How to Order Coffee in France

How to Order Coffee in France If you think ordering coffee in a French cafà © or bar is the same as back home, you might be in for an unpleasant surprise. Ask for un cafà © and youll be presented with a tiny cup of espresso, and if you then request milk, youre likely to get a dirty look or sigh of exasperation. Whats the problem? Le Cafà © Franà §ais In France, un cafà ©, which may also be called un petit cafà ©, un cafà © simple, un cafà © noir, un petit noir, un cafà © express, or un express, is an espresso: a tiny cup of strong black coffee. Thats what the French drink, so thats what the simple word cafà © refers to. Many visitors to France, however, prefer a large cup of filtered, relatively weak coffee, which in France is known as un cafà © amà ©ricain or un cafà © filtre. If you like the taste but not the strength of espresso, order un cafà © allongà © and youll get an espresso in a large cup which you can dilute with hot water. On the other hand, if youd like something even stronger than espresso, ask for un cafà © serrà ©. In the unlikely event that you find a place serving iced coffee, it will be called cafà © glacà ©. For decaffeinated coffee, add the word dà ©ca to your order: un cafà © dà ©ca, un cafà © amà ©ricain dà ©ca, etc. Du Lait, Sil Vous Plaà ®t If you want milk, you have to order it with the coffee: un cafà © au lait, un cafà © crà ¨me, un crà ¨me - espresso with hot milk (large cup)un cappuccino - espresso with foamed milk (large cup)un cafà © noisette, une noisette - espresso with a dash of milk or a spoonful of foam (small cup) Et Du Sucre? You dont need to ask for sugar - if its not already on the bar or table, it will arrive with your coffee, in little envelopes or cubes. (If its the latter, you can do like the French and faire un canard: dip a sugar cube in your coffee, wait a moment for it to turn brown, and then eat it.) Coffee Notes At breakfast, the French like to dip croissants and day-old baguettes into cafà © crà ¨me - indeed, thats why it comes in such a large cup or even a bowl. But breakfast is the only meal at which coffee is consumed (1) with milk and (2) with food. The French drink un express after lunch and dinner, which means after- not with- dessert. French coffee is not meant to be consumed on the street, so theres no takeaway. But if youre in a hurry, drink your petit cafà © standing up at the bar, rather than sitting at a table. Youll be rubbing elbows with locals, and youll save money to boot. (Some cafà ©s have three different prices: bar, indoor table, and outdoor table.) Un cafà © lià ©geois is not a drink, but rather a dessert: a coffee ice cream sundae. (Youre also likely to encounter un chocolat lià ©geois.) Other Hot Drinks un chocolat - hot chocolateun thà © - black teaun thà © vert - green teaune tisane, une infusion - herbal tea In the mood for something different? This article has an extensive list of other drinks and their French pronunciations.

Essay Sample on the Unity of Northern and Southern America

Essay Sample on the Unity of Northern and Southern America The attempt of the Southern States to secede from the American Federation in 1861, created a dangerous crisis in the history of America. The crisis turned into an internal war and, by the superior military power of the Center, they had to be kept within the Federation as integral part of the country which was, at that time, already moving towards plenty and prosperity. It was a complex process, and the Northern Federal Government really showed some extraordinary skills in order to bring the South back into the political system. In 1776, under the brilliant leadership of George Washington, 13 British Colonies in America united together and achieved a glorious freedom. On November 15, 1777, a confederation was created in order to provide for common defense, securities for their liberties and for their mutual and general welfare in the future. But the system had many loopholes and, hence, soon the leaders felt that the system must be either revised or superseded by a new one. Thus, the Philadelphia Convention was held in May 1787 which introduced a full fledged Federation for fostering a sense of unity among the units. According to K.C. Wheare, The fear of military insecurity and the consequent need of common defense, a desire to be independent of foreign power and the need of economic prosperity etc. have encouraged modern nations to form Federations (Wheare). Naturally, it needs unity among the federal units and the supremacy of the national Government. In the view of Bernard Schwartz, The American system has properly ensured those  arrangements in case of McCulloch v. Maryland; and it was declared in the case of Texas v. White (1869) that America was an indestructible union, composed of indestructible states. So, no unit can secede from it and, an attempt to do so can be failed by the superior power of the Center. This is a sample American History essay written from scratch by one of our academic writers. If you want to order a custom essay, term paper, research paper, thesis/dissertation or other written assignment on any topic contact our company to get professional academic writing help.

Business and Managerial Economics Essay Example | Topics and Well Written Essays - 2500 words

Business and Managerial Economics - Essay Example Trace the evolution of the rent and the quantity traded over time (in the long-run) (20 marks) An earthquake will affect not only the supply side but also the demand side of the housing market. On the supply side, the earthquake will reduce the supply of housing and, assuming that demand remained unchanged, the earthquake will lead to increases in rentals. However, demand does not remained unchanged in a major earthquake that caused significant damage to housing. Aftershocks take place and these sent jitters to consumers. City services like transport, electricity, and water are affected as well. Schools and workplaces may not be able to operate for some time. Thus, a major earthquake can send consumers to an exodus to locations safer from earthquakes and their aftershocks. In short, demand is affected as well. For this reason, it can happen house rent can remain unchanged or landowners may offer discounts to consumers. If demand is significantly reduced, house rent can even decrease and this seems to be the short-term effect in a strong earthquake everywhere. In the medium te rm as a location recovers from the earthquake, city and other services are restored and school/workplace operations normalize. But because supply is unable to respond quickly, housing supply may be fixed as demand is restored back to normal. Therefore, in the medium term, rentals may be higher than the immediate pre-earthquake levels. In this case, economic profit can be higher than normal and investors are encouraged to go into the housing sector. More housing units are built and the prices of house rentals decrease. The trend continues until the situation is normalized. This means that either house rentals are restored back to the pre-earthquake levels or the prices of rentals are back into the situation where economic profit is zero or â€Å"normal†. This discussion is similar to Varian (2005, p. 9). Restaurants that charge reasonable prices for food but

The American Civil War Essay Example | Topics and Well Written Essays - 1750 words

The American Civil War - Essay Example The American Civil War Both of these developments saw the strengthening of the American nation and the consolidation of the North American continent under the federal American government. Similarly, a consolidated and expanding America was able to exert itself in the affairs of Latin America to its own benefits. In a comparable manner, America was able to carve out spheres of influence in Asia in order to protect its interests in the East. This essay will look into specific examples of American consolidation and expansion in the aforementioned regions between the American Civil War and the First World War along with the justifications presented by the American nation for such actions. The American Civil War needs to be considered foremost since the emancipation of the African Americans provided the burgeoning economy and the industrialising North with ready hand, cheap labour. Furthermore, the American Civil War was instrumental in abrading the South’s political power so that the centre of power shi fted to the North. The political structure of the nation was also strengthened given that the American Civil War proved that breakaway states would not be tolerated by the federation. In turn, this allowed the consolidation of the American nation on the North American continent. The consolidation of the American nation at home allowed America to eye the larger global stage for expansion. Before the 1890’s, the only major American territorial expansion was the purchase of Alaska from Russia in lieu of the Aleutian Islands. (Foner 711). However, the burgeoning industrial complex at home demanded an increase in exports, especially during periods of lowered consumption at home. America began to view the rest of the world

Managing Role Stress as a nurse Essay Example for Free

Managing Role Stress as a nurse Essay Role Stress is the number one reason nurses leave the nursing field (Chang, Hancock, Johnson, Daly, Jackson, 2005). Role Stress happens when you find yourself experiencing things that you did not expect to happen to you as a nurse. It is the difference your perception of a role versus the reality of your role. You might first experience this as a new grad Nurse without confidence, facing unrealistic expectations, and value conflicts. You could also experience Role Stress due to a lack of job control, high demands, and work overload. We are now being faced with shorter and shorter hospital stays equaling more work to be done in less time. (Blais Hayes, 2011, pg. 27 ) A nurse experiencing Role Stress might end up with Role Strain. An emotional reaction accompanied by psychological responses, such as anxiety, tension, irritation, resentment, depression, and job dissatisfaction (Blais Hayes 2011, pg. 27). A stressor that one might experience as a substitute school nurse is the lack of consistency on policy from one school to another. A good way to manage the stress caused by the inconsistency is to research school nurse policies in the state you are in, and work under those regulations. Also, voicing your concerns to those involved can help if done politely. This was shown to be effective, thus eliminating stress. In another example; one may not realize the emotional stress of a job. Death in the ED can take a toll on both staff and family. It can produce feelings of guilt, anger, failure. One might become numb and develop emotional defenses to cope with the way they feel. To help with this special education or training can be given to the nurse, which can help improve wellness and performance (http://emedicine. medscape.com/article/806280-overview). In every different nursing environment we will eventually run into stressors, that can cause role strain. There are fortunately some strategies that can help manage stress. A plan of care to manage stress might be helpful to all working in the health care field. The following interventions might help reduce stress: Learn how to identify problems and solve them, have good time management skills, delegate well, and learn to not procrastinate. It is also helpful to not assume too many roles, to arrive early, and prepare ahead of time to eliminate any work overload stress. (Blais Hayes, 2011, pg. 29). A short term goal could be to arrive early to work everyday which in return could prevent some additional stress.. A long term goal would be the reduction of stress through applying the above strategies, as well as doing something healthy for yourself, such as a walk, exercise, alone time, or perhaps a good book. Using community resources and help available through specialist and friends can also be beneficial. In summary, it is first necessary to take care of yourself, then you will be in a position to apply the many other helpful techniques enabling you to care for others. References Blais, K.K. Hayes, J.S. (2011). Professional Nursing Practice: Concepts and Perspectives (6th ed). Upper Saddle River, NJ: Pearson Prentice Hall, Inc. Chang, E.J., Hancock, K.M., Johnson, A., Daly, J., Jackson, D. (2005). Role stress in nurses: Review of related factors and strategies for moving forward. Nursing and Health Sciences, 7, 57-65. Medscape. (2009). Grief Support in the ED. Retrieved September 4, 2013, from http://emedicine,medscape.com/article/806280-overview)

Mel Gibsons The Passion of the Christ Essay -- Reflective The Passion

The Passion of the Christ - The Pathetic Appeal of the Death of Jesus In February 2004, one day after the release of The Passion of the Christ, my girlfriend and I took our seats in the crowded theatre. I came into the night prepared to watch the death of Jesus Christ. However, I had no idea that I would actually be watching the death of Jesus Christ. For ten or more years prior to this night, I had always been told that Jesus had died on a cross for my sins. My parents, my Sunday school teachers, my friends’ parents, and my extended family had, at some time in my youth, told me the story of Jesus from the Gospels of the New Testament (Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John). From the moment I matured enough to understand these stories, I had believed Jesus â€Å"died and rose again† just for me. I took this belief and put it in my dresser drawer so that I could return to use it again in my adult life. As we all know, things do not happen the way we plan. The lights in the theatre faded into a nervous darkness, and scripture, from the Bible that I knew so well, lit up the screen. â€Å"But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities . . . Isaiah 53:5.† This was no surprise to me. I had been taught this all my life. Jesus died for me. The movie progressed with Jesus being arrested and sentenced to death. Then, I was punched in the gut with a new perspective of this story. The Roman guards stripped Jesus of his clothes and whipped him several times in an extremely bloody and intense scene. This man’s flesh was ripped off his back and flung into the crowd. It was absolutely disgusting, but it was absolutely effective. Up until this point, Jesus had just been a dignified man who had saved me from my sins. Now he was a beaten and broken man who suffered the most excruciating pain to save me from my sins. I never had a visual image in my mind that showed me what Jesus had gone through for me until this movie. And even though it is just a movie, it painted a picture for me that changed my views about Jesus Christ. He wasn’t the guy in my dresser drawer anymore; he was my Savior. This change of view spawned from the use of rhetoric. The pathetic appeals that the director, Mel Gibson, used were very effective. The images he created on the screen led many people to tears. Almost everyone turned their head away in as... ...something that is wrong. This fear can be a good thing when it comes to talking with other people about their religions, but it can also be a bad thing because it’s harder to trust the most trustworthy people. Discovering rhetoric this semester has changed my view that I can believe the claims of those people I trust. Now I have to convince myself that these people I trust are not trying to lead me astray even if they are using a rhetorical appeal. Most of them probably don’t even know they are using rhetorical appeals. I am not yet sure if I like this revision of myself. It has definitely proved helpful when reading texts for other classes because it separates learning from believing. I can learn something and not necessarily believe it unless I think it’s the truth, as opposed to believing everything I learn like I have done in the past. However, this new understanding of rhetoric has caused me to question everyone. Eventually, something will come along and convince me that questioning everyone is a good thing or an evil thing. One of these opposing views will dominate the other one, but until then, I will have to wait for the appeals of rhetoric to lead me to what is â€Å"right.†

