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the difference in their ages and because Jenny had been away from home almost constantly since Lisa was two, she had thought that she was virtually a stranger to the girl. She was both flattered and humbled by this new insight into their relationship.
    “I know I can count on you,” she assured the girl. “I never thought I couldn’t.”
    Lisa smiled self-consciously.
    Jenny hugged her.
    For a moment, Lisa clung to her fiercely, and when they pulled apart, she said, “So ... did you find any clue to what happened here?”
    “Nothing that makes sense.”
    “The phone doesn’t work, huh?”
    “No. Not even the cell phone.”
    “So they’re out of order all over town.”
    “Probably.”
    They walked to the door and stepped outside, onto the cobblestone sidewalk.
    Surveying the hushed street, Lisa said, “Everyone’s dead.”
    “We can’t be sure.”
    “Everyone,” the girl insisted softly, bleakly. “The whole town. All of them. You can feel it.”
    “The Santinis were missing, not dead,” Jenny reminded her.
    A three-quarter moon had risen above the mountains while she and Lisa had been in the sheriff’s substation. In those night-clad places where the streetlamps and shop lights did not reach, the silvery light of the moon limned the edges of shadowed forms. But the moonglow revealed nothing. Instead, it fell like a veil, clinging to some objects more than to others, providing only vague hints of their shapes, and, like all veils, somehow managing to make all things beneath it more mysterious and obscure than they would have been in total darkness.
    “A graveyard,” Lisa said. “The whole town’s a graveyard. Can’t we just get in the car and go for help?”
    “You know we can’t. If a disease has—”
    “It’s not disease.”
    “We can’t be absolutely sure.”
    “I am. I’m sure. Anyway, you said you’d almost ruled it out, too.”
    “But as long as there’s the slightest chance, however remote, we’ve got to consider ourselves quarantined.”
    Lisa seemed to notice the gun for the first time. “Did that belong to the deputy?”
    “Yes.”
    “Is it loaded?”
    “He fired it three times, but that leaves seven bullets in the magazine.”
    “Fired at what?”
    “I wish I knew.”
    “Are you keeping it?” Lisa asked, shivering.
    Jenny stared at the revolver in her right hand and nodded. “I guess maybe I should.”
    “Yeah. Then again ... it didn’t save him, did it?”

6
    Novelties and Notions
    They proceeded along Skyline Road, moving alternately through shadows, yellowish sodium-glow from the streetlamps, darkness, and phosphoric moonlight. Regularly spaced trees grew from curbside planters on the left. On the right, they passed a gift shop, a small cafe, and the Santinis’ ski shop. At each establishment, they paused to peer through the windows, searching for signs of life, finding none.
    They also passed townhouses that faced directly onto the sidewalk. Jenny climbed the steps at each house and rang the bell. No one answered, not even at those houses where light shone beyond the windows. She considered trying a few doors and, if they were unlocked, going inside. But she didn’t do it because she suspected, just as Lisa did, that the occupants (if they could be found at all) would be in the same grotesque condition as Hilda Beck and Paul Henderson. She needed to locate living people, survivors, witnesses. She couldn’t learn anything more from corpses.
    “Is there a nuclear power plant around here?” Lisa asked.
    “No. Why?”
    “A big military base?”
    “No.”
    “I thought maybe ... radiation.”
    “Radiation doesn’t kill this suddenly.”
    “A really strong blast of radiation?”
    “Wouldn’t leave victims who look like these.”
    “No?”
    “There’d be burns, blisters, lesions.”
    They came to the Lovely Lady Salon, where Jenny always had her hair cut. The shop was deserted, as it would have been on any ordinary Sunday. Jenny wondered what had