The farmhouse was gone. No, Frank argued silently with himself, not gone. It's still there.  Getting to his feet, he staggered to the rotting steps that led to what was left of the house.  The full moon, which had finally made its way through the thinning fog, shone clearly through the gutted out frame.  Only a fire could have done the damage that he saw.  Wooden beams had collapsed in on themselves, piercing what was left of the walls and floors.  The roof had crumpled and lay in scattered bits amid the wreckage. Taking a few more steps, he climbed the concrete stairs to a porch that was no longer there. Only the skeleton of the swing remained. Its metal frame was bent and twisted; pieces of it disfigured from the intense heat of a blaze.

"This can't be." Frank stepped down off the stairs and through the spot where the entrance had been less than half an hour before.  He ran his hand along the charred wood and blasted brick. "This can't be," he repeated.  This fire had happened ages ago.  The rubble was overgrown with weeds and grass. The metal of the swing was crumbling with years of rust eating away at it. 

An animal, mouse or chipmunk, he couldn't tell which, hurried out of the beam of the flashlight as Frank played it across the area of the once cozy sitting room.  Stepping over a pile of rotted shingles and wood splinters, he kicked his way to the fireplace. It was the only thing left intact in the ruin. Placing the flashlight on the mantle, he turned around slowly, trying to make sense of the nightmare he had just entered. Letting the duffel bag slip from his shoulder, he slid down the cold brick of the fireplace to sit on the damp grass.  His mind was numb.  What he was seeing was impossible. The house was gone. The Elderbridges were gone. His heart cringed against the next thought. Joe was gone. It wasn't possible. He pulled his knees up, and rested his forehead against them. Joe wasn't gone. The house couldn't be gone. There had to be some mistake. He sat up quickly and took in a sharp breath. That was it. He had made a mistake! In the dark he must have turned down the wrong path from the road. Ben and Joe were probably on their way to the road looking for him, thinking something had happened. That had to be it. He just hadn't noticed the second pathway in the fog.  Standing up, he brushed the dirt from his jeans and grabbed the flashlight.  If he double-timed it, he'd reach the road and probably run into Ben.  Taking one last look at the gutted out farmhouse, he breathed a sigh. The whole Castle Rock thing was starting to affect his judgement.

Frank made it back to the roadside in no time.  The fog had completely lifted, he was relieved to see; finding the right road to the Elderbridges' would be simple. He hoisted the bag higher on his shoulder and thought he had better do up the zipper of his jacket.  While the fog had faded, the air had become colder and was seeping through his clothes.  Trying to juggle the zipper and the flashlight, the light fell from his hands and rolled into the long weeds at the side of the path. Bending down to pick it up, he noticed something metal gleam faintly in the beam.  Curious, he pulled it up from where it protruded from the soft earth.  His breath caught in his throat as he brushed the dirt from the rusted and jagged scrap.  It was an old mailbox, or what was left of it. The small red flag still hung from its hinge. He choked back a gasp as he uncovered letter after letter—e...l…d...e...r… The piece of metal dropped from his fingers as he spun around to look back up the path. This didn't mean anything, he convinced himself. The original house could have burned to the ground and they could have rebuilt on an adjacent parcel of land.  Holding onto that thought, Frank began his search of the roadway, looking for the path he knew had to be there. Sure that he hadn't passed it on his way back from the car, he headed in the opposite direction. He hadn't gone far enough.  It was simple as that.

Fifteen minutes later he knew he had gone more than far enough. The side of the road was covered in dense brush.  He couldn't find any trace of an entranceway that ran through the overgrown bushes or across the gully.  His panic had long since evaporated and now his every thought was weighed down by dread. Reason screamed at him that houses didn't disappear. People didn't just wink out of existence. There was a road and he had missed it.  But doubt continued to eat away at reason. Why hadn't they come to look for him?  More than an hour had passed since he had left Joe with the Elderbridges. Joe, sore leg or not, would have been searching for him. Turning on his heel, he headed back the way he had come.  He had only one choice. He had to try his best to get the car out of the ditch. The night air had cooled considerably.  The mud might have hardened slightly, possibly offering enough traction for the tires to hold.  It was a long shot, Frank knew, but he was desperate. Where once returning to Castle Rock and its sheriff had been the last thing he had wanted to do, it had now become his only source of hope. He needed help in his search for his brother and Brad Meyers was going to have to be it. He couldn't explain what had happened, but explanations weren't important any longer. This was all some elaborate hoax that he would decipher later.  Finding Joe was all that he could think about.

Reaching the only pathway off the main road, Frank debated whether he should go back to look once more. Desperate hope pushed at him to prove wrong all that he had seen. He would find everything as it should be. The farmhouse would be there. The Elderbridges would be there. And Joe would be there.  But, in his heart, he knew he wouldn't. He couldn't see any lights. He couldn't hear the calls that would have been coming if they were searching for him. He had yet to see his brother's relieved face at finding him unharmed. It was that ache that made him turn away. He had wasted enough time. He would get that car out of the ditch, no matter what it took. Pulling his keys from his pocket, he was already running a quick tally of the contents of the trunk. There had to be something that would be of use. Blankets, a tarp, anything that could offer traction.  Directing the flashlight's beam ahead of him, he received his second shock of that long night.

The rental sat at the side of the road. Sure that it had to be a trick of the lighting, Frank ran the rest of the way to the car.  It wasn't an illusion.  Not willing to trust anything that he saw that night, he reached a tentative hand to the automobile.  The cold, moisture-covered surface proved that it was real.  He almost laughed out loud when the thought that it was impossible ran through his head. Had anything that had happened seemed possible?  But that didn't change the fact that the car was now parked at the edge of the road.  Free of mud and out of the ditch. Trailing the beam of the flashlight along the base of the car, he saw that there was no trace of the black muck on the chassis or any of the tires.  Add one more thing to his list of the impossible.  He was certain that he could add another to his growing list.  Sighing heavily, he circled the car to look into the gully. The full moon and the weakening light from his flashlight proved him right. The incline was undisturbed.  The deep ruts that should have been there from the car's slide were missing. It was as if the accident had never happened.

Before he had the chance to seriously entertain the thought that he had completely lost his mind, Frank ran to the driver's side and got in.  The car started without any complaint, as he knew it would.  After all, he thought bitterly, had the accident really occurred? It wasn't until he had automatically turned to check his side mirror, and saw his brother's jacket lying on the passenger seat, that he let the full impact, of what had happened, sink in. What if you needed me and I couldn't find you?  Squeezing his eyes tight against the tears, Frank slumped against the steering wheel, no longer able to fight the fear and despair that washed over him.  "Well, I need you," he whispered, "but I can't find you." Shifting the car into drive, he made a quick three-point-turn and headed back to Castle Rock.

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