splintered and the brightly colored candies went rolling in all directions.
Sophie, trembling with fright, leaned against the counter and held onto it for support. The boys knelt and began filling their pockets with the spinning candies. Marinda began laughing. It was a mocking, derisive sound. The three boys joined her, and soon the entire room rang with peals of wicked merriment. Then Marinda tucked the wiggling snake back in her hair. Still laughing, she and her companions ran out of the store.
After the door closed, Sophie fell across the counter and collapsed in sobs. At last she lifted her head, wiped her nose on a piece of fabric and asked plaintively, "What am I going to do now, Kalem, huh? What am I going to do now?" her mouth twitched and tears stung her cheeks. "I'm so afraid," she whispered to herself.
9
The labyrinth of trees that made up the Thicket grew close together and meshed their topmost boughs. They formed a cathedral made not of stone and mortar but of leaves and branches.
"You'll never get the camper through there," said Cresta.
"I don't intend to. We'll park here and walk to the house. I think I see a light. That must be it." Josh pulled off the road, and the two of them alighted from the vehicle.
"It looks like the entrance to Twelve Oaks," said Cresta.
"What?"
"You know, Gone With the Wind ."
"It looks to me more like an entrance to a primeval rain forest. As if we were going backwards in time."
As they entered the Thicket they were greeted by the sound of overlapping whispers - an overture played by myriad insects. The path, a greenish-brown smear, sodden with leaves, seemed to unwind before them. The last rays of the sun barely pierced the thick canopy of leaves; the light was diffused into a soft iridescent glow. The Thicket smelled of the wind and the rain, the sun and the shadows. It was the scent of death and rebirth. It was the scent of genesis.
Cresta walked ahead of Josh and kept glancing over her shoulder, encouraging him to catch up with her. Josh had the feeling that he was walking on the floor of the ocean, as if in a dream. His footsteps became labored, his legs nearly immobile. The light from the house seemed to pulse and Josh had the strange sensation that the house was moving toward him.
They had gone about a quarter of the way when Josh stopped. Cresta turned to look at him. His eyes were glazed and shining and he was breathing heavily, gasping for air. "Josh, what is it?"
"No air. Can't ... catch my breath." He staggered to a tree and leaned against it, sucking precious oxygen into his mouth. His face was covered with perspiration, and his chest was heaving. Cresta became alarmed.
"Josh, what can I do? Is - is there any brandy in the camper?"
"Some amaretto," he gulped. "Please."
"I'll get it right away." She kissed him quickly on the lips. "I love you." Then ran as fast as possible back toward the camper.
Josh closed his eyes. Something rushed by. His fingertips went cold and then a strange insidious odor filled his nostrils. It was the suffocating smell of damp humus mixed with something else - was it fur? Yes, that was it. The scent of an animal which had been caught in the rain. A breeze, damp and brisk, caressed his flesh. The caress became a chilling embrace and Josh doubled over.
When Cresta reached Josh his eyes were closed, but he was breathing easily. She lifted his head and poured a bit of the almond liqueur between his lips. He swallowed a generous amount and sputtered; she took the bottle away. His eyes opened. "Wow!" he said. "I must have had an anxiety attack. The excitement of seeing Aunt Avvie and all."
"Do you think that's all it was, Josh? Your heart's all right, isn't it?"
He nodded.
"I've never seen a heart attack, but that's exactly what I would have expected."
"Naw, there's nothing wrong with my heart, love. My chest feels just fine. I was just doing a little hyperventilation number, that's all. I'm fine now." He took another drink of
Sophie, trembling with fright, leaned against the counter and held onto it for support. The boys knelt and began filling their pockets with the spinning candies. Marinda began laughing. It was a mocking, derisive sound. The three boys joined her, and soon the entire room rang with peals of wicked merriment. Then Marinda tucked the wiggling snake back in her hair. Still laughing, she and her companions ran out of the store.
After the door closed, Sophie fell across the counter and collapsed in sobs. At last she lifted her head, wiped her nose on a piece of fabric and asked plaintively, "What am I going to do now, Kalem, huh? What am I going to do now?" her mouth twitched and tears stung her cheeks. "I'm so afraid," she whispered to herself.
9
The labyrinth of trees that made up the Thicket grew close together and meshed their topmost boughs. They formed a cathedral made not of stone and mortar but of leaves and branches.
"You'll never get the camper through there," said Cresta.
"I don't intend to. We'll park here and walk to the house. I think I see a light. That must be it." Josh pulled off the road, and the two of them alighted from the vehicle.
"It looks like the entrance to Twelve Oaks," said Cresta.
"What?"
"You know, Gone With the Wind ."
"It looks to me more like an entrance to a primeval rain forest. As if we were going backwards in time."
As they entered the Thicket they were greeted by the sound of overlapping whispers - an overture played by myriad insects. The path, a greenish-brown smear, sodden with leaves, seemed to unwind before them. The last rays of the sun barely pierced the thick canopy of leaves; the light was diffused into a soft iridescent glow. The Thicket smelled of the wind and the rain, the sun and the shadows. It was the scent of death and rebirth. It was the scent of genesis.
Cresta walked ahead of Josh and kept glancing over her shoulder, encouraging him to catch up with her. Josh had the feeling that he was walking on the floor of the ocean, as if in a dream. His footsteps became labored, his legs nearly immobile. The light from the house seemed to pulse and Josh had the strange sensation that the house was moving toward him.
They had gone about a quarter of the way when Josh stopped. Cresta turned to look at him. His eyes were glazed and shining and he was breathing heavily, gasping for air. "Josh, what is it?"
"No air. Can't ... catch my breath." He staggered to a tree and leaned against it, sucking precious oxygen into his mouth. His face was covered with perspiration, and his chest was heaving. Cresta became alarmed.
"Josh, what can I do? Is - is there any brandy in the camper?"
"Some amaretto," he gulped. "Please."
"I'll get it right away." She kissed him quickly on the lips. "I love you." Then ran as fast as possible back toward the camper.
Josh closed his eyes. Something rushed by. His fingertips went cold and then a strange insidious odor filled his nostrils. It was the suffocating smell of damp humus mixed with something else - was it fur? Yes, that was it. The scent of an animal which had been caught in the rain. A breeze, damp and brisk, caressed his flesh. The caress became a chilling embrace and Josh doubled over.
When Cresta reached Josh his eyes were closed, but he was breathing easily. She lifted his head and poured a bit of the almond liqueur between his lips. He swallowed a generous amount and sputtered; she took the bottle away. His eyes opened. "Wow!" he said. "I must have had an anxiety attack. The excitement of seeing Aunt Avvie and all."
"Do you think that's all it was, Josh? Your heart's all right, isn't it?"
He nodded.
"I've never seen a heart attack, but that's exactly what I would have expected."
"Naw, there's nothing wrong with my heart, love. My chest feels just fine. I was just doing a little hyperventilation number, that's all. I'm fine now." He took another drink of
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