Darkness swept over the town again, so suddenly it seemed to have almost sucked up the light like a sponge. Stangler had rearranged the chairs and tables and disposed of the empty bottles and was just in the middle of wiping off a table when he thought he heard a noise.

He looked up; glanced around. Nothing seemed different. He shrugged and returned to his work.

The noise sounded again. And this time Lucius heard it distinctly and recognized it as well- it sounded like a low, moaning wind, an unnaturally slow wind.

A flash of light cut through the gap between the closed door and the wall.

Lucius started at that, looked up.

The wind moaned.

There was no more light.

Stangler set himself to his task again, frustrated. It was probably just another illusion.

Flash.

This time Lucius jumped back, knocked into a chair. He stared at the door for a long time.

The wind had stopped.

Lucius rung the rag in his hands a bit, listening to the dead silence. And after he'd stood there long enough he realized it was not as quiet as he thought.

A sound was emanating from outside- a familiar sound, but so strange under the circumstances, and so quiet, that it took Stangler several seconds to recognize it.

It was a sort of... crunching noise, like gravel shifting, like dust being ground into the Earth.

Like footsteps.

Not even bothering to let go of the rag, Lucius moved forward, towards the door. And the sound continued, not getting louder, not getting softer- constant. Rhythmic.

Slowly, Stangler opened the door; looked out onto the streets of Babylon.

Shadows were passing him by.

They came from the direction of the mine, or at least seemed to be, and they were marching, in no particular order it appeared, but with a rhythmic step, a slow and steady pace that was never broken.

Lucius stared, squinting a bit in the darkness.

And then one passed who held a lantern.

Stangler immediately stumbled back, slammed the door, collapsed with his back to the wall. He grasped at his head; pulled his knees up to his chest. Now he knew he had to be crazy.

The gravel and dust still ground together outside.

Lucius shuddered again in fright, willing the noise outside to disappear.

But it didn't.

As the minutes passed, the sound became monotonous. Already after such a short time it had become a natural part of the environment. The heartbeat of Babylon was the sound of the maniacally slow, rhythmic steps.

Slowly, as the sound sunk more and more into monotony, Lucius unfolded his body, finally winding up with his legs stretched out in front of himself, his hands fiddling with the rag.

The sound went on. The lights still passed, every now and then. Flash. Flash. Flash.

Lucius took a slow, shaky breath and willed himself to his feet, fighting his fear and the slight unsteadiness the whisky from before was still granting him. And slowly, he turned and opened the door again.

This time he watched. They were still coming, one after another after another, passing through the streets with their lanterns, facing straight ahead, nothing but their legs and feet moving. The lanterns stayed steady even as they walked; it seemed that their eyes did not even blink.

And as they passed, Lucius looked from one to another and then repeated the process, wondering why, in their passing, they were taking no notice of him.

Until he saw coming one that he recognized.

Damnú air , he muttered; a Gaelic swear. He nearly fell out of the doorway, and in catching himself nearly knocked straight into one of the shadows, but he pulled himself back for fear of coming in contact with the figure. He only made his way towards the face he knew, as that selfsame face made its way slowly towards him.

The only difference between them was, when Stangler stopped and tried to speak, the other just kept on walking around him.

As Lucius was being passed by, he somehow again found his voice.

he said quietly, and then went in pursuit of the young man, David Baker?

He nearly caught the boy's shoulder before David Baker recognized his name and turned.

he said, using the old nickname the miners had given Lucius Stangler long ago. He nodded in greeting, then turned and continued walking.

Wait- wait, wait! Stangler pursued the young man again, made him turn again, What's- what's goin' on?

Davy Baker looked confused.

I mean, Stangler stammered, as the multitudes of shadows and light continued to pass on all sides, What's... What's this all about?I don't understand, said Davy.

Lucius took a look around, rested his hands on his hips. He shook his head a bit and gestured vaguely with one hand before asking: Where you all going?The carnival, Davy answered plainly.

Stangler's eyebrows lowered sharply.

he asked, and laughed nervously. There's no carnival.

For the first time, Davy smiled.

There will be, he said, then turned and continued walking.

Lucius repeated, sneering. He tried letting this idea sink in a bit before another one rose to the surface. Wait, wait, Davy! he called out and ran a few more paces, and the boy once again turned to face him. Where's Scudder?

At this question, David's light brown eyes darkened.

Scudder's gone, he said.

Stangler asked. He sniffed thoughtfully. You mean... he's with... you fellows?

David shook his head solemnly- ominously.

Scudder left, he said, and turned and continued walking.

Scudder left, Lucius repeated as Davy walked away from him for the third time. Suddenly Lucius laughed: Well, where'd he go? The carnival?

But David Baker didn't answer. He had disappeared into the crowd of shadows.

And the shadows continued to march, and Lucius remained by himself in the street, as if in a dream.