Part 32 (1/2)

The ambulance arrived a short time later. Monckton, still unconscious, was lifted on first, followed by Wickstrom and Gabrielle. The body of Sterne would follow later.

On the way down the mountain Gabrielle became aware at one point of flas.h.i.+ng red lights that were not the ambulance's, and a roaring engine that grew louder and then faded into silence. ”What was that?” she asked the attendant.

”Fire engine and the tanker,” he told her. ”Probably called for a cinder truck. They can't get up the mountain. Too icy.”

”Good,” she said. ”Good. Let it burn.”

The attendant checked Monckton's vital signs once more, then sat in the front. Wickstrom turned his head and looked at Gabrielle. ”I'm sorry I screamed,” he said. ”I saw . . . the light, so white and big, and I thought it was one of the faces . . . that it was starting all over again.”

”No,” Gabrielle said softly. ”It's over now.”

They rode for a while longer. ”Did you see his face?” Wickstrom finally asked, gazing up at the whiteness of the ceiling. ”Not when he was after us, but when he did it, when he . . . freed us. It was like, like he'd won, like he'd planned it that way all along, like . . . whatever it was, he beat it.”

It was a long time before Gabrielle replied. ”I'd like to believe that.” she said. And later still, she whispered to herself, ”I think I will.”

Epilogue.

Of human blood and stone.

We build; and in a thousand years will come Beyond the hills ...

-Conrad Aiken, ”The Road”

Nearly a year later Whitey Monckton rounded a sharp corner on a battered side road, and saw once more the caretaker's cabin near the foot of Pine Mountain. Smoke was drifting placidly from the chimney, and an addition had been put on the building, doubling its original size. He pulled his car up in front of the freshly painted wooden porch, and got out. The door of the house opened and a tall lanky man in his mid-fifties appeared, a cigarette in one hand. ”Yeah?” the man said, neither friendly nor rude.

”My name's Monckton. I worked here last year.”

Recognition shone on the tall man's face, and he smiled. ”Sure, Mr. Monckton. I remember you now. You look a lot different. Lost weight?”

Monckton nodded. ”Been spending most of my time in hospitals. Got out last week.”

”Yeah, I remember they thought you were a goner. Any bones in your body that didn't break?”

”Not many.” Monckton smiled. ”They patched me up pretty well though.”

”What can I do for you?”

Monckton hesitated, and the tall man pursed his lips. ”I'd like to go up the mountain,” Monckton said. ”I'd like to see the place one more time.”

The man shook his head. ”Nothing to see. Just walls is all that's left.”

”Well, I'd like to see them anyway.”

”I got orders not to let anybody up there. Besides, the gate's welded shut. n.o.body can drive up there now.”

”I'd walk. It's not far.”

”I'm sorry, Mr. Monckton.”

Monckton reached into his pocket, took out five new hundred dollar bills, and extended them to the man. ”I've got no camera, nothing. You can frisk me before I go up and when I come down.”

The man snorted. ”Nothing to steal up there.” He looked at the money for a while, then pocketed it. You stay quiet, I stay quiet.”