The water boiled violently, spouting jets of water thick with blood. The surface turned crimson and broke once, when a near-fleshless arm burst out and frantic, half-chewed fingers clawed at the air; a scaled, winding body was wrapped around the wrist, gripping the skin like a giant leach. And then the arm jerked under again.
Nick watched until the bubbles subsided. He watched until the feeding was over. And then he lay, motionless, until Theresa came and sat beside him and patted his head; until Audrey staggered her way around the lake, using the rifle as a crutch.
He managed to tear his shirt and remove it without too much pain. He bound the strips around Audrey's leg, over the bullet wounds; then looked into her pain-wrought eyes, but saw only relief, and love.
And he took her face in his wet hands and kissed her, long and deep, until Theresa tapped his shoulder and said, "They're burning the church."
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
It was forty minutes after one a.m. before they hobbled out of the forest and started to make their way up the hill, toward the dazzling inferno that blazed through the church. People dotted the hill, roving without purpose like ants after their Queen had been deposed. The clouds had drawn away and left the moon to rule the heavens unchallenged. Silver and nearly gorged, the disc quietly traveled across its cosmic route, claiming innocence in any of the affairs below.
Nick's shoulder was almost completely sealed over; the bullet under his ribs would have to come out, but the blood loss had stopped and he was healing internally. But Audrey couldn't walk any further; the trek though the forest had taken too much out of her. She leaned against Nick's good shoulder, arms gingerly around his waist. Theresa was on his other side, gently holding his hand. The fire traced their features with a fine edge and brushed over every scrape and wound, finally adding a glimmering sparkle to their eyes.
Hypnotized, they watched in silent reflection as the church was razed to the ground. The steeple toppled, a burning, smoking rocket crashing to the earth. They could see pews turned to cinders and crumbling to ashes. The roof sagged and creaked, then split and fell over the altar in a magnificent explosion of sparks. A great dark gout of smoke puffed skyward, carrying smoldering missal covers and scorched pages along in its wake. The people of Silver Springs danced and celebrated in an obscene mockery of their past, a pagan display of senseless retribution.
Audrey looked away. "Poor people."
Nick held her tight. "Give them time. They were betrayed, utterly and completely. All their notions of God and life turned upside down. It's understandable that they want to vent some of their emotions."
"Sad," murmured Theresa. She looked away, and then peered up into the sky, at a distant point on the horizon.
Nick let Audrey cling to him, and felt Theresa squeeze his hand. He shook his head and peered into Audrey's eyes. "What do you say at a moment like this?"
She smiled. "Usually, in the movies the survivors kiss and say, 'It's over,' and then go on to live happily ever after." She fixed him with a firm stare. "It's not over, though. Is it?"
Nick took a deep breath. He gazed out over the sky, past the dissipating smoke, toward the tiny light Theresa had been watching for almost half a minute.
"No," he said. "It's not over."
He held Audrey tight and continued to watch the approaching speck.
Finally, he heard it: the whipping blades of a helicopter.
Nick released Audrey, and with great care, took a seat on the grass. He looked up at her and said, in a weary tone: "It's just beginning."
Richard Walker didn't step out of the chopper until the blades stopped whirling and the engine died completely. Then, carefully, assisted by the pilots, he was helped to the ground and given his crutches. He dismissed the pilots and started to move out in the open. The people on top of the hill, camped out in front of the smoldering structure like kids around a campfire, regarded his presence and the helicopter's as nothing out of the ordinary; none of them got up to inspect or even to greet.
So, as Walker stood, balancing on his crutches, his topcoat billowing in the wind, he had a terrible feeling of isolation. And more than a hint of danger. He was alone and vulnerable, acting only out of a crazy instinct. Coming here was insane, and yet... if he was right about this thing, if what he feared was true...
A shape came running at him from behind, racing up the hill. Walker backed up and almost fell, until he saw clearly that it was just a girl. A small girl, wet and dirty, she looked like she'd been through hell.
She came right up to him, with no trace of shyness, and took his hand. "Come on," she said, pointing to the base of the trees, where Walker finally noticed two figures, sitting or kneeling on the grass.
"You're gonna help us," she said, and added an irresistible grin. "Hurry."
Walker strained to see better. "Who–?"
"Come on," the girl repeated, tugging at his hand. "You know them both. The lady works for you. Now, hurry."
"She works for me?" Walker released a smile. "Okay, little one. Lead on. I'm not as young as you are. I'll be along."
"Okay," the girl said, beaming. Before she turned and ran back down the hill she said, "You can call your wife after we take them to a hospital."
And then she was gone; and Walker, stunned and wide-eyed, his suspicions confirmed, began his trek down the path of no return.
He shook hands with Audrey and then offered his hand to Nick, who just stared at it.
"Look at us," Walker said, trying to break the ice. "We look like a poster-ad for accident insurance."
No one smiled.
Nick leveled a frigid stare at Walker. "You can't shut this one up," he said quietly, through clenched teeth.
Walker swallowed. He was treading on delicate ice here; even he didn't know where it would lead, only that he would take full responsibility, no matter what eventuality. "Do you know what this means, son?"
Nick swallowed. "I do, and there's no way I'm going to let this secret be buried again."
Walker nodded slowly and sagged on his crutches.
Making a fist, Nick said, "What happened at the Innis house was a mistake, a tragic mistake. They were like overexposed film, and the final product was a failure. But don't give up, damn it. Don't slide the greatest gift under a rug and be done with it! It can be safe. It can work."
"What about this mess?" Walker asked, pointing back at the smoldering skeleton of the church. "Was that a mistake, too?"
Nick shook his head. "No. That was an example of how it can go horribly wrong if not monitored properly."
Walker was silent for some time. "What kind of project are we talking about here? Total exposure of this 'gift', as you call it? To everyone?"
"Yes. That's what it was meant for. It can be done. Everyone."
Walker gave him a sour look. "Do you really think we're ready?"
Nick didn't answer at first. Audrey looked at him and held his hand, and Nick sighed and stared up at the hill, at the shadowy phantoms running and dancing, swinging torches and hurling debris.
"No," he answered at last. "I don't think we're ready."
A cool breeze picked up, breathing softly onto his eyes.
"But, at the same time I must trust that whatever higher force sent this gift in the first place knows better than I do. Forty-some years ago it thought we were ready, and more, thought we needed it." He squeezed Audrey's hand. "I can't argue with that."
Walker took a deep breath. He looked down into the shining eyes of the young girl. She was waiting, impatient. This is why you came, he reminded himself. Alone and with no notice. All the responsibility in your lap, and all the power to make sure that this time, if there's any chance of its success, it'll be done right.
"Shit," he said at last. "And I was about to retire."
Nick released a huge sigh of relief, shook Walker's hand, and threw his arms around Audrey. She returned the hug, fiercely, and whispered into his ear, "You will fill me in on all this, won't you."
"
Hell," Nick responded. "It'd be easier if you just took a swim and found out for yourself."
Audrey backed up and stared at him. "I suppose I have to, if I don't want you reading my mind every minute of the day."
Nick laughed and kissed her.
And Theresa took Walker's hand and smiled up at him.
From a distance came the sounds of wailing sirens. Fire engines, police cars, ambulances.
Walker straightened up. Squeezing Theresa's hand, he allowed himself one last look out over the forest. His gaze traveled across the mighty pines and spruces, through shadow-encrusted corridors, past leafy doors that jealously guarded their most hidden secrets, and deep into the heart of the sylvan wood where a soft, violet glow pulsed through leaves and branches in an emphatic gesture of abiding expectations, and a promise of imminent wonder.
Crescent Lake Page 31
