“First bird I’ve heard out here in a while,” Terry whispered.
“That was a whip-poor-will,” Tom said.
“Oh, yeah? That a good thing?”
“My granddaddy used to say that if you heard a whip-poor-will, it was waiting to carry away someone’s soul.”
“Now there’s a cheerful fucking thought.”
“Well, he was drunk most of the time. Used to piss in a coffee can. Nasty old fucker, but I loved him just the same.”
“I think,” Terry said, “I liked it better when we weren’t talking.”
Snickering, they stepped into the forest. Their laughter dried up beneath the trees.
“It’s dark in here,” Tom said. “I can barely see the lime.”
“Yeah.”
“Want to try calling them one more time?”
“No,” Terry said. “Let’s get this over with.”
Walking side by side, they started down the trail.
Maria drove the speed limit, repeatedly checking the rearview mirror for police. She fully expected to see red and blue lights flashing behind them at any second. After all, she was driving with an escaped mental patient in her car. She knew she was probably being silly. Nobody had seen them. But her nervousness remained.
Levi was in the passenger seat and Adam sprawled out in the back. He’d been nervous at first, still unsure about his new companions. But he’d warmed up considerably by the time they reached Interstate 83. Maria had turned the radio on and Adam reacted with joy. He’d told them that he wasn’t allowed to have a radio inside the psychiatric hospital. The only music he’d had access to was whatever the facility’s staff played over the loudspeaker—light jazz or easy listening music, depending on who was on duty. Maria tuned in his favorite station.
He stared out the window as they headed south, bobbing his head to the music and watching with interest as the landscape zoomed by.
“I didn’t think I’d ever see any of this again,” he murmured. “But it’s still here. All of it.”
“Did you think it would all just go away?” Maria asked. “That it would cease to exist just because you couldn’t see it anymore?”
“Maybe. Inside that place, I didn’t know what to think. They fucked with my head pretty bad. Put me on a bunch of different medicines and into daily psychotherapy sessions. They said I needed to face what I’d done. Come to terms with it.”
Maria glanced over at Levi. He hadn’t commented. Instead, he sat with his eyes closed and his hands folded in his lap. His hat was pulled low. She assumed he was meditating.
“They said I had to face my inner demons.” Adam’s voice cracked. “Face what happened. Why Tara really died.”
“Well,” Maria said, trying to sound upbeat, “I guess that’s a healthy form of therapy, right?”
“Healthy? You don’t understand.”
“I’m trying to.”
“Let me give you an example. There was a woman inside named Karen Moore. I knew her from before. We went to the same high school. She graduated a year ahead of me and was friends with this girl I used to date named Becky Schrum. In 1984, Karen was abducted and raped by a cemetery caretaker. He killed her boyfriend, Pat. Slaughtered him right in front of her. You’re young, but maybe you heard about it?”
“No,” Maria said. “I moved here from New Jersey just a few years ago.”
“Well, Karen and another woman were held in an underground warren. They were both raped repeatedly by this guy. Karen ended up pregnant from it. Nine months later, she went nuts. Had a total breakdown. Karen was convinced that her baby was half human and half monster. A ghoul. That’s what she kept insisting—that she was pregnant with a ghoul.”
Maria didn’t respond.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Adam said. “Sounds familiar, doesn’t it? Just like me and Tara? The crazy writer guy insisted that his wife was pregnant with a satyr? Well, maybe. But think about this. They made Karen confront her inner demons, and you know what happened? Karen had her whole life ahead of her. And instead of living it, she’s spent the last twenty-five years in a fucking insane asylum. Her baby went to live in an orphanage. No happy endings for either of them. That’s what happens when you confront your monsters. The monsters win. And I’m not going to do that. I know what really happened. I know I’m not crazy.”
“Calm down, Adam,” Maria said. “I didn’t say you were.”
“What do you care, anyway? I’m just material for your fucking book.”
They drove on in silence. Levi remained quiet and motionless. His breathing was shallow. Maria wondered if he’d fallen asleep.
“Levi?”
He didn’t answer.
“Wonderful.” She turned up the radio and focused on the highway.
Once they reached the Shrewsbury exit, Levi became alert again, and apologized for his silence. On his suggestion, they stopped at the twenty-four-hour Wal-Mart. Adam told Maria his pants and shoe sizes. Then, while Levi and Adam waited in the car, Maria went inside and purchased him some new clothes—jeans, T-shirt, pullover sweatshirt with a hood, socks and underwear, and a pair of shoes. She also selected a ball cap and a pair of sunglasses. Word of Adam’s escape would break soon enough. They might as well try to disguise him. At the register, while she stood waiting behind an overweight woman who was trying to pay for her Hostess cupcakes and carton of cigarettes with food stamps—and arguing with the cashier when told she couldn’t—Maria got an iced cappuccino out of the cooler, then added two bottles of water for Levi and Adam.
Surrendering to her growing paranoia, she paid cash for her purchases, just in case somebody had spotted her car leaving the area around the White Rose Mental Health Facility and remembered the tag number. This way, the police would have no record of her movements. No way to track them. Of course, there were the store security cameras to think about, but it was too late now anyway. She wondered if Levi could do something about them, and decided he probably could. Maria was starting to think she’d barely scratched the surface of what he was capable of. She considered mentioning it to him, but decided against it. He’d seemed moody and unresponsive since freeing Adam.
She walked out of the store, nodding thanks to the elderly greeter standing next to the shopping carts, who thanked her for shopping and asked her to come back again. As she crossed the parking lot with her bags, she stuffed the sales receipt in her purse. With any luck, she could claim the purchase on her taxes—if she sold the book.
The book, she thought. Yeah, like that’s ever going to happen now. I’m aiding and abetting a murderer—and the ex-Amish magician who helped him escape by creating some kind of flaming hole in time and fucking space. Maybe I can write the book from prison. What the hell was I thinking?
Then she remembered the voice on her digital recorder. She felt the blood drain from her face.
Maria halted, afraid that she was going to pass out. When the dizziness had passed, she hurried to the car. She climbed behind the wheel and handed the bags to Adam without speaking. Then she gave them each a bottle of water and started the car.