The Depression Level of 4th Year College Students

Acknowledgement The researcher proudly acknowledge to the ones who supported this research for making it possible to accomplish this factual research. First of all, the researcher would proudly acknowledge our Almighty God for bestowing us the eternal blessings of knowledge in this research, for securing us from harm at all times and gave us guidance to finish this research. The researcher would also proudly acknowledge our beloved professor Dr. Maria Rosario E. Monce, for giving enough knowledge to perform and finish this research.This research will surely prepare us for the future challenges and it will help us to become a far more responsible and hardworking person. Also, I would also like to give thanks to the 4th year college students of the University of the East for their swift cooperation in answering the researcher’s depression test. DEDICATION The researcher dedicates this study to her beloved family especially to her mom to show her efforts, gratitude, sincerity and most of all her unending love and appreciation for all she have sacrificed for her. To the researcher’s friends who gave support and encouragement.To the researcher’s beloved Professor, Dr. Maria Rosario E. Monce, who taught her how to trust herself and to have a positive outlook in life. Abstract Research Title:The Depression Level of 4th Year College Students of the University of the East Researcher:Criselle Joy M. Masungsong Degree Granted:Bachelor of Science, Major in Psychology Granting Institution:College of Arts and Sciences, University of the East, Manila Research design:Descriptive Method Respondents:50 4th year college students Statistical Tools Used:T-test for independence samples, Chi-square Summary . The age of the respondents ranges from 18-24 years old. The respondent with the age of 18 have the frequency of 1 or 2%. The respondents with the age of 19 have the frequency of 16 or 32%. The respondents with the age of 20 have the frequency of 19 or 38%. Th e respondents with the age of 21 have the frequency of 10 or 20%. The respondent with the age 22 has the frequency of 1 or 2%. The respondent with the age of 23 has the frequency of 1 or 2%. The respondents with the age of 24 have the frequency of 2 or 4%. 2. The year level is all 4th year college students. 3.The number of male and female respondents is equal. There are 25 male respondents and 25 female respondents which equals to 50 respondents. 4. The 2 respondents with the age of 20 have High Depression Level. The 3 respondents with the age of 19 and 20 have Above Average Depression Level. The 9 respondents with the age of 19, 20, and 21 have Average Depression Level. The 22 respondents with the age of 19,20,21,23 and 24 have Below Average Depression Level. The 14 respondents with the age of 19, 20, 21 and 22 have Low Depression level. 5. The Depression level of 4th year college students is 3. 7. It means the respondents have Below Average Depression Level. 6. The Depression leve l of male respondents is 3. 64 which mean they have Below Average Depression Level. The Depression level of female respondents is 3. 71 which mean they have Below Average Depression Level. 7. The obtained value of 25. 13 is lower than the critical value of 36. 42 at the 0. 05 level of significance therefore; the researcher accepts the null hypothesis, which means there is no significant difference between the ages of the 4th year college students in their depression level. 8. The obtained value of 0. 7 is lower than the critical value of 9. 49 at the 0. 05 level of significance therefore; the researcher accepts the null hypothesis, which means there is no significant difference between the genders of the 4th year college students in their depression level. Conclusion The researcher came up with the following conclusions: 1. The majority of the respondents according to age in the demographic profile are 20 years old. The respondents according to gender in the demographic profile are equal. The respondents according to year level are all 4th year college students. 2.The level of depression of 4th year college students by age is the same. The students with the age of 18-24 can have the same depression level. 3. The level of depression of 4th year college students by gender is the same. The students have below average depression level. The gender cannot affect the depression level of 4th year college students. Both male and female can have high depression, above average depression, average depression, below average depression and low depression level. 4. The year level of all respondents is the same so it won’t have any effect on the depression level of the respondents. . The obtained value of 25. 13 is lower than the critical value of 36. 42 at the 0. 05 level of significance therefore; the researcher accepts the null hypothesis, which means there is no significant difference between the ages of the 4th year college students in their depression level. 6. T he obtained value of 0. 57 is lower than the critical value of 9. 49 at the 0. 05 level of significance therefore; the researcher accepts the null hypothesis, which means there is no significant difference between the genders of the 4th year college students in their depression level. Recommendation 1.Researcher must have wider range of research to support her study and to prove if there is a significant difference between the depression level of 4th year college students at University of the East-Manila. 2. Add more respondents to be able to gather better proof and understanding in depression level of 4th year college students. 3. The researcher should study more than just one year level. 4. Look for more studies that are related in the researcher’s topic. 5. Never lose hope. 6. Depression can be fought with a positive outlook in life and control to yourself. Chapter 1 Problem and its Background IntroductionDepression has been recognized as a common disease. It  is a state of low mood and aversion to activity that can affect a person's thoughts, behavior, feelings and physical well-being. Depressed people may feel sad, anxious, empty, hopeless, helpless,  worthless, guilty, irritable, or restless. They may lose interest in activities that once were pleasurable, experience loss of appetite or overeating, or problems concentrating, remembering details or making decisions; and may contemplate or attempt suicide. Insomnia, excessive sleeping, fatigue, loss of energy, or aches, pains or digestive problems that are resistant to treatment may be present.Depression can last for years and can end up people in mental hospitals. Some used to say their depressed but they only feel sad. Too much and too long sadness can become depression. This research will contain factual information regarding the depression degree of people’s current state of adolescence and young adults. At this age is the beginning of difficult and complicated trials anchored with di fferent types of negative elements such as temptation, greed or jealousy in their journey to adulthood, this is also the stage of building one’s selves hidden talent and forging of who they will become in the future.Background of the study The researcher used many sources and books to conclude and finish the study. So many time was given and sleepless nights to endure. Complete understanding was used in the research to have a good result. Depression was called melancholia many years ago. The name was changed and become clinical depression, major depression or simply depression and commonly referred to as major depressive disorder by many health care professionals. There is no single cause for depression.Many factors play a role including genetics, environment, life events, medical conditions, and the way people react to things that happen in their lives. Research shows that depression runs in families and some people inherit genes that make them more likely to get depressed. Not everyone who has the genetic makeup for depression gets depressed, though. Some can get depress even if they don’t have genetic makeup for depression. The death of a family member, friend, or pet can go beyond normal grief and sometimes lead to depression.Other difficult life events, such as when parents divorce, separate, or remarry, can trigger depression. Even events like moving or changing schools can be emotionally challenging enough that a person becomes depressed. For some teens, a negative, stressful, or unhappy family atmosphere can affect their self-esteem and lead to depression. This can also include high-stress living situations such as poverty; homelessness; and violence in the family, relationships, or community. Substance use and abuse also can cause chemical changes in the brain that affect mood — lcohol and some drugs are known to have depressant effects. The negative social and personal consequences of substance abuse also can lead to severe unhap piness and depression. Certain medical conditions can affect hormone balance and therefore have an effect on mood. Some conditions, such as hypothyroidism, are known to cause a depressed mood in some people. When these medical conditions are diagnosed and treated by a doctor, the depression usually disappears. Theoretical Framework The researcher was able to search about Beck’s Depression Inventory (BDI, BDI-II), created by Dr. Aaron T.Beck, is a 21-question multiple-choice self-report inventory, one of the most widely used instruments for measuring the severity of depression. Also, the researcher was able to study about Aaron Beck's Cognitive Theory of Depression. Different cognitive behavioral theorists have developed their own unique twist on the Cognitive way of thinking. According to Dr. Aaron Beck, negative thoughts, generated by dysfunctional beliefs are typically the primary cause of depressive symptoms. A direct relationship occurs between the amount and severity of someone's negative thoughts and the severity of their depressive symptoms.In other words, the more negative thoughts you experience, the more depressed you will become. Beck also asserts that there are three main dysfunctional belief themes (or â€Å"schemas†) that dominate depressed people's thinking: 1) I am defective or inadequate, 2) All of my experiences result in defeats or failures, and 3) The future is hopeless. Together, these three themes are described as the Negative Cognitive Triad. When these beliefs are present in someone's cognition, depression is very likely to occur (if it has not already occurred).Beck's main argument was that depression was instituted by one's view of oneself, instead of one having a negative view of oneself due to depression. This has large social implications of how we as a group perceive each other and relate our dissatisfactions with one another. Abela and D'Alessandro's (2002) study on college admissions is a good example of this pheno menon. In their study they found that the student's negative views about their future strongly controlled the interaction between dysfunctional attitudes and the increase in depressed mood.The research clearly backed up Beck's claim that those at risk for depression due to dysfunctional attitudes who did not get into their college of choice then doubted their futures, and these thoughts lead to symptoms of depression. Therefore, the students' self-perceptions became negative after failing to get into college, and many showed signs of depression due to this thinking. Conceptual Framework InputProcessOutput The diagram shows how the study is being conducted. The 4th year college students are the independent variable and the level of depression is the dependent variable.To determine whether the independent variable really affects the dependent variable, a depression test is processed. Statement of the Problem 1. What is the demographic profile of the respondents according to their: 1. Age; 2. Gender 3. Course/Year? 2. What is the level of depression of the respondents? 1. Is there significant difference between the depression level of male and female adolescents? 2. Is there significant difference between the ages of adolescents in their depression level? 