Dark Hollow by Brian Keene Page B

a shepherd’s pipe floating through my head. Tara stirred beside me, but did not wake. Big Steve watched me intently, and I wondered if I’d woken him, or if he’d been having bad dreams too.
    Sighing, he snuggled closer to me, and I breathed in his dog smell and hugged him tight, like a big old teddy bear. He licked my hand.
    “It’s going to be all right,” I whispered in his ear. “Isn’t it, boy? Things will get better. They’ve got to.”
    We stayed like that for a long time.
    Tara rolled over and moaned in her sleep. I kissed her forehead, slick with sweat, and her breathing grew shallow again. The worried crease in her face smoothed. She smiled, and then softly snored.
    I fell asleep while thinking about the miscarriages, and how maybe it wasn’t just our babies that had died. Maybe it was something more, a part of our relationship that could never be resurrected.
    I dreamed no more that night.
    And while the rest of the neighborhood slept, something prowled our streets with cloven feet.

SIX
    Tara apologized again when she woke up the next morning. I reassured her that everything was okay and told her to stop being silly. There were dark circles under her eyes, and it didn’t look like she’d slept well. Even though I’d turned in late, I’d gotten up half an hour before she did. I surprised her with coffee and breakfast in bed, and despite the sadness still etched on her face, she smiled when I brought it to her, which made me feel better.
    She sipped her coffee, an ice cube floating in it, just the way she liked. “You didn’t have to do this, Adam.”
    “Sure I did. I had a good reason.”
    She chewed a strip of crisp bacon. “Oh, really? What’s that?”
    “Because I love you. That’s all the reason I need.”
    “I love you, too. And this was really sweet. Thank you.”
    After she’d finished breakfast and I’d cleared the plates away, Tara hopped in the shower. While she got ready for work, I lay back on the bed and turned on the television. Shannon’s disappearance was all over the local morning news, and I saw Paul’s house, the alley and playground, our houses, and even a shot of the forest on every station. Shannon still hadn’t turned up. Paul was in the hospital, and his condition was guarded. They said he’d been treated for emotional stress, and that the police were waiting to speak some more with him.
    Tara came out of the bathroom and began getting dressed. She pulled on a pair of nylons, and that drew my attention away from the television.
    “Any news on Shannon?” she asked.
    I clicked the television off. “Not yet. She’s still missing, and Paul’s in the hospital, being treated for stress. They’re not saying much else.”
    “Do you think she’s okay?”
    I paused. “I don’t know, hon. I hope so.”
    She responded, but the words were lost beneath the whine of her hair dryer. I closed my eyes while she brushed her hair. I’d awoken with a bad headache, and it wasn’t going away, even after I’d swallowed two aspirin while making Tara’s breakfast.
    She turned the hair dryer off. “What’s the matter?”
    “Headache,” I mumbled.
    She walked over and gave me a quick kiss. “Are you sure you’re not upset about last night?”
    “Honey, I promise you that I’m not upset. It’s okay. Really.”
    She sat down in front of the vanity table. “You’d tell me if you were, right?”
    I nodded, and she leaned close to the mirror and began putting on her mascara.
    “Maybe we can try again tonight,” I suggested.
    She looked up from the mirror, mascara brush in hand.
    “Maybe,” she said. “We’ll see.”
    But I could tell from the tone of her voice that we probably wouldn’t. Our troubled sex life was back to square one again. It was frustrating and depressing, and I still didn’t truly understand what had happened. I thought about how I’d jerked off the night before, and daydreamed about Cliff’s bachelor life, and the guilt welled up inside me