The Leftovers

explanation. If she wanted to walk home in the cold, that was her prerogative. And if she wanted to call him later and apologize—well, that ball was in her court, too.
    But what if she didn’t call? What if he waited for hours and the phone never rang? At what point would he lose his nerve and call her, or maybe even drive over to her house, ring the bell until she opened the door? Two A.M. ? Four in the morning? Daybreak? The one thing he knew for sure was that he wouldn’t be able to get to sleep until he’d at least talked to her, gotten some kind of explanation for what had just happened. So maybe the smartest thing was just to go after her right now, have it out as soon as possible, so he didn’t have to spend the rest of the night wondering.
    He was so caught up in this quandary that he barely noticed the two Watchers standing by his car, didn’t even realize who they were until he’d already opened the locks with his remote key.
    “Hey,” he said, feeling a momentary sense of relief that Nora wasn’t there, that they didn’t have to go through that particular drama just now, the new girlfriend meeting the estranged wife. “You guys okay?”
    They didn’t answer, but they didn’t have to, not when it was this cold out. The partner looked hypothermic—she was hugging herself and rocking from side to side, a cigarette stuck in one corner of her mouth like it had been glued in place—but Laurie was gazing at him with a tender, unwavering expression, the kind of look people give you in the funeral home when the deceased is a member of your family and they want to acknowledge your pain.
    “What’s the matter?” he asked.
    There was a manila envelope in Laurie’s hand. She held it out, jabbing it at his chest like it was something he needed to see.
    “What is it?”
    She gave him a look that said, You know what it is .
    “Oh, Jesus,” he muttered. “Are you kidding me?”
    Her expression didn’t change. She just held out the envelope until he took it.
    “I’m sorry,” she said, breaking her vow of silence. The sound of her voice was shocking to him, so strange and familiar at the same time, like the voice of a dead person in a dream. “I wish there was some other way.”
    *   *   *
    JILL SQUEEZED through the hole in the fence and trudged up the gravel embankment, pausing at the top to check for oncoming trains. It was an exhilarating place to be, all alone in that wide-open space, like she had the whole world to herself. The tracks flowed into the distance on either side of her like a river, the rails catching the light of the three-quarter moon, two parallel gleams fading into the darkness.
    She balanced on one like a tightrope walker, tiptoeing with her arms outstretched, trying to imagine what would have happened if the Watcher she’d met back there had been her mother. Would they have laughed and hugged each other, amazed to find themselves alone in such an unlikely place? Or would her mother have been angry to find her there, disappointed by the alcohol on her breath, her deplorable lack of judgment?
    Well, whose fault is that? Jill thought, hopping off the rail. Nobody’s looking out for me.
    She headed down the embankment on the other side, descending toward the service road that ran behind Walgreens, her sneakers slipping on the loose gravel. Then she stopped.
    A sound got trapped in her throat.
    She knew that the Watchers always traveled in pairs, but the encounter with the bearded man had been so brief and awkward that she hadn’t stopped to wonder where his partner was.
    Well, now she knew.
    She took a few reluctant steps forward, moving closer to the white-clad figure on the ground. He was lying facedown near a big Dumpster that said GALLUCCI BROS. , his arms spread wide as if he were trying to embrace the planet. There was a small pool of liquid near his head, a luminous substance she badly wanted to believe was water.
     

Part Five
    MIRACLE CHILD
     

ANY MINUTE NOW
    IT WAS WAY TOO CHILLY to be sitting on the back deck with a cup of morning coffee, but Kevin couldn’t help himself. After being cooped up all winter, he wanted to take advantage of every minute of sunshine and fresh air that the world allowed, even if he had to wear a sweater, a jacket, and a woolen cap to enjoy it.
    Spring had come quickly in the past few weeks—snowdrops and hyacinths, flashes of yellow in the suddenly undead bushes, and then a riotous explosion of birdsong and dogwood blossoms,