3. Is there significant difference between the year level of adolescents in their depression level?Hypotheses Null: There is no significant difference between the level of depression of male and female 4th year college students in the University of the East Manila. There is no significant difference between the ages of 4th year college students in their level of depression? There is no significant difference between the year level of 4th year college students in their level of depression? Alternative: There is a significant difference between the level of depression of male and female 4th year college students in the University of the East Manila.There is a significant difference between the ages of 4th year col lege students in their level of depression? There is a significant difference between the year level of 4th year college students in their level of depression? Assumption Females are more sensitive than males. Female thinks too much which leads to stress and with prolonged problems and sadness, depression is developed. Male doesn’t think too much about their problems in life. They just play computer games or do their interest to help themselves and make their sadness fade. The researcher will assume that females have higher depression level than males.Significance of the study This study will help to guide the readers on understanding of what is really depression, the main causes of depression especially at their age and understanding the theoretical studies of depression that will broaden the concept of readers regarding the topic of this research. The significance of this study will make a person aware of their Depression level and whether they have low/high depression leve l. The researcher will help the respondents in improving and knowing what to do for their selves. Scope and Delimitation of the StudyThis study limits its respondents to 50 4th year college students. These 50 persons are students in University of the East Manila, specifically ranging from age of 18 up to 24 years old. The researcher provided definitions, backgrounds about the study, tests, reasons and preventions, computations and frameworks. Definitions Depression is a state of low mood and aversion to activity that can affect a person's thoughts, behavior, feelings and physical well-being. Beck’s Depression Inventory is a 21-question multiple-choice self-report inventory, one of the most widely used instruments for measuring the severity of depression.Insomnia (or sleeplessness) is most often defined by an individual's report of sleeping difficulties Stress It refers to the consequence of the failure of an organism  Ã¢â‚¬â€ human or other animal  Ã¢â‚¬â€ to respond ad equately to mental, emotional, or physical demands, whether actual or imagined. Themes (or â€Å"schemas†) are a mental structure that represents some aspect of the world. Chapter 2 REVIEW OF RELATED LITERATURES AND STUDIES According to the article of â€Å"Hopelessness, Family Stress, and Depression among Mexican-Heritage Mothers in the Southwest† made by: Flavio F.Marsiglia, Stephen Kulis, Hilda Garcia Perez, and Monica Bermudez-Parsai Hopelessness is conceptualized as an individual's negative expectancy regarding the future, and it is characterized by negative emotions, pessimistic expectations, and loss of pleasure in life (Beck. Weissman,Lester, , 1974; Heilemann, Coffey-Love, , 2004). Hopelessness is the expectation that negative outcomes are inevitable or that positive outcomes will not develop. These expectations are paired with the feeling that one cannot do anything to change the future (Abela, Gagnon, & Auerbach, 2007).Individuals who are pessimistic about t he causes and consequences of events and who tend to ascribe negative self-characteristics after negative events have been found to be more at risk for hopelessness and depression (Brozina & Abela, 2006). According to the article of: Wayne Katon, Jurgen Unutzer, and Joan Russo, patients with major depression have a great deal of heterogeneity in the level of depression severity, number of earlier episodes, comorbidity with dysthymia, anxiety disorders, chronic medical disorders and chronic ain, comorbidity with personality disorders and maladaptive coping styles (such as high levels of neuroticism), and socioeconomic status. Chapter 3 RESEARCH METHODOLOGY This chapter shows the information and further make clear of the present study. This part include the research design, the determination of the sample size, sampling design and technique, the description of the subjects, the research instrument, and validation of the instrument, data gathering and procedure, data processing method and the statistical treatment of data. RESEARCH DESIGNIn this study, the researcher used the descriptive method as the research design to present the study. This method shows the different sides and the nature of the study. The researcher will measure the variables depression level, age, gender and the year level and determine the nature and difference between them. SAMPLING DESIGN AND TECHNIQUE In selecting the respondents of the study, the researcher used the convenience sampling method. The researcher asked the approval of the selected students from 4thy year college students from the University campus. THE SUBJECTSThe researcher gathered respondents from 4th year college students of the University of the East to serve as samples in the said study. THE INSTRUMENT OF THE STUDY The instrument used by the researcher was a self-constructed test of Depression test. Table 1 The table shows the level of Depression based on their weighted mean. |Mean Score | Verbal Interpretation | |1. 0 0-1. 80 |High Depression | |1. 1-2. 60 |Above Average Depression | |2. 61-3. 40 |Average Depression | |3. 41-4. 20 |Below Average Depression | |4. 21-5. 00 |Low Depression | VALIDATION OF THE INSTRUMENT USEDThe Depression test was face-validated by Dr. Maria Rosario E. Monce and went through several modifications. TREATMENT OF THE DATA 1. The statistical treatment of the data that was used in the study is the percentage, weig Formula for weighted mean: X=? X N Where: ?X= total scoresN= Number of respondents 2. Formula for the computation of t-test for 2 independent samples. t= X1-X2Where: vS1 S2X1 / X2= means of independent samples +N1 / N2= total of samples N1 N2S= standard deviation S=? X12-(? X1)2 + ? X22-(? X2)2d. f. = N1 + N2 – 2 N1 N2 N1+N2-2 3. Formula for Chi square, a test of relationship/difference.X2= (fo-fe)2E= R x Kd. f. = (R-1) (K-1) fe T Where:Where: fo= observed frequencyR= total row scores fe= expected frequencyK= total column scores T= total scores W eighted mean, T-test and Chi-square Chapter 4 Presentation, Analysis and Interpretation of Data The researcher finished the table after gathering all the data needed. These tables show the results and serve as the tool to clearly understand the study. 1. Demographic profile of the respondents according to the following: Table 1. 1 Frequency and Percentage Distribution of the Respondents According to Age Age |Frequency |Percentage | |18 |1 |2% | |19 |16 |32% | |20 |19 |38% | |21 |10 |20% | |22 |1 |2% | |23 |1 |2% | |24 |2 |4% | |Total |50 |100% |The table above shows the age of the respondents ranging 18 to 24 years old, the age that accumulated the largest frequency is the 20 years old which has total 19 and percentage of 38%. Then the lowest frequency is the 18, 22 and 23 years old which has only 1 and percentage of 2%. The other frequency are the 19 years old which has the frequency of 16 and percentage of 32% and the 21 years old which has frequency of 10 and percentage of 20%. A lso, the 24 years old this has frequency of 2 and percentage of 4%. The overall frequency is 50 and with the percentage of 100%. Table 1. 2 Frequency and Percentage Distribution of the Respondents According to Gender Gender |Amount |Percentage | |   |   |   | |M |25 |50% | |F |25 |50% | |   |50 |100% | The table above shows the number of female and male respondents. The number of female and male respondents is equal. Table 1. 3Frequency and Percentage Distribution of the Respondents According to Year/Level |Year/Level |Frequency |Percentage | |Fourth Year |50 |100% | |Total: |50 |100% | The table above shows that all of the respondents are 4th year college students with the frequency 50 and percentage of 100%. 2. Level of depression of the respondents. Table 2 Gained Weighted Mean and Verbal Interpretation Respondent # |Mean Score |Verbal Interpretation | |1-50 |3. 67 |Below Average Depression | The table above shows that the level of depression of the 50 respondents was i n the verbal interpretation of Below Average Depression. 3. Significant difference between the depression level of male and female adolescents. Table 3 T-value obtained by the respondents in the depression test |d. f. |Obtained Value |Critical Value |Decision | |48 |0. 3 |2. 0126 |No significant difference | Since the obtained value of 0. 33 is lower than the critical value of 2. 0126 at the 0. 05 level of significance therefore; the researcher accepts the null hypothesis, which means there is no significant difference between the male and female 4th year college students in their depression level. 4. Significant relationship between gender and age of adolescents to depression. |Profile Variable |df |Obtained Value |Critical Value |Decision | |Age |24 |25. 3 |36. 42 |No significant difference | |Gender |4 |0. 57 |9. 49 |No significant difference | Age The obtained value of 25. 13 is lower than the critical value of 36. 42 at the 0. 05 level of significance therefore; the researcher accepts the null hypothesis, which means there is no significant difference between the ages of the 4th year college students in their depression level. This proves that 4th year students with the age of 18-24 can have the same depression level. Gender The obtained value of 0. 57 is lower than the critical value of 9. 49 at the 0. 5 level of significance therefore; the researcher accepts the null hypothesis, which means there is no significant difference between the genders of the 4th year college students in their depression level. The gender does not affect the depression level of male and female 4th year college students. Chapter 5 Summary of Findings, Conclusions and Recommendations In this chapter, the researcher will mainly discuss the summary of the all findings, conclusion and recommendation of the study. Summary 9. The age of the respondents ranges from 18-24 years old. The respondent with the age of 18 have the frequency of 1 or 2%. The respondents with the age of 19 have the frequency of 16 or 32%.The respondents with the age of 20 have the frequency of 19 or 38%. The respondents with the age of 21 have the frequency of 10 or 20%. The respondent with the age 22 has the frequency of 1 or 2%. The respondent with the age of 23 has the frequency of 1 or 2%. The respondents with the age of 24 have the frequency of 2 or 4%. 10. The year level is all 4th year college students. 11. The number of male and female respondents is equal. There are 25 male respondents and 25 female respondents which equals to 50 respondents. 12. The 2 respondents with the age of 20 have High Depression Level. The 3 respondents with the age of 19 and 20 have Above Average Depression Level.The 9 respondents with the age of 19, 20, and 21 have Average Depression Level. The 22 respondents with the age of 19,20,21,23 and 24 have Below Average Depression Level. The 14 respondents with the age of 19, 20, 21 and 22 have Low Depression level. 13. The Depression level of 4th year college s tudents is 3. 67. It means the respondents have Below Average Depression Level. 14. The Depression level of male respondents is 3. 64 which mean they have Below Average Depression Level. The Depression level of female respondents is 3. 71 which mean they have Below Average Depression Level. 15. The obtained value of 25. 13 is lower than the critical value of 36. 42 at the 0. 5 level of significance therefore; the researcher accepts the null hypothesis, which means there is no significant difference between the ages of the 4th year college students in their depression level. 16. The obtained value of 0. 57 is lower than the critical value of 9. 49 at the 0. 05 level of significance therefore; the researcher accepts the null hypothesis, which means there is no significant difference between the genders of the 4th year college students in their depression level. Conclusion The researcher came up with the following conclusions: 7. The majority of the respondents according to age in the demographic profile are 20 years old. The respondents according to gender in the demographic profile are equal. The respondents according to year level are all 4th year college students. 8.The level of depression of 4th year college students by age is the same. The students with the age of 18-24 can have the same depression level. 9. The level of depression of 4th year college students by gender is the same. The students have below average depression level. The gender cannot affect the depression level of 4th year college students. Both male and female can have high depression, above average depression, average depression, below average depression and low depression level. 10. The year level of all respondents is the same so it won’t have any effect on the depression level of the respondents. 11. The obtained value of 25. 13 is lower than the critical value of 36. 