Henry hadn't walked in his sleep for years.

It had been so long, in fact, that he barely remembered doing it, and would have forgotten entirely were it not for the locks his mother had once installed on his bedroom windows, which no one had ever thought to remove.

Sleepwalking was the furthest thing from Henry's mind.

What was on Henry's mind was his mother's diamond ring.

When his mother had died, she left no will, and Henry and his brother Nate had been instructed by their father to split up her remaining belongings "as they saw fit." In essence, that meant Nate got everything he wanted and Henry got what was left over. Henry was the elder, but it was clear which brother was heir apparent. Nate had arrived with a squeal a month or so after Henry's sixth birthday, and had run the household quite efficiently ever since.

Henry was sure, even now, that if he had made a big deal about the ring, he wouldn't have gotten it. Nate would have found a way to manipulate both Henry and their father into giving it to him. But Henry had not made a big deal of it. He had seen the ring lying in the bottom of the jewelry box, with which Nate had been singularly uninterested (as far as he knew, Mom's jewelry had been junk, and therefore held no value). Henry had casually asked if he might take the box, and Nate had agreed absently.

Four years later, Henry was almost twenty-three years old, and still living at home. Most of his friends had either left Versailles (pronounced Ver-SAL-is by the natives) for the city, or gotten married. His father had given him the ultimatum that afternoon: Either get married and get out of the house, or just get out of the house. Henry had chosen the former. A wedding would provide gifts that he would have to buy for himself if he moved out single.

He'd been seeing Beth Mazorski for a little over eight months. She would never be classed with the great beauties of the world, but she was the prettiest girl Henry had ever gone out with (and, he supposed, the prettiest who would deign to go out with him), and he figured he was either in love or someplace close by it. She was a Polish Catholic, which made his family happy, and a Versailles girl, which made him happy, although he was loathe to admit it. There is a certain etiquette among small town youths -- either try to get out, or come up with a damned good reason not to. Getting married was a good one; having a kid was even better. Several of Henry's high school friends had taken that route, and they seemed to be doing just fine.

So it happened that on the evening of the night that Henry would start sleepwalking again, he had taken his mother's ring from his desk drawer and placed it on his night table, from which it stared at him like the eye of Time, seeming to whisper, I have found you, Henry Szeniak, and you are mine. He had not felt so acutely old since he had learned that Nate, now in high school, had no recollection of David Bowie singing a song called "China Girl," and was as likely to think of a mad scientist in Jane Fonda move as his namesake group when he heard the words Duran Duran. Henry's generation was short and intense (he defined it as anyone born between 1970 and 1975), and for all intents and purposes, it was over. I had gone out someplace between Duran Duran and the New Kids on the Block, in much the same way it had slunk in between punk rock and heavy metal.

He stared at the ring, and it stared back. It won the standoff (as inanimate objects will tend to do). Henry blinked slowly, twice, then his eyes slid shut for the night.

He dreamed of the ring.

In the dream, he took it in his hand and walked slowly out of the house. He emerged into some kind of field, and Beth lay silently on the ground before him. He knelt beside her, and placed the ring on her left hand, whispering, "With this ring, I thee wed."

The hand stiffened and began to sprout running death sores. The ground opened beneath the hideous form, and it began to sink. Henry caught a glimpse of exposed bone before the earth closed over it.

He stifled a scream, but did not wake up. The dream simply ended. After, he dreamed of walking along the railroad tracks, alone but watched, then he returned home.

***

He had been up for an hour and was watching MTV when Nate stumbled out of bed. He came in and flopped down on the other end of the couch, as if he had just finished a hard day in the fields instead of the twenty yard trek from his room into the living room.

"Nice walk last night?" he asked Henry pleasantly.

Henry regarded his brother blankly.

"Me and Brad saw you go out around one. We followed you all the way down to the railroad tracks."

"Bullshit."

"Must've been some dream. You ran off like your ass was on fire."

Henry recalled his dream uneasily. There had been dirt on his feet that morning, but he had simply washed them without thinking about it. "Why didn't you wake me up?"

"I hear a person goes nuts if you wake them up while they're sleepwalking."

"Oh."

"So, what were you dreaming about, Hank?"

Henry, who hated being called Hank almost as much as he hated the people who insisted on referring to him by it, declined comment.

"Come on, Hank... was it a girly dream? Did little Hank get scared off when he had to -- "

"Shut up." Henry knew he really should have beat up on Nate more often when they were little -- it was an older brother's duty, practically written in stone -- but he had never gotten around to it, and now Nate was just a bit too big to start.

The door to the kitchen opened, and he heard heavy footsteps on the linoleum.

"Dad's back," Henry said.

"Breakfast!" Nate jumped up and ran for the kitchen.

He stopped at the doorway; Henry almost ran into him.

The thing at the window near the stove was most definitely not their father. It was unspeakably but definitely female, for one thing. It wore a short dress, rotted out in several places, that revealed long legs dotted with weeping sores. What hair was left was interspersed with worms.

"I was going to make you some breakfast," it -- she -- said. "But I can't seem to find what I need. My eyes aren't quite what they used to be."

She turned.

