He shoved the boy away, pushed Hugh aside when the doctor tried to stop him, and fell-stumbled-dove into the tide.
The second can exploded, and he saw Pegeen weeping.
***
There were hands on his arms, dragging him out of the water, pulling off his pants. Hugh nodded when Peg asked if he would be all right. Lee stood over him, and when he grinned they hauled him to his feet so he could give Peg a hug, a quick kiss, and hold her hand. There was no celebration. The joy he felt was dashed when he saw Garve lying with his head in the shadows. When they finally began to stagger from the burning shack, the sprawled bodies of the rest of their friends lay on the sand, mangled, torn, faces up to the night sky, their eyes finally closed.
He had little sense of time left. They were on the flat, on the dune, then on the street and heading back for the cruiser. Someone, he thought it might be Hugh, was talking about salvaging one of the boats at the marina and using it to get back to the mainland. The sea was too high, Lee (he thought) argued, and Montgomery hushed her with an uncharacteristic curse.
Garve found a boat, he thought, but couldn't say it. Garve found a boat.
He was tired. He knew he shouldn't be leaning on Peg so heavily, but he was so God-almighty tired that if anything that looked like a bed came within a mile of him he was going to use it and sleep without dreams for the rest of his life.
The fire cast their shadows.
At the patrol car Peg balked at getting in.
Colin knew what she was thinking.
When none of the others moved to help, he took Hugh's long flashlight and walked with her around the deadfall, turning the beam on the path their car had taken into the yard. They spent an hour searching through the rubble, through the rooms, this time opening closets and poking under tables. They spent an hour, and they found nothing. And when they came outside again, Peg had lost the armor she'd forged from her revenge.
At the sidewalk she stopped.
"I… we can't go until we find him," she said.
"In the morning," he said. "We'll never find him tonight."
"I won't go."
"You don't have to."
"Hugh said-"
"Hugh says a lot of things. And if he insists, well, there's more than one boat, you know." He put an arm around her waist, held her close. "We'll find him. I promise."
She seemed ready to agree, then shook herself and stared at him. "No. You go if you want. I can't. I just can't."
He touched a hand to her shoulder, nodded it's all right, and they walked toward the edge of the woods, toward the path to the cliffs. The trees still whipsawed in the dying storm, the flashlight's beam was coated with spray that had it glittering, fogging, picking out things moving where nothing moved at all.
They stopped at the edge of the path, and he licked at his lips. The way ahead was dark, filled with the growl of the sea climbing the rocks. Peg took his arm; they left the road behind.
"Peg," he whispered, wanting to tell her how fruitless this was. But she tightened her grip to silence him, and he stared ahead, trying to see beyond the reach of the light, swinging it side to side, hunting for a telltale break in the undergrowth.
Five minutes and he was freezing.
Five more and she stumbled, nearly knocking them both down.
He sensed her resolve weakening, yet she pulled him on gently until they reached a widening of the path and saw the body ahead.
"Oh my God," she murmured.
The flashlight poked closer, and the body elongated.
"It's El," he said flatly.
Peg looked away, a cheek against his shoulder, and he had a hand out when he felt her stiffen and clutch him fiercely. He turned quickly, and saw the figure in the middle of the road, the shadow waiting for them in the middle of the path.
It was then he realized he hadn't brought a weapon.
Like a man with a torch fending off a jungle beast, he thrust the flashlight ahead of him, jabbing at the figure as it staggered toward them. Peg whimpered, was ready to bolt and run, when suddenly the light caught the figure's face.
"Matthew!" Peg screamed, and ran to take him in her arms.
His hair was matted in cords over his face, his clothes torn and drenched, but as far as Colin could tell, the boy wasn't injured.
A brief pain in his chest then when Peg cradled and lifted Matt, rocking him while she held him and tried to clean him off at the same time; another draining when he realized.that finally it was over. He waited until the boy noticed him as well, and in a three-way joyous spate of talking, yelling, laughing, explaining, he heard something that made him hush them all with a sharp wave.
"What?" he said, taking the boy by the shoulder.
"I said," Matt told him as if he should have known, "I went to find Lilla and make her give you and Mom back. And she did! She really and truly did!"
"Lilla," Peg said dully.
Matt's eyes widened in excitement, in relief. "Yes, honest, Mom! She was in the cave. I went there and she was there. I was real scared at first because she was acting all funny, but then I told her what I wanted and she said okay, and then… then…" The boy's face darkened, and suddenly he was crying.
Peg carried him back to the car, Colin trailing and swinging the flashlight. As he watched them climb into the back seat, heard Peg's joyous laughter and Hugh's brisk professional manner, he shook his head and walked around to stand next to Lee.
"Lilla," he said.
"Should we look for her?"
"I'm tempted," he answered.
"Colin, no. I'll tell you the truth-I don't know what the hell it was we've just been through, and I don't think I want to know. Ever. Lilla, as far as I'm concerned, can rot alone in this hell."
He hated himself, but he nodded. "I only said I was tempted. I have no intention of finding her. I don't care what Matt says. She could have killed him out there, no matter what she was like after Gran was… taken care of."
