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f was making。 Terror wouldn't permit it。 To stand still was to die。 She wanted to throw the encumbering charcoal bag from her； break into a headlong run then and there； all the rest of the way from here to the door of her house。 Again terror wouldn't let her； held her down to the gait she had been using until now。 It was the age…old instinct to avert danger by pretending to ignore its asserting itself in her。 Keep walking as you were； and the attack is postponed； if only a moment or two longer。 Flee…or try to flee…and you bring it on that much sooner。
She continued to move forward like a rigid automaton； unaware any longer of what her legs were doing； leaving them to their own devices。 Her ears were straining to catch the faintest… It came again； closer behind her this time； and yet； inversely； much fainter。 A nothing at all； a whisper of the paving stones。 So faint indeed that had she not heard it the first time； she would not have known she was hearing it all this time。
Something else now assailed her； again from without herself； but of a different sensory plane than hearing this time。 A prickly sensation of being watched steadily from behind； of something ing stealthily but continuously after her； spread slowly like a contraction of the pores； first over the back of her neck； then up and down the entire length of her spine。 She couldn't shake it off； quell it。 She knew eyes were upon her； something was treading with measured intent in her wake。
And at this moment； meaningless now； for terror no longer had bounds； was no longer confined but on the move； the black archway of the tunnel roof fell back a second time and she was in the open once more。 But dragging terror out into the open after her。
Her numbed feet； beginning to falter with faulty muscular co…ordination； carried her a few yards onward up the lane。 She knew she couldn't manage them any longer； they were slowing； they were stopping； they had stopped。 She had fallen still； vibrating all over。 A sort of pulsing that came from within； like the ague。
She had to see； she had to know； her fright…distended soul could bear no more。 The muscles of her neck started to tug； to pull her head around； to look behind her at the doom…pregnant entrance she had just quitted。 And even while they did so； before the motion had been pleted； the sack of charcoal started to slowly sidle out from between her nerveless hands； about to topple to the ground at her feet； in catastrophic premonition。
She was trapped there； held fast； as surely as a bird is by a snake； unable to move another step until her head had acplished that devoted； self…destructive turn to rearward to see what it was that the tunnel mouth was about to spew； rabid； at her heels。
The slowly mounting anger of Teresa's mother had increased in inverse ratio to the dwindling heat within her brasero。 When fanning would no longer bring the faintest flush of red to the charcoal ash； then her ire reached its hottest。
She bent low above it； dexterously manipulated her breath upon it； trying at one and the same time to skim the film of incinerated white ash off the top and unearth some spark of continued heat below。 That failed too。 Her fire； the core of her daily existence； had given up the ghost。
She straightened； flung up her arms； let them fall again。 〃Out；〃 she said catastrophically。 This was the unforgivable sin； to have one's fire expire like this。 Any woman who had that happen to her…well； she knew what the others about here would say and think of her。
〃Why don't you put some straw on it until she gets back？〃 the small boy over in the corner suggested。
〃Straw！ Is straw charcoal？ How long does it last？ It flames and goes； and fills the room with smoke。 And there isn't any anyway。〃 She picked up the broom； shook it threateningly in the general direction of the door。 〃It's her fault。 Had she gone when I first warned her to… And even now； is she back yet？ Look how she dawdles！ How she lingers on the way！ A snail would have been here before her！〃
She gave the earthenware pot sitting on the brasero a slight shift。 〃He'll e home； and what will he find？ A wife who cannot even keep the food warm for him。 A disgraced creature！〃
The boy sat watching her in utter silence； palms to cheeks； a rapt smirk on his face。
She made some more passes with the broom。 〃Oh； I'll give it to her！ I'll break this palo in two over her back。 She will ache all day tomorrow。〃