In the place where her eyes should have been were two pools of squirming maggots.

"Who are you?" Henry asked.

"I'm your wife."

The light caught the diamond, placed carefully on the rotting fourth finger of her left hand.

Henry fainted.

***

When he came to, he thought for a moment that it had all been part of his nightmare, but then he caught sight of her, standing primly by the window.

"Your brother is in the bathroom," she said. "He isn't feeling well, either."

"I don't doubt it." Henry pulled himself up against the doorframe and looked at her. "How?"

"Stomach, I guess."

"No, I mean, how are you and I... ?"

"Oh." She shrugged, and pulled a worm nonchalantly from her left cheek. She wound it around her finger as she spoke. "I'm not sure, exactly. I didn't... wake up... until the end. But I guess it's because you gave me a ring and a vow in the presence of two witnesses -- your brother and his friend -- so it's legal."

"It wouldn't stand up in court."

"Apparently, it stood up in Somebody's court." The worm broke. "I wouldn't worry. I probably can't last much longer. I seem to be coming apart."

Henry looked away, although he knew she couldn't see him. There was no arguing with her assessment. "What's your name?"

"Terri."

"Terri?"

"Terri, yes, Terri," she said impatiently. "What were you expecting? Frankenstein? Igor, maybe?"

Henry, who in the back of his mind had expected something like that, said nothing.

"So anyway," Terri said, "we're married. What do we do now?" She turned away. "I must assume that you are not interested in the more traditional forms of honeymooning."

Henry felt his cheeks flush. "Uh, no offense or anything, but not really."

"No offense taken. I imagine I'm not a very pleasant sight." She paused. "What do I look like?"

"Dead," Henry said.

"Well, that makes sense." She turned back to him. "I didn't always look dead, you know. I used to be quite alive."

"What happened?"

She shrugged. "I picked the wrong time to pick a fight with my boyfriend. He hit me. And then he kept hitting me. It got a little out of control." She thought for a minute. "He must have buried me in the woods out by the train tracks because hardly anyone stops there. A little shallow, or my hand wouldn't have been out."

"How long ago?"

"I don't know. I've been dead; I haven't really been keeping track of the time."

"It's August now. When did you... you know?"

"In May." She was quiet for a moment. "I used to be beautiful. Everyone said so."

Henry could think of nothing more to say.

***

"Is she gone?" Nate stepped carefully out of the bathroom, looking back and forth rapidly.

Henry sighed. "No."

"Where is she?"

"Upstairs."

"Where upstairs?"

"In my room."

Nate paled visibly. "You didn't... I mean, come on, man."

Henry shook his head.

"So why's she in your room?"

"Do you have a better place for her?"

"Yeah. About six feet under."

There was a shuffling at the top of the stairs. Nate jumped.

"Henry?" Terri called. "I can't find my way back."

"Oh, Jesus," Nate said. "Don't let her come down here. Dad's gonna freak." He swallowed. "Come on, man. You can think of something."

"Is that your brother?" Terri's voice floated down.

"Yeah."

"Could one of you please help me find my way around?"

Nate stood and started for the stairs. "You get out of here!" Terri turned to the sound of his voice. "You go away. You don't belong here."

"Nate!" Henry hissed.

Terri felt for the wall and started straggling down the steps, one at a time. "No, Henry. Your brother's right. I don't belong here." She lifted her head and smiled gruesomely. A piece of her lip fell onto the carpet. "I don't belong anywhere. But you know what, Nate?" She reached the bottom of the stairs and lifted one rotting arm to Nate. "I think I may stay awhile. Settle down, take in the atmosphere... "

Nate cringed away from her. "No, come on, please, don't touch me... "

"Oh, I wouldn't touch you, Nate... "

"Terri, stop it," Henry said.

She turned to him. "I'm sorry."

Henry ran a hand through his hair and chewed on his lip. "He's right about one thing," he said after awhile. "My Dad would freak."

"He's right about a lot of things," Terri said.

Henry swallowed. "Don't take this wrong, but is there any way to... send you back?"

"I'm not sure. I think you could divorce me."

Nate laughed. "Oh, great. I can just see the lawyer's face when he brings you in."

"What happens if I divorce you?

"I'll die."

"You're already -- "

"Yes." Terri turned away from both of them. "Oh, forget it. Divorce me if you want. What do I care?"

"How?"

"Send me off. Tell me I'm free from being your wife or something."

"That's all?"

Terri laughed. It was a short, choked sound with no humor. "Yeah. That's all."

"Do it!" Nate said. "What are you waiting for?"

"I shouldn't," Henry said.

"Why not?"

"I's not right. It's against the law of the Church." Henry sat down on the steps. "Oh, Jesus, I don't know what I'm supposed to do about this. They never covered it in Sunday school."

"The Pope will understand," Nate said.

"The Pope wouldn't recognize the marriage, but Somebody did." He looked pointedly at Terri. "I just don't think it's right, and I don't think it will work.

Terri shrugged. "Well, there are grounds for annulment, if you want to tell the priests."

"I'll call Father Grendowicz," Nate offered.

