The Fog - James Herbert [94]
‘You still haven’t told me,’ she said after a while.
‘What?’ He looked down at her in surprise.
‘You haven’t told me.’
‘Told you what?’
‘Why you call me Casey.’
He began to chuckle. ‘You really want to know, do you?’
‘Yes.’
‘No. You’ll only get angry.’
‘Angry? You’d better tell me now!’ She raised her head to look down at him.
‘You’re sure you want to know?’
‘Yes!’ Indignant.
‘Well,’ he began, smiling and looking at her from the corner of his eyes, ‘when I was a kid, I used to have a dog . . .’
‘A dog?’
‘. . . and I used to call it Casey . . .’
‘You called it . . .’
‘. . . and when I saw you . . .’
‘. . . Casey! You—’
‘. . . you had the same sad little eyes . . .’
‘. . . you . . .’
‘. . . and they made me fall in love with you . . . and I knew I’d found something that would be precious to me . . . and that’s why I called you Casey.’
She fell against him, half-laughing but ready to cry. He hugged her, still grinning, but strangely near to sadness himself.
‘Imagine my delight when I found you were house-trained, too.’
And now, she did cry. She cried from happiness, sadness, and relief that they were together.
‘Is it over now?’
‘The fog? The nightmare? I just hope so. If it isn’t, well I just don’t know what else they can do about it.’
‘Surely they could find an answer.’
‘The calcium chloride must have been the answer. They just needed a lot of it.’
‘Why are they so reticent about announcing it?’
‘Because they don’t understand how the chemical could have destroyed the mycoplasma. On Ryker’s advice, they’ve decided to play it cautiously, to wait until they’re absolutely certain.’
‘And when will that be?’
‘Who knows? When they’ve covered the area thoroughly, I suppose.’
She shuddered and pressed closer to him. ‘Or when people stop going insane.’
‘They’ve got the cure now. Provided it doesn’t happen again on a massive scale, they can cure anyone they find with the illness.’
‘Unless the victims kill themselves first.’
He was silent. They’d been lucky, both of them, but the price they had to pay in memories was harsh. He knew there would be many silences between them now as they both remembered. It would take years for them to detach themselves from the dream, but because of their own personal experiences, they would be able to understand and help each other.
He looked down at her and her eyes met his. She too, had been lost in her own thoughts. She smiled.
‘I’m okay,’ she said.
He sat up then, resolving never to allow either of them to sink too far into the quicksands of their memories. ‘I’ll get some coffee.’
‘No,’ she pulled him down again, ‘you stay there. Let me do it.’
He lay and watched her naked figure slip into his discarded shirt. The shirt flapped large and seductively around her as she bent forward to kiss him, the glimpse of her small breasts beginning to excite him again. She walked around the bed towards the drawn curtains and once more the image of the last time he’d seen her in the darkened room leapt into his mind. But even now, the thought was becoming easier to push away.
She reached up and began to draw the curtains, but she stopped midway and he saw her body stiffen.
‘John . . .’ he heard her say, half turning her head towards him but unable to tear her eyes away from the strangely subdued light that came from outside.
He leapt from the bed, already feeling the familiar coldness chilling his body. Reaching her side, he drew the curtain back at one side in a violent sweep, then stopped to stare at the scene that lay beyond.
‘Oh God!’ he gasped.
For there was no scene beyond. Just a grey blankness. A heavy, still blankness, tinged with yellow.
They stood in awe and dread of its obscuring density and were only dimly aware of the telephone that rang persistently from the room next door.
They had tried to warn the city of the approaching doom. It had appeared suddenly, a cloud swept onwards by a strong wind.