33 Alice first saw him when he was a half mile away, an apostrophe on the shining line of railroad tracks. He came angling down the embankment, a slither of dark movement. He disappeared briefly, the way night-moving animals do, following the path that raccoons and foxes made through the drying grass, then reappearing briefly, his dark clothes reflecting moonlight, a glint of shadow, only to disappear again at the fence where he crawled under to emerge onto the moonlit field of mulched corn stubble. He stayed close to the fence and hardly looked human, his pace more a lope than a walk or jog, but moving evenly and steadily, a dark fluid figure rippling across the moonlit field. The world came alive with a vivid intensity, the sharp clarity of the cradle-shaped moon and the myriad stars making the dark harvested fields look like a calm, dark sea, and the faint hint of straight rows where the corn had been shorn looking like deliberate paths through the night that led him toward her. And then the muted rhythmic sound of his feet coming down as he got closer, a sound disguised, as if it were not human, as if it were a creature whose presence the earth had never received before.
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