Something struck against the door suddenly。 It was as though a flurry of footsteps； only audible at the very last； had suddenly ended with a fling against the door。 A scream winged its way in； like a knife slicing through all the seams at once； above； below； at the sides。 And then words； in a smothered paroxysm； as though the mouth uttering them were cupped to the very woodwork itself。 〃 Mamacita； let me in！ Oh if you love me； let me in！〃 They were all run together in a sort of spasm of the voice。
The Seсora Delgado had waited for this moment； though not knowing that it would take this precise form。 She clasped her enfolded arms to her sides； hugging herself and nodding her head in bitter； long…delayed retribution。 〃 Now she es； eh？ Running at the last； eh； now that it's too late； now that my fire is gone and the damage is done！〃 She mimicked the suffocating tones outside。 〃' Mamacita； let me in。 Oh if you love me； let me in！' Afraid of the dark； eh？ Afraid of her own shadow； eh？ Well she'll stay out there。 We'll see how she likes that。 She'll learn next time to make more haste。〃
There was the sound of nails clawing helplessly at the wood； the voice was crazed； ungovernable； all but inprehensible； sputtering a gibberish that had to be guessed at rather than understood。 〃Ay； madrecita de mi alma； it's ing； it's ing closer； I can see it ing by the wall… It's closer； it's closer！〃
The Seсora Delgado gave an authoritative bellow that stopped the boy as he was beginning to sidle around the side of the room toward the door。 〃Pedro！ Stay away from it！〃 Again she mimicked her。 〃Yes； it's ing nearer； is it？ Lies！ Mentiras！ She thinks her lies will save her。 You think I believe there is anything out there？ There should be； I only wish there were！ It would teach you next time to obey your mother better。〃
There was a scream of agonized finality； a veritable catharsis of the lungs； that made all the others before it seem like nothing at all。 Mingled with it； and blurring it； quelling it at the end； came an impact of such violence that the whole door structure seemed to start with it from top to bottom； curve inward at the middle； then spring back rigid again a moment later。 It seemed incredible that anyone could do that with her body without breaking all her bones。 A puff of plaster dust welled up around the sides。
A change had e over the urchin's derisive face。 〃Carajo； Mama！〃 he breathed huskily。 〃She isn't fooling。〃
But the woman； in a reversal of attitude as instantaneous as his own； had already flung herself forward； squat and bulky as she was。 〃Wait； Teresa；〃 she panted。 〃I e； I'm here； I open。〃 She clawed desperately at the bolt。 〃Only a moment； my beloved。 Mi querida； only a moment more。 Your mother is here； your mother admits you。〃
It wouldn't move。 It had jammed。 It had been too long unused。 Its surface had roughened too much with rust； or that last impact had warped it。 It was fast in its socket。 She continued to pluck despairingly at it。 She half turned around in helpless appeal； then turned back again。 She struck frustratedly at the wood just above it with one open hand； while she tried to wrench it back with the other。
〃Pedro； Pedro； you have smaller fingers。〃
The incipient maleness of the boy rose to take the emergency in its stride。 That was what men； big and small； were meant for： a sudden crisis like this； a flurry of violence。 The rest was for women。 〃A stone…something to hit it back with… Gimme； I can get it！ Get out of the way。〃
There was a building brick lying there on the floor across the room； brought in for some forgotten purpose。 He snatched it up； ran back with it。 A tap； two taps； three； the unruly bar sprang back。
There had been silence for a minute past； ever since that last climactic scream and maniacal lunge； but only now did they have time to realize it。 There was a stillness on the other side。
In the fraction of a second's pause that followed； she saw the boy's eyes swollen downward at the floor。 A tongue of red was licking out at his bare foot from under the door。 Just that in size and shape； the tip of a human tongue。 But it was in flux； fluid。 Right as their eyes beheld it it was already widening； lengthening； glittering with its own volatility。
He had snatched the door inward upon them before the mother's slowly gathering scream had time to leave her。 He jumped agilely back as though something had bitten him。
It was as though clots of red mud had been pelted at the outside of the door； until； adhering； they formed a sort of spattered mound up against it。 There were rags mixed in with it； and snarls of hair； and even tiny crumbs of coral； broken off a string。
The mass sidled； disintegrated all over the threshold。