"Goddammit Carver, she's sick as a motherfucking dog and you did nothing about it!" Johnny shrieked. Audrey had rushed Ellie to the bus to get her to the nearby hospital (just a little too far to walk to). "Not a goddamned thing!"

Ralph looked shockingly like his daughter did earlier. He gulped and looked at the people surrounding him. There was the man from the shop ("Dave"), Belinda, and of course Johnny. "Wass I suppossa do boutit?" he slurred angrily.

"Not get drunk for one thing," spat Belinda Josephson. "Settin a bad example for the chillrun, and makin a general messa things. And you," she turned on Dave, "who the hell are you? Why were you sellin this man likker and why in God's good name did you not help the little girls?!"

Dave was flustered. "Well, marm, Ah tried to make Mr. Carver here respond to his little girls, hepp 'em and anythin else they needed, but he was stone drunk. And Ah acshully di'n't give 'im that likker to begin with. He found it evidently bah himself."

Johnny stepped back and fell heavily onto one of the benches outside Reed's Curios. He rubbed his temples in a circular motion, and, when this didn't help his raging headache, he stood back up rapidly to confront its source. "You are a goddamn sonuvabitch that can't even stay sober on a church trip!" he shouted at Ralph. He felt a little tugging on the back of the jeans he was wearing and turned.

"Whass wong with my daddy?" David asked. Unsupervised, he'd walked down the street to them by himself. "Is my daddy dead?"

Johnny melted at the sight of the child, and the thought of what he must live through.

"No, David, Daddy's not dad-not dead that is. Daddy," he looked back at Ralph, "is just in a bitchload of trouble."

Belinda began to admonish him for using vulgarity in front of such a little child when David asked in a very grownup, exasperated way, "What kind of trouble now?"

"Now!?" Johnny spun back to Ralph and reared back as to punch him. Dave Reed grabbed his wiry arm and pulled him into the shop.

The shop was pleasantly cool, although the merchandise seemed entirely geared towards faux western pieces, such as bright papier-mache pots and plastic cowskulls.

"Sir, I should tell you, he was asking to see our merchandise."

Johnny was stunned that this was what the man had pulled him away for. "So?"

Dave backed up a bit as if expecting a blow. "Sir, do you know what our merchandise is?"

Johnny looked around. "This?"

Dave was visibly relieved. "Thank you sir. Thank you very much." He walked off through a curtain in the back of the store.

"What the hell..." Johnny asked the empty room.

Audrey had Ellie in her arms by now. Ellie had gone to sleep there (God knows how, Audrey thought) and was shivering intensely. The bus was in sight, just beyond the far corner of the McDonalds the remainder of the trip was "resting" in.

Audrey got to the bus and rapped on the door; maybe the driver would still be in there instead of exploring the town. No answer. She rapped again, more sharply. Something stirred in one of the back windows of the bus and Audrey thought, Great, now he's taking a nap.

The stir became more agitated and there was movement towards the front of the bus. There was a young voice yelling something about the door and another answered. Those kids... Ripton and Smith, Audrey deduced. She didn't want to know what they'd been up to.

When Cary opened the door, he was out of breath. It was something alright, thought Audrey.

"Oh hi, Ms. Wyler. Is-" his tone became more serious, "God, is there something wrong with Pie?"

Audrey pushed her way in. "Ellie, can't you tell them apart," she breathed. "Okay, where the heck is the bus driver?"

"I think Steve is out walking the streets. You know, just stretching his legs or something like that." This also from Cary.

"Darnit, does anyone know exactly where he is?"

Cynthia this time: "I don't know."

"Oh thanks, Ms. Smith. Does anyone else?"

"I wouldn't know, would I?" Cynthia's tone was not particularly sharp, but Audrey reacted anyway.

"Don't you take a tone with me, missy, or you can just get ou--"

Cary hit Audrey. "Et tu, Mr. Ripton? I can throw you out to hitchhike back home, I can and-"

"Ms. Wyler, I'm sorry, but Ellie looks really bad."

He was right. Her eyelids had parted, but showed only whites.

"Okay, okay, um, okay, does anyone know how to drive a bus?"

Cary looked at her as if she'd just asked if anyone there had two noses. But Cynthia just said, "Yep."

Cary stared, mouth agape, at Cynthia. She simply walked by him to the front of the bus, patting him on the shoulder as she went. Cynthia sat down, started up the bus, then turned to Ms. Wyler. "You know this is technically stealing, right?"

Audrey only shook her head and said, "We need to get her to the hospital. Now, missy!"

Cynthia pulled out of the parking lot and onto the streets. "Do you know where it is?" she yelled over the engine.

"Got the directions from a local!" Audrey shouted back.

Cary was almost thrown back into his seat when Cynthia accelerated. He sat down and hung onto the armrest, his knuckles white.

"Here we go!" Cynthia exclaimed.

Steven Ames stood outside You Sew and Sew, a sewing shop. He knew the owner, Debbie Ross. In fact, he knew her very well.

Debbie Ross had been Debbie Ames for five what Steven would call wonderful years. They'd gotten a divorce because Debbie felt the need to see other people. That was when he'd moved to Franklin, Tennessee. She'd sold their house and moved out west. Neither of them had been to Castle Rock, Maine since.

Debbie had always enjoyed sewing. Steven remembered her annual needlepoint creations at Christmas. He still had one of them, and had even gotten it turned into a stocking. It depicted an angel with spread wings, hovering over a nativity scene. The rest of the needlepoint works had been destroyed when that fire started in his storage room a few months ago.

Steven considered walking straight in. What would he say? He hadn't even seen her for three years, and had gotten one card the entire time: a Christmas card the first year. And now, here she was, in business for herself. And what was he? A crappy bus driver. How would he explain that to Debbie after so many years of supremacy?

He decided to go in. What would happen if she found out he'd been in town, right outside her door, and not visited her? They should be keeping in touch. It wasn't right

(fair, it wasn't fair)

that they'd not seen each other for so long. Their marriage had been a happy one.

Hadn't it?

That was the clincher. There was no way Steven was going to just let their post-marital relationship fall apart.

He pushed open the glass door and strode in, heedless of the entrance bell tinkling behind him. The room was empty.

"Debbie! It's me, Steven!" Smooth, he thought cynically. "I wanna see ya! How's life been?"

The room stayed silent. "Debbie?" he asked, more timidly.

He crept past the register in the back and peered into the backroom. "Oh my god..."