Fear Nothing

Ferryman's house just before the lights had gone out and the smoke had poured into the stairwell from above and below.
        At least one of the troop had been here during the night.
        Shaking again but with fury rather than fear this time, I ripped the pistol out of my jacket and set out to search the house, from the attic down, every room, every closet, every cupboard, every smallest space in which one of these hateful creatures might be able to conceal itself. I wasn't stealthy or cautious. Cursing, making threats that I had every intention of fulfilling, I tore open doors, slammed drawers shut, poked under furniture with a broom handle. In general I created such a racket that Orson sprinted to my side with the expectation of finding me in a battle for my life-then followed me at a cautious distance, as if he feared that, in my current state of agitation, I might shoot myself in the foot and him in the paw if he stayed too close.
        None of the troop was in the house.
        When I concluded the search, I had the urge to fill a pail with strong ammonia water and sponge off every surface that the intruder - or intruders - might have touched: walls, floor, stair treads and railings, furniture. Not because I believed that they'd left behind any microorganisms that could infect us. Rather, because I found them to be unclean in a profoundly spiritual sense, as though they had come not out of laboratories at Wyvern but out of a vent in the earth from which also rose sulfur fumes, a terrible light, and the distant cries of the damned.
        Instead of going for the ammonia, I used the kitchen phone to call the direct booth line at KBAY. Before I entered the last number, I realized that Sasha was off the air and already on her way home. I hung up and keyed in her mobile number.
        “Hey, Snowman,” she said.
        “Where are you?”
        “Five minutes away.”
        “Are your doors locked?”
        “What?”
        “ For Christ's sake, are your doors locked?”
        She hesitated. Then: “They are now.”
        “Don't stop for anyone. Not anyone. Not for a friend, not even for a cop. Especially not for a cop.”
        “What if I accidentally run down a little old lady?”
        “She won't be a little old lady. She'll only look like one.”
        “You've suddenly gotten spooky, Snowman.”
        “Not me. The rest of the world. Listen, I want you to stay on the phone until you're in the driveway.”
        “Explorer to control tower: The fog's pulling back already. You don't need to talk me in.”
        “I'm not talking you in. You're talking me down . I'm in a state here.
        “I sorta noticed.”
        “I need to hear your voice. All the way. All the way home, your voice.”
        Smooth as the bay,” she said, trying to get me to lighten up.
        I kept her on the phone until she drove her truck into the carport and switched off the engine.
        Sun or no sun, I wanted to go outside and meet her as she opened the driver's door. I wanted to be at her side with the Glock in my hand as she walked across the house to the rear porch, which was the entrance that she always used.
        An hour seemed to pass before I heard her footsteps on the back porch, as she walked between the tables of potted herbs.
        When she swung open the door, I was standing in the wide blade of morning light that slashed into the kitchen. I pulled her into my arms, slammed the door behind her, and held her so tightly that for a moment neither of us could breathe. I kissed her then, and she was warm and real, real and glorious, glorious and alive.
        No matter how tightly I held her, however, no matter how sweet her kisses, I was still hatinted by that presentiment of worse losses to come.

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    Six
        

    THE DAY AND THE NIGHT

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    32
        
        With all that had happened during the previous night and with all that loomed in the night to come, I didn't imagine that we would make love. Sasha couldn't imagine not making love. Even though she didn't know the reason for my terror, the sight of me so fearful and so shaken by the thought of losing her was an aphrodisiac that put her in a mood not to be refused.
        Orson, ever a gentleman, remained downstairs in the kitchen. We went upstairs to the bedroom and from there into the timeless time and placeless place where Sasha is the only energy, the only form of matter, the only force in