“Yeah,” Casey snapped. “So … what, I should freeze my ass off to keep you company?”
“Casey!” Eric snatched at his arm. “Calm down. Stop it!”
“What?” Batting his brother’s hand away, Casey squared off and set his feet. “You want to fight, Eric, huh? Well, bring it on, bro; let’s go.”
“Guys, please, this isn’t helping. Don’t argue,” Emma said.
Casey rounded on her. “You know, Emma, just shut the hell up. If you hadn’t almost gotten us killed, we wouldn’t be stuck down here in the first—”
“Casey!” Eric rapped, though Casey noticed that his brother was careful not to touch him again. “What is wrong with you? Leave it! What’s done is done.”
Casey bristled. “Yeah, what’s done is done, all right. You did a real nice job with Da—” He bit down on the rest.
No one said anything for a long moment. The wind whistled and fluted through warped metal. Finally, Eric said, much more quietly, “Someone has to check this out, Case. I can’t force you to stay, but I think you should, just in case.”
“In case what? In case things get worse?”
“In case I don’t make it. You’re my brother. I don’t want you to get hurt, and right now, it’ll be risky sledding. But come morning, when the storm dies, you might find a better way out, and for that, you’ll need a sled.”
“If it dies,” Casey said. “You ever think that it might not? No, of course you didn’t. So, instead of us getting somewhere safe, now we’re down here … Oh, but I forgot.” He did a mock head-slap. “What’s done is done.”
No one took the bait on that. After another moment, Tony said, “Eric, man, you really shouldn’t be alone. What happens if you get stuck? A sled that big, I’ll bet it takes more than one person to get it out of a drift.”
“Tony’s right,” Emma said. “You’ve got a two-seater. Leave the other sled, but I’ll come with you.”
“No way,” Eric said. “You’re hurt.”
“All the m-more reason she should g-go with you,” Rima said. She threw a defiant look at Casey, as if daring him to disagree. “Like you s-said, she needs to get someplace w-warm. L-last time I ch-checked, that’s not h-here. If you f-find a place, she c-can stay while you c-come back for us.”
Hands still on hips, Eric looked from Rima to Emma, then sighed. “All right. I don’t have any other warmer clothes for you, Emma, but there’s a spare helmet in the Skandic, so you won’t totally freeze.”
“I’ll be okay,” Emma said. “You’ll be my windbreak.”
Oh, ha-ha. An itch of annoyance dug at Casey’s neck as he saw Eric crack a grin. I see what you’re doing, bitch, but he’s my brother. I knew him first. He belongs to me. When Eric turned to him, that stupid shit-eating grin slipped, which was just fine with him.
“Case?” Eric said. “Please, I’m asking you to stay.”
“Fine,” he said. “Be a hero. Be a Boy Scout. It’s what you’ve always wanted, right? Here’s your big chance to impress us.”
“Jesus,” Tony said. “You just don’t quit.”
“Case,” Eric said, patiently, “it’s not that—”
“You know,” he said, “I don’t care, Eric. Whatever. You and Emma, I hope you’re really happy together.”
The others ignored him, which was par for the course, the idiots. But come morning, if Eric wasn’t back? He was gone and good riddance to bad rubbish, as Big Earl would’ve said. Strange, how comfortable all those ideas felt now. For that matter, he couldn’t tell if that was his voice in his head anymore or Big Earl’s.
And stranger still: only an hour before, Big Earl’s shirt had been way too big. A Boy Scout troop could have pitched it, gathered round, and sung “Kumbaya.” But now?
Now, the damn thing actually fit Casey like a second skin.
LIZZIE
I Want to Tell You a Story
“LIZZIE, IT’S LIVED in your dad’s skin. It may have your father’s voice, but it won’t be him, don’t you understand?” Mom gulps back a sob as the cell in Lizzie’s hand chirps again. “Please, honey, don’t answer. I know you want to, but you can’t save him. Your father is gone. Now sit down, turn around, and put on your seat belt.”
“No,” she says. “I won’t.” Parents don’t have all the answers, and Mom has already failed, hasn’t she? Heart thumping, she hangs over the front seat to stare out the car’s rear window. Behind them, the fog is a greedy mouth swallowing up this reality, gaining fast. Mom just said that all the energy from the Peculiars is there, all tangled up with her dad and the whisper-man—and Mom should know: energy’s never gone. So her dad isn’t either. The whisper-man only thinks he’s got her dad.
But I’ll fix you. Just you wait and see. She punches up the cell. “Daddy? Daddy, are you there?”
“No, Lizzie.” Sparing her a sidelong glance, her mother makes a grab, but Lizzie cringes away and out of reach. “Please, hang up.”
Lizzie doesn’t answer. The glass on Lizzie’s memory quilt ticks and rattles, and she can feel it starting to heat. Gripping a tongue of fabric in her right hand, she uses her index finger to trace a special Lizzie-symbol: two sweeping arcs, piled like twin smiles, stabbed through with a zagdorn, capped with a bristle of four horns.
“Lizzie.” Mom risks a peek, but without her panops, Lizzie knows that her mother can’t see these symbols and wouldn’t know what they were even if she could. “What are you doing?”
“Dad?” Lizzie grips the cell in her left hand, tight. The barndil hovers in midair. Make a luxl next; yes, that’s the right sign. “Dad, are you there? You have to talk to me. I want you to talk to me.”
Are you sure? The reply is immediate, as if the voice has been standing at the door, waiting for Lizzie to throw open the lock and invite it in. This is what you want?
“Yes,” Lizzie says. “I’m sure. I want this. Let me talk to my dad.”
“No, Lizzie, don’t!” her mother says, sharply. “Don’t want it. Don’t invite it! Listen to me!”
No. The voice in Lizzie’s head is a sigh, a susurration, and the words are black slush, freezing her veins. Listen to me, Little Lizzie. Are you willing? Are you sure?