It made Ronnie sad, and he didn’t want to feel sad right now. He had to stay focused on the thread and the lady who would be waiting at the end of it and the (pleaseGod, pleasepleasePLEASE) little girl who would be with her.

He left Welfare Row and continued on, passing the library, a flower shop, a pool hall, a bar called the Wagon Wheel, the big faded-blue building that housed the offices of The Cedar Hill Ally, and the Sparta Restaurant (he thought about going in for a cheeseburger—the Sparta made the best cheeseburgers in the world—but knew he couldn’t, despite being hungry).

He slowed down as he passed a sign taped to the inside window of a card store: LAST WEEKEND! THE LAND OF LEGEND FESTIVAL AND CARNIVAL! BRING THE FAMILY! RIDES! GAMES! LIVE MUSIC! AND GREAT FOOD!

As he stood staring at the sign, he felt the silver thread pull taut once again, and vibrate so violently he could feel it all the way to the center of his bones.

—Suzanne?

Right here, Ronnie.

—Do you think that’s it? I think that must be it.

I wouldn’t be surprised in the least. Look—you’re not that far from it. North Cedar Street. Do you know where on North Cedar?

—It ain’t really on North Cedar. There’s a big field where they set it up every year.

The more he thought about it, the more it felt right; and the more it felt right, the less pressure he felt around his center from the silver thread.

—I’m right, Suzanne. I know I am.

Well, then, what are we waiting for?

—I want to hear it from him.

Really?

—Yeah, I do.

Silence for several moments, and Ronnie began to wonder if Suzanne had gone away, but then she said:

I’ll go get him.

This time Ronnie felt as well as heard the silence, and knew that Suzanne was gone for the moment, and while he could have used the time to get a head start on his walk to North Cedar Street, he instead found a nearby bench and sat down for a few moments, not really admitting to himself until this moment how tired he was.

Looking around to make sure there were no police cars cruising the downtown square, he sat forward, propped his elbows on his knees, and held his head in his hands. He just needed a minute or two to rest, to calm down, to settle himself, then everything would be okay.

He hoped.

He closed his eyes for a moment, and no sooner than he did found himself back in the motel room in Kentucky, a minute or so before he came awake with the sick realization that he’d made a terrible, awful, horrible mistake.

Suzanne and the other children were singing lullabies to him, telling him stories, telling him how happy they were, and Ronnie was enjoying the sound their cumulative voices made (he always enjoyed this sound, all of their voices merging into one), when he became aware that there was something different about their voices, something new, some discordance in the collective sound that hadn’t been there before. He asked all of them to please Shhh, just for a few seconds, and one by one they began to fall silent until there was only the sound of a single, alien voice that sounded as if it were echoing to him from a great and forgotten distance.