Heading due west, using the sun as his source of information, Terah could tell Lindsey was so full of secrets that he’d never really know her. He was envious of the guys at Dickinsheet—how were they doing now? Were they still expecting them back with provisions?—they’d met her when she was willing to talk. Almost as if she could read his mind she said, “The guys will be fine. They have rules about stuff like this.”
“You mean provisioners not returning?”
“Once you’ve lived this life long enough you’ll realize there are no guarantees. Every plan’s provisional. You ever notice how some people seem to be magnets for misfortune? Society doesn’t wanna hear about ‘em. Nobody wants to think that they might end up jobless, homeless, or abused. But it’s daily life for lots of people.”
“So they won’t mind?”
“Mind? You think they’re sittin’ around mopin’ that we’re not there? Hey, if we can ever help ‘em, we will. The rule when yer not in Dickinsheet is you say nothin’ to anybody about it. It doesn’t exist. They’d do the same for us.”
They walked along in silence until the ground started to slope down. A stream ran through the bottom of the gully. “Here’s yer scent-break. Water’s gonna be as cold as hell.”
She was right. Fed by meltwater the brook was painfully cold. Still, they stayed in the freshet for a considerable time, walking upstream. Terah’s feet stung with a million needles until they felt like novocaine. He stumped along feeling nothing. Lindsey didn’t complain. He marveled at her stoicism. When she finally stamped out it was on the same side of the stream they’d entered.
“I could use a fire to dry out my feet,” Terah said.
“Yeah, and if we leave a pile of charcoal it’ll be a great clue. Keep movin’.”
The pain was worse as his feet slowly thawed. Just when he was thinking he’d be able to stand it, Lindsey headed back to the creek for another walk. “Won’t be ideal,” she said, stepping into the ice water, “but after a rain or two we should be about invisible.”
Terah couldn’t face more intense cold. He couldn’t leave Lindsey. He took the plunge. This time she exited to the west. “I’m afraid that’s a bit predictable,” she apologized, “but I need to get myself warmed up. They trudged up the western side incline for so long that Terah thought maybe she’d forgotten. The Appalachian hills were riddled with large stones, many bearing cavities. She found a small cave just as it began to rain. “Quick, let’s get some dry sticks.”
Regretting he’d left his Sterno at Dickinsheet, Terah joined her in pulling in what fallen branches he could find before they grew soaked. Lindsey was adept at starting fires and soon had a small blaze going in their close shelter. Socks and shoes came off. Feet inched toward the heat. “Not too quick,” she warned. “Give ‘em time to adjust.”
The worst was coming from not feeling his feet at all to the point of the manic tattoo gun simultaneously inking both feet all over. Painful and annoying, Terah gasped through gritted teeth until, after endless minutes, it be came just plain painful. The rain was busy washing away their presence outside.
Afraid of arousing Lindsey’s anger, Terah didn’t want to point out their lack of food. He’d become used to hunger over the months, and often wondered how three meals a day became the norm. “I once read,” he said, apropos of nothing, “that monsters are creatures that constantly interact with their environment. What makes them scary, one theorist wrote, was that they’re constantly taking their environment into themselves and oozing themselves back into the environment. I suppose if we ate all the time we’d become monsters.”
“And you say I say weird shit,” she replied. “That’s a funny way of sayin’ you’re hungry.”
It was uncanny how she saw through him. “Okay. So I’m middle aged. A lot of guys my age are getting ready for retirement and comfort. Instead, I just threw our last food to a bear because a guy wanted to go fishing at first light and our hotel room happened to be his fishing hut.”
“There used to be a convenience store a few miles west of here. Thing about convenience stores is they never seem to go out of business. You middle-aged folks like your convenience.”
His stomach rumbled at the thought.
“Are we heading to the convent, then?”
“Seems a safe place for a young woman, dontcha think? A lot of homeless avoid religious places. In our case, it might help.”
“Did Wednesday come after you last night?” If he had Terah hadn’t seen any evidence, and he’d been awake. Their cave did little more than keep the water off, but now with mostly dry feet, a sleepiness hit Terah like a London bus approaching from the wrong side.
“No. I can’t predict his behavior. He’s a demon after all.”
Terah yawned. “I didn’t sleep well.”
“Well, I’ll tell you a bed-time story then, unless your middle-aged tummy’s tellin’ you to go out in the rain for food. No? I grew up readin’ about all kinds of supernatural creatures. If yer parents don’t give a shit then you don’t stop seein’ ‘em like most kids apparently do. So I learned to categorize ‘em instead. These hills around here are ancient. Lotsa creatures live in ‘em. I saw fairies—don’t smirk, I’m serious—I saw fairies as a kid. I knew other kids had stopped seein’ ‘em. If I could get away from home I’d spend hours in the woods. You’d be amazed at what you see if you don’t learn not too.
“One night I was out there with a friend. Can’t really say he was a boyfriend, but we’d known each other since freshman year. Told our folks there was an overnight church youth group function, but we snuck out into the woods instead. We built a fire, not unlike this one, and snuggled up in our sleepin’ bags. It started gettin’ late, but I wasn’t tired. It was a time I can remember bein’ really happy. Content. My friend was gettin’ a glazed look in his eyes, the way guys do when they’re wantin’ something. Then we saw it. A little person, maybe a foot tall. He dashed out of the woods and up to the fire. He grabbed one of the embers and ran back off into the woods. I was wide awake. I’d never seen a sídhe before. That night became one I’d never forget.”
She could see Terah was now asleep. He would also awake unable to forget what he was about to see. With no time change to dictate working hours, Terah wasn’t sure when it was he awoke. It was dusky and he was ravenous. The fire had burned down to coals and Lindsey was still in the small cave. But she wasn’t alone.
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