Hal looked from May to Rossiter on top of the slope.
"Iwo down, five to go," he said. "Not funny," Miles told him.
"Asshole," Garden mumbled.
Claire suddenly jerked backward, and Miles was nearly knocked over, thrown off balance by the surprise movement.
"What? he started to say. Then he saw. May.
The homeless woman was vibrating, a uniform shiver that passed through her form yet did not bring life to any part of her body. Her arms and legs remained frozen at oddly cocked angles, and the wide-eyed agony on her face stayed unchanged.
A powerful shudder passed through her.
She stood.
And started walking.
He knew what was happening, knew where she was going. There were only seconds to decide on a course of action, and Miles took charge. "Grab your stuff! We're going with her!" He scrambled about for the spoon and the jar and kerosene lamp, leaving the doll on the sand, unable to carry it. "Water!" he called out. "Bring water if you have it! It's the desert!"
Garden dashed back up the slope to the parking lot, followed by Hal.
May was striding away, her head tilted up toward the sky, while her feet followed the path that had been taken by Isabella and the other Walkers. In his mind was the image of that slow lightning coming down to strike May, Agent
Rossiter reappearing from his chase with a red head and a dead brain, the physical proof of the power they were up against, but Miles knew he was doing the right thing and, running on instinct, he kept his eyes on the dead woman, ready to hurry after her if she got out of his sight..
Garden and Hal came sprinting down to the shore, Gar den strapped with two canteens, Hal carrying a six-pack of
Dr. Pepper.
"Let's go!" Miles shouted. "Follow her!
"Get help," he told Claire, kissing her quickly. "Drive back to a town, bring the police, sheriff, whatever you can fred."
"Oh, no, you don't." She grabbed Miles' arm, holding
" " " ' " him tight.
"I'll go for help," Janet said. "Or I'll stay. Or..." She closed her eyes. "I just don't want to chase after her. Them. I don't want to go with you."
Miles understood. Her uncle was not here, any personal connection she might have had was gone, and she was too emotionally on edge to continue on. He thought she should go with them, thought the fact that her family had come from Wolf Canyon might have a bearing on the situation, but there was no time to discuss the subject, no time to argue or convince her, and he knew that without major reassurances she would not be able to make it.
Miles handed Claire the lamp, fumbled in his pocket. "Here's the car keys," he said, tossing them to Janet. "Get some help. Tell them about the FBI guy. That should bring someone over here pretty quick."
Janet said something in response, but he didn't have time to listen.
May was disappearing behind a big paloverde, and Miles took off after her, pulling Claire with him, yelling at the others to hurry up.
They followed her into the desert.
They stayed several yards behind---just in case. May unerringly took the route left by the other Walkers, maneuvering closely around bushes and cacti with the precision of an amusement park ride on a track.
After leaving the shoreline, Isabella had headed between two low hills and then through a narrow eroded canyon. Though the way was easy at first, it became increasingly harder to walk as the sand became deeper and looser, more dune like
It was also hot. The sky was still dark, but the absence Of sun had no bearing on the heat, seemed to make things more humid and oppressive, in fact. Garden shifted the canteens on his shoulders, taking off his sweat-soaked shirt and tucking it into his waistband. Hal followed suit. Miles would have liked to do the same, but May was moving much too quickly, and he would not have had time to stop, put down the jar, and take off his shirt. He would have lost her. Next to him Claire, still clutching the lamp, used a handkerchief to wipe her brow.
They tromped deeper into the wilderness.
This was a perfect opportunity for them to talk things out, discuss what was happening, settle on a unified approach. But they did none of that.
The noiseless ness of May in front of them and the unnatural quiet of the desert all around made speech seem sacrilegious, intimidated them all into silence, and the only sound accompanying their steps was the heavy breathing of out-of-shape exertion.
Twenty minutes in, Hal passed back a can of warm Dr. Pepper, which Miles and Claire shared gratefully. She finished the last little bit of soft drink, hded Miles the empty can, and he dropped it on the sand to his left. He had no idea where they were or in which direction they were headed, but he had the feeling it might be difficult to find their way back, and he thought they might need a HansclandGretel trail to follow for the return trip.
If there was a return trip.
They passed through what looked like a saguaro forest, an especially dense stand of the tall cacti, and then through a narrow valley so thick with ocotillo that they were forced to walk directly behind May in order to keep her in sight. Around them the land was rising up, gently sloping hills giving way to harsher, higher cliffs.
Miles' legs were hurting, and he could tell that Claire was tiring as well. The Walkers were dead--they would never tire outmand he hoped that they were not planning to march indefinitely, because there was no way the rest of them could keep up.
He had no plan, no idea of what he would do when and if they finally caught up with Isabella. He hadn't even taken along Rossiter's gun, had only some half-assed witchcraft items that May had picked out for protection. Assuming those things worked, what then? Should he jump Isabella? Wrestle her to the ground?
He was suddenly conscious of the necklace against his skin, the coldness of the teeth, and he wondered whose teeth they were, what the purpose of the necklace was, why his father had saved it. And where his father had gotten it in the first place. Had he made the necklace himself?. Had he taken the teeth from corpses or from people that he'd killed?
Despite everything that had happened, he still could not reconcile the father he knew with this underground horror show society, with spells and potions and curses and murders. He saw his father more as a victim than a participant, and though Bob had obviously been in possession of witch . craft paraphernalia and had taken pains to hide this aspect of his life from the rest of the world, it was also clear that he was not particularly familiar with his heritage.
Hell, his dad had had to go to the library to find out the meaning of his recurrent dream. Which made Miles question May's story. She claimed to have known his father, said that the two of them, along with Garden's grandfather, had been born in Wolf Canyon and had known about Isabella and her curse. Maybe so. But there were details that didn't add up.
It happened without warning.
They were following behind, once again at a discreet distance, since the terrain had become more hospitable and the vegetation sparser, when the dead woman stopped walking in the flat sandy bottom of a dry wash.
Abruptly, she flopped onto her stomach, arms suddenly straight at her sides, legs and feet together. Without a second's pause she began burrowing head first into the ground.
Miles, stunned, could not believe what he was seeing. May's mouth was open, and it appeared as though she was eating the sand, using her jaws like a shovel to dig into the soft earth. It was inhuman and should not have been physically possible, but in a matter of seconds, May's face and head disappeared into the ground, followed by her neck, her shoulders, her upper torso, her midsection.
And then she stopped.
He looked over at Hal and Garden, saw expressions of fear and disbelief on their faces that no doubt mirrored his own. Claire's fingers found his free hand, and he squeezed back a reassurance he did not feel.