Part 52 (2/2)
”No. They picked me up here.”
”Which way did you turn off from your street?”
”I don't know.”
”Do you remember how you left town?”
”No.”
Abstract, Brennan.
”Did you cross a bridge?”
Her eyes narrowed, then she nodded.
”Which one?”
”I don't know. Wait, I remember an island with lots of tall buildings.”
”ile des Surs,” said Ryan.
”Yes.” Her eyes opened wide. ”Someone made a joke about nuns living in the condos. You know, surs surs. Sisters.”
”The Champlain Bridge,” said Ryan.
”How far was the farm?”
”I-”
”How long were you in the van?”
”About forty-five minutes. Yeah. When we got there the driver bragged that he'd made it in less then an hour.”
”What did you see when you got out of the van?”
Again I saw doubt in her eyes. Then, slowly, as if she were describing a Rorschach spatter, ”Right before we got there I remember a big tower with lots of wires and antennae and disks. And then a tiny little house. Someone probably built it for their kids to wait for the school bus. I remember thinking it was made of gingerbread and decorated with frosting.”
At that moment a face materialized behind Anna. It wore no makeup and looked s.h.i.+ny and pale in the flickering light.
”Who are you? Why do you come in the middle of the night?” The English was heavily accented.
Without waiting for an answer the woman grabbed Anna's wrist and pulled the girl behind her.
”You leave my daughter alone.”
”Mrs. Goyette, I believe people are going to die. Anna may be able to help save them.”
”She is not well. Now go.” She pointed at the door. ”I order you or I will call the police.”
The ghostly face. The dim light. The tunnel-like hall. I was back in the dream, and suddenly I remembered. I knew, and I had to get there!
Ryan started to speak but I cut him off.
”Thank you. Your daughter has been very helpful,” I managed.
Ryan glared as I pushed past him and out the door. I nearly fell in my plunge down the stairs. I no longer felt the cold as I stood at the Jeep, impatient for Ryan to speak to Mrs. Goyette, snug his tuque, then pick his way to ground level.
”What the h.e.l.l-”
”Get me a map, Ryan.”
”That little loony may be-”
”Do you have a G.o.ddam map of this province?” I hissed.
Without a word Ryan circled the Jeep and we both got in. He took a map from a holder on the driver's-side door, and I dug a flashlight from my pack. As I unfolded the province he started the engine, then got out to sc.r.a.pe the winds.h.i.+eld.
I located Montreal, then followed the Champlain Bridge across the St. Lawrence and on to 10 East. With a numb finger I traced the route I had taken to Lac Memphremagog. In my mind's eye I saw the old church. I saw the grave. I saw the signpost, half covered in snow.
I moved my finger along the highway, estimating driving time. The names wavered in the flashlight beam.
Marieville. St-Gregoire. Ste-Angele-de-Monnoir.
My heart stopped when I saw it.
Please, G.o.d, let us be in time.
I lowered the window and screamed into the wind.
The grating stopped and the door opened. Ryan threw the sc.r.a.per into the back and slid behind the wheel. He pulled off his gloves and I handed him the map and flashlight. Wordlessly, I pointed to a small dot on the square I'd folded upward. He studied it, his breath like fog in the yellow beam.
”Holy s.h.i.+t.” An ice crystal melted and ran from his lash. He swiped at the eye.
”It makes sense. Ange Gardien. It's not a person, it's a place. They're going to meet at at Ange Gardien. It should be about forty-five minutes from here.” Ange Gardien. It should be about forty-five minutes from here.”
”How did you think of it?” he asked.
I didn't want to go into the dream. ”I remembered the sign from my drive to Lac Memphremagog. Let's go.”
”Brennan-”
”Ryan, I'll say this one more time. I am going to get my sister.” I fought to keep my voice steady. ”I am going with or without you. You can take me home or you can take me to Ange Gardien.”
He hesitated, then, ”f.u.c.k!” He got out, flipped his seat forward, and dug around in back. As he slammed the door I saw him drop something into his pocket and yank the zipper. Then he resumed sc.r.a.ping.
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