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Austin was just on the other side of the creek. So, when I felt the ground slope away to the creek bank, I knew about how far I had to go. |
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The incline was gradual at the base and steeper near the top. My world had been gradually reduced to a gray on gray landscape completely devoid of features. The flashlight was practically useless. |
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There was no indication of light. |
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And no indication of life. |
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I stepped up on the porch, crossed it and knocked. |
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Somewhere off in the distance I was aware of a dull roar, the kind water makes, like a waterfall or a rushing river. The shore was several hundred yards away, and yet it sounded near. I tried to conjure up a mental picture of the location of the house in relation to the shoreline. It was, if I remembered correctly, at least a quarter of a mile away. All that notwithstanding, the bay was dead calm. The surface was like a sheet of cloudy glass, tranquil, no wind, only the thick, stifling fog hovering over it. |
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Despite the darkness, I stepped down off the porch and circled around to the back of the house. The weed-choked yard was cluttered with the debris of timefallen limbs, undergrowth and a tangle of twisted vines, broken boards and dead trees. |
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