“Darrel Vickers just murdered Jude Lowry.”
“What?”
“He killed him with a German Luger. His father is with him.”
“What about Mrs. Lowry?”
I put the binoculars to my eyes. “She’s just standing there. I think she’s crying.”
“What about your friends, Spud and—”
“The crowd’s pushing them toward the fire.”
“We can’t leave them, Aaron.”
I could hear the wind blowing in the pines on the lip of the canyon; I could smell the odor of stone and cave air and hard-packed damp clay and bat guano and the salty smell of birds’ nests. I thought of a womb and the symbolism of Elijah finding the voice of God inside a cave. I do not mean that a miracle had been prepared for me. But I do believe that terror can rip away the curtain that binds us to all the mundane distractions of the world and also the lies of kings and dictators and militarists and those who would turn the Grand Canyon into a gravel pit if they had the opportunity.
I looked at my watch, although I cannot explain why. It had started ticking again. The second hand indicated the time was five seconds past midnight, as though my life were being reset or I had stepped into an alternate reality, one where my blackouts had taken me many times.
I heard a voice that Jo Anne did not hear. More important, I saw a man she did not see. He was standing inside the cave, unshaved, wearing fatigues that were sweat-stained and dirty, his skin powdered with dust, his dog tags and a P-38 can opener hanging on a chain outside his shirt. He was grinning.
Saber? I said.
The one and only.
Are you dead?
Kind of. Things aren’t too orderly on this side of the Big Divide. I keep thinking I might wake up at battalion aid.
The flamethrowers didn’t—
No, you were carrying me. A 105 came in short. Lights out. Your gal looks like Esther Williams. Does she have a sister?
How can we get out of this, Saber?
Leave your probs to the Bledsoe. I got something for you.
He went deeper into the cave. I looked over my shoulder at Jo Anne. She was motionless, frozen in time, her gaze fixed on nothing. Saber returned, cradling an object with both palms. Catch!
It was an M1. I caught it with both hands. He draped a cloth bandolier stuffed with .30-06 clips across the bolt.
We’re outnumbered, Saber.
Not with that.
It just moved. In my hand.
Time to stomp ass and take names, Aaron. Your friends are depending on you.
Are you coming back, Saber?
Wish I knew. Remember when we drag-raced on the edge of the surf down at Galveston? The salt ate the floor out of my ’39 Ford. Why’d I get dead, Aaron?
I wish neither one of us went to Korea.
You gotta do something for kicks. Keep a cool stool. You heard it first from the Bledsoe himself.
Suddenly, he was gone and I was wide awake, the stars as white and cold as dry ice above the canyon, the pines swelling in the wind. The hands on my watch had stopped again. Jo Anne was looking up at me.