The Night Parade(36)
“Jesus,” David said, just as he caught movement along the lamppost directly above the web. A piece of darkness detached itself from the shadows and campaigned down the length of the post. When it reached the web and proceeded across it, moving at a steady clip now, David saw it was the spider itself. . . though this thing was larger than any spider he had ever seen. It was nearly the size of a grown man’s hand, its dark body and slender legs gleaming like armor in the moonlight. It advanced toward the struggling mouse, but not before it paused and seemed to scrutinize David and Ellie with inhuman intelligence.
“Come on,” David said, and ushered Ellie around the lamppost.
The door to the surplus shop was situated beneath a semicircular cloth awning. It was locked, too, but the center of it was made of a single pane of smoked glass. A sign on the other side of the glass read CLOSED.
David pulled a T-shirt from his duffel bag, wrapped it around his knuckles, and punched a hole in the glass. Shards tinkled to the ground. He cleared away some jagged spears from the hole, then reached his hand inside to unlock the door.
“That’s breaking in,” Ellie said.
“No cops, remember?” He offered her a wan smile, but it did nothing to cool her stern reproach.
“Doesn’t make it right,” she said.
“Give your old man a break, will you?”
He shoved the door open and they went inside.
18
Thirteen months earlier
They stopped watching TV during dinner. It was a bad habit anyway, something they had just fallen into over the years, the three of them eating and talking but occasionally throwing glances at the shiny box atop the credenza in the living room. Kathy dressed it up like she was finally being responsible, and no responsible mother would allow their family to eat dinner with the TV on. But that wasn’t the reason. Dinnertime was also news time, and Kathy had grown tired of the news. Tired . . . and frightened. As the death count mounted and pockets of newly infected cities cropped up, it was like watching the end of the world with the regularity of your favorite sitcom.
Kathy had replaced the noise of the TV by playing CDs on the stereo, usually some Miles Davis or John Coltrane from her jazz collection. But on this evening, when David came into the kitchen, there was nothing but silence as Kathy set the table. He glanced at the paper plates and the cans of Sprite that Kathy had set out. The scent of tomato sauce was in the air, but he was somewhat dismayed to see that she had only microwaved some cheap Celeste pizzas. She was sliding one of them out of the microwave when he came up behind her. She hissed, her finger burned, and she dumped the pizza onto the stove top.
“You okay?”
“Fine. Call Ellie. Dinner’s ready.”
“What’s the matter?”
“Nothing’s the matter.” The frustration in her voice only confirmed for him that there was some problem. He had spent the afternoon cleaning out the garage and mowing the lawn—mechanical chores to keep his mind off more serious things—so he had been out of her hair for most of the day. It couldn’t have been something he’d done.
Ellie was in her room, kneeling on a plush pink armchair and gazing out her bedroom window. She had long ago outgrown stuffed animals and baby dolls, her room a host now to science kits, books, a few board games, and a fairly expensive telescope David had gotten for her for Christmas two years earlier, despite Kathy’s protestations that Ellie was too young for such a gift.
“Dinner’s ready,” he said, coming into the room. “Whatcha looking at?”
“I’m not looking,” she said, not turning to face him. Her long auburn hair was woven into a braid that coursed down the slope of her back. “I’m waiting.”
“Waiting for what?” he said, coming up behind her. He touched the back of her head and peered out the window with her. Instantly, David’s eyes were drawn to Deke Carmody’s house—or, more appropriately, what remained of the house farther up the block. It had been approximately eight months since the fire and Deke’s death, yet that smoldering black framework served as a constant and horrible reminder. On occasion, David still suffered nightmares about Deke, where he followed Deke through a house that was on fire all around them, choking on thick, black columns of smoke while pillars of white flame boiled out of the walls. In the nightmare, Deke was always a few steps ahead of him, his broad back covered in huge, weeping blisters, while the elastic band of his underwear burned. Whenever Deke would turn to look at David, which was blessedly infrequent in these dreams, the man’s flesh had melted from his skull. Deke’s eye sockets smoked. When Deke tried to speak, his larynx dropped from his throat and swung back and forth like a pendulum on fire.
“I’m waiting for the bird to come back,” Ellie said, pulling him back into the present.
“What bird?”
“There,” she said, pressing a finger to the windowpane.
It took David a moment to see what she was pointing at, but when he saw it, he smiled to himself. There was a wide hedgerow directly beneath Ellie’s bedroom window. Tucked between some boughs was a bird’s nest. Inside the nest were three pale eggs streaked with dark spots.
“Wow,” he said. “Look at that.”
“The mother hasn’t come back,” Ellie said. Her tone was grave, which always made her sound older than her years. “I’m worried she’s abandoned them.”