'You can all come in,'she said. 'It's done now… She's alive.'
'And the child?' asked Abram.
She shuddered and shook her head.
Frowning, the two men entered the house, Wilma standing at the door as the rest filed nervously in behind them. Ahead of them, at the top of the stairs, the midwife stood wringing her hands.
'Is my brother up there?' asked Abram.
Wilma pointed, trembling, in the direction of the yard. 'Back there.' She turned and started up the staircase; as if by unspoken agreement the women in the group filed upstairs behind her, continuing toward a doorway at the right, from which issued a series of low moans. Left to themselves, the men stood awkwardly in the downstairs hall, then followed Abram toward the back of the house.
They found Joram seated in a rocking chair in the middle of the glassed-in back porch. He was rocking furiously, as if possessed, and seemed barely to notice them. His face, they saw, was drawn, weary, but his eyes, which stared at nothing, had a wild look. Behind him, outside in the yard, they could see a round pit filled with ashes from which a few dark tendrils of smoke still rose.
At first it seemed that Joram was addressing them, but then they all saw that he was in fact talking to himself. 'God is merciful,' he was saying as he rocked back and forth, over and over like a litany of comfort. 'God is merciful, merciful… '
Abram grasped him by the shoulder. 'What is it, brother?'
Slowly the man in the chair looked up, and recognition dawned in his face. 'He touched her belly,' he said, 'and she gave birth to-' A fit of trembling seized him. He shook his head. 'Thank the Lord it didn't live!'
Rupert Lindt stepped forward. 'Joram, what are you talkin' about? Who touched Lotte's belly?'
Joram turned to look at him. He was silent a moment, as if trying to recollect. "Twas the one from the city. The one livin' out at Poroth Farm.'
The men eyed one another in silence, the same dark look growing on all their faces.
'I think it was the air,' Joram was saying. "Twas the Lord's pure, holy air that killed it. It wasn't meant to breathe as we do… '
And the men looked at one another, and nodded, there on the porch with the ashes just outside, while upstairs, at the other end of the house, out of Lotte's hearing, Wilma Buckhalter sat huddled with the womenfolk and told them, weeping, of the terrible thing that had been born a few hours before and that Joram and the midwife had burned in the back yard – a thing with tiny yellow claws and the beginnings of a tail…
The two men were working in the shadow of the hill. The younger, still in his teens, was crouching over a small grey box-shaped instrument, an emanometer, used to measure radon gas. From a strap by his side hung a similar device for the measurement of methane. The older of the two, a tall, stoop-shouldered man with thinning black hair, was pacing around the base of the hill taking readings on radiation with a scintillation counter. A camera and a light meter dangled around his neck.
'No,' he said, sounding far from surprised, 'it's the same over here. Just background count.' Squinting, he peered up along the length of the cone. It towered forty feet above the forest floor – not so high as most of the older trees, but in this section, where the trees were short and vegetation sparse, its top protruded well above them all. 'Think I'd better get a couple more pictures.'
He backed into the sunlight, holding the light meter before him. Checking the dial, he raised the camera and focused on the top of the mound. The younger man stood watching him. Moments later he called out, 'Dr Lewalski? We've got a visitor.'
The other lowered his camera and turned where the younger man was pointing. At the far side of the mound stood a short, somewhat paunchy old man with glowing pink skin and a halo of fine white hair.
'Oh, don't mind me!' the old man cried. 'I'm just passing through.' He stood staring at them for a moment and made no move to go. 'You two prospecting for uranium or something?'
The one named Lewalski smiled and shook his head. 'Just taking a few measurements, that's all.' He indicated the mound. 'We're trying to find out how this thing was formed.'
'Seems like quite a lot of fellows have been around here lately asking that same question.'
The other laughed. 'Yes, I know. We're a little behind. I cut short my vacation just to come down here. It's quite an unusual formation.'
'We're going to drill a hole right through to the center,' added the younger man, 'and see what's inside.'
The old man's eyes widened respectfully. 'Drill a hole? He looked around. 'With what?'
Lewalski laughed. 'Oh, we're not going to do that now. We'll have to come back tomorrow with the right equipment.'
'Oh, yes, I see. Tomorrow.' He nodded to himself. 'I take it you fellows aren't from around here.'
'We're from Princeton,' said the younger man. 'From the geology department.'
'Really?' The old man seemed impressed. 'And so you drove out here today, did you?'
'That's right,' said Lewalski. 'Why, what's the matter?' – because the other had suddenly frowned and now looked troubled, as if he'd just remembered something particularly unfortunate.
'Oh, it's nothing,' said the old man. 'It's just that – tell me, where are you parked?'
Lewalski nodded toward the north. 'An old dirt road about a mile, mile and a half from here. It runs past what must be the town dump.'
The old man shook his head glumly. 'That's just what I thought.'
'Is something wrong?'
'Probably not. It's just that there's some fool law in this town about parking on that road on a Sunday, and – well, there've been some incidents. Quite a few out-of-towners have had their cars towed away.'
'On a Sunday?' said Lewalski. 'That's absurd! I'm not even on the road, I pulled way over.'
The old man shrugged. 'I'm sure you're completely in the right. I just wish the people of this town had a little more respect for state laws. They have some funny ideas around here about Sunday driving.. . ’
'Hold on a minute!' said Lewalski. 'We saw people driving around here today – at least I think so.'
The old man nodded, looking sorry he'd ever brought up the subject. 'Of course you did. They were probably on their way to Sunday worship. Out-of-towners they regard a bit differently.'
'But we're from Princeton,' said the younger man.
'You're saying they tow away people's cars?' asked Lewalski. He was beginning to look nervous. 'It makes no sense. This is practically official business.'
'Well, that road to the dump is town property, you see – so are these woods – and, well… ' He shrugged and looked away.
'Aw, come on, Dr Lewalski,' said the the younger man, 'nobody's going to touch your car.'
The other looked dubious. He scratched his chin. 'No, I guess not.' He stepped back and brought the camera up to his face. 'We'll just- Jesus, what was that?'
A thick brown snake had slid past his feet. He saw it disappear into the bushes out of the corner of his eye.
'Been a lot of snakes around here lately,' said the old man. 'I suppose you read about it. Some folks say it was the quake that stirred them up. We've had quite a few people bitten this year- more than in the past twelve years combined. Copperheads, mostly. Hope you brought your snakebite kit along.'
The younger man turned to Lewalski. 'Did you?'
Lewalski grimaced. 'No, of course not. I know these woods. There's no danger at all, if you don't go around- Jesus, there's another!' He stepped back, then stared up at the hill, frowning. 'You know, maybe this isn't such a good idea today after all.'
The younger man shrugged. 'Whatever you say.'
The old man cleared his throat. 'Do you, uh, know your way out of here all right? I only ask because I'm heading up that way myself. I can show you the right path, take you back to your car without your getting lost.'