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cold.  Blood.  I looked closer at the area directly ahead of and to the

sides of me.

The wall was sprayed with it.  A fine dusting of Casey's blood.  Of the

life in her.

On the ground, about an inch from my left hand, I saw a small pool of

it the size of a quarter.

From now on, I thought, we'd have a trail to follow.  We'd be crawling

through Casey's blood.  Abstract it.

Get it away from you.  That's it.  Let only the coldness in, the

anger.

"What is it?"  "Blood here."  "Oh my god."

"Only a little.  Not too bad."

I wouldn't have bought it myself.  And neither did he.

"We'll get him, Steve.  I'm going to put this pitchfork right up his

ass."

We weren't careless.  We moved slowly along those fifteen feet or so to

that second blind turning, slowly and carefully, under control.

I kept wondering why none of us had heard her scream.  It must have

happened very quickly.  Either that or for some reason it had been

impossible to scream.  But there should have been something, some

warning.  I scanned the walls, looking for more blood.  There hadn't

been enough of it to indicate a neck wound.  So what had silenced

her?

Why did you come here, Casey?  You must have smelled the death inside.

I did.  How could you have done this to yourself, to me, to all of

us?

Nothing you've told me can explain this thing to me.  No rape, no

seduction, no death, no guilt.  You must have known.  Suspected at

least.  Why fling your life around like a pocketful of change?  It

makes no sense.  It never has.  It must run very deep, as deep as

blood and bone, much deeper than even you knew.

We watched and listened.  Even tasted the air I think for some scent of

him.  But I didn't think I'd be taken unawares.  There had been too

much connection between us before.  In that black war of nerves I had

absorbed too deep a sense of him.  I'd know when he was near.  And this

time he'd know I'd come to kill him.

Still I was careful.  I knew enough not to trust sixth senses.  I was

trusting to care and brains and muscle- and sharp contact.  And to

Steven too, my backup.  Moving along with a will for it behind me.

Look out, I thought.

You've made both of us damned unhappy.

I refused to look for more blood along that track.  I tried to push

back all thoughts of Casey.  I didn't want them weakening me.

I thought I was being very strong and clever.

By the time we reached the end of that section the palms of my hands

were dappled red.

The walls opened up into a cavern.

The room was circular, roughly, about twelve feet in diameter.  Its

walls were high, at least fifteen feet or more.  In its center lay a

wide pool of stagnant water, gray, cloudy-looking.  Water bled off the

ceiling and dripped back into ita steady, sharp echo.

The floor was strewn with bones.

Hundreds of them, many cracked and broken.

There were so many it made them hard to identify.  Piles, scattered

everywhere.  I saw fish heads, crab shells, the thin delicate skulls of

birds.  Others were a whole lot larger.  Dogs?  Maybe.  I remembered

that day long ago when we'd peered into the house and watched the

carcasses come out one by one.  It was possible they were dogs.

It was also possible they were bigger game.

"What is all this?"  whispered Steven.

"I don't know."

We stepped carefully into the room.  It was a relief to be able to

stand upright.  A dozen bluebottle flies rose up to greet us.  We

swatted at them.

I bent down for a closer look.  I picked up one of the bigger bones.

Something had been at them.  There were teeth marks.  Something

I broke one in my hands.  It was old and brittle.  I felt a measure of

relief at that.  It was easy to hope they all went back to the days

before Ben and Mary abandoned the house- some sort of burial

ground for their animals.  I didn't want to have to link them with

Casey too closely.

We prowled around for a moment or two.  The flies got worse.  I was

looking for traces of blood.  There was something odd near the wall to

our right.  A pile of sticks and twigs pressed flat, covered with a

ratty old moth-eaten tartan blanket, half of that cove red with dried

seaweed and scattered with bones.  To me it looked planned.  Some sort

of browse-bed.  So there went my burial-ground idea.

Steven was looking at the bones.

"I recognize this one," he said.  "It's a cat."

"How do you know?"

"College biology.  And there are birds her too, big ones.  Gulls

maybe."

"See any dogs?"

My feet crushed tiny bones.

"Maybe.  We never took any of those apart.  No skulls that I can see.

No jawbones."

He sifted through a pile of them near the pool of water.  They rattled

like pairs of dowels struck together.

"This could be a dog's.  Femur.  Could very well be."

"See any people?"

In my flashlight beam his face was ashen.

"No people."

"I was thinking Ben and Mary."

"No.  No people.  Thank god."

I found a thin line of fresh blood beside the pool opposite him, and

then a few more drops a couple of feet away.  Smeared, as though she'd

been dragging.  She was bleeding slowly and steadily.

In the cave this deep the flies were not just blue-bottles anymore.

They were biting.  I felt as harp sting on my cheek, another on my

neck.  I batted at them to no effect, except to nearly drop the flash

light while its beam jittered wildly across the wet gray ceiling and

plunged the area just ahead into the darkness.

That sea red me.  didn't want to break any more flashlights.

I controlled myself after that.  I put the beam to the walls of the

cavern, following the direction of her blood.  Then I saw what I was

after.  Another hole in the wall, just like the one we'd come

through.

Steven was slapping at them too by now.  They were diving at us both

like tiny kamikaze pilots, hitting hard.  I slapped at one and felt it

smear across my forehead.  There was the urge to start swinging with

both hands, to drop the pitchfork and run.  But that was the edge of

panic.  And it could kill you.

"Let's get out of here.  This way."

Just beyond the entrance the tunnel opened up to roughly the size of a

mine shaft.  It was good to be able to stand up, even if you had to

stoop a little.  A whole lot better than crawling.

Good also to be able to go two abreast, to feel the security of another

body by your side.  To know it sported an axe handle that could bring a

man down.

We made good time through there.  It was just one long passage with

nothing in the distance but rock and more rock as far as you could see.

It amazed me, this much tunnel.  I guessed it started in the seawall

and eroded inward.  I wondered how many others there were along the

coast just like this, maybe even deeper and more extensive.

You could hide forever in a place like this, if you could stand the

cold of winter and found some way to scrounge up food and water.