42 at the 0. 5 level of significance therefore; the researcher accepts the null hypothesis, which means there is no significant difference between the ages of the 4th year college students in their depression level. 12. The obtained value of 0. 57 is lower than the critical value of 9. 49 at the 0. 05 level of significance therefore; the researcher accepts the null hypothesis, which means there is no significant difference between the genders of the 4th year college students in their depression level. Recommendation 7. Researcher must have wider range of research to support her study and to prove if there is a significant difference between the depression level of 4th year college students at University of the East-Manila. 8.Add more respondents to be able to gather better proof and understanding in depression level of 4th year college students. 9. The researcher should study more than just one year level. 10. Look for more studies that are related in the researcher’s topic. 11. Never lose hope. 12. Depression can be fought with a positive outlook in life and control to yourself. BIBLIO GRAPHY Webiology †¢ http://depression. about. com/cs/diagnosis/l/bldepscreenquiz. htm †¢ http://en. wikipedia. org/wiki/History_of_depression †¢ http://helpguide. org/mental/depression_signs_types_diagnosis_treatment. htm †¢ http://kidshealth. org/teen/your_mind/mental_health/depression. html# †¢ http://en. wikipedia. org/wiki/Depression_%28mood%29 †¢ www. mentalhelp. net www. wikipedia. com †¢ http://itl. nist. gov/div898/handbook/eda/section3/eda3672. htm APPENDIX A Table for the Computation Table of Weighted Scores of the Respondents and Verbal Interpretation |Male | |Respondent # |Weighted Scores |Verbal Interpretation | |1 |3. 22 |Average Depression | |2 |4. 32 |low Depression | |3 |4. 2 Below Average Depression | |4 |2. 5 |Above Average Depression | |5 |3. 78 |Below Average Depression | |6 |4. 28 |low Depression | |7 |3. 06 |Average Depression | |8 |3. 78 |Below Average Depression | |9 |3. 64 |Below Average Depression | |10 |3. 4 |Average De pression | |11 |3. 78 |Below Average Depression | |12 |3. 48 |Below Average Depression | |13 |4. 26 |low Depression | |14 |3. 68 |Below Average Depression | |15 |4. 36 |low Depression | |16 |4. 22 |low Depression | |17 |3. 2 |Below Average Depression | |18 |3. 28 |Average Depression | |19 |3. 78 |Below Average Depression | |20 |3. 86 |Below Average Depression | |21 |4. 3 |low Depression | |22 |3. 84 |Below Average Depression | |23 |3. 58 |Below Average Depression | |24 |3. 6 |Average Depression | |25 |1. 52 |High Depression | |Female | |Respondent # |Weighted Scores |Verbal Interpretation | |1 |4. 2 |Below Average Depression | |2 |3. 02 |Average Depression | |3 |3. 4 |Average Depression | |4 |4. 18 |Below Average Depression | |5 |3. 76 |Below Average Depression | |6 |4. 38 |Low Depression | |7 |3. 72 |Below Average Depression | |8 |3. 88 |Below Average Depression | |9 |3. 8 |Below Average Depression | |10 |4 |Below Average Depression | |11 |3. 2 |Average Depression | |12 |2. 54 |Abo ve Average Depression | |13 |4. 56 |Low Depression | |14 |3. 98 |Below Average Depression | |15 |4. 54 |Low Depression | |16 |3. 8 |Below Average Depression | |17 |4. 14 |Below Average Depression | |18 |4. 6 |Low Depression | |19 |4. 5 |Low Depression | |20 |2. 9 |Average Depression | |21 |4. 3 |Low Depression | |22 |3. |Below Average Depression | |23 |1. 14 |High Depression | |24 |4. 54 |Low Depression | |25 |2. 28 |Above Average Depression | APPENDIX B Computation for the t-test independent Sample |Female |X? 2 | |   |   | |1 |17. 64 | |2 |9. 1204 | 3 |9. 2416 | |4 |17. 4724 | |5 |14. 1376 | |6 |19. 1844 | |7 |13. 8384 | |8 |15. 0544 | |9 |14. 2884 | |10 |16 | |11 |10. 6276 | |12 |6. 4516 | |13 |20. 7936 | |14 |15. 8404 | 15 |20. 0116 | |16 |12. 1104 | |17 |17. 1396 | |18 |21. 16 | |19 |20. 25 | |20 |8. 41 | |21 |18. 49 | |22 |15. 21 | |23 |1. 2996 | |24 |20. 6116 | |25 |5. 1984 | |Male |X? 2 | 1 |10. 3684 | |2 |18. 6624 | |3 |17. 64 | |4 |6. 25 | |5 |14. 2884 | |6 |18. 3184 | |7 |9. 3636 | |8 |14. 2884 | |9 |13. 2496 | |10 |9. 8596 | |11 |14. 2884 | |12 |12. 1104 | 13 |18. 1476 | |14 |13. 5424 | |15 |19. 0096 | |16 |17. 8084 | |17 |15. 3664 | |18 |10. 7584 | |19 |14. 2884 | |20 |14. 8996 | |21 |18. 49 | |22 |14. 7456 | |23 |12. 8164 | |24 |9. 9856 | 25 |2. 3104 | T= X? – X? [pic] [pic] = [pic]- [pic] + [pic] – [pic] N1 N2 N1 + N2 -2 [pic]= 340. 85. 04 – (90. 94) 2 + 360. 182 – (92. 62)2 25 25 25+25-2 [pic]= 340. 85. 04 – (8270. 0836) + 360. 182 – (8578. 4644) 25 25 25+25-2 = (340. 8504 – 330. 803344) + (360. 182 – 343. 138576) 48 = 10. 047056 + 17. 043424 48 = 27. 09048 48 [pic] = 0. 56 APPENDIX C Computation for Chi square Formula: E=R x KX2= (fo-fe)2 T fe Where:Where: E= expected frequencyfo= frequency observed R= total row scoresfe= frequency expected K= total column scores T= total scores Table According to Profile Variable Age Age |High |Above Average |Average |Below Average |Low |Total | |18 |0 |0 |0 |1 |0 |1 | |19 |0 |2 |2 |7 |5 |16 | |20 |2 |1 |4 |8 |4 |19 | |21 |0 |0 |3 |3 |4 |10 | |22 |0 |0 |0 |0 |1 |1 | |23 |0 |0 |0 |1 |0 |1 | |24 |0 |0 |0 |2 |0 |2 | | |2 |3 |9 |22 |14 |50 | X2=-25. 13 d. f. = (r-1) (k-1) = (4-1) (4-1) = (3) (3) = 9 C. V. 0. 05= 36. 42 |fo |fe |(fo – fe) |(fo-fe)2 |(fo-fe)2/fe | |   |   |   |   |   | |0 |0. 04 |0. 04 |0. 0016 |0. 4 | |0 |0. 64 |0. 64 |0. 4096 |0. 64 | |2 |0. 76 |1. 24 |1. 5376 |2. 023157895 | |0 |0. 4 |0. 4 |0. 16 |0. 4 | |0 |0. 04 |0. 04 |0. 0016 |0. 04 | |0 |0. 04 |0. 04 |0. 0016 |0. 04 | |0 |0. 08 |0. 08 |0. 0064 |0. 08 | |0 |0. 06 |0. 06 |0. 0036 |0. 6 | |2 |0. 96 |1. 04 |1. 0816 |1. 126666667 | |1 |1. 14 |-0. 14 |0. 0196 |0. 017192982 | |0 |0. 6 |0. 6 |0. 36 |0. 6 | |0 |0. 06 |0. 06 |0. 0036 |0. 06 | |0 |0. 06 |0. 06 |0. 0036 |0. 06 | |0 |0. 12 |0. 12 |0. 0144 |0. 12 | |0 |0. 18 |0. 18 |0. 0324 |0. 8 | |2 |2. 88 |-0. 88 |0. 7744 |0. 268888888 | |4 |3. 42 |0. 58 |0. 3364 |0. 098362573 | |3 |1. 8 |1. 2 |1. 44 |0 . 8 | |0 |0. 18 |0. 18 |0. 0324 |0. 18 | |0 |0. 18 |0. 18 |0. 0324 |0. 18 | |0 |0. 36 |0. 36 |0. 1296 |0. 36 | |1 |0. 44 |0. 56 |0. 3136 |0. 12727272 | |7 |7. 04 |-0. 04 |0. 0016 |0. 000227272 | |8 |8. 36 |-0. 36 |0. 1296 |0. 015502392 | |3 |4. 4 |-1. 4 |1. 96 |0. 445454545 | |0 |0. 44 |0. 44 |0. 1936 |0. 44 | |1 |0. 44 |0. 56 |0. 3136 |0. 712727272 | |2 |0. 88 |1. 12 |1. 2544 |1. 425454545 | |0 |0. 28 |0. 28 |0. 0784 |0. 8 | |5 |4. 48 |0. 52 |0. 2704 |0. 060357142 | |4 |5. 32 |-1. 32 |1. 7424 |0. 327518797 | |4 |2. 8 |1. 2 |1. 44 |0. 514285714 | |1 |0. 28 |0. 72 |0. 1584 |1. 851428571 | |0 |0. 28 |0. 28 |0. 0784 |0. 28 | |0 |0. 56 |0. 56 |0. 3136 |0. 56 | Table According to Profile Variable Gender Gender |High |Above Average |Average |Below Average |Low |Total | |Male |1 |1 |5 |12 |6 |25 | |Female |1 |2 |4 |11 |7 |25 | |total |2 |3 |9 |23 |14 |50 | |   |Gender |   |   |   | |1 |1 |0 |0 |0 | |1 |1 |0 |0 |0 | |1 |1. 5 |-0. 5 |0. 25 |0. 66666666 | |2 |1. 5 |0. 5 |0. 25 |0. 166 666666 | |5 |4. 5 |0. 5 |0. 25 |0. 055555555 | |4 |4. 5 |-0. 5 |0. 25 |0. 055555555 | |12 |11. 5 |0. 5 |0. 25 |0. 02173913 | |11 |11. 5 |-0. 5 |0. 25 |0. 02173913 | |6 |6. 5 |-0. 5 |0. 25 |0. 038461538 | |7 |6. 5 |0. 5 |0. 25 |0. 038461538 |X2= 0. 57 C. V. 0. 05= 9. 49 Name: __________________________________________ Course & Year: _________________ Age: __________ Gender: __________ Date: _______________ Depression Test Objective: Depression test may help you identify any possible depression symptoms that you may be experiencing and whether you should seek a diagnosis or treatment for depression from a qualified doctor or mental health professional. Direction: Examine the following statements and indicate which option best describes or applies to you. As you take the test, answer each question as honestly as possible. 1 – MOST OF THE TIME 2 – OFTEN 3 – SOMETIMES 4 – RARELY 5 – NEVER    |   |1 |2 |3 |4 |5 | |1 |I experience extremes in mood, mo ving from elated and hyper to deeply depressed. |   |   |   |   |   | |2 |I feel agitated or restless. |   |   |   |   |   | |3 |I feel so guilty that I can barely take it. |   |   |   |   |   | |4 |I feel like there is nothing to look forward to when I wake up in the morning. |   |   |   |   |   | |5 |I feel that I am not loved by my friends, family, and/or my romantic partner. |   |   |   |   |   | |6 |I think about death.    |   |   |   |   | |7 |I cannot make up my mind quickly when needed. |   |   |   |   |   | |8 |I only notice the sad or negative headlines. |   |   |   |   |   | |9 |I get mad at myself if I do not achieve the goals I have set out to reach. |   |   |   |   |   | |10 |I feel anxious when I go out of the house alone. |   |   |   |   |   | |11 |I keep myself up at night thinking about the things going on in my life. |   |   |   |   |   | |12 |I have recur rent thoughts about ending my life.    |   |   |   |   | |   |   |1 |2 |3 |4 |5 | |13 |I feel bad about myself. |   |   |   |   |   | |14 |I still find a way to blame myself even when forces beyond my control prevent me from |   |   |   |   |   | | |reaching a goal. | | | | | | |15 |I feel like I will never get over it when things go wrong in my life. |   |   |   |   |   | |16 |I believe that I will not have a happy relationship with anyone.    |   |   |   |   | |17 |I have a persistent feeling of emptiness. |   |   |   |   |   | |18 |I wake up early in the morning and cannot go back to sleep. | | | | | | |19 |I always feel tired and irritable. |   |   |   |   |   | |20 |I feel slowed down (physically or mentally). |   |   |   |   |   | |21 |I feel tired even after a good rest. |   |   |   |   |   | |22 |I tend to think that I am not smart enough when I am struggling in work or in school. |    |   |   |   |   | |23 |I always feel sad and troubled every day.    |   |   |   |   | |24 |I do not want to tell others when bad things happen to me because the last thing I want |   |   |   |   |   | | |is for them to pity me. | | | | | | |25 |I overanalyze my relationships with others, finding problems that do not really exist. |   |   |   |   |   | |26 |I feel like crying for no apparent reason. |   |   |   |   |   | |27 |I have difficulty in concentrating and remembering things to do. |   |   |   |   |   | |28 |I cannot forgive myself if I fail to achieve what I have set out to do.    |   |   |   |   | |29 |I feel that I do not deserve to be loved. |   |   |   |   |   | |30 |I feel like ending my life. |   |   |   |   |   | |31 |I cannot seem to get started on important projects or tasks I need to take care of. |   |   |   |   |   | |32 |I have been called overly sensitive. |   |   | |   |   | |33 |I act based on what others will think of me, rather than based on how I would really like|   |   |   |   |   | | |to proceed. | | | | | | |34 |I am (or I have been told that I am) unusually irritable.    |   |   |   |   | |35 |I feel physically weak. |   |   |   |   |   | |36 |I cannot take care of myself and of those who depend on me. |   |   |   |   |   | |37 |I feel that I am unlovable or unattractive. |   |   |   |   |   | |38 |I am not contented in my life. |   |   |   |   |   | |39 |I feel like I am hurting people by just being around. |   |   |   |   |   | |40 |I mess up everything I touch. |   |   |   |   |   | |41 |I cannot think as clearly as ever.    |   |   |   |   | |42 |I do not get pleasure anymore out of most (or all) of the things and activities that I |   |   |   |   |   | | |used to enjoy. | | | | | | |43 |I keep failures and disappoint ments to myself to avoid being judged by others. |   |   |   |   |   | |   |   |1 |2 |3 |4 |5 | |44 |I feel worthless. |   |   |   |   |   | |45 |I am so tired that I cannot carry on with my usual activities.    |   |   |   |   | |46 |I feel that nobody listens to any of my sentiments. |   |   |   |   |   | |47 |I loose my concentration to everything I do. |   | |   |   |   | |48 |I tend to be sensitive in interactions with others, noticing even the subtlest insult or |   |   |   |   |   | | |mocking tone of voice. | | | | | | |49 |I have lost/gained weight without trying to. |   |   |   |   |   | |50 |I feel there is something seriously wrong with me. |   |   |   |   |   | Bibliography: http://www. essons4living. com/depression_test2. htm http://www. queendom. com/tests/access_page/index. htm? idRegTest=1123 http://www. findingstone. com/services/tests/depressiontest. htm Scoring: 1. – 1. 80 = High Depression 1. 81 – 2. 60 = Above Average Depression 2. 61 – 3. 40 = Average Depression 3. 41 – 4. 20 = Below Average Depression 4. 21 – 5. 00 = Low Depression ———————– Depression Level †¢ High †¢ Above Average †¢ Average †¢ Below Average †¢ Low Depression Test 4th year college students in the University of the East Manila -0. 07 0. 211660104 3. 64 – 3. 71 [pic] 25 25 -0. 07 [pic] O. V. = 0. 33 C. V. = 2. 0106 0. 33 -0. 07 [pic]

