“Why wouldn’t it?”
She had no answer for him.
“I need to go home,” he said. “I need to know.”
“I’m coming with,” she said. He opened his mouth to tell her no, but she made a fierce face at him, her foxy features wrinkled into a mock snarl.
“Come along then,” he said. “You can help me do up my coat.”
The winter cave was deserted. He listened at the mouths of all the tunnels, straining to hear Davey. From his high nook, Brian watched them.
“Where is he, Billy?” Alan called. “Tell me, godfuckit!”
Billy looked down from him perch with his sad, hollow eyes—had he been forgetting to eat again?—and shook his head.
They took to the tunnels. Even with the flashlight, Marci couldn’t match him for speed. He could feel the tunnels through the soles of his boots, he could smell them, he could pick them apart by the quality of their echoes. He moved fast, dragging Marci along with his good hand while she cranked the flashlight as hard as she could. He heard her panting, triangulated their location from the way that the shallow noises reflected off the walls.