Part 18 (2/2)
”When did he leave.”
”No more than an hour ago.”
”Why not call the police this time, Elaine? I don't like to have to say it, but we don't know whether he might be dangerousa”if not to others, then to himself.”
”No. He's my responsibility; I'm his wife.”
”He's his own responsibility, and right now he can't handle it.”
”What are you saying?”
”I'm saying that if we get him back, he needs more than a little extra attention this time. He needs more help than even you can give him.”
”Professional help.”
”The county mental-health agency could decide what was best for him.”
”What if he doesn't agree with them?”
”Your testimony in court would take care of that.”
”I couldn't,” Elaine said. ”Not even now. I've got to love him back to health.”
”That's my condition for going out after hima”that you promise to do whatever's necessary for him to get better. And if you say no, I'm going to have to call the police myself.”
”Oh, Chris . . .” She sounded tired. ”Find him. I promise.”
All Wood had to go on was what his friend had done the first timea”head for Cross Creek. There were too many places Hall could have gone, and too few people searching. For the first time, Wood wished he had given in and bought a citizen's band radio. But he hadn't, and he could find little enthusiasm as he pulled onto the North-South Freeway.
Not expecting to find Hall anywhere but on the road or in Cross Creek, Wood nearly drove past the unlit car on the shoulder. Bus as he neared it, he caught a glimpse of the many b.u.mper stickers adorning the back of the car, and recognized it as Hall's. He pulled onto the shoulder himself and stepped out of the car into a night well lit by a gibbous moon.
The car was empty, and Wood started up the gra.s.sy hill to the row of trees above. A short trail led through the clump of trees and to a clearing, in the middle of which Hall sat cross-legged. Wood approached him cautiously.
”I understand,” Hall said clearly.
”Richard?” Wood said tentatively.
Hall turned his head. ”h.e.l.lo, Chris.”
”Richard, I want you to come back with me.”
”I was nearly ready to go, even if you hadn't come here.”
”What are you doing?”
”I was listening.”
”Listening?”
”Yesa”to the world.”
”Meditating.”
”If you wish.” Hall rose and brushed the bits of gra.s.s and dirt from his jeans. He seemed exceptionally calm.
”What did you hear?”
”Nothinga”nothing from outside. From inside, a great deal.”
”Are you feeling all right?”
”Perfectly. Are you ready to go?”
They walked down the slope, and Wood steered Hall away from his car.
”Leave it here, we'll get it later. Please, ride with me.”
Hall smiled understandingly. ”You're afraid I might run off again.”
”Yes,” Wood admitted. ”Shouldn't I be?”
”No. Not anymore. Of course I'll come with you, if that's what you prefer.”
”I do.”
”Can you explain it to me?”
Wood found Hall's almost beatific calm disturbing, but hesitated to say anything, for fear of setting Hall off once more. Finally he could not resist any longer. ”You seem very different.”
”It's just that I understand what's happening now.”
”No.” Hall twisted on the seat so that he was facing Wood. ”How can you see from the outside what I can barely grasp from the inside? I wish I could make you understand.
You and Elaine both. I want you to be able to accept it. You have the closest ties to me, so it should happen to you last.”
”All right, Richard. You don't have to go on.”
”I would if I knew what to saya”that I'm slipping into the cracks between momentsa”that a mistake is being edited out of the cosmosa””
”Please stop. It's hard for me to listen to you talk like this.”
”It'll be harder when I'm gone and you don't understand.
There isn't much time left. They're very close to me now.”
”We'll protect you,” Wood said, near tears. ”We'll get you all the help you need.”
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