Bag of Bones CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

After that I was mostly in the zone. I came out a few times when that scratched-out scrap of genealogy fell from inside one of my old steno books, for instance but those interludes were brief. In a way it was like my dream of Mattie, Jo, and Sara; in a way it was like the terrible fever I'd had as a child, when I'd almost died of the measles; mostly it was like nothing but itself. It was just the zone. I was feeling it. I wish to God I hadn't been. George came over, herding the man in the blue mask ahead of him. George was limping now, and badly. I could smell hot oil and gasoline and burning tires. ‘Is she dead?' George asked. ‘Mattie?' ‘Yes.' ‘John?' ‘Don't know,' I said, and then John twitched and groaned. He was alive, but there was a lot of blood. ‘Mike, listen,' George began, but before he could say more, a terrible liquid screaming began from the burning car in the ditch. It was the driver. He was cooking in there. The shooter started to turn that way, and George raised his gun. ‘Move and I'll kill you.' ‘You can't let him die like that,' the shooter said from behind his mask. ‘You couldn't let a dog die like that.' ‘He's dead already,' George said. ‘You couldn't get within ten feet of that car unless you were in an asbestos suit.' He reeled on his feet. His face was as white as the spot of whipped cream I'd wiped off the end of Ki's nose. The shooter made as if to go for him and George brought the gun up higher. ‘The next time you move, don't stop,' George said, ‘because I won't. Guaranteed. Now take that mask off.' ‘No.' ‘I'm done fucking with you, Jesse. Say hello to God.' George pulled back the hammer of his revolver. The shooter said, ‘Jesus Christ,' and yanked off his mask. It was George Footman. Not much surprise there. From behind him, the driver gave one more shriek from within the Ford fireball and then was silent. Smoke rose in black billows. More thunder roared. ‘Mike, go inside and find something to tie him with,' George Kennedy said. ‘I can hold him another minute two, if I have to but I'm bleeding like a stuck pig. Look for strapping tape. That shit would hold Houdini.' Footman stood where he was, looking from Kennedy to me and back to Kennedy again. Then he peered down at Highway 68, which was eerily deserted. Or perhaps it wasn't so eerie, at that the coming storms had been well forecast. The tourists and summer folk would be under cover. As for the locals . . . The locals were . . . sort of listening. That was at least close. The minister was speaking about Royce Merrill, a life which had been long and fruitful, a man who had served his country in peace and in war, but the old-timers weren't listening to him. They were listening to us, the way they had once gathered around the pickle barrel at the Lakeview General and listened to prizefights on the radio. Bill Dean was holding Yvette's wrist so tightly his fingernails were white. He was hurting her . . . but she wasn't complaining. She wanted him to hold onto her. Why? ‘Mike!' George's voice was perceptibly weaker. ‘Please, man, help me. This guy is dangerous.' ‘Let me go,' Footman said. ‘You'd better, don't you think?' ‘In your wettest dreams, motherfuck,' George said. I got up, went past the pot with the key underneath, went up the cement-block steps. Lightning exploded across the sky, followed by a bellow of thunder. Inside, Rommie was sitting in a chair at the kitchen table. His face was even whiter than George's. ‘Kid's okay,' he said, forcing the words. ‘But she looks like waking up . . . I can't walk anymore. My ankle's totally fucked.' I moved for the telephone. ‘Don't bother,' Rommie said. His voice was harsh and trembling. ‘Tried it. Dead. Storm must already have hit some of the other towns. Killed some of the equipment. Christ, I never had anything hurt like this in my life.' I went to the drawers in the kitchen and began yanking them open one by one, looking for strapping tape, looking for clothesline, looking for any damned thing. If Kennedy passed out from blood-loss while I was in here, the other George would take his gun, kill him, and then kill John as he lay unconscious on the smoldering grass. With them taken care of, he'd come in here and shoot Rommie and me. He'd finish with Kyra. ‘No he won't,' I said. ‘He'll leave her alive.' And that might be even worse. Silverware in the first drawer. Sandwich bags, garbage bags, and neatly banded stacks of grocery-store coupons in the second. Oven mitts and potholders in the third ‘Mike, where's my Mattie?' I turned, as guilty as a man who has been caught mixing illegal drugs. Kyra stood at the living-room end of the hall with her hair falling around her sleep-flushed cheeks and her scrunchy hung over one wrist like a bracelet. Her eyes were wide and panicky. It wasn't the shots that had awakened her, probably not even her mother's scream. I had wakened her. My thoughts had wakened her. In the instant I realized it I tried to shield them somehow, but I was too late. She had read me about Devore well enough to tell me not to think about sad stuff, and now she read what had happened to her mother before I could keep her out of my mind. Her mouth dropped open. Her eyes widened. She shrieked as if her hand had been caught in a vise and ran for the door. ‘No, Kyra, no!' I sprinted across the kitchen, almost tripping over Rommie (he looked at me with the dim incomprehension of someone who is no longer completely conscious), and grabbed her just in time. As I did, I saw Buddy Jellison leaving Grace Baptist by a side door. Two of the men he had been smoking with went with him. Now I understood why Bill was holding so tightly to Yvette, and loved him for it loved both of them. Something wanted him to go with Buddy and the others . . . but Bill wasn't going. Kyra struggled in my arms, making big convulsive thrusts at the door, gasping in breath and then screaming it out again. ‘Let me go, want to see Mommy, let me go, want to see Mommy, let me go ‘ I called her name with the only voice I knew she would really hear, the one I could use only with her. She relaxed in my arms little by little, and turned to me. Her eyes were huge and confused and shining with tears. She looked at me a moment longer and then seemed to understand that she mustn't go out. I put her down. She just stood there a moment, then backed up until her bottom was against the dishwasher. She slid down its smooth white front to the floor. Then she began to wail the most awful sounds of grief I have ever heard. She understood completely, you see. I had to show her enough to keep her inside, I had to . . . and because we were in the zone together, I could. Buddy and his friends were in a pickup truck headed this way. BAMM CONSTRUCTION, it said on the side. ‘Mike!' George cried. He sounded panicky. ‘You got to hurry!' ‘Hold on!' I called back. ‘Hold on, George!' Mattie and the others had started stacking picnic things beside the sink, but I'm almost positive that the stretch of Formica counter above the drawers had been clean and bare when I hurried after Kyra. Not now. The yellow sugar cannister had been overturned. Written in the spilled sugar was this: ‘No shit,' I muttered, and checked the remaining drawers. No tape, no rope. Not even a lousy set of handcuffs, and in most well-equipped kitchens you can count on finding three or four. Then I had an idea and looked in the cabinet under the sink. When I went back out, our George was swaying on his feet and Footman was looking at him with a kind of predatory concentration. ‘Did you get some tape?' George Kennedy asked. ‘No, something better,' I said. ‘Tell me, Footman, who actually paid you? Devore or Whitmore? Or don't you know?' ‘Fuck you,' he said. I had my right hand behind my back. Now I pointed down the hill with my left one and endeavored to look surprised. ‘What the hell's Osgood doing? Tell him to go away!' Footman looked in that direction it was instinctive and I hit him in the back of the head with the Craftsman hammer I'd found in the toolbox under Mattie's sink. The sound was horrible, the spray of blood erupting from the flying hair was horrible, but worst of all was the feeling of the skull giving way a spongy collapse that came right up the handle and into my fingers. He went down like a sandbag, and I dropped the hammer, gagging. ‘Okay,' George said. ‘A little ugly, but probably the best thing you could have done under . . . under the . . . ‘ He didn't go down like Footman it was slower and more controlled, almost graceful but he was just as out. I picked up the revolver, looked at it, then threw it into the woods across the road. A gun was nothing for me to have right now; it could only get me into more trouble. A couple of other men had also left the church; a carful of ladies in black dresses and veils, as well. I had to hurry on even faster. I unbuckled George's pants and pulled them down. The bullet which had taken him in the leg had torn into his thigh, but the wound looked as if it was clotting. John's upper arm was a different story it was still pumping out blood in frightening quantities. I yanked his belt free and cinched it around his arm as tightly as I could. Then I slapped him across the face. His eyes opened and stared at me with a bleary lack of recognition. ‘Open your mouth, John!' He only stared at me. I leaned down until our noses were almost touching and screamed, ‘OPEN YOUR MOUTH! DO IT NOW!' He opened it like a kid when the nurse tells him just say aahh. I stuck the end of the belt between his teeth. ‘Close!' He closed. ‘Now hold it,' I said. ‘Even if you pass out, hold it.' I didn't have time to see if he was paying attention. I got to my feet and looked up as the whole world went glare-blue. For a second it was like being inside a neon sign. There was a black suspended river up there, roiling and coiling like a basket of snakes. I had never seen such a baleful sky. I dashed up the cement-block steps and into the trailer again. Rom-mie had slumped forward onto the table with his face in his folded arms. He would have looked like a kindergartner taking a timeout if not for the broken salad bowl and the bits of lettuce in his hair. Kyra still sat with her back to the dishwasher, weeping hysterically. I picked her up and realized that she had wet herself. ‘We have to go now, Ki.' ‘I want Mattie! I want Mommy! I want my Mattie, make her stop being hurt! Make her stop being dead!' I hurried across the trailer. On the way to the door I passed the end-table with the Mary Higgins Clark novel on it. I noticed the tangle of hair ribbons again ribbons perhaps tried on before the party and then discarded in favor of the scrunchy. They were white with bright red edges. Pretty. I picked them up without stopping, stuffed them into a pants pocket, then switched Ki to my other arm. ‘I want Mattie! I want Mommy! Make her come back!' She swatted at me, trying to make me stop, then began to buck and kick in my arms again. She drummed her fists on the side of my head. ‘Put me down! Land me! Land me!' ‘No, Kyra.' ‘Put me down! Land me! Land me! PUT ME DOWN!' I was losing her. Then, as we came out onto the top step, she abruptly stopped struggling. ‘Give me Stricken! I want Stricken!' At first I had no idea what she was talking about, but when I looked where she was pointing I understood. Lying on the walk not far from the pot with the key underneath it was the stuffed toy from Ki's Happy Meal. Strickland had put in a fair amount of outside playtime from the look of him the light-gray fur was now dark-gray with dust but if the toy would calm her, I wanted her to have it. This was no time to worry about dirt and germs. ‘I'll give you Strickland if you promise to close your eyes and not open them until I tell you. Will you promise?' ‘I promise,' she said. She was trembling in my arms, and great globular tears the kind you expect to see in fairy-tale books, never in real life rose in her eyes and went spilling down her cheeks. I could smell burning grass and charred beefsteak. For one terrible moment I thought I was going to vomit, and then I got it under control. Ki closed her eyes. Two more tears fell from them and onto my arm. They were hot. She held out one hand, groping. I went down the steps, got the dog, then hesitated. First the ribbons, now the dog. The ribbons were probably okay, but it seemed wrong to give her the dog and let her bring it along. It seemed wrong but . . . It's gray, Irish, the UFO voice whispered. You don't need to worry about it because it's gray. The stuffed toy in your dream was black. I didn't know exactly what the voice was talking about and had no time to care. I put the stuffed dog in Kyra's open hand. She held it up to her face and kissed the dusty fur, her eyes still closed. ‘Maybe Stricken can make Mommy better, Mike. Stricken a magic dog.' ‘Just keep your eyes closed. Don't open