Fear: A Gone Novel

place beside what had been the stream, hidden by a huge, dying rhododendron bush. She asked Cigar to sit down. She helped to move him into position to do so on a dirt ledge that almost formed a bench.
    She sat a few feet away, careful to keep her face toward the grim-faced hill. Even now its shadow bothered her in a way she could not define.
    Astrid still felt the relentless tick-tock, tick-tock urging her toward Perdido Beach. But it was possible this was even more important.
    And anyway, she couldn’t leave. Not with what she had heard from Cigar.
    “Bradley. I want this to be easy for you. I’m going to ask you questions. All you have to say is yes or no. Okay?”
    The tiny eyeballs swerved wildly. But he said, “Okay. Why does he say your hair screams? You’re an angel with wings and shiny, shiny, and a long sword with flames and—”
    “Just listen, okay?”
    He nodded, and revealed a shy grin.
    “You did something bad.”
    “Yes,” he said solemnly.
    “And they punished you by giving you to Penny for a half hour.”
    “Half hour.” He giggled and his jaw twisted so hard she thought he might dislocate it. Like he was trying to break his own teeth. “Not a half hour.”
    “They gave you to Penny,” Astrid repeated patiently.
    “Sunrise sunset.”
    At first Astrid thought he was talking about the eerie sky. Only gradually did the suspicion grow and take shape. “They put you with Penny for a full day? All day long?”
    “Yes,” Cigar said, suddenly calm and sounding quite reasonable.
    Astrid did not feel reasonable. What kind of creep would sentence this kid to a day with Penny? No wonder he was insane.
    It occurred to her then that he had clawed his own eyes out. The image made her need to throw up. But she couldn’t do that. No.
    “These new eyes,” Astrid said. “Are they from Lana?”
    “Lana is an angel, too. But it touches her. It tries to take her.”
    “Yes, it does,” Astrid said. “But she’s too strong.”
    “Mighty!”
    Astrid nodded. So he had been driven mad by Penny. And Lana had done what she could. And somehow he had ended up wandering lost out of town, all alone.
    Which meant things were very bad in Perdido Beach. Cigar was one of Quinn’s fishermen, or had been when last she’d heard. “You’re one of Quinn’s fishermen, aren’t you?”
    “Yay!” Cigar said, and smiled his lunatic grin while his brow furrowed into deep crevices of anxiety. “Fish. Hah, hah.”
    “Now, the little boy…”
    “Fish! Fish!”
    “The little boy,” Astrid persisted. She reached and placed her hand over his. He reacted like he’d been shocked. He yanked his hand back and she feared he might bolt.
    “Stay, Cigar. Stay. Quinn would tell you to stay and talk to me.”
    “Quinn,” he said, and sobbed and finally screamed. “He came for me. He hit Penny. I couldn’t see it but I heard it—Quinn and bam and waaah and we’re going to Lana I’ll kill you witch.”
    “He’s a good guy, Quinn.”
    “Yes,” Cigar said.
    “He wants you to tell me about the little boy.”
    “Little boy? He’s next to you.”
    Astrid fought the urge to turn and look. No one was beside her. “I don’t see him.”
    Cigar nodded as though he knew this, as though it was a given fact. “He’s a little boy. But he’s big, too. He can touch the sky.”
    Astrid choked out the words, “Can he?”
    “Oh, yes. Little boy is better than an angel, you know; he has the light so bright it shines through you. Tseeeew! Right through you.”
    “And his name is Petey?”
    Cigar was silent. He lowered his head. Again it was as if he was listening. But maybe he was listening only to the terrible nightmare screams in his own head.
    Then, with perfect lucidity that was stranger in its way than all his tics and sudden eruptions and weird gestures, Cigar said, “He was Pete.”
    Astrid sobbed.
    “That was his body name.”
    “Yes,” Astrid said, too paralyzed even to wipe away the tears. “Can I … Can he hear me?”
    “He can hear … anything!” And again the mad cackle, an almost ecstatic sound.
    “I’m sorry, Petey,” Astrid said. “I’m so sorry.”
    “Little boy is free now,” Cigar said in a singsong voice. “He’s playing a game.”
    “I know,” Astrid said. “Petey? You can’t play that game. You’re hurting people.”
    Once again Cigar lowered his head to listen. But even though Astrid waited a long time, he said nothing more.
    So in a quiet voice Astrid said, “Petey. The