Katie’s eyelids fluttered as she dreamed, her subconscious working overtime. Bits and pieces, fragments, tryingto connect with each other.
The dream ended, and a few minutes later she tucked her knees up and shifted onto her side, almost waking.
Her breathing began to slow again.
At ten o’clock the lot was nearly empty. It was just before closing time, and Kevin walked around to the front of thestore, squinting at the light coming through the front door. He pushed the door open and heard a bell jingle. At theregister was a man in an apron. Kevin vaguely recognized him, but couldn’t place him. He was wearing a whiteapron, the name ROGER stenciled on the right.
Kevin walked past the register, trying not to slur his words. “I ran out of gas up the road.”
“Gas cans are along the far wall,” Roger answered without looking up. When he finally did, he blinked. “Youokay?”
“Just tired,” Kevin said from the aisle, trying not to draw attention to himself but knowing the man waswatching. The Glock was in his waistband and all Roger had to do was mind his own business. At the far wall,Kevin saw three five-gallon plastic cans and reached for two of them. He brought them to the register and putmoney on the counter.
“I’ll pay after I fill ’em,” he said.
Outside, he pumped the gas into the can, watching the numbers roll past. He filled the second and went backinside. Roger was staring at him, hesitating to make change.
“That’s a lot of gas to carry.”
“Erin needs it.”
“Who’s Erin?”
Kevin blinked. “Can I buy the damn gas or not?”
“You sure you’re okay to drive?”
“I’ve been sick,” Kevin muttered. “Puking all day.”
He wasn’t sure whether Roger believed him, but after a moment, Roger took the money and made change.
Kevin had left the cans near the gas pumps and went to pick them up. It was like lifting cans of lead. He strained,his stomach churning, pulsating pain between his ears. He started up the road, leaving behind the lights of thestore.
In the darkness, he set the cans down in the tall grass just off the road. After that, he circled back behind thestore. Waiting for Roger to close up, waiting for the lights to go out. Waiting for everyone to fall asleep upstairs. Heretrieved another bottle of vodka from the car and took a sip.
In Wilmington, Alex began to perk up, knowing he was getting close. It wouldn’t be long now, maybe half an hourbefore he reached Southport. It would take another few minutes to drop off Joyce and her daughter, but then hewould be home.
He wondered if he would find Katie waiting up for him in the living room or whether, as she’d teased, he wouldfind her in his bed.
It was the kind of thing that Carly used to say. They might have been talking about the business or whether herparents were enjoying Florida, when out of the blue, she’d announce that she was bored and ask him whether hewanted to go to the bedroom and fool around.
He stared at the clock. A quarter after ten and Katie was waiting. On the side of the road, Alex saw half a dozendeer frozen on the grass, their eyes reflecting the headlights, glowing like something unnatural. Haunted.
Kevin watched the fluorescent lights above the gas pumps flicker off. Lights in the store went out next. From hishidden vantage point, he watched Roger locking the door. He tugged on it, making sure it was secure, beforeturning away. He walked to a brown pickup truck parked on the far side of the gravel lot and got in.
The engine started with a whine and squeak. A loose fan belt. Roger revved the engine, turned on theheadlights, then put the truck in gear. He turned onto the main road, heading toward downtown.
Kevin waited five minutes, making sure Roger wouldn’t turn around and come back. The road in front of thestore was quiet now, no cars or trucks coming from either direction. He jogged over to the bushes, where he’dhidden the cans. Checked the road again, and then carried one of them to the back of the store. He did the samewith the second can, setting them next to a couple of metal garbage cans filled with rotting food. The stench waswith the second can, setting them next to a couple of metal garbage cans filled with rotting food. The stench wasoverwhelming.
Upstairs, the TV continued to bathe one of the windows in blue light. There were no other lights and he knewthey were nak*d. He felt the rage well up inside him. Now, he thought. It was time. When he reached for the gascans, he saw four of them. He closed one eye and it was back to two. He stumbled as he took a step and jerkedforward, off balance, swaying as he tried to grab the corner of the wall to keep from falling. He missed and fell,landing hard, his head hitting the gravel. Sparks and stars, shooting pains. It was hard to breathe. Tried to standup and fell again. He rolled over onto his back, staring up at the stars.
