A dense shadow just ahead, the bridge right in front of me. I stopped. I couldn’t see anything at all, but I knew something else was there. I could hear scratching. Like long filthy nails cleaning the inside of a can. That asshole was back, maybe. With the girl I saw on TV. I touched my neck. The cut had dried into a hard scab. I tried to silence my breathing, to push away the growing pounding in my head. My finger was on the flashlight switch, but I didn’t slide it up. With my other hand I felt along the ground, plucked up a rock and threw it. Crouched low in case they turned a light in my direction.

An animal lumbered past me. A skunk. Or a possum. Rustling as it moved underneath the brush, pushed through the leaves. When I stood up the ground shifted, but I caught myself. I stepped forward and clicked on my light. The camp was empty except for junk strewn around, glass bottles, most of them broken. A wet mound of blankets, Telly’s shirts. Girl’s squirrel was sliced up the middle, stuffing falling out. The circle of rocks that outlined Carl’s firepit were kicked all over. The whole place smelled like a filthy toilet.

I sat down on a stone. One of Carl’s fine chairs. The distant pounding was inching nearer. Whomp. Whomp. Slowly building. Getting louder and louder. I was so tired and empty and cold. I wished I had more pills to hold back the pain. I slid my hand inside my tinfoil hat. Touched the sticky swollen side of my head.

It was going to be okay. When I reached home, Gloria would give me some medicine. I kept remembering how she was crying on the television. No matter how angry she was the night I left, she would be relieved to see me. And I would be relieved to see her. She was frustrated and made a mistake, and I was an ungrateful kid who ran away. But I was still her kid. That counted for something.

But what about Carl? What if I should have stayed with him? Found Mr. Russell, just two down, and asked for help. For a moment, I stopped. I wondered if I should turn back. Go to him before my head got unbearable. But Carl had told me to leave, hadn’t he? He told me he didn’t trust Stan. He didn’t trust himself. And everyone inside of him was fighting about me. If I went back I’d only make that worse. Besides, home was so close. I would sleep until morning. I would go see Mrs. Spooner as soon as I could. Gloria wouldn’t understand about Carl. Mrs. Spooner would.