"Stay out of this, Nate. I'll take care of it." Henry closed his eyes. "Terri, I... I don't want to send you back."

She turned. "You don't?"

"It wouldn't be right. It would kill you."

"Yes... "

"Jesus Christ, Henry, she's already dead four months," Nate interjected.

"Will you shut up, Nate?"

The door slammed open and shut in the kitchen behind him.

"You boys fighting again?" their father bellowed.

Henry felt the blood drain from his cheeks. "Get upstairs," he whispered. "Now."

"You say something?" Cal Szeniak's footsteps started toward the living room.

"No, Dad."

The footsteps turned, then Henry heard the refrigerator door open. "Something go bad in here?" Cal asked. "Whole damn house stinks."

"Coupla eggs!" Henry called over his shoulder, then turned back to Nate and Terri. "Get her upstairs."

Terri was already struggling up the stairs. Nate kicked her forward, and they both disappeared around the bend.

Cal strode into the living room. He gagged. "God almighty, Henry, it's worse in here. Did you break those eggs and scramble up in front of the t.v.?"

"No."

"Where's your brother?"

"I dunno."

"I heard him in here a minute ago. Or were you shouting at yourself?"

"He was here, but now he's gone."

"Well, I can see that." Cal started for the stairs. "Boy never finished his chores yesterday. Nate!" He stopped at the foot of the stairs. "You up there?"

Henry tried to figure out if enough time had passed for Nate to have gotten Terri behind one of the thick oak doors. He didn't think so. Even if he had managed to move her that fast, there would be pieces all over the hall. "I think he went out the back door."

Cal turned. "I didn't hear it open." He went back tot he stairs. "Nate! You didn't clean the barn after milking last night."

"Uh... I'm sorry, Dad!" Nate's voice came down from what sounded like the top of the stairs.

"Sorry ain't gonna cut it." Cal was pulling his belt off as he climbed the stairs. Henry followed. "Now you get down here, Nathaniel. I told you if you forgot again -- "

He rounded the bend in the staircase and saw Terri.

"What the hell -- "

Terri turned and looked at him.

Cal screamed and tried to back away. He overstepped the riser below him, swayed back and forth for what seemed an eternity, then fell backwards down the stairs.

Henry reached out, but only managed to catch the cuff of his father's shirt. He and Nate both heard the crunch of breaking bones as Cal hit the bottom.

There was silence for a moment, then Nate screamed, "Daddy!" He ran down the stairs, pushing past Henry. Terri turned her head away miserable, and Henry saw her start to come down before he ran to join his brother and their father. The horrible misshapen thing that was somehow his wife had ceased to matter.

Nate was kneeling beside Cal at the bottom of the stairs, demanding that he come to, and slapping his face. Henry reached down for one of his father's arms and felt for a pulse. Nothing. He leaned down and listened for a heartbeat. Nothing. No breath.

"He's dead, isn't he, Henry?" Nate said. "She killed him."

"I'm sorry... " Terri had somehow managed to carry herself to the bottom of the stairs. Henry could trace her progress by the smears on the wall.

"It's not your fault," he heard himself say.

"Like hell it's not," Nate said.

Henry turned back to his father. "I want you to leave, Terri."

"All right." Henry heard her start to shuffle past them.

"Oh, no," Nate said, grabbing her. "You're not getting out that easy.

"Let go," Henry whispered.

Nate pulled Henry's head up. "Daddy's dead, Henry. You understand that? Daddy's dead, and it's her fault."

"Mine, too. And yours."

"No."

Terri had pulled herself to the back door. Nate and Henry heard it open. Nate stood. He ran to the door and tackled Terri off the porch.

Let it be, Henry told himself as he closed his father's eyes.

Terri screamed in the back yard.

So what?

She screamed again. It was not mortal terror in her voice, but unearthly agony. "Henry!"

Henry couldn't take the sound of it. He laid his father's body carefully on the floor, and went out to his wife.

When he got outside, Nate was kneeling on top of Terri. Henry first, confused thought was that he was raping her... what he was really doing was beyond what Henry thought he could bear.

Nate had already pulled Terri's right arm off and cast it to the side. No blood welled from the wound, which made it somehow worse. As Henry watched, Nate yanked the left arm, and it came away with the sound of tearing sponge.

"Stop it!" Henry shouted.

Nate showed no sign of hearing or obeying. Henry ran out to them and pulled Nate away.

"Let me go!" Nate cried.

"No."

Nate's foot shot out and kicked Terri in the ribs. Her ribcage fell in with a thud.

Without thinking about what he was doing, Henry turned Nate around and threw a punch at him. It landed on Nate's left temple, and, thrown hard and at close range, dropped him to the ground.

"You like it, Nate?" Henry asked, but Nate was out cold and didn't answer.

"Henry?"

Terri's voice was weak. He turned to her. "What?"

"I'm sorry."

"It wasn't your fault."

"Divorce me. Let me go back."

"I can't. It's against... I just can't."

"Please, Henry. Just say you set me free from being your wife."

Everything Henry had ever been taught rebelled, but he forced himself to say the words. When the earth opened up beneath Terri, Henry was not surprised when it took both of them in.