The Shore by Robert Dunbar Read Free Book Online Page A

casually strolling away from his car. So now he’s stalking me. The wind thrust at his back. So let him. Frost stung his ears. Let him catch me even. He quickened his pace. Might be the only way.
    Darkness thickened with every step as he plunged into a side street. I’m invisible here. But the driveway he picked his way across seemed to be graveled with shell particles that shone like freshly fallen snow, and his every tread crunched loudly.
    He halted. Approaching, a noise like no human footstep grew louder until a paper bag blew past, scratching and scooping loudly along the sidewalk.
    Shaking, he laughed aloud. Christ, man. He scanned the block behind him. You’re losing it. The houses here seemed smaller, closer together than most others he’d seen. What am I doing out here in this wind? He hurried back toward his car, deciding to drive out to the highway after all. Find a diner. Then get some rest. It had been days—he couldn’t remember how many—since he’d slept more than fitfully. Got to be able to think straight tomorrow. Confusion now could be fatal, he knew.
    But where the hell am I? He rushed to the corner. Christ. Nothing looked right in either direction. How could he get lost so fast? Leave it to me to get turned around in such a small town. He huddled onward. I could get frostbite or something, wandering around out here. The wind numbed his face, and it seemed the streets altered before him, became a maze of corridors. From every direction came the roar of the surf. Maybe I’ve finally snapped. Steam rose from a sewer grating to swirl like fog. Maybe this is the end of the line for me.
    Mist streaked as a blaze of cold struck at his face, and he clamped his hands over his ears. A few doors away, a thick gleam bulged at a mottled window, flickering: no frills, just BAR with specks crawling in the neon. Salvation.
    Wet heat enveloped him the instant he opened the door, and he stood blinking. The lights, though precariously dimmed, still revealed more people gathered inside than he’d so far seen in all of Edgeharbor, and they all stared back at him.
    Each stride drummed against the boards. Her toes ached in the running shoes, and despite the temperature, her chest and stomach grew damp with perspiration. Damn, this wind. She adjusted the earmuffs under her hood. I’ve got to get off the boardwalk while I still have skin left. Catching hold of the rail, she spun onto the stairs and quickstepped down to a landing. Some nights, it dies away down lower. She leapt the rest of the way to the beach, landing lightly in a crouch, then plodded across dense, choppy sand to the harder soil by the water. Hell, this is no good either. The chill drove her back like a whip. I can’t believe it got so terrible so fast. Just last week I could still make it all the way to the cannery. Turning her back to the sea, she sprinted. If I cut under the boards here…
    She came to a dead halt and stared into the dark as the feelings of dread she had been fighting for weeks engulfed her. For an instant, it seemed she had become part of the night somehow, part of an inky cloud that swirled up from the sea to threaten the town and the scattered human beings left in it. I’ve got to keep moving. Fighting off morbid fancies was a skill she had worked hard at acquiring. Or I’ll cramp up. She stepped closer to the boardwalk, and the hand she held out vanished as though chopped off.
    No way I’m going under there. Breathing hard, she jogged in place a moment and started back to the stairs.
    Her leg muscles ached as she climbed. I must be out of my mind. She dashed diagonally across the walkway and down the opposite ramp. Running out here on the worst night of the year. If this isn’t obsessive-compulsive behavior, I don’t know what is. But she understood all too well why she had to run tonight, knew exactly what she was compensating for. She’d been allowed no active role in today’s events, not even marginal participation,