She looked forward, in the direction of Shane’s house. Shane was so close. She had to get to him. That was why she’d come. To be closer to Shane. She started to walk again.
The wind was picking up. It rustled the leaves in the trees, tossing them and sending down a rain of leaves and twigs. It whipped the hair around Halley’s face. She shoved it out of the way, so that it wouldn’t get stuck in her mouth, and pushed forward. The wind got stronger. It whooshed around Halley, forcing its way into her mouth. Taking her breath away. A gust hit her with such force that she could hardly move. And she noticed that the cicadas had stopped chirping.
Halley felt afraid again, but this time it wasn’t a tingle. It was a stab. Panic shot through her. Adrenaline pumped into her blood. Her heart began to thud.
She turned to go back to her car, but the hot breeze came at her again, this time not so much blowing, but sucking... She struggled to move in the direction of her car.
She couldn’t. The wind caught her legs with hot fingers, digging into her calves so that she couldn’t move them.
Above her, the leaves on the trees danced in the ferocity of the wind. More leaves rained down on her. But the leaves were hot and they...
Halley held out her hands to catch them. They weren’t leaves at all. They were cinders. She rubbed them between her fingers, in front of her face, and they fell apart.
Halley looked up. Was there a fire somewhere? Was the wind picking up pieces of it and dropping it on her?
The wind roared, and behind her, a bright, bright light switched on.
Startled, Halley turned to see what it was.
She covered her mouth with her hands. What was she seeing? It couldn’t be real...
A gaping hole had been ripped in the air in front of her. Tatters of night air hung from the edges of the rip. Smoke rolled out of the hole and bright orange light. She could feel the heat from inside the rip in the air. A fire was burning inside it, and it spit ash and soot out into the air, onto Halley.
Halley took a step backward. She tripped over herself and fell.
She scrambled to her feet, and stumbled toward her car.
She couldn’t help glancing over her shoulder, because she simply couldn’t believe the huge fiery hole was really there.
But when she did, she saw something climbing out of the hole. A dark, dark man, smoke rising from his body as if he were on fire. He was staring at her with eyes like glowing embers.
Halley screamed and kept running.
Behind her, she could hear the ground sizzle as the dark man came after her.
She collided with her driver’s side door. Her hand fumbled with the handle.
Locked?! Why had she locked the door? God. Habits, habits, habits.
She felt frantically in her pockets for her car keys.
Behind her, the dark man came closer.
Her pockets were empty.
Desperately, she dumped her purse out on the gravel. Went on her hands and knees, palms flat against the ground feeling for them.
Still the dark man came. He was nearly on top of her.
Success! Keys!
She grasped them. Jumped to her feet. But her hands were shaking. She couldn’t get the key in the lock.
“Halley,” said the dark man.
He knew her name?! What was this?
She thrust the keys into the lock furiously, actually sliding them in. She turned the key in the door, swinging it open.
And the dark man put his hand on her shoulder.
His hand was hot. It seared into her skin.
She screamed in agony.
“Don’t worry,” said the dark man. “I need the bodies. I won’t burn it up.”
He took his other hand and forced it between her lips. It scalded her tongue. She tried to scream again, but she had no voice. The dark man’s burning fingers went down her throat, down deep into her, grasping for something. Halley’s eyes bulged open, but for her, everything had gone dark.
* * *
Lark slept fitfully. In her dreams, Jimmy was sitting in a dark room, holding a gun. His eyes glowed red. She stood in the doorway, trying to tell him that she wanted to break up. Jimmy didn’t answer. He just tilted his head as he looked at her, sizing her up like a cat studying its prey before it struck.
“This isn’t working, Jimmy,” Lark said. “You’re not the same as you used to be.”
Jimmy smiled.
Lark entered the room. Padded forward on bare feet. Sat down Indian style in front of Jimmy and took his hands. “I love you,” she whispered. “You’ll never know how much I love you.”
Jimmy held the gun up and gave it to her.
