His answer was a collision of incompatible consonants, as were the names of the other bears, which he courteously offered. Were these things real? Had she, a little girl, simply imagined them? But no; all of it had happened, she believed, precisely as she recalled. As she stood at the glass, Lacey came up beside her. She was wearing a look of deep concern. “There now, Amy,” Lacey advised. “Not so close.” To put her unease at bay, and because Amy had detected in this kindly woman with her melodious accent an openness to extraordinary phenomena—the zoo, after all, had been her idea—she explained the situation as simply as she knew how. “He has a bear name,” she told Lacey. “It’s something I can’t pronounce.”

Lacey frowned. “The bear has a name?”

“Of course he does,” said Amy.

She returned her attention to her new friend, who was bumping his nose against the glass. Amy was about to ask him about his life, if he missed his Arctic home, when the water was rocked by a tremendous splash. A second bear had leapt into the tank. With paws big as hubcaps he swam toward her, taking his place beside the first bear, who was licking the glass with his immense pink tongue. A collective exhalation of oohs and aahs ascended from the crowd; people began to snap pictures. Amy placed her hand against the glass in greeting, but something felt wrong. Something was different, and it wasn’t very good. The bears’ great black eyes seemed to be looking not at her but through her, with a gaze of such intensity that she could not look away. She felt herself dissolving into it, as if she were melting, and with this came a falling sensation, like putting her foot on a step that wasn’t there.

Amy, the bears were saying. You’re Amy Amy Amy Amy Amy…

Things were happening. Some sort of commotion. As Amy’s awareness widened, she became conscious of other sounds, other voices, coming from all around—not human but animal. The hoots of monkeys. The shrieks of birds. The roars of jungle cats and the concussing hooves of elephants and rhinoceroses stamping the ground in panic. As the third and then the fourth bear leapt into the tank, displacing its contents with their white-furred tonnage, a wall of frigid water bulged over the lip. It crashed down upon the crowd, unleashing mayhem.

It’s her, it’s her, it’s her, it’s her…

She was kneeling by the glass, soaked to the bone, her head bowed to its slick surface. Her mind swirled with the voices, a chorus of black dread. She felt as if the universe were bending around her, swathing her in darkness. They would die, all these animals. That is what her presence meant to them. The bears and monkeys and birds and elephants: all of them. Some would starve in their cages; others would perish by more violent means. Death would take them all, and not just the animals. The people, too. The world would die around her, and she would be left standing at the center, alone.

It’s coming, death is coming, you’re Amy, Amy, Amy…

“You remembering, ain’t you?”

Amy’s mind returned to the patio. Carter was looking at her pointedly.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

“ ’Sall right. I felt the same, there at the beginning. Took some getting used to.”

The feeling of summer had faded; autumn would soon come. In the blue-green water of the pool, the body of Rachel Wood would rise. Sometimes, when Amy was tending flowers near the gate, she would see the woman’s black Denali slowly cruising past. Through the tinted windows she could make out Rachel in her tennis clothes, staring at the house. But the car never stopped, and when Amy waved at her, the woman never waved back.

“How much longer do you think we have to wait?”

“That depends on Zero. Man got to show his hand sooner or later. So far as he knows, I’m gone with the rest of them.”

It was the water, Carter had explained, that protected them. Its cold embrace was nothing Fanning’s mind could penetrate. As long as they stayed where they were, Fanning couldn’t find them.

“But he’ll come,” said Amy.

Carter nodded. “He’s bided his time a good while, but the man wants this thing done. It’s what he’s wanted from the start. Everything over.”

The wind was picking up—an autumn wind, damp and raw. Clouds had moved in, denuding the light. It was the time of day when a certain silence always fell.

“We’re quite a pair, aren’t we?”

“That we are, Miss Amy.”

“I was wondering if maybe you could drop the ‘miss.’ I should have said that long ago.”

“I just meant it respectful. But as long as you’re asking, I’d like that.”

The leaves were spinning down. They fluttered across the lawn, the patio, the pool deck, tossing in the wind like skeletal hands. Amy thought of Peter, how she missed him. Wherever he was now, she hoped that happiness would find him in his life. That was the price she’d paid; she had given him up.

She took a last sip of tea to clear the blood taste from her mouth and drew on her gloves. “Ready?”

“Right you are.” Carter donned his hat. “We best get to work on them leaves.”

* * *

8

“Michael!”

His sister took her last two steps at a jog and wrapped him in a hug that made his ribs crunch.

“Whoa. I’m glad to see you, too.”

The nurse at the desk was staring at them, but Sara couldn’t be contained. “I can’t believe it,” she said. “What are you doing here?” She stepped back and looked him over with a motherly eye. One part of him felt embarrassed; another part would have been disappointed if she hadn’t. “God, you’re thin. When did you get here? Kate will be thrilled.” She glanced at the nurse, an older woman in a boiled smock. “Wendy, this is my brother, Michael.”