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in his shoulders was now constant。 He fell into a rhythm of walking and became almost hypnotized with it。 There was power here； yes； he felt it。 He remembered a time when he had been a senior in high school。 He and his girl and some other couple had gone way out in the boonies and had ended up necking at the end of a dead…end dirt road near a power station。 They hadn't been there long before Louis's girl said that she wanted to go home； or at least to another place； because all her teeth （all the ones with fillings； anyway； and that was most of them） were aching。 Louis had been glad to leave himself。 The air around the power station had made him feel nervous and too awake。 This was like that； but it was stronger。 Stronger but not unpleasant at all。 It was… Jud had stopped at the base of a long slope。 Louis ran into him。
Jud turned toward him。 〃We're almost where we're going now；〃 he said calmly。 〃This next bit is like the deadfall…you got to walk steady and easy。 Just follow me and don't look down。 You felt us going downhill？〃
〃Yes。〃
〃This is the edge of what the Micmacs used to call Little Cod Swamp。 The fur traders who came through called it Dead Man's Bog； and most of them who came once and got out never came gain。〃
〃Is there quicksand？〃
〃Oh； ayuh； quicksand aplenty！ Streams that bubble up through a big deposit of quartz sand left over from the glacier。 Silica sand； we always called it； although there's probably a proper name for it。〃
Jud looked at him； and for a moment Louis thought he saw something bright and not pletely pleasant in the old man's eyes。
Then Jud shifted the flashlight and that look was gone。
〃There's a lot of funny things down this way； Louis。 The air's heavier。 。 。 more electrical。 。 。 or somethin。〃
Louis started。
〃What's wrong？〃
〃Nothing；〃 Louis said； thinking of that night on the dead…end road。
〃You might see St。 Elmo's fire…what the sailors call foo…lights。 It makes funny shapes； but it's nothing。 If you should see some of those shapes and they bother you； just look the other way。 You may hear sounds like voices； but they are the loons down south toward Prospect。 The sound carries。 It's funny。〃
〃Loons？〃 Louis said doubtfully。 〃This time of year？〃
〃Oh； ayuh；〃 Jud said again； and his voice was terribly bland and totally unreadable。 For a moment Louis wished desperately he could see the old man's face again。 That look… 〃Jud； where are we going？ What the hell are we doing out here in the back of the beyond？〃
〃I'll tell you when we get there。〃 Jud turned away。 〃Mind the tussocks。〃
They began to walk again； stepping from one broad hummock to the next。 Louis did not feel for them。 His feet seemed to find them automatically； with no effort from him。 He slipped only once； his left shoe breaking through a thin scum of ice and dipping into cold and somehow slimy standing water。 He pulled it out quickly and went on； following Jud's bobbing light。 That light； floating through the woods； brought back memories of the pirate tales he had liked to read as a boy。 Evil men off to bury gold doubloons by the dark of the moon。 。 。 and of course one of them would be tumbled into the pit on top of the chest； a bullet in his heart； because the pirates had believed…or so the authors of these lurid tales solemnly attested…that the dead rade's ghost would remain there to guard the swag。
Except it's not treasure we've e to bury。 Just my daughter's castrated cat。
He felt wild laughter bubble up inside and stifled it。
He did not hear any 〃sounds like voices；〃 nor did he see any St。 Elmo's fire； but after stepping over half a dozen tussocks； he looked down and saw that his feet； calves； knees； and lower thighs had disappeared into a ground fog that was perfectly smooth； perfectly white； and perfectly opaque。 It was like moving through the world's lightest drift of snow。
The air seemed to have a quality of light in it now； and it was warmer； he could have sworn it。 He could see Jud before him； moving steadily along； the blunt end of the pick hooked over his shoulder。 The pick enhanced the illusion of a man intent on burying treasure。
That crazy sense of exhilaration persisted； and he suddenly wondered if maybe Rachel was trying to call him； if； back in the house； the phone was ringing and ringing； making its rational； prosaic sound。 If… He almost walked into Jud's back again。 The old man had stopped in the middle of the path。 His head was cocked to one side。 His mouth was pursed and tense。
〃Jud？ What's…〃
〃Shhh！〃
Louis hushed； looking around uneasily。 Here the ground mist was thinner； but he still couldn't see his own shoes。 Then he heard crackling underbrush and breaking branches。 Something was moving out there…something big。
He opened his mouth to ask Jud if it was a moose （bear was the thought that actually crossed his mind）； and then he closed it again。 The sound carries； Jud had said。
He cocked his head to one side in unconscious imitation of Jud； unaware that he was doing it； and listened。 The sound seemed at first distant； then very close； moving away arid then moving ominously toward them。 Louis felt the sweat on his forehead begin to trickle down his chapped cheeks。 He shifted the Hefty Bag with Church's body in it from one hand to the other。 His palm had dampened； and the green plastic seemed greasy； wanting to slide through his fist。 Now the thing out there seemed so close that Louis expected to see its shape at any moment； rising up on two legs； perhaps； blotting out the stars with some unthought…of； immense and shaggy body。
Bear was no longer what he was thinking of。
Now he didn't know just what he was thinking of。
Then it moved away and disappeared。
Louis opened his mouth again； the words What was that？ already on his tongue。 Then a shrill； maniacal laugh came out of the darkness； rising and falling in hysterical cycles； loud； piercing； chilling。 To Louis it seemed that every joint in his body had frozen solid and that he had somehow gained weight； so much weight that if he turned to run he would plunge down and out of sight in the swampy ground。
The laughter rose； split into dry cackles like some rottenly friable chunk of rock along many fault lines； it reached the pitch of a scream； then sank into a guttural chuckling that might have bee sobs before it faded out altogether。
Somewhere there was a drip of water and above them； like a steady river in a bed of sky； the monotonous whine of the wind。 Otherwise Little God Swamp was silent。
Louis began to shudder all over。 His flesh…particularly that of his lower belly…began to creep。 Yes； creep was the right word； his flesh actually seemed to be moving on his body。 His mouth was totally dry。 There seemed to be no spit at all left in it。 Yet that feeling of exhilaration persisted； an unshakable lunacy。
〃What in Christ's name？〃 he whispered hoarsely to Jud。
Jud turned to look at him； and in the dim light Louis thought the old man looked a hundred and twenty。 There was no sign of that odd； dancing light in his eyes now。 His face was drawn； and there was stark terror in his eyes。 But when he spoke； his voice was steady enough。 〃Just a loon；〃 he said。 〃e on。 Almost there。〃
They went on。 The tussocks became firm ground again。 For a few moments Louis had a sensation of open space； although that dim glow in the air had now faded； and it was all he could do to make out Jud's back three feet in front of him。 Short grass stiff with frost was underfoot。 It broke like glass at every step。 Then they were in the trees again。 He could smell aromatic fir； feel needles。 Occasionally a twig or a branch scraped against him。
Louis had lost all sense of time or direction； but they did not walk long before Jud stopped again and turned toward him。
〃Steps here；〃 he said。 〃Cut into rock。 Forty…two or forty…four； I disremember which。 Just follow me。 We get to the top and we're there。〃
He began to climb again； and again Louis followed。
The stone steps were wide enough； but the sense of the ground dropping away was unsettling。 Here and there his shoe gritted on a strew of pebbles and stone fragments
。 。 。 twelve