“Thank you,” said Lark. She looked at the gun. Studied it in all its glossy blackness. It glinted at her, winking. “Listen,” she told the gun, “I’ve got to take care of myself now. I can’t depend on you anymore. That’s why I’ve got to go.”
Jimmy snatched the gun back. “You can’t get away from me, Lark. I’ll always be with you. Always, always, always.”
Jimmy put the gun in his mouth. He pulled the trigger. The back of his head exploded in cinders and ash. He put the gun down.
His jaw had come dislodged from his mouth on one side, so it dangled there, only held up by one side. There was an enormous hole in the back of his head. Lark could see through his face to the wall behind him. He handed the gun to Lark.
“Now, you try,” he said.
Lark picked up the gun. She aimed it as Jimmy’s head.
“Go ahead,” said Jimmy. “Go ahead.”
When he talked, he pulled up half of his lips, but the other half, the side that wasn’t attached, just flapped against itself like the ragged ends of dresses that Lark made.
Lark squeezed the trigger.
The bullet exploded into Jimmy’s skull in another rain of ash and cinders and soot. There was another wide gaping hole in Jimmy’s face.
“See?” said Jimmy. “It doesn’t matter. You can’t get away from me. I’m always with you.”
“You’re dead,” said Lark.
“Am I?” asked Jimmy. “Am I really, Lark? Do I look dead?”
“You’re DEAD!” Lark screamed, and she stood up.
“Lark,” said Jimmy. “I need the bodies.”
Lark ran to the doorway, holding her hands over her ears. “Shut up!” she said. “I’m leaving.”
Jimmy appeared in front of her in the doorway. “No, you didn’t leave. But if you’re staying, you’re going to help me get the bodies.
“Because,” said Jimmy, only he wasn’t Jimmy anymore. Now he was Shane, but his eyes were still red and glowing. “I need the bodies. You understand that I need the bodies, right? You won’t get in the way of the bodies, will you, Lark? Will you, Lark?”
“Stop it. Go away. Don’t be Shane.”
Shane smiled reassuringly. “It’s okay, baby. I just need the bodies. Don’t stop me from getting the bodies, please?”
Lark balled up her hands in fists.
Shane came closer, gathered her into his arms, and began to kiss Lark. “I love you,” he said. “I love you so much.”
Lark opened her eyes and realized she was in bed with Shane. He was holding her and whispering to her drunkenly. His hands were sliding searchingly over her body. She was tense from the dream, but she tried to relax in her boyfriend’s arms, to let his hands wash away the memory of the nightmare.
“I’m glad you came back,” Shane murmured. “I’d be lost without you.”
“I’m here,” Lark whispered.
Shane’s hands slid under the shirt she was wearing to sleep in. His fingers crawled up over her ribs to her breast.
Lark moaned.
Encouraged, Shane pushed her shirt up. He bent his mouth to her nipples, and she arced her body into his lips. She buried her hands in his hair, held his head in place as he ran his tongue over her body, sending little thrills of pleasure through her.
Shane grabbed one of her hands, moved it away, guided
it to his crotch. She could feel that he was quite excited, which was a little odd after he’d been drinking so much, but she obliged him and began to stroke him.
He moaned against her breast and put one of his hands between her legs, moving it frantically.
It felt good. Lark thrust her hips against his fingers, pumping harder at Shane’s body.
Shane moved, kissing her, pushing his hips between her legs. When he entered her, Lark cried out at the sensation. She squeezed her eyes shut and opened them. When she did, the room was full of smoke. It smelled like brimstone.
* * *
Tim woke up abruptly because Whitney had slammed on the brakes. He blinked hard and looked around. It looked the same as it had looked for the past twenty-four hours. They were on an interstate. There were cars around them. There were billboard signs and exit signs. “Where are we?” he asked Whitney.
“Virginia,” she said. “I think we’re still in Virginia.”
“We’re close,” said Tim.
Whitney nodded. “I can’t believe we did this.”
