“What the hell’s going on over there?”
“Oh shit. Here we go,” the first trooper muttered darkly as the sergeant charged toward them. “I wasn’t gonna shoot him. What the hell’s he coming this way for anyhow? Supposed to be going the other way.”
Before anyone could speak, there came the first faint sound of gunshot, a rapid spattering through the trees, followed by a thunderous and sustained volley.
The Plymouth pulled up behind Doris’s station wagon. Athena let the motor run. A look of horror and disbelief on her face, she just sat at the wheel, staring.
The rig—diagonally across the middle of the road—was a burned-out hull. It looked like nothing so much as some huge dead insect. Nothing remained of the ambulance hall but so much wreckage. Doris hadn’t even looked around when the car pulled up. Her back to Athena, she stood amid the debris.
Slowly, Athena got out of the car and approached. An acrid stench hung heavily in the air. The two women only gazed into the rubble, and a buzzard wheeled high overhead.
The building’s shell held thick soft mounds of ash and charred wood, among which rested half-recognizable objects: the blackened metal frame of the card table, a file-cabinet drawer. It looked as though, for a single moment, the summer had intensified. Here.
“No.” Doris put out a hand to stop her. “Stay out here, honey. It’s still hot, and what’s left of the roof could come down easy.” She kicked at a bit of wood. “Besides, there’s no point in going in anyhow. Ain’t this a bitch?”
“You went inside already, didn’t you?”
Black with soot in places, she shook her head and smiled slightly. “You can still smell the kerosene.”
“Does anybody else know?”
“Yeah, Larry and Jack showed up in the Jeep. They left a while ago, I guess. Larry mentioned something about going down the shore, some kind of a job or something. May as well, I guess.”
“The police?” She gazed into the sooty ruins.
“Not yet. Anyway, what’s the use? I guess we’re out of business all right.” She lit a cigarette, curling her hand around the match to shield it. “They didn’t take much though, did they? Not that I can see anyway. Not even the tires. You have to wonder.”
“Why would…?” Suddenly, Athena raged. “We tried to help them! Why would they do this?”
“Pineys?” Doris shrugged, then tossed a bit of junk back into the rubble. “Don’t let it bother you, kid. Sure was fun for a while though.” She gave her an odd kind of smile. “Wasn’t it?”
What am I going to do? Athena just sat in the car, knowing that at any moment, Pamela might discover she was back and descend with a million questions. She wanted to start the car and drive away again, drive anywhere. What am I going to do now? The question echoed in her mind with increased urgency, mingling with thoughts of all the days to come, all the nights when there would be nothing to occupy her, nothing, until finally she became like Pam, until finally…
She became aware of someone calling.
“Matty? Maaatty!” It came from the other side of the house. “Maaatty!”
Getting out of the car, she walked around back, the day heavy upon her.
“Matty!” There was no mistaking the alarm in that voice from the woods beyond the shed. “Matty, where are you? You be a good boy for Pammy. Okay? Matty, you come home now!”
Dappled and patterned with shadows, Ernie stood on the edge of the pines and stared at a cluster of dismal shacks. He hesitated.
At his feet, plants with furred leaves sagged against the ground, blasted by heat. Everywhere lay brown patches and fissures in the sand. Late afternoon sun fuzzed through the heat haze, and from the woods came a cicada’s rattle, twitching faster and louder into one long, fading rasp. The day burned at the back of his neck, and his head throbbed.
Sweat glued the red hair to his forehead, and his eyes felt dried and crusted. A long smear of blood streaked his left arm.
The not-so-distant sound of gunfire decided him.
Dustily, he plodded toward the ramshackle buildings. The earth began to hum softly as he staggered. Droplets ran down his arm, fell from his curling fingers, leaving a trail of red dots on the sand.
“Yes, I’ll hold.” Athena held the phone to her ear, while Pam watched her, waiting for her to speak again. Beyond the doorway, the crickets had begun their deafening rattle.
Through the back door, gunfire still sounded, muted and faraway. Violent burning colors streaked the sky, deep purples and reds. Small stars emerged, and bats commenced the evening’s hunt for flying insects.
“But where is he? Where could he be then?” Pam had nearly doubled over. “We looked everywhere. Did you get them yet?”
“Could you be still? Hello, operator? I’m trying to reach the state police. That number’s busy. Could you—? Yes, it may be an emergency. No, I want the…”
Pamela shrieked.
A massive bundle in his arms, Matthew stood at the door. His face ran with grimy tears. Both he and his burden were covered with a mixture of fresh and drying blood.
Athena dropped the phone as the boy stepped unsteadily into the house. He panted, a shining line of bubbles at his mouth. He staggered, and she ran to him. “Matthew, give him to me. Let go. Let me take him. Matthew, give me the dog.” She got the animal away from him, grunted and stumbled under the weight. “Jesus! Clear a space! I’ve got to put him down!” Almost dropping the beast, she marveled at the boy’s strength.
“Oh, ’Thena, your blouse,” Pam sobbed. “Blood, ’Thena, blood gettin’ all over you.” Her hysteria unabated, she pointed a trembling finger as she backed away from the dripping, unmoving animal. “No! Get it away! ’Thena, dogs! The dogs! Oh, my baby! Get it away! Get it away ’fore he gets rabies!”
Already, blood coated the floorboards, and almost slipping, Athena set the dog down carefully. Dooley whined and squirmed feebly, eyes rolling in pain. “Matthew, are you hurt anywhere? Matthew, look at me. Does it hurt?” The bloody boy only stood still, breathing heavily and looking at the dog.
Pam had backed up against the wall. “Oh my baby oh my Matty.” She made desperate, clawing grabs at the boy but kept snatching her hands away.
“It’s all right. I don’t think he’s hurt. At least, I can’t find anything. Just exhausted, I think.” She turned back to the animal while Pamela began to fluster and shriek around the child.
The dog lay with its tongue hanging out, sides heaving.
“Oh, my God. Oh God, it’s dead! Oh Matty, poor Dooley’s dead!”
Athena got the first-aid kit from under the sink and crouched beside the animal. “Pamela, please, shut up.” She poked at the bloody fur, prodding, examining the furry lips of a wound. Taking a bottle of peroxide out of the kit, she uncapped it and poured it over the gash with one hand, groping in the kit for a package of sterile gauze with the other. “Pamela, I need…Pamela, would you be quiet and listen? I need more peroxide. This stuff. Run upstairs to the bathroom. In the medicine cabinet there’s a brown bottle. Just like this one. Bring it to me.” She returned her attention to the dog. “Now, Pamela! I need it now.”
Wringing her hands, Pam slowly wandered out of the room.
Something nudged Athena’s arm. She turned to find the boy crouched beside her, fresh tears streaking the dirt on his face. He gazed into the eyes of his dog, eyes that had gone all milky.
She mopped blood with a small sponge and snipped away fur with a scissors. “It looks as though the bullet passed right through the shoulder muscle. I don’t see any other holes.” Soon she was red to the elbows. “It may not be as bad as it looks,” she added more gently. “I can’t feel any broken bones. He’s in shock, Matthew.” She watched the boy’s face. “How did you find him?”