“I don’t know what it is,” she said, sitting on the end of the bed. “I feel—oh, I guess you’ll think I’m crazy.”
“I won’t,” I said, reaching for the cigarettes and offering her one.
We didn’t say anything for a while. Smoke haze drifted in the sunbeams and the Mexican waiters chattered outside. Then she said: “It wasn’t a dream last night, was it?”
I shook my head. “No.”
“I hoped it was,” she went on, tapping ashes on the floor. “I wish it all was a dream. It’s frightening.”
“I can’t tell you there’s nothing to be scared about,” I said, “All I can say is I’m sorry we got you into this mess.”
“I’ve been trying to remember what happened,” she said. “I’m putting it together, but it still doesn’t make sense. I can remember the old Indian more clearly. I can remember sitting in that little hut with him. We didn’t speak. We read each other’s minds. That was frightening. I couldn’t lie to him, you see. Not talking like that. I just had to keep my mind blank when I felt he was finding out too much about me. I still don’t know how far I succeeded. We talked with our minds for a long time. He told me a lot of things. I know that, but I can’t remember what they were. He gave me some horrible stuff to drink and after I’d got it down I remember seeing some black smoke coming from the corner of the hut. It was quite terrifying. There was no fire or anything, just the black smoke building up into a shadow. I thought at the time it looked like the shadow of a woman, but it was dark in the hut and I couldn’t be sure. But all he time we talked, the shadow was there, hovering close to me.”
I lit another cigarette. I felt there wasn’t much I could say, so I just lay there and listened.
“The shadow was behind Pablo, just before it happened,” she shuddered. “I’m scared even to think of anything now, in case something happens.”
“Snap out of it, kid,” I said reaching out and pulling her to me. I put ray arm round her and she stretched out with her head on my shoulder. I liked the smell of her hair and the feel of it against my face.