Tim laughed. He had a hard time believing it himself. Ever since he’d met Whitney Eros, he’d been doing stupid things. Maybe it was love. He didn’t know. He and Whitney had been living in the same house for weeks now, and they hadn’t so much as accidentally brushed against each other. So if it was love, it was clearly only on his part. It was funny. He’d never felt worse about his decisions. They’d dismantled his security, his money, his life. But he’d never felt freer in his entire life. He felt so...alive. It was like being a teenager again. Like waking up and tasting the air on his lips and feeling excited again. The days ahead could contain anything. He had no idea what they would contain, but he couldn’t wait to find out.
“I’m glad we did,” Whitney was saying. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m glad. But I can hardly believe it. It just seems so insane.”
“I think I’m beginning to be okay with insanity,” said Tim. “It feels more right than anything I’ve felt in a really long time.”
Whitney laughed. “I think we’re stuck,” she said, gesturing to the road.
They were indeed at a complete standstill, with an ocean of stopped cars ahead of them.
Tim smiled. “That sucks.”
“It does. It really does.”
Whitney sighed. She turned the car off and put her seat back. Staring at the ceiling, she said, “Let me know if we start moving again.”
“Sure,” said Tim, looking at her, lying down next to him. Was he attracted to Whitney? She was an attractive woman. There was no doubt about that. But was she the reason he was acting like such a nutcase? He didn’t know if he cared. He was enjoying acting crazy. He planned to continue. Maybe the source of his craziness wasn’t really important. Still...he and Whitney had been spending a lot of time together. Should he try something? And if he tried something, what would he try?
Tim hadn’t done much dating after his divorce. He’d only slept with one other woman since he slept with his ex-wife. He wasn’t even sure if he really remembered what it was he was supposed to do to get a woman into bed. His recollections of it from before getting married were only that it was very hard, and that he had to play lots of head games. Tim wasn’t in the mood for head games. He didn’t even know if he was in the mood to try to hit on Whitney.
“So,” said Whitney, “what will you do once we get there?”
“Hmm?” Tim was surprised by the question. He didn’t have any real plans after they got to Tennessee. He wasn’t even really sure why they were going.
“Well, I know you want to talk to Shane about his girlfriend, right?” asked Whitney.
That was right. He wanted to warn Shane about Lark Thomas. Funny, he hadn’t thought about Lark in quite some time. Shane Adams, he’d thought of. He thought about Shane a lot actually. But that might just be because he and Whitney listened to The Wrenching nonstop. “Yeah,” he said. “I guess I do.”
“So, are you going to just walk up to the door and knock on it and ask for Shane?” Whitney asked.
“He’ll think I’m crazy.”
“We’re planning to camp out on his lawn. We are crazy,” said Whitney.
“You know,” said Tim. “I think there’s a very real possibility that we’re going to get arrested.” Why hadn’t he thought of this before? Why did it seem as though his ability to think rationally was simply gone these days?
Whitney laughed. “You’re probably right. I hadn’t thought about that.”
Tim turned to Whitney. “Whitney, why are we doing this?” he asked.
She shrugged. “Because we can?” she asked. “I don’t know.” She paused.”Do you wish we hadn’t come?”
“Of course not,” said Tim. “I’m glad we did. But...it’s strange. I feel strange. Different than I did.”
Whitney nodded. “Me too. Ever since I started trying to get an interview with Shane Adams, my world has started unraveling. I feel out of control, but I’m not frightened by it. In some ways, I guess I just know what I have to do and I do it. And that’s all there is.”
“Yeah,” said Tim. That was all there was. And it was better to have that than not to have anything. Maybe that was why part him felt so much at peace anymore. Nothing worried him. Nothing bothered him. Because he had a sense that whatever it was he was doing, he was destined to do. It felt so right. “If it feels right, it can’t be wrong, can it?”
Whitney snorted. “Sure it can. I’m sure that what we’re doing is really, really wrong. And really, really stupid. And yet I don’t want to stop.”
“Me either,” said Tim. He looked out the window. “Hey, we’re moving. A little.”
Whitney moved her seat back into its upright position. Started the car. “Shane Adams, here we come.”
