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Somewhere in the Louisiana swamps Steve said； 〃Pull over。〃 Ghost killed the ignition。 In the dark phosphorescence of the swamp Steve's tears shone as clear and bright as crystal。 Blindly he reached for Ghost； pressed his face into Ghost's hair； rubbed his hands over Ghost's face； gathered the fabric of Ghost's clothes between his fingers。 〃You're here；〃 he gasped。 〃I know you're here…I can feel you…I can smell you…you're not gonna go away…〃
〃Steve；〃 said Ghost； 〃oh； Steve 。 。 。〃 He could hardly speak。 Just to hold each other was not enough； again he wished that their hearts could be joined。 Maybe that would clean some of the blood from their hands。
Back in Missing Mile they were a little puzzled when their friends did not greet them with astonishment。 It was hard to realize that they had only been gone a few days。 Terry told them that Simon Bransby had been found dead in an easy chair in his living room。 The house； Terry said with mild bemusement； was full of crazy shit…cat guts pickled in formaldehyde； terrariums full of toads that bounced off the glass as if they were tripping on high…grade acid。 Simon had died of a Valium overdose； and everybody thought it was suicide； presumably because his only daughter had finally left home for good。
Ann was never heard from； and only a handful of people in Missing Mile…R。J。； Terry； Monica knew anything about what had happened to her； Not even they knew the whole tale。
They discovered that even in the face of pain that seems unbearable； even in the face of pain that wrings the last drop of blood out of your heart and leaves its scrimshaw tracery on the inside of your skull； life goes on。 And pain grows dull； and begins to fade。
Steve went back to work at the Whirling Disc； played his guitar obsessively。 Kinsey Hummingbird hired him to tend bar a couple of times a week at the Sacred Yew。 Sometimes Steve would start screaming in the night。 He would wake sobbing； clawing at the darkness in front of his face。 Ghost held him and tried to warm the chill of nightmare out of his bones。
By day； Ghost wandered around town picking up leaves and bits of colored glass； talking to the old men who had moved their checker game inside the hardware store for winter。 They kidded him about the bad times he'd said were ing； but stopped when they saw the look on his face。
One day he rode his bike out to Miz Catlin's and told her everything。 At the end of the hour it took him； he was sobbing。 Miz Catlin patted his hand and said the things Ghost had known she would say： she believed it； every word； and his grandmother would be proud of him。
Then she told him something he hadn't known。 〃That Raventon fellow was a fake and a liar。〃
〃Huh？〃
〃Pennyroyal； yarrow； brooklime。〃 Miz Catlin flapped a wrinkled hand。 〃All those things are good to start a pessary with； but they wouldn't do a damn thing together。 Not strong enough。 The girl would have died anyway； Ghost。〃
Ghost wondered。 But when he was lying awake at night； staring at the stars on his ceiling and thinking about everything； Miz Catlin's words made him feel better。
One December day Ghost found himself out on Violin Road near the trailer where Christian and the others had lived。 The tangle of rosebushes still grew wild in the back…yard； and though Missing Mile was deep in winter； one rose blossomed in the heart of the thicket。 When Ghost reached for it； a thorn sank like a tooth into the ball of his thumb。 Bright drops of his blood spattered the frozen ground。
〃Blood for blood；〃 he whispered。 Again he remembered how the knife had felt going into Zillah's skull。
On an evening in early spring Steve and Ghost walked out to the old graveyard。 Beside Miles Hummingbird's weathered tombstone； unmarked； was a soft spot in the ground where Ghost had buried the foetus still wrapped in his handkerchief。 He wished he could have placed Ann's body here too； but this was part of her； this would have to do。
Ghost wondered where Ann was now。 He wished he could ask Miles； but he would not。 What goes on between the dead； his grandmother had told him； is the dead's own business。
Steve rolled a joint； lit it； passed it to Ghost； and began to talk lovingly about what a piece of shit the T…bird was。 He was going to sell it to the junkyard； he said； and throw a party to celebrate。 Whenever Steve started talking that way； it meant he was thinking about a road trip。 That might do them both good。
Steve was quiet for a while。 When the joint had burned down to a ragged end； he turned to Ghost。 〃Listen。。。〃
〃What？〃
〃Everything that happened last fall 。 。 。 I know it was real。 I mean； I was there。 But it's still hard； Ghost。〃 Steve spread his arms wide。 〃What does it do to you？ How do you deal with it？ Doesn't it fuck you up； to know that we touched something evil； that it's still out there in the world？〃
Steve was letting himself think about those days again。 For a long time he had refused to。 His world was visibly torn apart； but he would not acknowledge what had sundered it。 Ghost held him during his night terrors and never tried to make him talk。
But a postcard had e in the mail last week； a brightly colored postcard； its edges ragged； its message blurred with the grime of small…town post offices。 Ghost knew Steve had seen it。 You are safe； the card had said。 You will be safe as long as I live： forever； or nearly so。 I love you。 And the signature was scrawled large across the bottom； the t like a dagger thrusting down； the N and the loop of the g swooping like bats' wings： Nothing。
〃I don't know；〃 Ghost said at last。 〃Maybe they were evil； like Miz Catlin says。 My grandmother told me you shouldn't try to define evil； that the minute you think you've got it all pinned down； a kind of evil you never even thought of will sneak up behind you and jump inside your head。 I don't think anyone knows what evil is。 I don't think anyone has the right to say。
〃So maybe they were just like us。 I hate what they did； what they do。 But they'd hate our lives too。 Maybe they did what they had to do to live； and tried to get a little love and have a little fun before the darkness took them。〃
〃I love you； Ghost。〃
Ghost felt his heart expand。 〃Love you too。〃
He accepted the last of the joint from Steve； sucked at it； closed his eyes。 When the smoke was gone； he stretched out on the pine needles； his head in Steve's lap。 Steve stroked his hair； and through those guitar…callused fingertips Ghost caught Steve's mood： lonely； but not alone。 Bitter； but not destroyed。 They had made it through the winter。
They stayed in the graveyard； talking sometimes； drifting off to sleep and waking to see their breath plume in the air； watching the sky until it grew pale with the first light of morning。
EPILOGUE
Fifty Years Later
Night。
Black night in a club； 4：00 A。M。 relieved only by the watery neon pulse that filters through the holes in the ceiling。 The club is in the basement of a burned…out building； so most of the light is lost in the charred and rusted skeleton of steel that towers seventeen stories into the night。 But some light fil