Jeff sprawled across the bed and started laughing quietly. The laughter grew, a rhythm that took hold of his entire body. You're delirious, he told himself, enraptured, enthralled, on your way off the deep end. You know that, don't you?
"Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes ..."
CHAPTER TEN
"I didn't think you'd make it," Sean said.
"Neither did I."
"How do you feel?"
"Fine, more or less."
"Think you can do some jogging?"
"Sure, but not very far."
"Well, I'll be easy on you," Sean promised unconvincingly, "seeing as how you're a smoker and all."
"Thanks."
Sleepy but not too hung over, Jeff had made it to the Corcoran house on time. Sean was already in the driveway, going through a routine of stretching exercises. He wore a proper running suit and shoes, whereas Jeff had on slacks and a T-shirt and an ordinary pair of sneakers. He resented having to go through with this nonsense, but he kept thinking ahead to breakfast with Georgianne.
Sean parked the wagon on a side street near the en trance to the Gorge. There was a plaque mounted on a boulder just inside, where several paths diverged.
"It's a beautiful place," Sean said, leading the way. "Every September we hove a real invasion of out-oftowners, who come to see the leaves turning color."
Within a few minutes, the trail they had taken brought them to the edge of the Gorge itself. An old rail fence had been put up in places to keep people from wandering off the edge. It was a steep drop to the Bullet River, a narrow band of violent water rushing through a rocky cut. Jeff was impressed by the wild, raw look of it.
"Two or three people fall in every year," Sean said.
'Really? It does look dangerous."
"Outsiders who don't know their way around, or kids who've had too much to drink. Some of them survive, and some don't." Sean pointed ahead. "You can see places where there's no fencing, just undergrowth. Foxrock's a small town, so there's not a lot of money, and this isn't a managed park. It's just ground that's too wild and rocky and hilly to be developed. The river runs through town, bringing this finger of land with it. Nobody's figured out what to do with it, and I hope they never do. I like it just the way it is."
They had walked perhaps a quarter of a mile, with the rocky Gorge always nearby on their left. The ground was heavily wooded and thick with tall grass and brush, but the path was well worn. It never ran straight for more than a few yards before dipping to the right or left, then rising again, swinging up, looping around stone outcrops, threading past clumps of birches. In spite of himself, Jeff liked the place, liked the idea that it was so close to town yet so wild and secluded.
"Ready for a little run?"
"Uh ... yeah, I guess so."
"Keep me in sight, because we'll be crossing other paths, and give a holler if you want to stop and catch your breath."
Sean took off at a slow trot, and Jeff stayed close behind. At first it wasn't as bad as he had expected. He had no trouble keeping up with Sean, as he quickly found an easy rhythm for his breathing. The only awkward part was the ground itself, which was so rough and irregular that he had to keep his eyes on it all the time to avoid a misstep. They were moving gradually away from the Gorge, he reckoned, since he could no longer hear the roaring river. But they hadn't gone too far when Sean surprised him by stopping.
-rr- -v "Okay?"
"Yeah, I'm still here," Jeff said, bending over and gulping air.
"Teenagers," Sean muttered, kicking a rusty beer can off the path. "I wish they'd take their litter with them. Listen, the path widens from here, and we can pick up our pace a bit, if you want. Or would that be too much for you?"
Jeff caught the tone of that last sentence all too clearly, and he couldn't refuse the challenge. If nothing else, it served to crystallize the amorphous dislike he felt for Sean.
"Why not?"
"Are you sure?"
"I'll stop if I have to," Jeff said irritably. He straightened up. "Otherwise, let's go."
okay."
Sean sped away, and Jeff trailed gamely behind, telling himself, The man's a fucking asshole. He was determined to make a fire of his anger, and to warm his hands at it. Make the effort, make the effort, he told himself. Just this once.
But it was too much. He was competing with Sean on Sean's terms, and he didn't have a chance. Sean steadily increased his speed, and Jeff drove himself to keep him in sight. The rhythm he'd found earlier eluded him now. His legs began to hurt, in the calves, knees, and thighs. He felt a tiny red dot form on his breastbone. It burned as it grew, and pressure seemed to be building up beneath it, as if a hot poker were being pressed into his chest. He pushed himself on, though his breath came in loud, jagged gasps. Then a metal band started to tighten around his forehead. He could still see Sean, but only as a blur, a floating figure that bounced in and out of view. I ought to die here, now, he thought dimly. Serve the bastard right-let him live with guilt for the rest of his life.
He stumbled to a halt, unable to move another step. He swayed on his feet. his whole body heaving. His mouth was dry and gummy, and black spots danced across his vision. He got down on one knee and bent over-that's what he'd been taught in school, he remembered: put your head down when you feel dizzy. But as soon as he did it, he was shocked to find himself puking furiously. It looked like everything he had consumed the night before was coming up. That's beautiful, he thought with self-loathing, just beautiful. Now you've really made Sean's day. When the spasms finally subsided, he moved away from the smelly mess. He stood up carefully and wiped his face. He felt shaky but calm. The dislike had become a pure white flame of hatred within him.
"Are you all right?" Sean asked, walking up casually. Then he noticed the pool of vomit on the ground. "Oh boy, I was afraid of that."
Afraid? More likely you were looking forward to it, Jeff thought bitterly. He stared at the other man without speaking, and he could tell that his look was so icy cool it unnerved Sean, who was compelled to fill the air with noise and chatter.
"Sorry about that. Barfed myself the first time out. Almost everybody who starts running does, you know. Really. You can't push yourself too hard. You have to break into it gradually. I did it on Main Street, for all to see."
"Yeah, well, forget it. I feel okay," Jeff said, walking away. He could no longer bear listening to the fool prattle on.
"I thought you were doing pretty well," Sean said as he caught up. "We must have covered a mile or so, anyway. You're in better shape than I thought."
That was a lie, Jeff knew. He hadn't run anywhere near a mile. Everything that came out of Sean's mouth was inane. But Jeff was enjoying the situation, too. He had submitted himself to an indignity in order to gain a psychological edge of some sort, and he felt he had achieved that.
"I'm okay, really," he said, forcing himself to sound reasonable and unruffled. 'I should have slowed up a little sooner, that's all."
"Right, right," Sean agreed quickly. "But it was a bad idea after a night of drinking and so on. My fault entirely. I'm the experienced runner. I should have known...."
And he babbled on. How typical, Jeff thought, that Sean was now so eager to shoulder all the blame. It was another roundabout way of rubbing it in, for all his apparent sincerity. Yes, he was the experienced runner-which only persuaded Jeff that what had happened was precisely what Sean had intended. The man was like cheap window glass, weak and transparent.
"Do you want to stop and rest some more?"
Jesus Christ! "I'm all right," Jeff answered, the edge back in his voice. "I didn't have a heart attack."
Sean kept up his line of talk, though it diminished some in the face of cold silence. They came out of the woods onto the street and drove back to Indian Hill Road.