"Good," she said. "Good."
He took the driver's seat, Lee beside him and holding his arm tightly. A false start and the engine caught, and he drove as fast as he could back toward the village.
As they passed the gas station, Hugh leaned over the back. "It's done, right?" ' "Damn right," Lee said. "You're sure?"
"Hugh," Colin said, "why don't you shut up?"
"I was referring to Lilla," Montgomery said before slipping back to his seat.
"Yes," he said, and turned to look out the window. "I know."
They passed Naughton's Market, the theater, the bank, the luncheonette.
"Hope you can run a boat," Lee said with a forced laugh as they drove toward the marina.
"I can," Matt volunteered. And when Peg hushed him with a mock scowl and Colin began to laugh, he crossed his arms over his chest and pushed himself into the corner. "Well, I can," he insisted grumpily. "Gee. Nuts. Goddamn."
EPILOGUE
DECEMBER: AFTER
Twilight. Silence.
The snow little more than flurries that looped and twirled over the bay's restless waters. A solitary gull coasted, wheeled away; the breeze faded with the light, gusted briefly and set the forest to trembling.
Colin stood behind the nail keg, a booted foot atop it, one gloved hand holding the binoculars while the other flattened the yellow wool cap closer around his ears. He imagined himself encased in a block of clear ice, a contemporary natural sculpture to be discovered by some astonished wanderer who would admire the realism and doubt the medium, and by the first light of Easter he would be a puddle on the landing.
He wanted to laugh, but the effort was too great.
A glance at his watch.
Three hours, not one minute of it passing quickly. It never had, not since he'd started. Every time he took position he remembered, and in remembering could not ignore a single moment. Three hours to relive a weekend no sane man should have survived.
And he'd wondered about that, fretted over it, examined it, and could not yet fi
nd an answer.
Sane. He didn't know anymore if he were indeed in his right mind. There were times when he truly believed he had retained his equilibrium, and times when he felt himself constantly, helplessly falling in maddening slow motion, with nothing below him but a pit filled with dead white eyes.
It certainly hadn't been sane that last day on the island, or the day after.
They returned to Peg's house and made the best of a night when no one could sleep. Hugh sat with Lee on the sofa, an arm around her shoulders while she spent the night weeping; Peg took Matt to bed with her, frowning when Colin stood in the doorway hoping to become a part of their waiting. When it didn't happen, he understood-too much had gone on, too many people had died, this wasn't the time for a walk into the sunset.
So he went to the study, sat at the desk and stared at the wall. He didn't know if he slept; perhaps he dozed off. But the next thing he knew, he and Hugh were at Gran's shack, sitting in his car, looking away from the damage the nightcrabs had started.
"We can't bury them all," Hugh said.
"No."
"You see, the police will want to know what happened, and all those graves…"
"Yes. I know."
The wind lifted tatters of clothing, strands of reddened hair; the sea had withdrawn to expose a beach as smooth as it must have been before the island had its people.
"And what about Lilla?"
"If Matt's right and she stayed down there in the cave…"
Then she was dead, drowned. No sense in hunting despite the fact that he could not imagine her gone with the others. She knew about Gran and knew what the old man had taught her, even after her mind had finally hidden itself in madness. If she were still alive, she was dangerous, more than anyone would ever believe.
"What'll we tell the police?"
"The storm is out," Hugh said immediately, taking away his one decent solution. "It was never that strong, and they'd never go for it." He turned. "Colin, there has to be a disaster here. It has to be storm-related, but it can't be the storm."
The wind blew steadily. It was a breeze in contrast to the Screamer of the night before, but a wind nevertheless, and even as he rechecked the island he didn't know who had the idea first, who seconded it, who decided they wouldn't tell the others. But it started with the market-a fire that fed on the cartons and boxes, ceiling and walls, was curiously dull in the dull morning air as it sparked to the church, which torched the library, which turned trees to matches and caught the building Peg's drug store was in.
A house was started.
The Anchor Inn, where they assumed investigators would notice the wires from the traffic light fallen during the night.
A second house, just to be sure, and the wind did the rest.
Without a word, using gestures only, they drove back to Gran's shack and piled as many bodies as they could into the trunk, into the back seat. The Adamses they returned to their own house; Hattie went to the library; Tess to her front yard under the wreck of Colin's car.
Hours transporting the dead to their temporary graves.
Then they wrapped Garve in a sheet and rowed him out beyond the jetty. Colin remembered the night on the beach, just before Gran's funeral, and knew at least that Garve wouldn't be alone.
The body sank without floating.
The fire spread, filling the island with the sound of wood crackling, of windows breaking, of tree trunks steaming as the sap boiled and expanded.
Then they found the boat Garve had hidden, rowed through the smoke to the mainland, and watched the light for almost an hour before they began the long walk into Flocks.
A block outside town Lee shook her head. "I'm not going in there," she said. "They'll stare. The questions…"
It took the rest of the day to reach the other side, check into a motel with the money they pooled. They slept. They heard the news on the radio-electrical fires and the Screamer. A number of questions and the promise of investigations. They heard the cars filled with families who had fled on Thursday, and more filled with sightseers passing on the highway.