He wasn’t drunk because he never got drunk, but something was wrong. Twinkling lights were whirling roundand round, caught in an accelerating tornado. He squeezed his eyes shut, but the spinning got worse. He rolled tohis side and vomited onto the gravel. Someone must have slipped him drugs because he’d barely had anything todrink all day and he’d never been sick like this.
He reached out blindly for the garbage can. He grabbed the lid and tried to use it for balance, but he pulled toohard. The lid clattered off and a bag of garbage spilled out, making an unholy racket.
Upstairs, Katie flinched at the sound of something crashing. She was lost in her dream, and it took a moment forher eyes to flutter open. Groggy, she listened but wasn’t sure why, wasn’t sure whether she’d dreamed the soundor not. But there was nothing.
She leaned back, giving way to sleep again, and the dream picked up from where it left off. She was at thecarnival, on the Ferris wheel, but it was no longer Kristen sitting beside her.
It was Jo.
Kevin was finally able to struggle to his feet and stay upright. He couldn’t figure out what was happening to him,why he couldn’t keep his balance. He concentrated on catching his breath, in and out, in and out. He spotted thecans of gas and stepped toward them, almost falling again.
But he didn’t fall. He lifted a can, then staggered toward the stairs at the back of the house. He reached out forthe railing and missed it, then tried again. Got it. He lugged the can of gas up the stairs, toward the door, a Sherpain the Himalayas. He finally reached the landing at the top, panting, and bent over to remove the cap. His headfilled with blood, making him swoon, but he used the gas can to keep from falling. It took awhile before he couldget the cap off because it kept slipping between his fingers.
Once open, he picked up the can and doused the landing, splashing its contents against the door. With everyheave, the can got lighter, gas spilling out in arcs, drenching the wall. Getting easier now. He splashed left andright, trying to coat either side of the building. He started back down the stairs, splashing left and right. The fumesmade him sick but he kept going.
There wasn’t much gas left in the can when he reached the bottom and he rested at ground level. He wasbreathing hard and the fumes were making him feel sick again but he began moving again, with purpose now.
Determination. He tossed the empty can aside and reached for the other. He couldn’t douse the upper reaches ofthe walls, but he did what he could. He splashed one side and then circled around the back to the other side.
Above him, the window still flickered with light from the television but all was quiet.
He drained the can on the other side of the building and had nothing left for the front. He scanned the road; nocars were coming from either direction. Upstairs, Erin and the gray-haired man were nak*d and laughing at himand Erin ran away and he almost found her in Philadelphia but back then she was calling herself Erica, not Erin,and now she pretended her name was Katie.
He stood in front of the store, thinking about the windows. Maybe they were alarmed and maybe not. He didn’tcare. He needed lighter fluid, motor oil, turpentine, anything that would burn. But once he broke the window, hewouldn’t have much time.
He shattered the window with his elbow but heard no alarm. Pulling out pieces of glass, he barely felt hisfingers getting cut and beginning to bleed. More chunks, the window coming apart in sections. He thought theopening was big enough for him to climb inside, but his arm caught on a jagged shard, deep. He pulled, tearingflesh. But he couldn’t stop now. Blood flowed from his arm, dripping and mingling with the cuts on his fingers.
The coolers along the back wall were still illuminated and he walked the aisles, wondering idly if Cheerioswould burn, if Twinkies would burn. DVDs. He located the charcoal and the lighter fluid—only two cans, not much.
Not enough. He blinked, looking around for something else. He spotted the grill in the rear of the store.
Natural gas. Propane.
He approached the grill area, lifted the divider, and stood facing the grill itself. He turned a burner on, thenanother. There had to be a valve somewhere, but he didn’t know where to find it and he didn’t have time becausesomeone might be coming and Coffey and Ramirez were talking about him, laughing and asking whether he’d hadthe crab cakes in Provincetown.