them until I say.' She put her face against my neck. I carried her across the yard and to my car that way. I put her on the passenger side of the front seat. She lay down with her arms over her head and the dirty stuffed dog clutched in one pudgy hand. I told her to stay just like that, lying down on the seat. She made no outward sign that she heard me, but I knew that she did. We had to hurry because the old-timers were coming. The old-timers wanted this business over, wanted this river to run into the sea. And there was only one place we could go, only one place where we might be safe, and that was Sara Laughs. But there was something I had to do first. I kept a blanket in the trunk, old but clean. I took it out, walked across the yard, and shook it down over Mattie Devore. The hump it made as it settled around her was pitifully slight. I looked around and saw John staring at me. His eyes were glassy with shock, but I thought maybe he was coming back. The belt was still clamped in his teeth; he looked like a junkie preparing to shoot up. ‘Iss ant eee,' he said This can't be. I knew exactly how he felt. ‘There'll be help here in just a few minutes. Hang in there. I have to go.' ‘Go air?' I didn't answer. There wasn't time. I stopped and took George Kennedy's pulse. Slow but strong. Beside him, Footman was deep in unconsciousness, but muttering thickly. Nowhere near dead. It takes a lot to kill a daddy. The jerky wind blew the smoke from the overturned car in my direction, and now I could smell cooking flesh as well as barbecued steak. My stomach clenched again. I ran to the Chevy, dropped behind the wheel, and backed out of the driveway. I took one more look at the blanket-covered body, at the three knocked-over men, at the trailer with the line of black bulletholes wavering down its side and its door standing open. John was up on his good elbow, the end of the belt still clamped in his teeth, looking at me with uncomprehending eyes. Lightning flashed so brilliantly I tried to shield my eyes from it, although by the time my hand was up, the flash had gone and the day was as dark as late dusk. ‘Stay down, Ki,' I said. ‘Just like you are.' ‘I can't hear you,' she said in a voice so hoarse and choked with tears that I could barely make out the words. ‘Ki's takin a nap wif Stricken.' ‘Okay,' I said. ‘Good.' I drove past the burning Ford and down to the foot of the hill, where I stopped at the rusty bullet-pocked stop-sign. I looked right and saw the pickup truck parked on the shoulder. BAMM CONSTRUCTION on the side. Three men crowded together in the cab, watching me. The one by the passenger window was Buddy Jellison; I could tell him by his hat. Very slowly and deliberately, I raised my right hand and gave them the finger. None of them responded and their stony faces didn't change, but the pickup began to roll slowly toward me. I turned lift onto 68, heading for Sara Laughs under a black sky. Two miles from where Lane Forty-two branches off the highway and winds west to the lake, there stood an old abandoned barn upon which one could still make out faded letters reading DONCASTER DAIRY. As we approached it, the whole eastern side of the sky lit up in a purple-white blister. I cried out, and the Chevy's horn honked by itself, I'm almost positive. A thorn of lightning grew from the bottom of that light-blister and struck the barn. For a moment it was still completely there, glowing like something radioactive, and then it spewed itself in all directions. I have never seen anything even remotely like it outside of a movie theater. The thunderclap which followed was like a bombshell. Kyra screamed and slid onto the floor on the passenger side of the car with her hands clapped to her ears. She still clutched the little stuffed dog in one of them. A minute later I topped Sugar Ridge. Lane Forty-two splits left from the highway at the bottom of the ridge's north slope. From the top I could see a wide swath of TR-90 woods and fields and barns and farms, even a darkling gleam from the lake. The sky was as black as coal dust, flashing almost constantly with internal lightnings. The air had a clear ochre glow. Every breath I took tasted like the shavings in a tinderbox. The topography beyond the ridge stood out with a surreal clarity I cannot forget. That sense of mystery swarmed my heart and mind, that sense of the world as thin skin over unknowable bones and gulfs. I glanced into the rearview mirror and saw that the pickup truck had been joined by two other cars, one with a V-plate that means the vehicle is registered to a combat veteran of the armed services. When I slowed down, they slowed down. When I sped up, they sped up. I doubted they would follow us any farther once I turned onto Lane Forty-two, however. ‘Ki? Are you okay?' ‘Sleepun,' she said from the footwell. ‘Okay,' I said, and started down the hill. I could just see the red bicycle reflectors marking my turn onto Forty-two when it began to hail great big chunks of white ice that fell out of the sky, drummed on the roof like heavy fingers, and bounced off the hood. They began to heap in the gutter where my windshield wipers hid. ‘What's happening?' Kyra cried. ‘It's just hail,' I said. ‘It can't hurt us.' This was barely out of my mouth when a hailstone the size of a small lemon struck my side of the windshield and then bounced high into the air again, leaving a white II mark from which a number of short cracks radiated. Were John and George Kennedy lying helpless out in this? I turned my mind in that direction, but could sense nothing. When I made the left onto Lane Forty-two, it was hailing almost too hard to see. The wheelruts were heaped with ice. The white faded out under the trees, though. I headed for that cover, flipping on my headlights as I went. They cut bright cones through the pelting hail. As we went into the trees, that purple-white blister glowed again, and my rearview mirror went too bright to look at. There was a rending, crackling crash. Kyra screamed again. I looked around and saw a huge old spruce toppling slowly across the lane, its ragged stump on fire. It carried the electrical lines with it. Blocked in, I thought. This end, probably the other end, too. We're here. For better or for worse, we're here. The trees grew over Lane Forty-two in a canopy except for where the road passed beside Tidwell's Meadow. The sound of the hail in the woods was an immense splintery rattle. Trees were splintering, of course; it was the most damaging hail ever to fall in that part of the world, and although it spent itself in fifteen minutes, that was long enough to ruin a season's worth of crops. Lightning flashed above us. I looked up and saw a large orange fireball being chased by a smaller one. They ran through the trees to our left, setting fire to some of the high branches. We came briefly into the clear at Tidwell's Meadow, and as we did the hail changed to torrential rain. I could not have continued driving if we hadn't run back into the woods almost immediately, and as it was the canopy provided just enough cover so I could creep along, hunched over the wheel and peering into the silver curtain falling through the fan of my headlights. Thunder boomed constantly, and now the wind began to rise, rushing through the trees like a contentious voice. Ahead of me, a leaf-heavy branch dropped into the road. I ran over it and listened to it thunk and scrape and roll against the Chevy's undercarriage. Please, nothing bigger, I thought . . . or maybe I was praying. Please let me get to the house. Please let us get to the house. By the time I reached the driveway the wind was howling a hurricane. The writhing trees and pelting rain made the entire world seem on the verge of wavering into insubstantial gruel. The driveway's slope had turned into a river, but I nosed the Chevy down it with no hesitation we couldn't stay out here; if a big tree fell on the car, we'd be crushed like bugs in a Dixie cup. I knew better than to use the brakes the car would have heeled sideways and perhaps have been swept right down the slope toward the lake, rolling over and over as it went. Instead I dropped the transmission into low range, toed two notches into the emergency brake, and let the engine pull us down with the rain sheeting against the windshield and turning the log bulk of the house into a phantom. Incredibly, some of the lights were still on, shining like bathysphere portholes in nine feet of water. The generator was working, then . . . at least for the time being. Lightning threw a lance across the lake, green-blue fire illuminating a black well of water with its surface lashed into surging whitecaps. One of the hundred-year-old pines which had stood to the left of the railroad-tie steps now lay with half its length in the water. Somewhere behind us another tree went over with a vast crash. Kyra covered her ears. ‘It's all right, honey,' I said. ‘We're here, we made it.' I turned off the engine and killed the lights. Without them I could see little; almost all the day had gone out of the day. I tried to open my door and at first couldn't. I pushed harder and it not only opened, it was ripped right out of my hand. I got out and in a brilliant stroke of lightning saw Kyra crawling across the seat toward me, her face white with panic, her eyes huge and brimming with terror. My door swung back and hit me in the ass hard enough to hurt. I ignored it, gathered Ki into my arms, and turned with her. Cold rain drenched us both in an instant. Except it really wasn't like rain at all; it was like stepping under a waterfall. ‘My doggy!' Ki shrieked. Shriek or not, I could hardly hear her. I could see her face, though, and her empty hands. ‘Stricken! I drop Stricken!' I looked around and yes, there he was, floating down the macadam of the driveway and past the stoop. A little farther on, the rushing water spilled off the paving and down the slope; if Strickland went with the flow, he'd probably end up in the woods somewhere. Or all the way down to the lake. ‘Stricken!' Ki sobbed. ‘My DOGGY!' Suddenly nothing mattered to either of us but that stupid stuffed toy. I chased down the driveway after it with Ki in my arms, oblivious of the rain and wind and brilliant flashes of lightning. And yet it was going to beat me to the slope the water in which it was caught was running too fast for me to catch up. What snagged it at the edge of the paving was a trio of sunflowers waving wildly in the wind. They looked like God-transported worshippers at a revival meeting: Yes, Jeesus! Thankya Lawd! They also looked familiar. It was of course impossible that they should be the same three sunflowers which had been growing up through the boards of the stoop in my dream (and in the photograph Bill Dean had taken before I came back), and yet it was them; beyond doubt it was them. Three sunflowers like the three weird sisters in Macbeth, three sunflowers with faces like searchlights. I had come back to Sara Laughs; I was in the zone; I had returned to my dream and this time it had possessed me. ‘Stricken!' Ki bending and thrashing in my arms, both of us too slippery for safety. ‘Please, Mike, please!' Thunder exploded overhead like a basket of nitro. We both screamed. I dropped to one knee and snatched up the little stuffed dog. Kyra clutched it, covered it with frantic kisses. I lurched to my feet as another thunderclap sounded, this one seeming to run through the air like some crazy liquid bullwhip. I looked at the sunflowers, and they seemed to look back at me Hello, Irish, it's been a long time, what do you say? Then, resettling Ki in my arms as well as I could, I turned and slogged for the house. It wasn't easy; the water in the driveway was now ankle-deep and full of melting hailstones. A branch flew past us and landed pretty much where I'd knelt to pick up Strickland. There was a crash and a series of thuds as a bigger branch struck the roof and went rolling down it. I ran onto the back stoop, half-expecting the Shape to come rushing out to greet us, raising its baggy not-arms in gruesome good fellowship, but there was no Shape. There was only the storm, and that was enough. Ki was clutching the dog tightly, and I saw with no surprise at all that its wetting, combined with the dirt from all those hours of outside play, had turned Strickland black. It was what I had seen in my dream after all. Too late now. There was nowhere else to go, no other shelter from the storm. I opened the door and brought Kyra Devore inside Sara Laughs. The central portion of Sara the heart of the house had stood for almost a hundred years and had seen its share of storms. The one that fell on the lakes region that July afternoon might have been the worst of them, but I knew as soon as we were inside, both of us gasping like people who have narrowly escaped drowning, that it would almost certainly withstand this one as well. The log walls were so