On the third day Hugh displayed a credit card. "This," he said, "is going to get me away from this goddamned morgue."
"What about Lilla?" he wanted to know.
"She's dead," he said simply. And he hitchhiked to the next town, rented a car, and returned for Lee. There were no good-byes, no tears. They checked out and drove west as fast as Hugh dared.
That night he and Peg sat in his room while Matt slept on the lumpy double bed.
"We have to do something," she said quietly. "We can't stay here forever."
She was pale, her hair without highlights, and she plucked endlessly at her shirtfront. "I'm taking Matt to my mother's for a while," she said in a rush. "I called her as soon as the news hit." She wouldn't look at him. "I had to. I couldn't let her think I was dead."
"Sure, of course." But why didn't you tell me?
She did look then. "I want you to come with us," she said. "I really do. But I can't let you just now." She shook her head. "These things are supposed to bring people closer together."
"Disasters do," he said. "I'm not sure about nightmares."
"I don't dream."
"Neither do I."
"Don't be mad."
"I won't be. This isn't like a plane crash, or a flood, or something like that. I'm…I'm trying to figure out how I feel, and I don't know. But, Peg, I can't go. Not until I'm sure."
"That's stupid," she said angrily. "It's done, for God's sake. It's done and I want to get away."
"Then do take the boy to your mother's," he said reasonably. "Take him, and I'll keep in touch."
They rose, embraced and kissed, and he still loved her. But he didn't try to change her mind. He only helped her get on a bus, watched as she climbed aboard and disappeared into the polarized dark. Matt stood beside him, holding his hand.
"You aren't going to forget me?"
"Hey, pal, you want me to shave your head?"
He smiled, of a sort. "You won't stay very long, will you? Mom's real sad you won't come. Me, too. I thought we were gonna be a family now." He frowned his puzzlement. "You gotta stay?"
"Just till I'm sure, pal, just till I'm sure."
Peg called to him softly as the bus's engine belched exhaust.
"Then listen," Matt said, pulling on his arm until he was kneeling beside him. They hugged, and Colin kissed his cheek, hugged him again. "Listen, I think everybody wasn't right about Lilla. She didn't let them get me. She really didn't."
"I know, I know." He stood. "You practice your drawing now, you hear? You be sure your grandmother lets you practice."
"I'll draw Lilla."
"A tree, the gulls, but I don't think your mother would appreciate a picture of Lilla now."
He pouted. "Nobody listened to me," he said almost angrily. "I kept saying she was a witch, but nobody listened."
They'd been over this ground a dozen times already, and Colin had exhausted himself trying to make the boy see that just because she befriended him didn't make her a saint. But he'd been too put upon by the other kids, for his art and his looks, and it wasn't surprising that he grabbed affection where he could.
"Time, pal," he said instead, and helped the boy up the steps.
And the following day Colin was gone as well, driving in a rented car toward Maine, not very far each day, less as each day passed, until as last he couldn't stand not knowing and returned to the motel.
From gossip and papers he learned of the inquiries, the few unanswered questions no one seemed to care about since the island wasn't a place people worried about for long. There had been funerals for the few bodies found in the burned houses and along the shore of the bay. And those who had left before, left again because rumor had it the island was haunted. Flocks laughed, albeit uneasily; fire and wind was better than anything resembling magic.
Lee and Hugh returned two weeks later. They walked into his room, he embraced Lee and shook Hugh's hand, an
d they said nothing because there was nothing to say.
The watch began on Christmas Eve.
Peg and Matt returned the day after Christmas, and there were smiles and laughter and an exchange of simple presents. He rode each day to the landing and watched the island turn to winter.
Three hours.
He lowered the binoculars and let himself sigh as loudly as he could, as though at last the nightmare were expelled from his lungs. No boats had gone there, no sign of life, nothing at all.
He supposed it was a form of therapy, and he didn't mind that it had taken so long. Tonight he was going to treat them all to the best dinner he could afford, and they would sleep without lights, and tomorrow they would leave this damned place behind.
He dragged the nail keg back to the shed, and after a moment's thought buried the gull by the threshold. Then he returned to his spot and looked at the place where he'd thought he'd found a home, and understood-he hoped-that his home was at the motel with Peg.
What the hell, he thought, grinning; started over once, I can start over again.
He turned, then, and saw Matt standing at the top of the slope.
He didn't know whether to scold or laugh… laughed when the boy raced into his arms, hugged him and held his hand.
"We couldn't wait," he said eagerly. "We couldn't wait!"
Colin crouched and faced the water, and Matt stood behind him with his chin on the man's shoulder, his arms around Colin's chest. He felt tears in his eyes, and felt so damned fine he wanted to shout.
"There," he said, pointing to Haven's End, "is where you and I met, pal, and that's the way we should remember it."
"Are we going to live somewhere else?"
"What do you think about New England?"
"Is it pretty? Does it have an ocean?"
"Yes, yes, and there are mountains and lots of deer and moose and bear and raccoons, and it's going to be just… just great."
"You'll paint again!" Matt said excitedly.
Night Songs Page 31