Chapter Thirty



Later that night, once the sun had set and the moonlight washed down on the smooth waters of the lake, Carter paid the inhabitants of Clear's run down cabin a visit.
"I figured I'd find you here." Carter said as he brushed the blanket aside and entered the cabin.
He was slightly surprised to find Nicolas among the four that seemed to be refugees hiding in secret. However, their greetings were quick and not very heartfelt, it was obvious Carter had other intentions of visiting.
After having a whispered talk with Clear, the two decided to take a short walk to "talk a little more and clear our heads" as Carter said.
They left the cabin and Annabel could hear the engine of a car start up and figured that Carter had driven out to the cabin.
Joshua, Nicolas and Annabel fell into an uncomfortable silence -not that there had been much talking before- and traded semi-uncomfortable looks.
With a yawn, Annabel stretched herself out on the couch and realized that she hadn't sleep more then an hour since she left California. She lay her head on one of the pillows and closed her eyes.

And she dreamt.
Annabel wasn't there but she could see; Carter was there but Clear was gone, she wasn't with him. Carter lay on the sidewalk or road in a pool of blood that Annabel guessed was his own. His face was cut to ribbons (or close to that) and there were shards of glass all over, some piercing his body others lying on his body. There was also glass around his corpse, mixed in with the blood. His letterman's jacket was soaked with blood; his eyes stared, open, looking into nothing. His car was parked beside his corpse, the motor running and the keys jammed into the ignition. The car radio was playing the song "Don't Fear the Reaper" by some guy whose name Annabel couldn't think of.
Carter was dead and Clear was not there; Annabel didn't know if she was dead also or if she had just left. Carter was dead.