"Yeah," he shook his head, "they tried to treat them like peasants, but the townsfolk let them know how they feel about Carpet Baggers. The old families and everyone else treat them like trespassers."

"Funny," she frowned at the cheap construction of Duncannon's wall, "money is never enough. When I make it, I won't need anyone in Swannanoa's approval."

Over a steep hill they came to the center of Hemlock Hurst. The town proper was spread over the side of the mountain. On knobs, hills, and hillocks, houses moldered in shadow, most abandoned. Better days had departed, money fled with jobs. No matter the dedication, loyalty or years of service, it was cheaper to move overseas. Houses, rooves cared in, leaned on foundations, which broke on the uneasy earth. Foolish entrepreneurs left businesses boarded up, only a family of raccoons patrolled the empty shelves.

For sale signs went in the yards, houses already abandoned. Marie frowned. With the closing of the factory, entire streets were now empty. Tim turned his head away as they passed a half painted fence. A swing set, caught by a breeze, wined as it swayed. It was the only house still occupied and not on the market. At twisted minivan set upon blocks of stone, like a corpse left to rot in the open air. She turned to him, but he had shrunk away. The truck dragged past, silence filled the cab.

Down at the base of Lear Mountain, where most of the remaining townsfolk lived, the creeks and streams crossed. Owl Sticks wallowed at the lowest reached of Hemlock Hurst. Government houses were nestled among cluster of trailer parks, each given pseudo extravagant names. Although all were in various states of decay, none bothered to give the truck a second look. Cherry red and blueberry blue lights slid across broken glass and needles. Police sirens screamed through the night, but Tim only watched the road. A boom echoed off the mountain, ensnared by the town. No one flinched, save Marie, as another Meth lab exploded. Dirty children ran across the street. Laid beneath the cat piss stench of drugs, the Sulphur stench of long abandoned Veilstromme mines soured.

Owl Sticks was the largest community in Hemlock Hurst. The cloisters of people in the trailers and houses were at one side. Most of the land was forest, where bogs languished under uncut trees. They shunned the world, which in turn, the outside chose to forget them. Dirt roads winded through to folk that wanted nothing of the world. The chorus of frogs was drunk with the heat. Light from fireflies pulsed. Layers of decay rotted into a soup of wet vegetation.

At the farthest ends, where only one road cut through the dark forest, they found Ashless Hollow. Even in the height of the midday sun, no light fell upon the La Voison house. Stilts kept the flood waters off the home. The lowest point of Hemlock Hurst, it appeared immune from the saturnine air. Air crept into the truck, which tasted of gingerbread. An intimate heat pressed on the skin, and Marie heard the rasp of each ragged breath escaped. Though Bethany was gone, she felt her eyes upon her.

"We're here," he said evenly, but his eyes flicked to the house. A shadow fluttered.

"I," Marie felt the witty remark die on her lips, "somehow knew I would come back."

"The land is paid for," he swallowed, "your family set up a trust that is less than extravagant, but you could live on it. I don't know where or how she got the money."

"I do," she breathed, "and how much it cost her."

Tim waited, but she looked out on the yard, "I'll help you get your car." Marie nodded. Another shadow flashed, and he turned, "So, do you have a plan?"

"I'll do anything to get away from here," she nodded to the house. "One day, I will know what it is like to live on the hill, have that life."

"Your mother was a great lady," he turned.

"Yeah," she let out a sour chuckle, "and she was happy to make us live in the shadow of people who owned us. People threw stones at us…one time, because…" Marie glanced at him, blushed, "they said we were cursed."

"I know," Tim shook his head, "but people around here are superstitious idiots. This is your land. Bethany isn't responsible for their stupidity."

"It is more than the family name," her eyes roamed around the property. "It's this place, Tim. Hemlock Hurst is a pit, but Ashless Hollow, it is a place where the world is thin." She shivered at the trees that imprisoned the plot of land.

"I don't understand, Inky," he wiped away sweat. "You can live here, for now, and then try to work your way up to a house in Swannanoa."

She turned, "You think they ever allow someone like me to live there? Every small town is the same. Everyone thinks they know you, because they know your parents or siblings." Marie turned a bitter smile on him, "You're one of the hardest workers I know. So, did your hard work pay off? Did the Good Ole Boy club ever let you in?"

"I…well, I never really got in with them," he rubbed stubble. "I just wanted to work, and stay away from those kinds of men."

"But, those kinds of men are everywhere, and they watch each other back. Trust me," she crossed her arms.

"If you work hard enough, then people will see your value."

Marie laughed, "I'm sure they loved you. I bet you worked hard enough, so their buddies could slack off.

He opened his mouth, closed it. "You don't have to stay. You can run off again," he recalled waking up that morning to see her gone.

"Hey, Tim," Marie had wondered how things would have been, if she'd stayed beside him.

"Why did you leave, Inky?"

She looked at him, the house, and recalled how Bethany muttered to shadows, "I was just afraid—"

The truck had a police scanner. Tim was on the local rescue squad, and helped often. Chatter had crawled out of it, but the dispatcher spoke sharply that shots were fired. Van Lear was mentioned. He frowned, and Marie turned it up, instincts thrummed. With one of the local aristocracy involved, local authorities were going to descend on the location. The family donated a lot of money to the police.

"Come on," she look at him, body shivered, "let's go!"

He saw the grin and the spark in her eyes, "Sure, I've got nothing better to do." Tim knew, eventually, he would have to go home to look at the twisted minivan.