accommodation, the place temporarily occupied by the woman who’d visited Meg last night, in a perverse act of reconnaissance. How little had Harry told his lover about his personal circumstances? Did Amanda work somewhere other than the insurance company that employed Meg’s husband? Was that why the woman had found evidence hard to come by, being forced to seek it out herself? And where had they both met—during a conference somewhere around the world, when Harry had run up yet more expenses unrelated to his occupational role?
No wonder he’d acted sheepish when Meg had quizzed him recently about his expenditures. She wasn’t sure how she’d figured out the truth, but realized that during their argument earlier, a cluster of nebulous thoughts and impressions had coalesced in her mind, prompting Harry to write a confession on the spot. She knew him well; fifteen years of marriage had furnished her with intuitive certainty. And his flippant behavior and uncaring attitude had pushed her over the edge.
Meg came perilously close to doing this herself, nearly falling off the cliff side, as she raced away from the quarry area and toward the pitch-black tunnel. While moving, she heard stealthy sounds from her left. That was where hedges and bushes were located, in which she’d spotted small mammals scavenging the other day. But this latest noise—if anything other than a restless wind—belonged to something considerably larger than any of them. It appeared to force itself toward Meg, shoving aside hip-high grass and wilting plants. She imagined this flora being crushed and dissolved beneath the thing’s multiple feet, as poison leaked from its moist, jellylike frame…But that was fanciful. She should try to get her thoughts under control. Fresh air had now cleared her mind, and the disorderly fugue she’d experienced earlier, inside the house with Harry, had finally dwindled to raw memories.
After reaching the imposing railway tunnel, she halted momentarily, looking at the gaping hole above that excluding wall. It resembled a darker patch within the blackness of night, pledging to invade her skull if she continued looking. Eventually, she glanced away, toward the zigzagging staircase she’d noticed during her previous visit. Too many objects—pale, wriggly, shorn of flesh—stirred in her peripheral gaze as she headed for these steps, but she ignored them all. Just illusions caused by sweat-marred vision and her mind in a mild state of shock while processing it. She’d gone through so much lately, and this was surely its culmination.
After climbing rickety wooden risers, she reached the top of the flight and then found herself in a flat, broad field. A muddy path ran along one side, and Meg realized the property she sought was located that way. She began pacing, her arms snapping at her sides, as if her hands had become heavier and conducted the movement like pendulum heads…But that was another thought she pushed aside.
When she reached the end of the country route, a stile hindered her progress. She wrestled her shivering body through its framework and then stepped into a new area. This was a narrow lane with no curbs; unfailing moonlight lent its tarmac a glaze like ice. Meg began marching along it, her footsteps clunking with crisp reverberations. She pictured a car venturing here recently, its hot tires headed for the only destination up ahead: the secluded cottage Amanda had mentioned last night, and to which Meg had offered clear directions. She imagined the woman repeating these simple instructions to the man who’d called her earlier by mobile, someone who hadn’t known she was in the region, but who was nonetheless as guilty as sin.
As well as loved ones, Harry had also cheated his business. The thing from another world and underground wasn’t fond of such anti-corporate behavior and had a tendency to sever hands and heads in uncompromising protest…But surely that was ludicrous. Yes, now Meg’s
No wonder he’d acted sheepish when Meg had quizzed him recently about his expenditures. She wasn’t sure how she’d figured out the truth, but realized that during their argument earlier, a cluster of nebulous thoughts and impressions had coalesced in her mind, prompting Harry to write a confession on the spot. She knew him well; fifteen years of marriage had furnished her with intuitive certainty. And his flippant behavior and uncaring attitude had pushed her over the edge.
Meg came perilously close to doing this herself, nearly falling off the cliff side, as she raced away from the quarry area and toward the pitch-black tunnel. While moving, she heard stealthy sounds from her left. That was where hedges and bushes were located, in which she’d spotted small mammals scavenging the other day. But this latest noise—if anything other than a restless wind—belonged to something considerably larger than any of them. It appeared to force itself toward Meg, shoving aside hip-high grass and wilting plants. She imagined this flora being crushed and dissolved beneath the thing’s multiple feet, as poison leaked from its moist, jellylike frame…But that was fanciful. She should try to get her thoughts under control. Fresh air had now cleared her mind, and the disorderly fugue she’d experienced earlier, inside the house with Harry, had finally dwindled to raw memories.
After reaching the imposing railway tunnel, she halted momentarily, looking at the gaping hole above that excluding wall. It resembled a darker patch within the blackness of night, pledging to invade her skull if she continued looking. Eventually, she glanced away, toward the zigzagging staircase she’d noticed during her previous visit. Too many objects—pale, wriggly, shorn of flesh—stirred in her peripheral gaze as she headed for these steps, but she ignored them all. Just illusions caused by sweat-marred vision and her mind in a mild state of shock while processing it. She’d gone through so much lately, and this was surely its culmination.
After climbing rickety wooden risers, she reached the top of the flight and then found herself in a flat, broad field. A muddy path ran along one side, and Meg realized the property she sought was located that way. She began pacing, her arms snapping at her sides, as if her hands had become heavier and conducted the movement like pendulum heads…But that was another thought she pushed aside.
When she reached the end of the country route, a stile hindered her progress. She wrestled her shivering body through its framework and then stepped into a new area. This was a narrow lane with no curbs; unfailing moonlight lent its tarmac a glaze like ice. Meg began marching along it, her footsteps clunking with crisp reverberations. She pictured a car venturing here recently, its hot tires headed for the only destination up ahead: the secluded cottage Amanda had mentioned last night, and to which Meg had offered clear directions. She imagined the woman repeating these simple instructions to the man who’d called her earlier by mobile, someone who hadn’t known she was in the region, but who was nonetheless as guilty as sin.
As well as loved ones, Harry had also cheated his business. The thing from another world and underground wasn’t fond of such anti-corporate behavior and had a tendency to sever hands and heads in uncompromising protest…But surely that was ludicrous. Yes, now Meg’s
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