Vera slapped Opal across the face. The blow knocked the petite older woman backward into the recliner. Vera climbed on top, raised her fists, ready to do some real damage. Opal’s insistent urging —Kill her! Kill her !—had pushed her beyond her limits. Yes, she’d run over the crossbow attacker on the snowmobile. He was probably dead, certainly gravely wounded; but that was her car crashing into him, not her flesh and bone. She never even saw his face. He was more an abstract threat than a human being. Here was someone who had saved her life and Vera looked down at Opal and wanted to hurt her. Waves of guilt, shame, and fear converged. I’m no better than Chan. Trying to resist the riptide of emotions and not let them drag her out to sea, she stumbled dizzily off Opal, banged her shoulder into the vending machine standing sentinel in the corner; her knees gave out. She hugged herself and slid to the carpet.
The candle on the TV tray was still burning.
Opal blinked at the weaving flame. The trance fog burned away. She seemed to be fighting with its afterimages. Ghosts in the room—she avoided them. She threw off the afghan.
Vera didn’t want to look at her.
How could she?
Opal perched on the arm of the recliner. Coldness crept between them. But it had little to do with temperature. Vera peeked
between strands of hair. She caught sight of Opal’s faraway eyes. A blank expression of grief hung there. Were scenes from the vision scorched into her retinas? What had she seen?
Vera lifted her head. Her voice was almost imperceptible.
“You back with us?”
Opal nodded. “What happened? Did I-—?”
“You said horrible things. Vile, horrible things . . .”
“Whiteside talked to me. He looked . . . spindly, his skin, mouth ... it was like seeing a spider jump out of its hole.”
“He appeared inside the television?”
Nodding, Opal said, “I guess you could tell from the way I reacted. I must have been looking at it.”
“And that’s when you bargained with him?”
Opal scowled. “He asked for the stone. I said no. He showed me the punishment for not cooperating with his wishes. We didn’t exactly negotiate.”
“You told him to murder me.”
“What are you talking about? I never said that.”
“I know what I heard. I’m not the liar here. You said everything was my fault. So you must believe that. I wish I could leave this place. But I can’t. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay away from me.”
“Vera, don’t you see? He put words in my mouth to divide us—”
The apartment shook.