The Taking

rain to the back of the Navigator.
        Neil called worriedly to her. She turned and saw that he had gotten out of the Explorer and stood, shotgun in both hands, giving her cover.
        Although she couldn't quite hear his words, she knew that he wanted her to get behind the wheel once more and drive them into town.
        Shaking her head, she went around behind the Navigator and then to the passenger's side. She wanted to be sure that the child, the owner of the doll, had not crouched behind the vehicle, hiding from whatever menace might come along the highway, from whatever evil might have taken her parents.
        No child huddled there. Nor under the SUV, either, when Molly dropped to her knees and searched that low space.
        The shoulder of the road was narrow. Spalled-off asphalt and gravel and the sparkling shards of tossed-away bottles and the bright aluminum ring-pulls from uncounted beverage cans dimly reflected the luminous rain, a meaningless mosaic in an unstable bed of mud.
        When Molly rose to her feet again, she thought that the woods, already crowding the highway before she dropped to her hands and knees, had grown closer while her back was turned. The saturated boughs of the looming evergreens hung like sodden vestments-capes and robes, cassocks and chasubles.
        Unseen but acutely felt, alert observers watched her from the hooded cowls of those pines, creatures less ordinary than owls and raccoons, and less clean.
        Frightened but sensing that a show of fear would invite attack, she did not at once retreat. Instead, she rubbed her muddied hands together, rinsing them in the downpour, though she would not feel clean again until she could wash off the rain itself.
        Counseling herself that the hostile presences she sensed in the forest were only figments of her imagination, but knowing that her counsel was a lie, she continued unhurriedly around the Navigator, returning to the driver's side with a nonchalance that was pure performance.
        Before retreating to the Explorer, she snatched the doll from the backseat of the Lincoln. Its shaggy blond hair, blue eyes, and sweet smile reminded her of a child who had died in her arms a long time ago.
        Rebecca Rose, her name had been. She was a shy girl who spoke with the faintest lisp.
        Her last words, whispered in delirium and making no apparent sense, had been, "Molly… there's a dog. So pretty… how he shines." For the first time in her life, there at the end of it, she had not lisped at all.
        Having failed to save Rebecca, Molly saved this rough image of her, and when Neil got in the Explorer after her, she gave him the doll for safekeeping.
        She said, "We might encounter the girl and her parents on the road into town."
        Neil did not remind her that the Navigator had been traveling in the opposite direction when abandoned. He knew that she recognized this as clearly as he did.
        She said, "It'll be nice to have the doll to give her. I'm sure she didn't intend to leave it behind."
        Intellectually, she knew that the war of the worlds, if indeed it had begun, would not spare children.
        Emotionally, however, she refused to acknowledge that no degree of innocence could guarantee immunity in a plague of genocide.
        On one rainy afternoon long ago, Molly had saved some children and been unable to save others. But if the fine grain of hope in her heart were to be the foundation of a pearl, she must believe that no child would ever again suffer in her presence and that those who came under her care would be safe, protected, until she herself died defending them.
        As the Explorer rolled forward and they resumed their journey into town, Neil said, "It's a beautiful doll. She'll be happy to see it again."
        Molly loved him for always understanding precisely what words she needed to hear. He knew what motivated her at all times and in all circumstances, even in these.

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    16
        
        THEY HAD NOT DRIVEN FAR FROM THE ABANDONED Navigator when Molly realized belatedly that the rain had been imbued with less scent than at any time since she'd stepped onto the porch among the coyotes. The underlying semenlike odor had faded altogether, and the mélange of other fragrances had been only a fraction as intense as they were at the Corrigan house.
        Neil confirmed her observation. "Yeah. And it's also not quite as