thick it was almost like stepping into some sort of vault. The storm's crash and bash became a noisy drone punctuated by thunderclaps and the occasional loud thud of a branch falling on the roof. Somewhere in the basement, I guess a door had come loose and was clapping back and forth. It sounded like a starter's pistol. The kitchen window had been broken by the topple of a small tree. Its needly tip poked in over the stove, making shadows on the counter and the stove-burners as it swayed. I thought of breaking it off and decided not to. At least it was plugging the hole. I carried Ki into the living room and we looked out at the lake, black water prinked up in surreal points under a black sky. Lightning flashed almost constantly, revealing a ring of woods that danced and swayed in a frenzy all around the lake. As solid as the house was, it was groaning deeply within itself as the wind pummelled it and tried to push it down the hill. There was a soft, steady chiming. Kyra lifted her head from my shoulder and looked around. ‘You have a moose,' she said. ‘Yes, that's Bunter.' ‘Does he bite?' ‘No, honey, he can't bite. He's like a . . . like a doll, I suppose.' ‘Why is his bell ringing?' ‘He's glad we're here. He's glad we made it.' I saw her want to be happy, and then I saw her realizing that Mattie wasn't here to be happy with. I saw the idea that Mattie would never be here to be happy with glimmer in her mind . . . and felt her push it away. Over our heads something huge crashed down on the roof, the lights flickered, and Ki began to weep again. ‘No, honey,' I said, and began to walk with her. ‘No, honey, no, Ki, don't. Don't, honey, don't.' ‘I want my mommy! I want my Mattie!' I walked her the way I think you're supposed to walk babies who have colic. She understood too much for a three-year-old, and her suffering was consequently more terrible than any three-year-old should have to bear. So I held her in my arms and walked her, her shorts damp with urine and rainwater under my hands, her arms fever-hot around my neck, her cheeks slathered with snot and tears, her hair a soaked clump from our brief dash through the downpour, her breath acetone, her toy a strangulated black clump that sent dirty water trickling over her knuckles. I walked her. Back and forth we went through Sara's living room, back and forth through dim light thrown by the overhead and one lamp. Generator light is never quite steady, never quite still it seems to breathe and sigh. Back and forth through the ceaseless low chiming of Bunter's bell, like music from that world we sometimes touch but never really see. Back and forth beneath the sound of the storm. I think I sang to her and I kn ow I touched her with my mind and we went deeper and deeper into that zone together. Above us the clouds ran and the rain pelted, dousing the fires the lightning had started in the woods. The house groaned and the air eddied with gusts coming in through the broken kitchen window, but through it all there was a feeling of rueful safety. A feeling of coming home. At last her tears began to taper off. She lay with her cheek and the weight of her heavy head on my shoulder, and when we passed the lakeside windows I could see her eyes looking out into the silver-dark storm, wide and unblinking. Carrying her was a tall man with thinning hair. I realized I could see the dining-room table right through us. Our reflections are ghosts already, I thought. ‘Ki? Can you eat something?' ‘Not hung'y.' ‘Can you drink a glass of milk?' ‘No, cocoa. I cold.' ‘Yes, of course you are. And I have cocoa.' I tried to put her down and she held on with panicky tightness, scrambling against me with her plump little thighs. I hoisted her back up again, this time settling her against my hip, and she subsided. ‘Who's here?' she asked. She had begun to shiver. ‘Who's here ‘sides us?' ‘I don't know.' ‘There's a boy,' she said. ‘I saw him there.' She pointed Strickland toward the sliding glass door which gave on the deck (all the chairs out there had been overturned and thrown into the corners; one of the set was missing, apparently blown right over the rail). ‘He was black like on that funny show me and Mattie watch. There are other black people, too. A lady in a big hat. A man in blue pants. The rest are hard to see. But they watch. They watch us. Don't you see them?' ‘They can't hurt us.' ‘Are you sure? Are you, are you?' I didn't answer. I found a box of Swiss Miss hiding behind the flour cannister, tore open one of the packets, and dumped it into a cup. Thunder exploded overhead. Ki jumped in my arms and let out a long, miserable wail. I hugged her, kissed her cheek. ‘Don't put me down, Mike, I scared.' ‘I won't put you down. You're my good girl.' ‘I scared of the boy and the blue-pants man and the lady. I think it's the lady who wore Mattie's dress. Are they ghosties?' ‘Yes.' ‘Are they bad, like the men who chased us at the fair? Are they?' ‘I don't really know, Ki, and that's the truth.' ‘But we'll find out.' ‘Huh?' ‘That's what you thought. â€Å"But we'll find out. â€Å"‘ ‘Yes,' I said. ‘I guess that's what I was thinking. Something like that.' I took her down to the master bedroom while the water heated in the kettle, thinking there had to be something left of Jo's I could pop her into, but all of the drawers in Jo's bureau were empty. So was her side of the closet. I stood Ki on the big double bed where I had not so much as taken a nap since coming back, took off her clothes, carried her into the bathroom, and wrapped her in a bathtowel. She hugged it around herself, shaking and blue-lipped. I used another one to dry her hair as best I could. During all of this, she never let go of the stuffed dog, which was now beginning to bleed stuffing from its seams. I opened the medicine cabinet, pawed through it, and found what I was looking for on the top shelf: the Benadryl Jo had kept around for her ragweed allergy. I thought of checking the expiration date on the bottom of the box, then almost laughed out loud. What difference did that make? I stood Ki on the closed toilet seat and let her hold on around my neck while I stripped the childproof backing from four of the little pink-and-white caplets. Then I rinsed out the tooth-glass and filled it with cold water. While I was doing this I saw movement in the bathroom mirror, which reflected the doorway and the master bedroom beyond. I told myself that I was only seeing the shadows of windblown trees. I offered the caplets to Ki. She reached for them, then hesitated. ‘Go on,' I said. ‘It's medicine.' ‘What kind?' she asked. Her small hand was still poised over the little cluster of caplets. ‘Sadness medicine,' I said. ‘Can you swallow pills, Ki?' ‘Sure. I taught myself when I was two.' She hesitated a moment longer looking at me and looking into me, I think, ascertaining that I was telling her something I really believed. What she saw or felt must have satisfied her, because she took the caplets and put them in her mouth, one after another. She swallowed them with little birdie-sips from the glass, then said: ‘I still feel sad, Mike.' ‘It takes awhile for them to work.' I rummaged in my shirt drawer and found an old Harley-Davidson tee that had shrunk. It was still miles too big for her, but when I tied a knot in one side it made a kind of sarong that kept slipping off one of her shoulders. It was almost cute. I carry a comb in my back pocket. I took it out and combed her hair back from her forehead and her temples. She was starting to look put together again, but there was still something missing. Something that was connected in my mind with Royce Merrill. That was crazy, though . . . wasn't it? ‘Mike? What cane? What cane are you thinking about it?' Then it came to me. ‘A candy cane,' I said. ‘The kind with stripes.' From my pocket I took the two white ribbons. Their red edges looked almost raw in the uncertain light. ‘Like these.' I tied her hair back in two little ponytails. Now she had her ribbons; she had her black dog; the sunflowers had relocated a few feet north, but they were there. Everything was more or less the way it was supposed to be. Thunder blasted, somewhere close a tree fell, and the lights went out. After five seconds of dark-gray shadows, they came on again. I carried Ki back to the kitchen, and when we passed the cellar door, something laughed behind it. I heard it; Ki did, too. I could see it in her eyes. ‘Take care of me,' she said. ‘Take care of me cause I'm just a little guy. You promised.' ‘I will.' ‘I love you, Mike.' ‘I love you, too, Ki.' The kettle was huffing. I filled the cup to the halfway mark with hot water, then topped it up with milk, cooling it off and making it richer. I took Kyra over to the couch. As we passed the dining-room table I glanced at the IBM typewriter and at the manuscript with the cross-word-puzzle book lying on top of it. Those things looked vaguely foolish and somehow sad, like gadgets that never worked very well and now do not work at all. Lightning lit up the entire sky, scouring the room with purple light. In that glare the laboring trees looked like screaming fingers, and as the light raced across the sliding glass door to the deck I saw a woman standing behind us, by the woodstove. She was indeed wearing a straw hat, with a brim the size of a cartwheel. ‘What do you mean, the river is almost in the sea?' Ki asked. I sat down and handed her the cup. ‘Drink that up.' ‘Why did the men hurt my mommy? Didn't they want her to have a good time?' ‘I guess not,' I said. I began to cry. I held her on my lap, wiping away the tears with the backs of my hands. ‘You should have taken some sad-pills, too,' Ki said. She held out her cocoa. Her hair ribbons, which I had tied in big sloppy bows, bobbed. ‘Here. Drink some.' I drank some. From the north end of the house came another grinding, crackling crash. The low rumble of the generator stuttered and the house went gray again. Shadows raced across Ki's small face. ‘Hold on,' I told her. ‘Try not to be scared. Maybe the lights will come back.' A moment later they did, although now I could hear a hoarse, uneven note in the gennie's roar and the flicker of the lights was much more noticeable. ‘Tell me a story,' she said. ‘Tell me about Cinderbell.' ‘Cinderella.' ‘Yeah, her.' ‘All right, but storyguys get paid.' I pursed my lips and made sipping sounds. She held the cup out. The cocoa was sweet and good. The sensation of being watched was heavy and not sweet at all, but let them watch. Let them watch while they could. ‘There was this pretty girl named Cinderella ‘ ‘Once upon a time! That's how it starts! That's how they all start!' ‘That's right, I forgot. Once upon a time there was this pretty girl named Cinderella, who had two mean stepsisters. Their names were . . . do you remember?' ‘Tammy Faye and Vanna.' ‘Yeah, the Queens of Hairspray. And they made Cinderella do all the really unpleasant chores, like sweeping out the fireplace and cleaning up the dogpoop in the back yard. Now it just so happened that the noted rock band Oasis was going to play a gig at the palace, and although all the girls had been invited . . . ‘ I got as far as the part about the fairy godmother catching the mice and turning them into a Mercedes limousine before the Benadryl took effect. It really was a medicine for sadness; when I looked down, Ki was fast asleep in the crook of my arm with her cocoa cup listing radically to port. I plucked it from her fingers and put it on the coffee-table, then brushed her drying hair off her forehead. ‘Ki?' Nothing. She'd gone to the land of Noddy-Blinky. It probably helped that her afternoon nap had ended almost before it got started. I picked her up and carried her down to the north bedroom, her feet bouncing limply in the air and the hem of the Harley shirt flipping around her knees. I put her on the bed and pulled the duvet up to her chin. Thunder boomed like artillery fire, but she didn't even stir. Exhaustion, grief, Benadryl . . . they had taken her deep, taken her beyond ghosts and sorrow, and that was good. I bent over and kissed her cheek, which had finally begun to cool. ‘I'll take care of you,' I said. ‘I promised, and I will.' As if hearing me, Ki turned on her side, put the hand holding Strickland under her jaw, and made a soft sighing sound. Her lashes were dark soot against her cheeks, in startling contrast to her light hair. Looking at her I felt myself swept by love, shaken by it the way one is shaken by a sickness. Take care of me, I'm just a little guy. ‘I will, Ki-bird,' I said. I went into the bathroom and began filling the tub, as I had once filled it in my sleep. She would sleep through it all if I could get enough warm water before the generator quit entirely. I wished I had a bath-toy to give her in case she did wake up, something like Wilhelm the Spouting Whale, but she'd have her dog, and she probably wouldn't wake up, anyway. No freezing