Armageddon's Children - Terry Brooks [120]
She looked at him warily and tried to hide how afraid she was for him. But she could tell by the way he looked back that he knew.
They set out again, but he was no longer her grandfather of old. He sang ditties and spoke in odd rhymes. He talked incessantly about the weather, about forecasts, storms, fronts and pressure ridges, and things she had never heard him speak of before. None of it made much sense; it frightened her in a way even the ravings hadn’t. He only rarely spoke of anything besides the weather.
Nothing else seemed to matter to him.
At night, he would wake her sometimes with his muttering, talking in his sleep of black, evil things coming to get them. She would wake him, and he would look at her as if she were a stranger.
When they reached the shores of Puget Sound, they began walking south until they found a rowboat. Without so much as a word about what he intended, her grandfather loaded their few possessions, placed her aboard at the stern, climbed in after her, and pushed off. It was nearing sunset, and darkness was almost upon them. He didn’t seem to notice. He rowed them toward the islands, seated with his back to them, facing her, his haunted eyes fixed on her face. He rowed all night without stopping, and even though it was black all around them, the weather stayed calm. They reached an island sometime just before dawn, pulled the boat ashore, and slept. When they woke, her grandfather rowed them around to the other side of the island, where they stopped again. The following day, he rowed them all the way across the channel to the city.
She could have run from him at any time while they were on the island. She was quicker than he was; she was probably stronger and possessed of more endurance. She could have slipped away while he was sleeping, as well. But she never considered leaving him. He was her grandfather, and she would stay with him no matter what.
In Seattle, they lived in derelict buildings on the waterfront, scavenging supplies and foraging for food. She waited for him to tell her it was time for them to leave, but he seemed to have lost interest. He barely acknowledged her presence now, growing more distant by the day. He never spoke her name, even when she called him Grandfather. He would wander the waterfront for hours and sometimes days before returning. She tried to go with him, but he refused to let her, telling her there was a storm coming or a change in the weather and she needed to stay close to home. Their home was an old container down by the cranes. Her life had turned to ashes.
Then, one day, when she thought things couldn’t possibly get any worse, he went out and didn’t come back. She waited for a week for his return, but there was no sign of him. In desperation, she went looking for him and was still searching ten days later when Sparrow found her and brought her home to live with the Ghosts.
* * *
“THREE MONTHS AFTER he disappeared, I found him down by the docks. He looked at me and didn’t say anything. I could tell he didn’t know who I was. I spoke to him, but he just smiled and said something about the weather.”
River looked away from Hawk to her grandfather. His breathing was ragged, and sweat soaked his clothing. She moved over to a bucket of water, wet a rag, and wiped his brow carefully.
“I know the rules,” she said. “No adults can be Ghosts. I didn’t want to leave him alone, but I didn’t want to leave the Ghosts, either. I didn’t know what to do. I went back to check on him when I could, but sometimes I couldn’t even find him. Sometimes I thought he was dead. He wasn’t, but I thought so. It was okay until now. It was a little like having him live next door. I could still go see him. I could pretend he was still a part of my family.”
“You should have told me, River,” Hawk said softly. “You should have told someone.