By now morning should have come.  Oddly I didn't really care that the darkness kept pressing in, and the clack of her footsteps behind me was a familiar presence.  Whatever my new companion was wearing for footgear, they were silent enough I didn't notice.  If she heard the footsteps behind, she gave no indication.  We hadn't spoken since we'd left the diner, and while I kept expecting to see another light on the horizon, nothing but blackness stretched ahead of us. 

"I sometimes wonder what would happen if I tried to turn back." 

Her voice jolted me away from thoughts of footsteps and a child's laugh.  "Turn back?"

"Yes," she said.  "Like when I was sitting in the diner, I was wondering, what if I went out the door and turned left instead of right?  What if I gave up and went back?"

Click-clack.  The footsteps were behind me again, and I would have sworn closer.

"I can't turn around."  I didn't look at her as I spoke.  "I have to keep going.  I'm running out of time."

"I've never tried."  I wasn't sure if she heard me.  "Sitting still didn't seem to get me anywhere, either."  Then she laughed, as if realizing how absurd that sounded.  "I just felt so tired, and the diner was there . . . ."

"How long were you there, anyway?"  The sound of our voices was drowning out the click-clack from behind. 

 She paused, as if it wasn't a question she'd ever considered before.  "You know, I can't say.  I don't remember how long I was sitting there.  At least not until you came in.  I don't know how long I was walking, either.  It's been dark so long."

I nodded, without knowing whether she was looking.  "I think I've been walking all night.  But I don't know.  I don't even know for sure what day it is.  What if Halloween's come and we've missed it?"  I wasn't even sure what "it" was.

"It hasn't."  Her voice was strange and low.  I wanted to ask if she was sure, but somehow, I knew I didn't have to. 

There was another long silence and there were three of us again, she and I and the click-clack of her heels in the oncoming blackness.  Finally I said, "Why did you start walking?"

She shrugged.  "I'm looking for someone.  He'll be there, when we get there.  I hope."  She sighed.  "It's been a long time."

"I don't know why I'm walking."  It made it worse to admit it aloud.  "The preacher told me something about Halloween, but now . . . it doesn't make sense.  Or it does, but I don't know why it does."

"It'll be clear when we get there," she said, kicking a rock off the road.  It clattered down the embankment and thudded into the sand.  "I've forgotten how long I've been walking, and why.  I've forgotten where I started, even.  But now I know I need to keep going, and it won't be long."

The thought came suddenly and I spoke before I even considered it. "Have you ever turned around?  Have you ever tried to look back?"

She stopped dead.  She wasn't looking at me or at anything that I could determine.  "No," she said finally.  "And neither should you."