They stepped out into the sulfur-spring cavern, the acoustics of their breathing changed by the long, flat hollow. In the dark, he saw Edward-Frederick-George playing with his matchbox cars in one corner; Davey leaned up against their mother, sucking his thumb. Billy was nowhere in sight, probably hiding out in his room—he would, of course, have foreseen this visit.
He put her hand against the cave wall, then said, “Wait here.” He let go of her and walked quickly to the heap of winter coats and boots in the corner and dug through them for the flashlight he used to do his homework by. It was a hand-crank number, and as he squeezed it to life, he pointed it at Marci, her face wan and scared in its light. He gave the flashlight a few more pumps to get its flywheel spinning, then passed it to her.
“Just keep squeezing it,” he said. “It doesn’t need batteries.” He took her hand again. It was limp.
“You can put your things on the pile,” he said, pointing to the coats and boots. He was already shucking his hat and mittens and boots and snow pants and coat. His skin flushed with the warm vapors coming off of the sulfur spring.
“You live here?” she said. The light from the flashlight was dimming and he reached over and gave it a couple of squeezes, then handed it back to her.
“I live here. It’s complicated.”
Davey’s eyes were open and he was staring at them with squinted eyes and a frown.
“Where are your parents?” she said.
“It’s complicated,” he said again, as though that explained everything. “This is my secret. No one else knows it.”
Edward-Frederick-George tottered over to them with an armload of toy cars, which he mutely offered to Marci, smiling a drooly smile. Alan patted him on the head and knelt down. “I don’t think Marci wants to play cars, okay?” Ed nodded solemnly and went back to the edge of the pool and began running his cars through the nearly scalding water.