She became consciously aware of it when it shifted directions and started toward the house. If we didn't have enough problems already, she thought. Now the fence is down somewhere and the deer have gotten in. They loved the young corn and could mess up a field in nothing flat. But she didn't know what she could do about it. Joe Bob had forbidden her to leave the house.
The movement drew closer and paused as it reached the fence. She leaned against the porch railing and strained her eyes to see what was there, but it was too dark. She thought she saw something crawl through the fence but she wasn't sure. Yes, she had seen something. There was another one. It wasn't deer. Deer couldn't crawl through the fence like that. Besides, it was too small.
She could see nothing but dark shapes close to the ground. There must be a dozen of them, she thought. They could be bear cubs, but she didn't think there would be so many together.
She backed toward the door, beginning to be afraid. They moved toward her with such determination and purpose. She reached behind her, feeling for the handle of the screen door. One of the shapes grew suddenly taller and moved alone toward the porch. The others waited motionlessly. She pulled open the screen and went inside.
The single moving shape stepped into the rectangle of light cast through the open door.
"Wayne!" she cried and ran across the porch toward him. The screen door slammed behind her like a rifle shot. She stood at the top of the porch steps. She gave a little moan. He looked up at her, his clothes torn and dirty, his hair mussed, scratches on little face and hands. She hurried down and knelt before him, throwing her arms around him, pulling him against her breast.
She saw dried blood on his neck. She pushed him from her and held him at arm's length. Dried blood flaked from his face and stained the front of his shirt. She became aware of the other children; that they had stood up; that they were surrounding her. She rose suddenly with a frightened whimper and backed toward the porch, pulling Wayne with her.
She knew these children. She knew all of them.
Her heel caught on the edge of the step and she fell. A fierce pain shot through her elbow, numbing her whole arm. She screamed. The silent children rushed to her, covering her.
She screamed again and again. She seemed to stand outside herself watching something she couldn't believe. There was a noise like the screen door slamming. She couldn't be sure she heard it because the screams were so loud.
Delton Reeves jerked and the side of his head flew off with a little red explosion. He fell over and twisted like a rag doll. Barbara Ann Morgan clutched her hands to the front of her bloody dress, but the blood wasn't dried. It was wet and shiny.
The children ran away, scattering through the darkness like silent phantoms. A small puff of dust erupted at Wayne's feet as he ran. She pulled herself around on the steps and looked up at the porch. Pauly stood there with Joe Bob's deer rifle.
He had a satisfied look on his face.
Danny Sizemore walked slowly across the footbridge, looking around carefully. He had stayed inside all evening crouched at the window, watching the people running around the street. He had never seen so many in town at one time and it frightened him. So many horses and wagons and automobiles, leaving and coming back and leaving again, rattling the boards on the big bridge by the mill. People crying and yelling. Dogs barking and whining because they didn't understand what the commotion was about. And that big fire they built in the school yard. But no one had crossed the footbridge. No one had come near all evening as he huddled and watched.
Now the street was empty and only a few of the houses still showed lights. And he was hungry. There had been no supper though he had sat at the table and waited. The woman had never brought it.
But another compulsion overrode the hunger, forced it deep into the mists of Danny's mind. He walked: through town and down the road deeper into the valley. He didn't know where he was going but he never hesitated at a juncture of the road. When the road didn't go where he had to go, he crashed through the brush, scratching his arms on the dogwood branches, flushing startled quail, never veering from his unknown destination.
Danny's lungs burned and his puffy body trembled with fatigue. He had walked for hours but his legs kept moving. Then he was slipping and scrambling down the embankment into the creek bed. He went another hundred yards keeping his footing with difficulty on the round smooth stones.
He saw them up ahead, working silently in the moonlight. They seemed to be excavating the high creek bank. Even the smallest among them carried rocks and armloads of dirt.
Probably for the first time in his dim existence, Danny felt. The feeling swelled in him, choking him, stretching his doughy flesh. He began running toward them, making a happy gurgling sound deep in his throat.
The children stopped their activity and turned to watch him silently. One of them reached down and plucked a smooth river rock from the stream. He threw it at Danny. The rock rattled on other rocks at his feet but Danny didn't notice. Others began throwing stones. Danny became gradually aware of the sharp pains growing on his body and stopped in bewilderment. The stones continued to pelt him. His arms came slowly up to protect his face.
He stood for a moment watching the children, the feeling inside him changing to a hurt far worse than any made by a stone. Then he turned and walked away. The children returned to their work. Danny looked back at them once, great tears rolling down his cheeks, but the children ignored him.
He tripped while climbing the embankment and didn't bother to get up. He lay with his face buried in the grass, choking on his sobs. It was the first time he had ever cried.
Meridee Callahan lay in the darkness beside her husband, feeling the warmth of his body. She couldn't sleep and thought from the sound of Robbie's breathing he couldn't either. She put her hand lightly on his bare chest. He turned facing her and put his arms around her, pulling her to him. She snuggled against him and felt his breath in her hair.
"You all right, Hon?" he asked softly.
"Mmm-huh„ I just can't go to sleep."
"Me too." His hand slid down her arm and rested gently on her stomach. She felt his face move against hers as he smiled. "I think I felt him move."
She chuckled against his neck. "It's probably gas."
"Don't say that." Robbie sat up and put his cheek against her swollen abdomen. "Hey, you in there, my son," he whispered. "If you don't hurry up and come outa there, your old man is gonna hafta pay a visit to Mavis Sizemore."
Meridee grunted and hit him on the shoulder with her small fist. He laughed and buried his face between her breasts. Her arms went around his neck squeezing him tightly to her. They lay like that for a while, her face against his hair which smelled of pine. He slid his hand under her gown and cupped her breast, rubbing his thumb across the nipple. She ran her fingernails lightly down his spine and the muscles on his back trembled. She stopped when she felt a warm hardness against her hip.
"Robbie?"
"Mmm?"
"Do you think . . . what happened to ... to the children . . . do you think anything has happened to our baby?"
He raised himself and looked into her face. "You shouldn't upset yourself with thoughts like that, Meri. Our baby will be the finest baby in the valley."
"But, how do you know? . . ."
He put his fingers on her lips. "Now stop it," he said gently. "You're gonna worry yourself into a nervous fit about nothing. You hear me?"
She nodded. He slid his fingers to her cheek and touched his lips lightly to hers. "Now, go to sleep," he said and cuddled her in his arms.