‘You’re sure,’ Kimble says, ‘about the timing? It has to be next month?’
‘I know.’ Marc shakes his head. ‘It conflicts with your vacation.’
‘It’s not just a vacation.’ Kimble stares ahead at something Marc cannot see. ‘That is bad luck,’ she says quietly. ‘What are the odds?’
‘Take a day, think about it,’ he says lightly.
‘Ok, Marc.’ Kimble’s voice is controlled and low. ‘Why now? Tell me that.’
Marc shrugs. ‘That’s the wrong question.’ If he wasn’t so hungover Marc would be afraid of Kimble now; her eyes are like broken flint. He keeps his body loose to hide his fear. Marc forks grits into in his mouth, meeting Kimble’s gaze. ‘Do you want to do it?’
Kimble slides out of the booth. ‘I’m beat. See you tomorrow.’
Marc watches her leave the diner and then through the big window which gives onto the street. Kimble stands perfectly still for a moment. Then she takes out her cell phone. She presses her lips together in a tight line and makes a call.
Kimble suspects what Marc has done and he knows that, and she knows that he knows. Neither of them will mention it. They will go to Nowhere. They will put all the rest aside and work.
Marc spits the grits into a paper napkin. Guilt surges through him but the wave of relief is stronger. Only Kimble can get him through what comes next.
14Riley
The apple trees have shed their rotten fruit and new green boles are appearing among the leaves. The hornets are gone. The grass everywhere is growing long and glossy. Flowers are coming out, the meadows and woods are starred with wild roses and horsemint. The cicadas sing furiously and plump rabbits and wood pigeons find their way into the snares every day. There seem to be birds’ nests with rich-yolked eggs in almost every tree.
‘Time for her to leave,’ Noon says. They’re in the Home Barn, eating roast pigeon for breakfast. ‘We’ve put enough blood in the land.’
Cal nods. ‘I can—’
Noon touches his hand. ‘Everett and Riley can take her.’
Cal nods. He spends most of his time out on the mountain, searching for his brother.
The woman’s head hangs, her chin resting against her chest. Her eyes are slitted, seeing something other than Nowhere House around her.Her arms and legs stick out pale from her filthy nightdress, covered in band aids and dots of taped-on cotton wool. Her hair is a greasy mat and she smells of her own bodily waste. The odour, combined with the scent of the chloroform, makes Riley gag. She doesn’t think they even need the chloroform; the woman seems to be unaware of her surroundings.
‘I saw him,’ Alison slurs.
‘Ignore her,’ Midnight preps the cloth. Riley’s eyes water.
‘Leaf Winham,’ the woman says. ‘He’s still here. He came to me.’
Midnight claps the cloth over the woman’s mouth. ‘Shut up,’ she says, comfortable.
‘Gentle,’ Noon’s voice is stern.
‘She doesn’t deserve gentle,’ Midnight hisses. ‘Everett and I watched her through the window those nights. The things she’s done…’
Noon puts a calming hand on Midnight’s wrist. ‘She has taken in all our hunger – she has put her blood in the land. We treat her with respect.’
Noon, Midnight and Everett give their breath to the house. The woman’s mouth hangs open and a slow string of drool drips from her chin. When they lift her into the blanket she feels as light as a bundle of sticks.
Rain begins to fall as Riley and Everett carry the woman down the trail.
‘Are we taking her back to Ault?’ Riley asks, panting. Everett just shakes his head without turning. ‘Good talk,’ Riley mutters to herself. She has never heard Everett speak a word, and she has never seen him without the black ski mask. Sometimes she wonders if he has a mouth at all under there. She imagines pulling back the wool to find only a smooth blank surface where his face should be.
The mountainside is wooded, there is plenty of cover, but Rileystill feels exposed. She realises that she has gotten used to being enclosed in the valley, cradled by the surrounding peaks. The sky is too big out here; she feels like an ant crawling across a stone.
They pass along narrow deer trails, along a high ridge, then start to descend. Below, Riley sees it snaking along the hillside. A road.
They crouch in the undergrowth by the roadside. Everett motions for Riley to stay still. Every part of him is alert, listening. There’s no sound but the rain and a wood pigeon somewhere, softly mourning. Everett nods and they dart into the middle of the road, their burden swinging between them. The road over the mountain pass is a dark river cutting through the trees. Riley stares at it for a moment, the bright yellow lines and smooth black tar. The woods and the road are side by side, but they are like things from two different universes. Everett waves at her, impatient. She starts and nods. They lay the woman down gently on the asphalt, right in the middle, on the painted line. As they’re rolling up the blanket, there comes the distant sound of an approaching engine.
