The company had said the dam was safe… perfectly safe. The Nole people had been very reassuring.
And after the flood, after all the lives lost and all the property damaged, they still did nothing. Just talked and grumbled.
Charlie supposed that could have been excused for a time—people had lost friends, neighbors, relatives—but as the months rolled by and the Nole Company sent down their team of lawyers, offering them this and that, offering them the moon, the grumbling quietly ceased. People still felt used, cheated, but the dissatisfaction went underground. And the town of Simpson Creeks still had its sugar daddy.
No lawsuits were filed. No one was asked to investigate. The townsfolk continued to accept the jobs the company offered. And when the company finally did shut down most of its operation above the Creeks—the profits just weren’t enough anymore—people moved away, and most of those remaining just plain forgot.
A shadow at the shaded window again, hulking. Beating on the door.
It was Big Andy’s revenge on them all, Charlie was thinking as the glass burst inward. The dead, now part of Big Andy, would be repaid in full.
Mr. Emmanuel had been thinking over the problem of the sinkhole all day, examining it, worrying over production time lost because of it, and he was fed up. The Simpson Creeks operation was now only a minor cog in the Nole Company operations, and not worth the trouble. He didn’t know if the geologists would be coming down or not; the supervisor certainly sounded reluctant over the phone. But there might be legal problems with this one… and there was Simpson Creeks’ past history to consider. He didn’t think they’d want to take any chances. They’d send somebody, if only one lawyer.
He’d left work early to take a long walk outside town; the weather was nice, there’d be almost no one around this time of day, and besides he needed the exercise. He had never been one for athletics, but sitting all day in that hot aluminum mine office didn’t help his mood any.
He was walking across what Jake Parkey said was the old site of the town. Emmanuel supposed that could have been; the area seemed flat enough, and occasionally he’d stumble over a brick or two. It was much nicer down here, with the trees all around—a damn sight better than that hideous-looking slab. But these people seemed to be obsessed with their fears of flooding.
The trees made a curved green and brown curtain bordering the level expanse of grass. He imagined the area would make a good football or baseball field, if only enough young people stayed to make a team. The grass was wonderful here—he hadn’t seen anything like it since Pennsylvania. Deep blue green like a sea.
There was something at the edge of the wood.
He squinted his eyes, but the form was still blurry. Hard even to guess what it was. He needed to get his eyes checked if he ever got back to civilization. Or maybe he was just getting old. The thought chilled him slightly. He began walking, fixing his eyes on the object, trying to guess what it might be. For one thing, it seemed to be moving. Not very much, but slowly, gracefully. Perhaps it was a small sapling bending in the wind. But there was no wind.
Pale, pale skin… the head and hair looking bright, bright. On fire! No… no, just pale skin and unusually bright, glowing hair. Giggling. Swift movement behind a tree.
Slowly, anxious and excited at the same time, he approached the edge of the woods, the place where the figure had disappeared. Another giggle. Soft laugh. He pulled back the first branch and saw pale pink skin.
Doris Parkey was standing in the tall ferns by a willow tree. Smiling. Stark naked. She held out her arms to Mr. Emmanuel.
He stepped closer, hesitated. He squinted, even more skeptical of his vision. But it was truly she… Doris Parkey. And naked she had more softness, more curves than he had imagined from her drab, straight-seamed cotton dresses.
She was stepping closer, her lips parted. He felt himself pulling back…
And suddenly she was pulling at him, moaning, tugging his shirttail loose and undoing his pants. Tugging them down. She was raking at his groin with her long fingers, pulling at his pubic hair as he felt himself dropping to his knees, losing himself among the trees, in her mouth, down in the wet grass and dampened earth…
Inez had seen somebody enter the woods past the old town site, just across the way. Now… why would anybody be messing around over there? Most people were scared of the place… she guessed she was, too. But then she didn’t see the movement anymore, and thought perhaps she was just seeing things. She was tired… much too tired. Her brother Hector was driving her crazy. The town and all the goings-on there were driving her crazy.
She’d been in Hector’s room just now; her forearms still ached from the way he’d grabbed her, clutching like some kind of starving, desperate bird or something. Some old bird. Seeing things again. His eyes ready to pop right out of his skull. “Woman with her head on fire!” he’d screamed. That again. It was getting worse. She was going to have to commit him finally. It made her feel real bad, but he had no right! She was just going to have to commit him, be rid of him, and get on with her own life… get herself a husband and maybe even move away, maybe even leave the hills entirely, live on the beach or on a snowbank… anything be better…
There was a glow out by the creek.
Inez stared at it for some time before even questioning what it was she was looking at. Nothing like she’d ever seen. Maybe one of those balls of fog she was always reading about in newspaper fillers. But the way it moved… something odd about that…
Then she realized the glow was moving around the spot where Hector had almost drowned. She went downstairs and out the front door.
The glow seemed to brighten as she neared the creek, bobbing here and there, hiding itself behind a bough or trunk momentarily, and then reappearing. Then Inez was standing by the creek. And there was another woman standing on the other side.
“Why, Janie Taylor!” It just slipped out, automatically. She wasn’t that close to see who it really was. And Janie Taylor, one of her best friends in this world, Ben Taylor’s sister-in-law and Reed Taylor’s mother, had been dead, drowned, a good ten years now.
The way the woman’s complexion… shone. It was almost unnatural. Dark eyes, reflecting… what? The sun was almost down. But those eyes were virtually flashing out at Inez like a beacon. Delicate pink mouth and sandy-colored hair. But the hair was also… brighter than it should be. What was going on here? Who was this?
“This is… my property,” Inez said haltingly, her hands making trembling fists behind her dress. “I’ll have to ask you… your name… please.” She tried to smile at the woman, but couldn’t.
The woman said nothing. Inez stepped closer to the edge of the bank, careful not to step too far. The current seemed swifter than normal, and it made her nervous.
Janie… the woman looked so much like her. And my… didn’t they have fun in their teens! Riding down to the high school in Four Corners on the bus together, sleeping over, always falling for the same dark-haired boys… she might have been Mrs. Inez Taylor, in fact, if Poppa hadn’t got so sick after graduation, and she’d had to stay with him all the time. And by the time Poppa died it had been Mrs. Janie Taylor a good four years, and Reed was almost three years old. Of course, the way Alec turned out, she’d been lucky.