Roger’s apron hung on a rack and he tossed it onto the flame. He opened the can of lighter fluid he was holdingand sprayed it on the walls of the grill. The can was slippery with blood and he wondered where the blood hadcome from. He hopped up onto the counter and squirted some lighter fluid on the ceiling and got down again. Heran a trail of fluid along the front of the store, noticing that the apron had begun to burn in earnest. He emptied thecan and tossed it aside. Opening the second can, he squirted more fluid at the ceiling. The flames from the apronbegan leaping toward the walls and the ceiling. He went to the register and searched for a lighter and found abunch of them in a plastic bin, near the cigarettes. He squirted lighter fluid on the register and on the little tablebehind him. The can was empty now, too, and he stumbled toward the window he’d broken earlier. He climbed out,stepping on broken glass, hearing it crack and pop. Standing by the side of the house, he flicked the lighter andheld it against the gas-soaked wall, watching as the wood caught fire. At the back of the house, he touched theflame to the stairs and the flames rose quickly, shooting up to the door and spreading to the roof. Next came thefar side.
Fire blossomed everywhere, the exterior rippling with flame, and Erin was a sinner and her lover was a sinnerand the Bible says They will suffer the punishment of eternal destruction.
He stood back, watching the fire start to consume the building, wiping his face, leaving trails of blood. In theglowing orange light, he looked like a monster.
In her dream, Jo wasn’t smiling as she sat beside Katie on the Ferris wheel. She seemed to be searching thecrowd below, a frown of concentration on her face.
There, she said, pointing. Over there. Do you see him?
What are you doing here? Where’s Kristen?
She’s sleeping. But you have to remember, now.
Katie looked but there were so many people, so much movement. Where? she asked. I don’t see anything.
He’s here, Jo said.
Who?
You know.
In her dream, the Ferris wheel lurched to a stop. The sound was loud, like the shattering of glass, and itseemed to signal a change. The carnival’s colors began to fade, the scene below dissolving into cloud banks thathadn’t been there a moment before. As if the world were slowly being erased, and then everything suddenlydimmed. She was surrounded by impenetrable darkness, broken only by an odd flickering at the periphery of hervision, and the sound of someone talking.
Katie heard Jo’s voice again, almost a whisper.
Can you smell it?
Katie sniffed, still lost in the haze. Her eyes fluttered open, stinging for some reason as she tried to clear hersight. The television was still on and she realized she must have fallen asleep. The dream was already fadingaway but she heard Jo’s words clearly in her head.
Can you smell it?
Katie took a deep breath as she pushed herself to a sitting position and immediately started coughing. It tookonly an instant to realize that the room was filled with smoke. She bolted off the couch.
Smoke meant fire, and now she could see the flames outside the window, dancing and twisting orange. Thedoor was on fire, smoke billowing from the kitchen in thick clouds. She heard roaring, a sound like a train, heardcracks and pops and splintering, her mind taking it in at once.
Oh, my God. The kids.
She ran toward the hallway, panicked at the sight of heavy smoke billowing from both rooms. Josh’s room wasclosest and she rushed in, waving her arms against the stinging black fog.
She reached the bed and grabbed Josh’s arm, dragging him up.
“Josh! Get up! The house is on fire! We’ve got to get out!”
He was about to whine, but she pulled him up, cutting him off. “C’mon!” she screamed. He immediately began tocough, doubled over as she dragged him out. The hallway was an impenetrable wall of smoke, but she rushedforward nonetheless, pulling Josh behind her. Groping, she found the doorjamb to Kristen’s room across the hall.
It wasn’t as bad as Josh’s room, but she could feel the enormous heat building behind them. Josh continued tocough and wail, struggling to keep up, and she knew better than to let go. She raced to Kristen’s bedside andshook her, pulling her out of bed with her other hand.
The roaring of the fire was so loud, she could barely hear the sound of her own voice. Half-carrying, half-dragging the kids back out into the hallway, she saw an orange glow, barely visible through the smoke, where theentrance to the hallway was. The wall crawled with fire, flames on the ceiling, moving toward them. She didn’t havetime to think, only had time to react. She turned and pushed the kids back down the hallway toward the masterbedroom, where the smoke was less thick.
She rushed into the room, flicking on the light. Still working. Alex’s bed stood against one wall, a chest ofdrawers against another. Straight ahead was a rocking chair and windows, thankfully untouched as yet by fire.
She slammed the door behind her.