longer even sure if he was even headed in the right direction.
Is this how it all ends? … Is this how it all ends?
That simple question rose in his mind and kept repeating itself until it practically drove him insane.
He thought he probably lost his mind back on the island when he had those feelings of being in tune with something utterly supernatural. Or maybe on the boat, when he finally made it ashore on the mainland and was so far gone he imagined people lifting him out of the boat and carrying him onto land. There couldn’t really have been people or anything else out here to help him.
He was on his own, and he would do it on his own or else die.
“I’m losing it bad,” he muttered, and he laughed a high, cackling laugh as he slogged onward through the night, listing from side to side like a drunk. If anyone was out here tonight, he would scare the be-jezus out of them. They’d run off, terrified, instead of staying to offer help.
The wind blew strong off the water, carrying a chill Jeff knew would kill him before long. He vaguely remembered the dangers of hypothermia and, even if he’d had the right clothes—a waterproof coat and insulated pants, he wasn’t going to make it through the night unless he got to the parking lot and into his car.
But he didn’t think he’d make it.
The launch ramp still wasn’t any closer. Was he lying on the beach, staring at it and imagining he was walking toward it?
It didn’t matter.
It was lost in swirl of rain and the mist coming off the lake. For all he knew, he could have walked past it without even noticing it. He was so far gone he could have walked past a house with its light blazing and not recognized it for what it was.
But he kept moving forward, struggling to attune his senses to the night so he could once again experience that heightened awareness of what was going on around him. There were things in the night that most people never had the slightest clue about, but he had seen and heard and felt them.
But where were they now?
Why hadn’t they come to his aid now when he needed them most?
No matter how hard he strained his eyes and ears, all he could see and hear was the pouring rain as it cascaded from the sky in blinding sheets that masked even the slopping sounds his feet made in the wet sand.
At some point, he realized he was crying. Tears gushed from his eyes and ran in hot, searing streams down his face, mixing with the rainwater. His throat closed off, making it all but impossible to breathe. His face was as cold as marble, and heat radiated from the top of his head as if it were a furnace.
He hesitated, swaying on his feet, then took another few lumbering steps forward. Then he paused again. His breath billowed like plumes of smoke in the cold air before being whisked away. Every bone in his body felt as brittle as an eggshell. But he kept moving forward a few steps at a time until, moaning, he pitched forward and landed facedown on the sand. His head smacked against a half-buried rock, sending a spray of white stars streaking across his vision. When he raised his head and looked down the beach, the black slash of the ramp appeared through the mist.
His body was shaking out of control as he struggled onto his hands and knees, and lunged forward. He didn’t get far before his arms gave out, and he crashed onto the ground again, this time getting a mouth full of sand. Someone somewhere nearby let out a long, agonized moan. It took him a while to realize he had made the sound. He raised his head again and saw more clearly that the boat launch was in fact closer.
He had no idea where he found the reserves, but he got onto his hands and knees again and, after taking a long time to catch his breath, started to get to his feet. The world swung around him in a slow, sickening spin that lifted his stomach. The night was a smear of black against darker black, and rain hit his face like thousands of icy pinpricks.
Not far now … Not far now … he kept telling himself, but the boat launch might just as well have been the moon.