baptism under a handpump for Kyra. I was not cruel, and I was not crazy. I had only disposable razors in the medicine cabinet, no good for the other job ahead of me. Not efficient enough. But one of the kitchen steak knives would do. If I filled the washbasin with water that was really hot, I wouldn't even feel it. A letter T on each arm, the top bar drawn across the wrists For a moment I came out of the zone. A voice my own speaking as some combination of Jo and Mattie screamed: What are you thinking about? Oh Mike, what in God's name are you thinking about? Then the thunder boomed, the lights flickered, and the rain began to pour down again, driven by the wind. I went back into that place where everything was clear, my course indisputable. Let it all end the sorrow, the hurt, the fear. I didn't want to think anymore about how Mattie had danced with her toes on the Frisbee as if it were a spotlight. I didn't want to be there when Kyra woke up, didn't want to see the misery fill her eyes. I didn't want to get through the night ahead, the day that was coming beyond it, or the day that was coming after that. They were all cars on the same old mystery train. Life was a sickness. I was going to give her a nice warm bath and cure her of it. I raised my arms. In the medicine cabinet mirror a murky figure a Shape raised its own in a kind of jocular greeting. It was me. It had been me all along, and that was all right. That was just fine. I dropped to one knee and checked the water. It was coming in nice and warm. Good. Even if the generator quit now, it would be fine. The tub was an old one, a deep one. As I walked down to the kitchen to get the knife, I thought about climbing in with her after I had finished cutting my wrists in the hotter water of the basin. No, I decided. It might be misinterpreted by the people who would come here later on, people with nasty minds and nastier assumptions. The ones who'd come when the storm was over and the trees across the road cleared away. No, after her bath I would dry her and put her back in bed with Strickland in her hand. I'd sit across the room from her, in the rocking chair by the bedroom windows. I would spread some towels in my lap to keep as much of the blood off my pants as I could, and eventually I would go to sleep, too. Bunter's bell was still ringing. Much louder now. It was getting on my nerves, and if it kept on that way it might even wake the baby. I decided to pull it down and silence it for good. I crossed the room, and as I did a strong gust of air blew past me. It wasn't a draft from the broken kitchen window; this was that warm subway-air again. It blew the Tough Stuff crossword book onto the floor, but the paperweight on the manuscript kept the loose pages from following. As I looked in that direction, Bunter's bell fell silent. A voice sighed across the dim room. Words I couldn't make out. And what did they matter? What did one more manifestation one more blast of hot air from the Great Beyond matter? Thunder rolled and the sigh came again. This time, as the generator died and the lights went out, plunging the room into gray shadow, I got one word in the clear: Nineteen. I turned on my heels, making a nearly complete circle. I finished up looking across the shadowy room at the manuscript of My Childhood Friend. Suddenly the light broke. Understanding arrived. Not the crossword book. Not the phone book, either. My book. My manuscript. I crossed to it, vaguely aware that the water had stopped running into the tub in the north-wing bathroom. When the generator died, the pump had quit. That was all right, it would be plenty deep enough already. And warm. I would give Kyra her bath, but first there was something I had to do. I had to go down nineteen, and after that I just might have to go down ninety-two. And I could. I had completed just over a hundred and twenty pages of manuscript, so I could. I grabbed the battery-powered lantern from the top of the cabinet where I still kept several hundred actual vinyl records, clicked it on, and set it on the table. It cast a white circle of radiance on the manuscript in the gloom of that afternoon it was as bright as a spotlight. On page nineteen of My Childhood Friend, Tiffi Taylor the call-girl who had re-invented herself as Regina Whiting was sitting in her studio with Andy Drake, reliving the day that John Sanborn (the alias under which John Shackleford had been getting by) saved her three-year-old daughter, Karen. This is the passage I read as the thunder boomed and the rain slashed against the sliding door giving on the deck: FRIEND, by Noonan/Pg. 19 over that way, I was sure of it,' she said, ‘but when I couldn't see her anywhere, I went to look in the hot tub.' She lit a cigarette. ‘What I saw made me feel like screaming, Andy Karen was underwater. All that was out was her hand . . . the nails were turning purple. After that . . . I guess I dived in, but I don't remember; I was zoned out. Everything from then on is like a dream where stuff runs together in your mind. The yard-guy Sanborn shoved me aside and dived. His foot hit me in the throat and I couldn't swallow for a week. He yanked up on Karen's arm. I thought he'd pull it off her damn shoulder, but he got her. He got her.' In the gloom, Drake saw she was weeping. ‘God. Oh God, I thought she was dead. I was sure she was.' I knew at once, but laid my steno pad along the left margin of the manuscript so I could see it better. Reading down, as you'd read a vertical crossword-puzzle answer, the first letter of each line spelled the message which had been there almost since I began the book: owls undEr stud O Then, allowing for the indent next-to-last line from the bottom: owls undEr studIO Bill Dean, my caretaker, is sitting behind the wheel of his truck. He has accomplished his two purposes in coming here welcoming me back to the TR and warning me off Mattie Devore. Now he's ready to go. He smiles at me, displaying those big false teeth, those Roebuckers. ‘If you get a chance, you ought to look for the owls,' he tells me. I ask him what Jo would have wanted with a couple of plastic owls and he replies that they keep the crows from shitting up the woodwork. I accept that, I have other things to think about, but still . . . ‘It was like she'd come down to do that errand special,' he says. It never crosses my mind not then, at least that in Indian folklore, owls have another purpose: they are said to keep evil spirits away. If Jo knew that plastic owls would scare the crows off, she would have known that. It was just the sort of information she picked up and tucked away. My inquisitive wife. My brilliant scatterbrain. Thunder rolled. Lightning ate at the clouds like spills of bright acid. I stood by the dining-room table with the manuscript in my unsteady hands. ‘Christ, Jo,' I whispered. ‘What did you find out?' And why didn't you tell me? But I thought I knew the answer to that. She hadn't told me because I was somehow like Max Devore; his great-grandfather and my own had shit in the same pit. It didn't make any sense, but there it was. And she hadn't told her own brother, either. I took a weird kind of comfort from that. I began to leaf through the manuscript, my skin crawling. Andy Drake rarely frowned in Michael Noonan's My Childhood Friend. He scowled instead, because there's an owl in every scowl. Before coming to Florida, John Shackleford had been living in Studio City, California. Drake's first meeting with Regina Whiting occurred in her studio. Ray Garraty's last-known address was the Studio Apartments in Key Largo. Regina Whiting's best friend was Steffie Underwood. Steffi's husband was Towle Underwood there was a good one, two for the price of one. Owls under studio. It was everywhere, on every page, just like the K-names in the telephone book. A kind of monument, this one built I was sure of it not by Sara Tidwell but by Johanna Arlen Noonan. My wife passing messages behind the guard's back, praying with all her considerable heart that I would see and understand. On page ninety-two Shackleford was talking to Drake in the prison visitors' room sitting with his wrists between his knees, looking down at the chain running between his ankles, refusing to make eye-contact with Drake. FRIEND, by Noonan/Pg. 92 only thing I got to say. Anything else, fuck, what good would it do? Life's a game, and I lost. You want me to tell you that I yanked some little kid out of the water, pulled her up, got her motor going again? I did, but not because I'm a hero or a saint . . . ‘ There was more but no need to read it. The message, owls under studio, ran down the margin just as it had on page nineteen. As it probably did on any number of other pages as well. I remembered how deliriously happy I had been to discover that the block had been dissolved and I could write again. It had been dissolved all right, but not because I'd finally beaten it or found a way around it. Jo had dissolved it. Jo had beaten it, and my continued career as a writer of second-rate thrillers had been the least of her concerns when she did it. As I stood there in the flicker-flash of lightning, feeling my unseen guests swirl around me in the unsteady air, I remembered Mrs. Moran, my first-grade teacher. When your efforts to replicate the smooth curves of the Palmer Method alphabet on the blackboard began to flag and waver, she would put her large competent hand over yours and help you. So had Jo helped me. I riffled through the manuscript and saw the key words everywhere, sometimes placed so you could actually read them stacked on different lines, one above the other. How hard she had tried to tell me this . . . and I had no intention of doing anything else until I found out why. I dropped the manuscript back on the table, but before I could re-anchor it, a furious gust of freezing air blew past me, lifting the pages and scattering them everywhere in a cyclone. If that force could have ripped them to shreds, I'm sure that it would have. No! it cried as I grabbed the lantern's handle. No, finish the job! Wind blew around my face in chill gusts it was as if someone I couldn't quite see was standing right in front of me and breathing in my face, retreating as I moved forward, huffing and puffing like the big bad wolf outside the houses of the three little pigs. I hung the lantern over my arm, held my hands out in front of me, and clapped them together sharply. The cold puffs in my face ceased. There was now only the random swirling air coming in through the partially plugged kitchen window. ‘She's sleeping,' I said to what I knew was still there, silently watching. ‘There's time.' I went out the back door and the wind took me at once, making me stagger sideways, almost knocking me over. And in the wavering trees I saw green faces, the faces of the dead. Devore's was there, and Royce's, and Son Tidwell's. Most of all I saw Sara's. Everywhere Sara. No! Go back! You don't need no truck with no owls, sugar! Go back! Finish the job! Do what you came for! ‘I don't know what I came for,' I said. ‘And until I find out, I'm not doing anything.' The wind screamed as if in offense, and a huge branch split off the pine standing to the right of the house. It fell on top of my Chevrolet in a spray of water, denting the roof before rolling off on my side. Clapping my hands out here would be every bit as useful as King Canute commanding the tide to turn. This was her world, not mine . . . and only the edge of it, at that. Every step closer to The Street and the lake would bring me closer to that world's heart, where time was thin and spirits ruled. Oh dear God, what had happened to cause this? The path to Jo's studio had turned into a creek. I got a dozen steps down it before a rock turned under my foot and I fell heavily on my side. Lightning zigged across the sky, there was the crack of another breaking branch, and then something was falling toward me. I put my hands up to shield my face and rolled to the right, off the path. The branch splashed to the ground just behind me, and I tumbled halfway down a slope that was slick with soaked needles. At last I was able to pull myself to my feet. The branch on the path was even bigger than the one which had landed on the roof of the car. If it had struck me, it likely would have bashed in my skull. Go back! A hissing, spiteful wind through the trees. Finish it! The slobbering, guttural voice of the lake slamming into the rocks and the bank below The Street. Mind your business! That was the very house itself, groaning on its foundations. Mind your business and let me mind mine! But Kyra was my business. Kyra was my daughter. I picked up the lantern. The housing was cracked but the bulb glowed bright and steady that was one for the home team. Bent over against the howling wind, hand raised to ward off more falling branches, I slipped and stumbled my way down the hill to my dead wife's studio.