ot milky now.
They stared up at him, alert and questioning. _What is it you want?_

The wind tore holes in tiny voices and there was the sound of laughter
and his wife's eyes were looking into his own, sorry only for him, at
peace with the rest. And they formed a ring around him, those three,
hands caught together, enclosing him. _What is it you are saying?_

It seemed to him that the words would come clear, but the rain came
then, great torrents of it, washing all away, all sight and sound....

* * * * *

He awoke and only the rain was true. The tiny rain had increased to a
wind-driven downpour and he was soaked where it had blown under the
eaves onto the porch.

From inside the house he heard a cry.

She was sitting upright in bed. Her eyes were open and full of pain. He
went quickly to her and touched her pulse. It was faint and reedy.

"I hurt," she whispered.

Quickly, as the doctor had taught him, he made up a shot of morphine, a
full quarter grain, and gave it to her. Her eyes glazed down, but did
not close.

"John," she said softly, "the children ... they ... talk to ..." She
twisted on the bed and he held her with strong arms until the eyes
closed again and her breathing became easy. He pushed the ruffled hair
back from her eyes and straightened the awry sheets.

The vibration of his walking might have wakened the twins. He tiptoed to
_their_ bed--for they refused to be parted even in sleep.

For a second he thought that the small night-light had tricked him by
shadows on shadows. He reached down to touch ...

They were gone.

He fought down sudden panic. Where can two children, deaf and dumb and
blind go in the middle of the night?

Not far.

He opened the door to the kitchen, hand-hunted for the hanging light.
They were not there--nor were they on the small back porch. The panic
passed critical mass, exploded out of control. He lurched back into the
combination living room, bed room. He looked under all of the beds and
into the small closet--everywhere that two children might conceal
themselves.

Outside the rain had increased. He peered out into the lightning night.
A truck horn blew ominously far down the road.

The road?

He slogged through the mud, instantly soaking as soon as he was out of
shelter, not knowing or caring. Through the front yard, out to the road.
He could see the lights of the truck coming from far away, two tiny
points in the darkness