slowly and deliberately through the charged atmosphere and struck May atop the head. She watched it come for her, made no effort to move out of the way. When it touched her hair she fell, the features of her face hardening into an agonized rigidity. She collapsed forward onto the gravel, her arms flailing spastically, her legs jerking in furious counter movement even as the muscles of her face froze.

"Somebody do something," Claire said, but no one moved forward, and Miles grabbed her around the waist and held tightly to keep her from approaching May's electrically charged form.

The lightning retreated as leisurely as it had arrived, heading back up into the roiling sky like a fishing line being reeled in. Claire broke free from his grasp and knelt next to

the now still old woman, putting her hand on May's neck to feel for a pulse. She is dead." '"Miles pulled Claire back. "No mouth-to-mouth."

She didn't object, and Miles understood just how frightened she was.

Claire was a congenital do-gooder, always helping people, always giving of her time and money, doing anything she could to assist someone in trouble. She was also well trained in CPR. If Claire was so easily dissuaded from trying to help May, Miles knew that she had to be truly terrified.

Hal looked from May to Rossiter on top of the slope.

"Iwo down, five to go," he said. "Not funny," Miles told him.

"Asshole," Garden mumbled.

Claire suddenly jerked backward, and Miles was nearly knocked over, thrown off balance by the surprise movement.

"What? he started to say. Then he saw. May.

The homeless woman was vibrating, a uniform shiver that passed through her form yet did not bring life to any part of her body. Her arms and legs remained frozen at oddly cocked angles, and the wide-eyed agony on her face stayed unchanged.

A powerful shudder passed through her.

She stood.

And started walking.

He knew what was happening, knew where she was going. There were only seconds to decide on a course of action, and Miles took charge. "Grab your stuff! We're going with her!" He scrambled about for the spoon and the jar and kerosene lamp, leaving the doll on the sand, unable to carry it. "Water!" he called out. "Bring water if you have it! It's the desert!"

Garden dashed back up the slope to the parking lot, followed by Hal.

May was striding away, her head tilted up toward the sky, while her feet followed the path that had been taken by Isabella and the other Walkers. In his mind was the image of that slow lightning coming down to strike May, Agent

Rossiter reappearing from his chase with a red head and a dead brain, the physical proof of the power they were up against, but Miles knew he was doing the right thing and, running on instinct, he kept his eyes on the dead woman, ready to hurry after her if she got out of his sight..

Garden and Hal came sprinting down to the shore, Gar den strapped with two canteens, Hal carrying a six-pack of

Dr. Pepper.

"Let's go!" Miles shouted. "Follow her!

"Get help," he told Claire, kissing her quickly. "Drive back to a town, bring the police, sheriff, whatever you can fred."

"Oh, no, you don't." She grabbed Miles' arm, holding

" " " ' " him tight.

"I'll go for help," Janet said. "Or I'll stay. Or..." She closed her eyes. "I just don't want to chase after her. Them. I don't want to go with you."

Miles understood. Her uncle was not here, any personal connection she might have had was gone, and she was too emotionally on edge to continue on. He thought she should go with them, thought the fact that her family had come from Wolf Canyon might have a bearing on the situation, but there was no time to discuss the subject, no time to argue or convince her, and he knew that without major reassurances she would not be able to make it.

Miles handed Claire the lamp, fumbled in his pocket. "Here's the car keys," he said, tossing them to Janet. "Get some help. Tell them about the FBI guy. That should bring someone over here pretty quick."

Janet said something in response, but he didn't have time to listen.

May was disappearing behind a big paloverde, and Miles took off after her, pulling Claire with him, yelling at the others to hurry up.

They followed her into the desert.

They stayed several yards behind---just in case. May unerringly took the route left by the other Walkers, maneuvering closely around bushes and cacti with the precision of an amusement park ride on a track.

After leaving the shoreline, Isabella had headed between two low hills and then through a narrow eroded canyon. Though the way was easy at first, it became increasingly harder to walk as the sand became deeper and looser, more dune like

It was also hot. The sky was still dark, but the absence Of sun had no bearing on the heat, seemed to make things more humid and oppressive, in fact. Garden shifted the canteens on his shoulders, taking off his sweat-soaked shirt and tucking it into his waistband. Hal followed suit. Miles would have liked to do the same, but May was moving much too quickly, and he would not have had time to stop, put down the jar, and take off his shirt. He would have lost her. Next to him Claire, still clutching the lamp, used a handkerchief to wipe her brow.

They tromped deeper into the wilderness.

This was a perfect opportunity for them to talk things out, discuss what was happening, settle on a unified approach. But they did none of that.

The noiseless ness of May in front of them and the unnatural quiet of the desert all around made speech seem sacrilegious, intimidated them all into silence, and the only sound accompanying their steps was the heavy breathing of out-of-shape exertion.

Twenty minutes in, Hal passed back a can of warm Dr. Pepper, which Miles and Claire shared gratefully. She finished the last little bit of soft drink, hded Miles the empty can, and he dropped it on the sand to his left. He had no idea where they were or in which direction they were headed, but he had the feeling it might be difficult to find their way back, and he thought they might need a HansclandGretel trail to follow for the return trip.

If there was a return trip.

They passed through what looked like a saguaro forest, an especially dense stand of the tall cacti, and then through a narrow valley so thick with ocotillo that they were forced to walk directly behind May in order to keep her in sight. Around them the land was rising up, gently sloping hills giving way to harsher, higher cliffs.