The Servants of Twilight

And then, aware that she was dreaming, she began to suspect that Grace Spivey's followers were not only in the caves of the dream but in the real caves in the real world beyond sleep, and they were conducting a human sacrifice in both the nightmare and in reality, and if she didn't wake up and stop them, they were going to kill Joey for real, kill him while she slept. She struggled to free herself of sleep's iron grip, but she could not do it, could not wake up, and now in the dream they were going to cut the boy's throat. And in reality, beyond the dream'?

69

When Christine woke in the morning, Joey was eating a chocolate bar and petting Chewbacca.

She watched him for a moment, and she realized tears were streaming down her cheeks. This time, however, she was crying because she was happy.

He seemed to be returning from his self-imposed psychological exile. He was in better physical shape, too. Maybe he was going to be all right.

Thank God.

The swelling was gone from his face, replaced by a better though not really healthy-color, and he was no longer having difficulty breathing.

His eyes were still blank, and he continued to be withdrawn, but not nearly as far-off and pathetic as he had been yesterday.

The fact that he had gone to the supplies, had rummaged through them, and had found the candy for himself was encouraging. And he had apparently added wood to the fire, for it was burning brightly, though after being untended during the night it should have cooled down to just a bank of hot coals.

She crawled to him and hugged him, and he hugged her, too, though weakly. He didn't speak, wouldn't be bribed or teased or encouraged into uttering a single word. And he still wouldn't meet her eyes directly, as if he were not entirely aware that she was here with him; however, she had the feeling that, when she looked away from him, his intense blue eyes turned toward her and lost their slightly glazed and dreamy quality. She wasn't positive. She couldn't catch him at it. But she dared to hope that he was returning to her, slowly feeling his way back from the edge of autism, and she knew she must not rush him or push him too hard.

Chewbacca had not perked up as much as his young master, though he was a bit less weak and stringy looking than he had been last night. The pooch seemed to grow healthier and more energetic even as Christine watched the boy pet him, responding to each pat and scratch and stroke as if Joey's small hands had healing power. There was sometimes a wonderful, mysterious, deep sharing, an instant bonding in the relationships between children and their animals.

Joey held his candy bar out in front of him, turned it back and forth, and seemed to be staring at it. He smiled vaguely.

Christine had never wanted anything more than she had wanted to see him smile, and a smile came to her own face in sympathy with his.

Behind her, Charlie woke with a start, and she went to him.

She saw at once that, unlike Joey and the dog, he had not improved. The delirium had left him, but in all other ways his condition had grown worse. His face was the color and texture of bread dough, greasy with sweat. His eyes appeared to have collapsed back into his skull, as if the supporting bones and tissues beneath them had crumpled under the weight of things he had seen. Forceful shivers shook him, and at times they grew into violent tremors only one step removed from convulsions.

He was partially dehydrated from the fever. His tongue clove to the roof of his mouth when he tried to speak.

She helped him sit up and take more Tylenol with a cup of water."

Better?"

"A little," he said, speaking only slightly louder than a whisper.

"How's the pain?"

"Everywhere," he said.

Thinking he was confused, she said, "I mean the pain in your shoulder."

"Yeah. That's what….. I mean. It's no longer….. just in my shoulder. It feels like….. it's everywhere now…..all through me.

head to foot….. everywhere. What time is it?"

She checked her watch." Good heavens! Seven-thirty. I must've slept hours without stirring an inch, and on this hard floor."

"How's Joey?"

"See for yourself."

He turned his head and looked just as Joey fed a last morsel of chocolate to Chewbacca.

Christine said, "He's mending, I think."

"Thank God."

With her fingers, she combed Charlie's damp hair back from his forehead.

When they'd made love at the cabin, she had thought him by far the most beautiful man she had ever known. She had been thrilled by the contour of each masculine muscle and bone. And even now, when he was shrunken and pale and weak, he seemed beautiful to her: His face was so sensitive, his eyes so caring.

She wanted to lie beside him, put her arms around him, hold him close, but she was afraid of hurting him.

"Can you eat something?" she asked.

He shook his head.

"You should," she said." You've got to build up your strength." He blinked his rheumy eyes as if trying to clear his vision.

"Maybe later. Is it. still snowing?"

"I haven't been outside yet this morning."