How Dark The World: A Shadows May Fall Story

December 1919

"You best come on inside, then."

Robbie trudged behind, boots crunching in the hard snow, and was led into a small porch cluttered with everything one could imagine from mechanical equipment to snowshoes to jars of preserves.

"Don't bother taking off your boots," Harold told Robbie and led the way into the adjoining kitchen. He yanked off his cap to reveal a head with barely any hair and stuffed it in his pocket, then went to the stove and lifted the lid. The smell of burning wood filled the whole house and reminded Robbie of the house he had left his mother and Helena to look after while he was gone.

He lingered at the door until Harold gestured for him to take a seat at the heavy wooden table, then gratefully opened his coat. He wasn't cold. He was burning up, and the wetness under his arms and at the back of his neck wasn't alleviated by the heat coming off the stove.

"You walk with a limp," Harold observed, putting a cast iron kettle over the head. "You were hurt then?"

"My leg. An infection almost killed me, but I came through it."

"She thinks you're dead, you know."

Robbie pulled off his gloves and twisted them in his hand. "There's not much I can do about that at the moment."

"It'll be a hell of a shock for her."

"Are you trying to run me off?"

"No, I'm just stating the facts. I'm making a pot of tea, but I won't offer you any. I don't expect you'll want to linger."

Robbie's skin began to prickle. "Then you can tell me where they are?"

"Yes and no. They headed down to Port Croft about a year ago when Charlie gave up school. He wanted to get himself a job and so did she. As far as I know, they're both still there, but I make no promises. Charlie was up in September to visit and he was talking about heading back to Halifax or out west if he couldn't get on where he wanted, and he said he'd come and see me before he went if that's what he decided. She'd go with him, of course. He wouldn't go without her. Now, I haven't seen him since, so either he went without telling me or he stayed put."

"If they went and someone can tell me where, I'll go there too."

"I have a feeling you're not lying about that. I don't know exactly where they live in Port Croft, but Charlie said it was a house and it's not a big place. Someone will know where it is. If you stand still and listen, you might even hear Charlie's big mouth running somewhere in town."

A laugh barked out of Robbie's throat before he could catch it. "That's certainly Charlie. That's the one I'm looking for."

"Do you know how to get to Port Croft?"

"Just drive along the coast?"

"Right you are, about halfway between here and Tatamagouche. No, sit down. I know you're itching to go, but I'm going to give you a canteen to take with you so you don't freeze your britches off."

"I appreciate that very much, and for telling me what I want to know."

"You sit tight. I've got to run down to the cellar for that canteen."

Left alone in the kitchen as Harold went into the dining room and through a small door under the staircase, Robbie looked out the window at the ice blue water in the distance and wondered if this was real or if he was home and dreaming it. Maybe he was still in a hospital bed and none of the past two years had happened. Or maybe even that was part of the dream, along with the explosion, and he was still in bed with Dorothy sleeping snug in his arms.