was smoking. In the car. Evan’s car.
Graham could see the glowing tip of her cigarette illuminating her face when she took a drag. Evan had a nose like a dog; he would kill Graham. But Graham wasn’t going to tell her to get out. He didn’t want her roaming around.
He opened the door and bent forward. “I’ll be back. Wait here.” Then he headed for OT.
The gate was open just enough for a person to slip through.
Graham paused.
Could he do it?
He hadn’t been this way since all the bad shit had happened. Maybe he should forget it. Maybe he should return to the car and take Kristin back to Tuonela.
The rain picked up, pattering against the fallen leaves. The volume increased until the sound almost seemed to be inside his head. Was Evan really down there doing whatever he did all night long? In the pouring rain?
Damn. Graham was sick of being the adult. Couldn’t somebody else be the adult for a while? He wanted to be a kid while he was still a kid. Time was running out.
Deep inside he knew it was probably too late anyway, but that didn’t keep him from embracing the resentment.
He took a deep breath and plunged forward through the gate. Willing his brain to shut off, he hurried down the muddy path, his feet slipping and sliding until he finally gained the cover of dense trees. Above his head a canopy of leaves that hadn’t yet fallen created a roof and blocked out some of the rain and noise.
He should have forced himself to come down here before. Then maybe he’d have gotten desensitized and it would seem like nothing. Just the same as any other messed-up place. It was hard enough living on the edge of Old Tuonela, but this was too much.
His footsteps faltered. He paused to look over his shoulder, back in the direction of the car he could no longer see.
He also wanted to make sure she wasn’t there.
His mother. He hadn’t seen her for a long time. Long enough to make him hope he would never see her again.
He always smelled her first.
He would wake up from a deep sleep with the scent of rotting flesh in his nostrils. And there she’d be—perched on the end of his bed, yakking away about something.
He turned and continued down the path.
He pushed aside a branch of wet leaves. The flashlight beam reflected off the raindrops, creating a brilliant curtain that temporarily blinded him. He blinked, his eyes adjusting.
Christ.
Holes.
Everywhere.
How many were there? A hundred? More?
He’d known Evan was digging out here, but damn.
The flashlight was just some cheapie, the beam weak. He panned around, looking for signs of life. Real life. Not a rotten imitation of a living being his mother liked to emulate.
What am I doing here?
He had a sudden snapshot image of the man he’d killed. Of the way he’d looked at him right before he died. That utter disbelief.
“Leave. Get out of here.”
Had that been his own voice in his head, or somebody else’s?
“Shhhh. There you go.”
Not in his head.
Evan? Was it Evan? Sounded a little like him, but not like him.
Graham’s heart slammed in his chest, but he forced himself to move, navigating around the holes. Bent at the waist, he leaned forward while wanting to lean back. His voice, when he finally used it, came out a broken whisper. “Evan?”
Had someone answered? Was someone talking?
Mumbling. Coming from below. From the ground.
He wanted to turn and run like hell. Instead he slid one foot forward, then the other.
He directed the flashlight beam into the holes, left and right, sweeping until he found an occupied one.
He blinked the rain from his eyes.
What he saw made his leg muscles tighten as he braced himself for flight.
Evan.
Graham stared.
This hole was bigger than the others. Probably twelve feet wide and six feet deep. Evan just sat there as if it weren’t raining. As if it weren’t cold, his shirt and jeans splattered with mud.
Graham was careful to keep the flashlight beam directed away from Evan’s face, but what the
Graham could see the glowing tip of her cigarette illuminating her face when she took a drag. Evan had a nose like a dog; he would kill Graham. But Graham wasn’t going to tell her to get out. He didn’t want her roaming around.
He opened the door and bent forward. “I’ll be back. Wait here.” Then he headed for OT.
The gate was open just enough for a person to slip through.
Graham paused.
Could he do it?
He hadn’t been this way since all the bad shit had happened. Maybe he should forget it. Maybe he should return to the car and take Kristin back to Tuonela.
The rain picked up, pattering against the fallen leaves. The volume increased until the sound almost seemed to be inside his head. Was Evan really down there doing whatever he did all night long? In the pouring rain?
Damn. Graham was sick of being the adult. Couldn’t somebody else be the adult for a while? He wanted to be a kid while he was still a kid. Time was running out.
Deep inside he knew it was probably too late anyway, but that didn’t keep him from embracing the resentment.
He took a deep breath and plunged forward through the gate. Willing his brain to shut off, he hurried down the muddy path, his feet slipping and sliding until he finally gained the cover of dense trees. Above his head a canopy of leaves that hadn’t yet fallen created a roof and blocked out some of the rain and noise.
He should have forced himself to come down here before. Then maybe he’d have gotten desensitized and it would seem like nothing. Just the same as any other messed-up place. It was hard enough living on the edge of Old Tuonela, but this was too much.
His footsteps faltered. He paused to look over his shoulder, back in the direction of the car he could no longer see.
He also wanted to make sure she wasn’t there.
His mother. He hadn’t seen her for a long time. Long enough to make him hope he would never see her again.
He always smelled her first.
He would wake up from a deep sleep with the scent of rotting flesh in his nostrils. And there she’d be—perched on the end of his bed, yakking away about something.
He turned and continued down the path.
He pushed aside a branch of wet leaves. The flashlight beam reflected off the raindrops, creating a brilliant curtain that temporarily blinded him. He blinked, his eyes adjusting.
Christ.
Holes.
Everywhere.
How many were there? A hundred? More?
He’d known Evan was digging out here, but damn.
The flashlight was just some cheapie, the beam weak. He panned around, looking for signs of life. Real life. Not a rotten imitation of a living being his mother liked to emulate.
What am I doing here?
He had a sudden snapshot image of the man he’d killed. Of the way he’d looked at him right before he died. That utter disbelief.
“Leave. Get out of here.”
Had that been his own voice in his head, or somebody else’s?
“Shhhh. There you go.”
Not in his head.
Evan? Was it Evan? Sounded a little like him, but not like him.
Graham’s heart slammed in his chest, but he forced himself to move, navigating around the holes. Bent at the waist, he leaned forward while wanting to lean back. His voice, when he finally used it, came out a broken whisper. “Evan?”
Had someone answered? Was someone talking?
Mumbling. Coming from below. From the ground.
He wanted to turn and run like hell. Instead he slid one foot forward, then the other.
He directed the flashlight beam into the holes, left and right, sweeping until he found an occupied one.
He blinked the rain from his eyes.
What he saw made his leg muscles tighten as he braced himself for flight.
Evan.
Graham stared.
This hole was bigger than the others. Probably twelve feet wide and six feet deep. Evan just sat there as if it weren’t raining. As if it weren’t cold, his shirt and jeans splattered with mud.
Graham was careful to keep the flashlight beam directed away from Evan’s face, but what the
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