The Passage - By Justin Cronin Page 0,202

when there were mountains once again. She never had found those men on their horses or where they had come from that some of their number should have died in the buried city before her eyes. The floor of the valley between the mountains was dotted with trees that turned with the wind, and that was where she came upon the building with the horses inside; and when she beheld them in their stillness and solitude she thought, Perhaps these are the horses I saw. The horses weren’t alive but they seemed so, and the look of them brought a peacefulness to her mind and a feeling of the Man and his cares for her that made her think she should stay in that place, that the time for running was ended. That this was the place where she had come to rest.

But now that time had ended, too. The men had returned at last on their horses and she had saved one of their company; she had covered his body with her own as her instincts had dictated in the moment and she’d told the dreaming ones to go, go now and do not kill this one; and for a while these urgings had worked upon them, but the other voice within their minds was strong and the hunger was strong also.

In her space in the dark and dust below the horses she thought of the one she had saved, hoping he was not dead, and listened for the sounds of the men and their horses and guns returning. And after a certain time of days, when she had detected no trace of them, she departed that place as she had departed all the others before it and stepped into the moonlit night of which she was a part, one and indivisible.

—Where are they? she asked the darkness. Where are the men on their horses that I should go to them and find them? For I have been alone through all the years and years, no I but I.

And a new voice came to her from the night sky, saying, Go into the moonlight, Amy.

—Where? Where should I go?

Bring them to me. The way will show you the way.

She would. She would do it. For she had been alone too long, no I but I, and she was filled then with a sorrow and a great desire for others of her kind, that she should be alone no longer.

Go into the moonlight and find the men that I should know them as I know you, Amy.

—Amy, she thought. Who is Amy?

And the voice said, You are.

V

GIRL FROM

NOWHERE

You who do not remember

Passage from the other world

I tell you I could speak again: whatever

returns from oblivion returns

to find a voice.

—LOUISE GLÜCK,

“The Wild Iris”

TWENTY-FOUR

Log of the Watch

Summer 92

Day 51: No sign.

Day 52: No sign.

Day 53: No sign.

Day 54: No sign.

Day 55: No sign.

Day 56: No sign.

Day 57: Peter Jaxon stationed at FP 1 (M: Theo Jaxon). No sign.

Day 58: No sign.

Day 59: No sign.

Day 60: No sign.

During this period: 0 contacts. No souls killed or taken. Second Captain vacancy (T. Jaxon, deceased) referred to Sanjay Patal.

Respectfully submitted to the Household,

S. C. Ramirez, First Captain

Dawn of the eighth morning: Peter’s eyes snapped open at the sound of the herd, coming down the trace.

He remembered thinking, some time after half-night: Just a few minutes. Just a few minutes off my feet, to gather my strength. But the moment he’d allowed himself to sit, bracing his back against the rampart, and rested his weary head upon his folded arms, sleep had taken him fast.

“Good, you’re up.”

Lish was standing above him. Peter rubbed his eyes and rose, accepting without comment the canteen of water she was handing him. His limbs felt heavy and slow, as if his bones had been replaced by tubes of sloshing liquid. He took a drink of tepid water and cast his gaze over the edge of the rampart. Beyond the fireline, a faint mist was rising slowly from the hills.

“How long was I out?”

She squared her shoulders toward him. “Forget it. You’d been up seven nights without a break. You had no business being out here as it was. Anybody who says different can take it up with me.”

Morning Bell sounded. Peter and Alicia watched in silence as the gates commenced to retract into their pockets. The herd, restless and ready to move, began to surge through the opening.

“Go home and sleep,” Alicia said, as the logging crews were preparing to