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Page 115
crawled into his four-by-four, and Madden inched us out and onto the highway. Twice I checked and twice I confirmed that we were clipping along at less than seven miles per hour. As far as I could tell, the village, the streets, the road, even the diner looked deserted.
The choking blanket of misty greyness had closed in and captured us, bending Jake's yellow fog beams back up at us in a nightmarish swirl. Brenda laid her head on my shoulder, and I could hear her sob softly in the darkness.
Somehow, Jake knew when we were there. He pulled off into the motel parking lot, and I could hear the grating sound of wet gravel crunching under the tires. Even though I knew we couldn't be more than 30 or 40 feet from the entrance to the motel office, I couldn't see a thing; it was like being dropped off on another planet. The neon signs, both the one out at the road and the small one over the office door, were completely obliterated. The combination of mist, drizzle and fog confused everythingdirection, distance, even my equilibrium.
I coaxed the sleeping B.C. down out of the cab of the truck, put my arm around her and headed in what I hoped was the direction of the motel. I kept looking back to see if Jake was still there. He was fading, and finally he too was gone.

 
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