* * *
It was three in the afternoon. Shane still hadn’t gotten out of bed. Lark tried to watch cable in the living room, but she was having a hard time concentrating. She wanted to talk to Shane about what had happened in his bedroom the previous night with the painting, but she didn’t want him to think she was absolutely nuts. Or she didn’t want him not to think she was nuts. She didn’t want him to believe what had happened to her and tell it was proof that the ash man was real and that he was really killing people with his playing.
She missed Rainey. She missed having people to talk to. She wondered where Rainey was. Was she missing? Had she just run off somewhere? Or was she dead, her soul trapped in a rat upstairs in Shane’s room? Lark hadn’t properly mourned for her best friend. For one thing, she wasn’t sure that she was dead. For another thing, she hadn’t seen much of Rainey recently anyway, so her absence from Lark’s life wasn’t jarring. But sometimes, Lark remembered that Rainey had disappeared and that no one knew what happened to her and that she would probably never see her friend again.
Lark stared at the screen, tears streaming down her face. She sobbed for a long time, until the people on the TV screen began to talk so loudly that she couldn’t not pay attention to what they were saying. Then she just settled into the black velvet cushions of the couch she sat on and watched them, half-comprehending the show. After a while, she started to feel hungry. She thought there were some leftovers in the refrigerator, so she got up and went to the kitchen.
The refrigerator was woefully empty. Maybe Shane had eaten the leftovers. Lark checked the cabinets. There was no food in them either. So she grabbed the stack of menus that Shane kept on the top of the refrigerator. Almost every restaurant in town would deliver to Shane’s house, even though they didn’t deliver anywhere else, because Shane always gave them such fat tips. Plus, Shane was their local rock star, a hometown hero. Maybe that made them feel as though they wanted to do nice things for him. Maybe they just wanted to be close to him. Lark didn’t know. Lark began to go through the stack of menus, trying to decide what she was in the mood for.
That was when she heard a light scratching sound at the door, like the sound a dog makes when he wants to be let i
n, but not as loud or as insistent. Curious, Lark went to the kitchen door and opened it. A small rat scuttled inside, looking a little frightened and disoriented. Lark sighed. How had the rat gotten out? She reached down and scooped the animal up. The rat hunched down in her hand, shaking. Poor thing was probably terrified by the outdoors. Shane’s rats lived very comfortable lives. They didn’t deal with the elements often.
Lark took the rat up to Shane’s bedroom. “Shane?” she called. “Are you awake?”
Shane opened his eyes. “Yeah,” he said. “I guess so.”
“One of your rats got out,” she said, holding it out to him so that he could see.
“That’s not one of my rats,” he said. “That one’s new.”
“What?” asked Lark.
“Go ahead,” said Shane. “Count for yourself.”
“Shane, they’re all hiding under the bed and stuff. I can’t count them.”
“Trust me,” he said. “That’s a new rat.” He held out his hand for it, and she handed it to him. Shane pulled the rat to his chest and stroked it softly. He murmured quietly to it, telling it everything was okay now and that he was going to take care of it. He looked up at Lark. “You know what this means?”
“No,” said Lark. And she didn’t really want to talk about it. Not now. Maybe never.
“It means someone else died,” said Shane.
Lark sighed. “I think that’s just a rat that got out.”
“I know my rats,” Shane insisted.
“Well, even if that’s true, you said it only happened because you played music. You stopped playing. So therefore, there’s no reason for a new rat to show up.” Right? She had a hard time following Shane’s crazy theory. But she was pretty sure she had him now.
“I played last night,” said Shane. “At open mike at Giulio’s.”
“But that’s not the same thing,” said Lark. “Is it?”
“Apparently, it doesn’t matter,” said Shane. “I guess I can’t ever play in public ever again.”
“That’s not fair, Shane. You have a gift. You can’t stop playing.”
“Can’t? I already have. I just did. Watch me.” And now Shane sounded angry.
“I don’t want to argue,” said Lark. “I don’t know what I want.” She wished she could have gotten on that bus and driven off far away from this place. She would have been free of ash men and rats and crazy boyfriends and...
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