The Girl in the Glass

"Whatever moves in this moving world, abandon it and then enjoy," I said in my swami voice.

"Enough of that," he said. "It's go

"She's been gone a long time," I said.

"Too long," said Antony. "We better find her."

"I think she went this way," I said and pointed at a path that wound among the trees.

We followed the path for a few minutes, looking all around, but saw no sign of our passenger.

"Miss Hush," I called out. There was no response.

We walked on a bit more until we came to a fork in the trail. "Lydia," he roared. We listened for her voice but heard only the sounds of crows in the treetops and a squirrel ru

"Okay, kid, you go that way," he said, pointing to the right. "I'll go this way. Just keep calling her. If you don't see anything by the time it gets dark, get back to the car."

"All right," I said and took off down the path, calling her name. We yelled at intervals, and I heard Antony's voice for a good distance as I walked along. Darkness was falling quickly, and I wondered where she could have gone.

About fifteen minutes later, when I was just about ready to turn back, I thought I heard something. When I looked around, I saw a crow lift off a fallen tree and fly up between barren branches. That's when I caught sight of a small structure sitting amid a thicket of pines. It was a dilapidated old shack with a tar paper roof. There was a broken window to the left of the door, which hung crookedly from a leather strap-hinge at the top; the bottom one was torn. The place was small, and looked like it had once been a toolshed or woodshed.

I made my way over to it, and as I approached, I called Miss Hush's name, a little more quietly than before. I heard nothing but silence. I stepped up on the cracked, moss-covered concrete block at the entrance. Anxiety was building in my chest. I reached out and pulled the crooked door back, and the leather hinge just sort of crumbled and broke. The door fell away, almost clipping my shoulder, and hit the ground with a crash. What meager daylight was left, rushed in, lessening the gloom. As the light poured in, a smell came out-a horrid stench of mildew and bad meat. There was a buzz and flutter as flies and moths rose from something lying on the floor.

I knew it was her before I could even focus on the pale form at my feet. There was the Barnes child, maggots in her curly hair, naked, and white as Lydia, a small square of material with a bizarre circular design on it covering her from waist to midthigh. She was staring hard with rotting eyes, and the sight of her made my knees buckle. Suddenly, the smell registered with full force, and my stomach heaved. I turned away from the door, tripped on the concrete block, and hit the cold hard ground with hands outstretched. I vomited, supporting myself on all fours. I don't know how long I stayed like that, but all I could hear above the buzzing in my ears was the wind in the trees, the sound of the leaves blowing along the ground.

The next thing I knew, I was being lifted bodily onto my feet and it was night. Antony whispered to me, "Take a deep breath, kid." He let go of me, and I knew he was going to look in the shack. From behind me, I heard him give a giant sigh, and then say, "Jesus fucking Christ." An instant later he was beside me, arm around my shoulders. "Let's get out of here," he said.

"What about Miss Hush?" I asked.

"Forget her. This could be a setup," he said. "Come on, kid, you've got to run." He gave me a push. "Move your ass."

I did. Once I located the trail, I broke into a sprint, ru

We made it back to the car in only a couple of minutes, got in, and Antony started it up. He pulled away, tires screeching, without turning on the headlights. Rain started to hit the windshield. About a mile down the road, once we'd caught our breath, he turned on the lights and slowed down.

"You okay, kid?" he asked.

"No," I said. I tore the turban off my head and flung it in the backseat. There were tears in my eyes.

"I know what you mean," he said. He drove on for a few more seconds and then added, "This shit just got about a mile deeper."

SHARDS OF EVIL

Upon arriving home, I went immediately to the couch in the living room and curled up in the corner, my head on a pillow and my knees pulled nearly to my chest. Only then did I realize I was trembling. I still felt faintly nauseated, and every time I'd focus on that indelible image of Charlotte Barnes in death, the sensation would intensify. Even though my eyes were closed, I could feel Schell's presence enter the room. Then I heard Antony address him.

"Boss, we found the Barnes kid," the big man said in a voice so weary it came out a whisper.

"Bad?" asked Schell, and I could hear him sitting down in the chair next to the couch.

"Real bad," said Antony. "She's dead."

Schell made no reply. I heard Antony slump into the chair directly across the coffee table from where I lay.

"Lydia Hush?" Schell finally asked.

"Sort of," said Antony.

"Tell me everything," said Schell, and Antony did, begi

"She led you to the body," said Schell.

"Yeah, and then vanished," said Antony. "Once Diego found the girl, I thought it was best to run. I was afraid it might be a setup-the cops are tipped off and just happen to show when the two of us are standing over the body."

"It was good thinking," said Schell.

"One thing," I said. "Antony said the girl was naked. She was, mostly, but there was some kind of cloth draped over her lap."

"That's right," said Antony. "The kid's right."

"There was a design on it too."

"Of?" asked Schell.

"I didn't catch it," said Antony.

"A symbol," I said. "I've never seen it before and can't quite remember it. A circle was part of it and there were other things involved, but…"

"Well, not right now," said Schell. "But later on, try to remember the image."

I nodded.

"What kind of shape was the body in?" asked Schell.

"I don't know, Boss," said Antony. "The poor kid was dead. I didn't look that closely. All I can tell you is the place stunk of death, and my guess was that she'd been there for a couple of days."

"Any marks? Wounds? Bruises?" asked Schell.

"Nothing," I said. "Just white, and her eyes, flies and moths, maggots…" I gagged, unable to finish.

Schell reached across the arm of the couch and put his hand on the top of my head. "Okay," he said.

"I guess we just call the cops and let them take it from here, right?" said Antony.

Schell lifted his hand off me and leaned back. "Wrong," he said.

"Tommy, forget it. It was a mistake to get hooked up in this to start with," said Antony.

"There was a point at which I could have backed out but not now. That little girl's come to life in my mind. Something stinks about the entire mess."

"Yeah, something stinks," said Antony. "A kid's been murdered, probably by some lunatic. Let the cops find him."

"What about Lydia Hush?" said Schell.

"What about her?" asked Antony.

"She obviously knew where the body was. What else do you think she knows?" asked Schell.

"Maybe she's really got the gift," said Antony.

"Bullshit," said Schell. "If you feel that way, then why did you suspect a setup?"