“Can me say Kyle with Dad?” asked the boy. “Now they two see me.”
“No need,” Carrie told him. “We all know that Kyle and Steve are still good friends, where they are now. Together.” Her eyes were bright with unshed tears.
“Together for ever and ever and ever and ever.”
“Amen to that, Sly.”
Heather touched her father gently on the arm. “You feeling all right?”
“No. Sorry, kitten…darling. I find it hard to cope with such endless death.”
“It’ll get better.”
“I wonder. I look ahead, and all that I can see is a bleak, dark future.”
The bitingly cold northerly ruffled his hair as he stood by the makeshift grave, his face the face of a man who had experienced too much in too short a time.
IT HAD BEEN DIFFICULT to decide whether to continue with both their vehicles or cut the losses and crowd together into the one.
The paucity of gas had been a factor in Jim Hilton’s final decision to dump the oldest four-by-four and press on north toward Eureka in the better truck. He drained what little gas remained and transferred it into the tank.
A small bonus was finding a five-gallon can of gas hidden away behind some sacks in the derelict barn behind the camera store. They hadn’t found any food to top off their supply, unless you counted some strips of horse meat dangling from a hook and so rotten that it seemed to shine with a ghastly pale green phosphorescence, shimmering with the movement of the countless maggots.
Then they’d rolled out, mostly silent in the confines of the car. Around eleven they stopped so that Sly Romero could take a leak.
There was a sleety drizzle coming in from the direction of the Pacific, and the other three remained in the comparative warmth of the cab, watching the teenager as he picked his way slowly up the hillside, heading for a clump of stunted, pink-tinted elms that would give him some protection.
“He’s so sweet,” said Carrie.
“And brave.” Jim tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. The engine ticked away gently. “Got a heart like a lion.”
“He said that he wanted to marry me,” said Heather. “I told him that I thought he was too old for me.”
“How did he take that?” Carrie asked.
“He smiled and said in that case he guessed he’d have to marry you.”
“Hey,” Jim said, and wound his window down so that he could see more clearly. “What’s wrong with him?”
Sly had stopped and looked as if he were trying to hop from foot to foot, waving his hands around his head. He seemed to be shouting.
“Can’t be hornets or anything like that,” Heather said. “Not in the middle of December.”
“Switch the engine off, Jim.” Carrie had her head on one side, as though she was listening to something. “Track seems to be sort of vibrating.”
As soon as he turned the key in the ignition, they were aware of what Sly was shouting.
“Me feet’s humming. Help Sly, his feet’s humming.”
“Christ, it’s a quake,” exclaimed Jim Hilton, opening the cab door. “Everyone outside, quick.”
Everything was rattling. The loose wing-mirror was visibly shaking, and the ground beneath their feet trembled. On the hillside there were great pillars of orange-brown dust rising as some of the larger stones and boulders began to work loose. Sly was still agitatedly hopping around, about one hundred and fifty feet above them.
“Come down!” called Jim. “You’ll be safe if you just get here with us.”
“I’ll help him,” offered Heather, darting away toward the floundering boy.
There was a roaring noise that somehow managed to be both far away and all around them. Like an invisible subway train thundering by, a subway train that was above and below them at the same frozen moment of time.
“What should we do?” Carrie was staring around like a tourist being shown a singularly unusual attraction.
The body of the four-by-four was quivering as the vehicle swayed backward and forward on its springs, as if it were being driven over a rock-ripple dirt road.
“Try and stay on our feet, I guess.” He raised his voice to call out to his daughter. “Careful, Heather. Watch out for those big rocks up behind you.”