Ernie's Fear of Darkness

Ernie Block’s fear of darkness is not cured when night overtakes the group fleeing through the snow; it is tested, briefly resisted, and transformed by an unexpected need for his care. In the Cherokee, the approaching dark first seems to gather around him as a familiar threat. Yet the storm presents dangers more immediate than his phobia, and Marcie’s embrace gives him a reason to remain present through the night. His progress is real, but incomplete, and bound up with the memory he still hopes to recover.

The Fear and Its First Signs of Improvement

Ernie’s nyctophobia remains serious enough to shape the group’s plans. Jack explains that Ernie is not yet over it and is not up to joining a nighttime assault on the Thunder Hill Depository; the prospect of riding all night to Pocatello is already difficult for him. The fear is therefore not merely an inward discomfort. It restricts what he can safely be asked to do as the others organize their escape and next moves.

During the drive, Ernie tries to judge whether he is improving. The previous night, tucked under the covers and looking toward shadows beyond the lamp’s reach, he had felt only a fraction of the anxiety he usually expected. He takes that reduction as evidence of change, not as proof that the fear has disappeared. As dusk dims during the snowbound journey, he knows the test is coming: the last light is giving way, and the Cherokee is carrying him into the darkness he has feared for months.

Memory as a Measure of Hope

Ernie connects the possibility of recovering his lost memory with the possibility of overcoming his fear. Dom Corvaisis has remembered jets buzzing the diner, and Ernie draws hope from that return: if Dom can remember, perhaps he can too. Ernie believes that when the memory block finally crumbles and he recalls what he saw on the July night, he will no longer be afraid of darkness. The belief gives his fear a particular shape. Night is frightening in itself, but it is also tied to an experience he cannot yet bring back into consciousness.

That expectation does not spare him from the immediate onset of panic. As twilight falls, darkness seems to watch from the innumerable openings between the snowflakes, drawing closer whenever he blinks. The image renders his fear as an approaching presence, although it remains a perception rather than a separate physical threat. The scene keeps both possibilities in view: Ernie is struggling with a phobia, and the episode he hopes to remember remains unresolved.

Choosing What Deserves Fear

Ernie counters the approaching panic by comparing it with the concrete hazards of the journey. The Cherokee is moving through a blizzard with visibility reduced to a few yards. Even with a compass, the group could lose its way; the vehicle could leave a ridge crest or plunge into a rocky chasm without the driver seeing the danger in time. Ned can only guide the vehicle forward at a cautious crawl. In this setting, Ernie’s attempt to distinguish irrational fear from genuine risk is not a denial that danger exists: it is a way of directing his attention toward what the group can actually confront.

He repeats to himself, “I fear what's worth fearing, Ernie told himself adamantly. I don't fear you, Darkness.” The words mark a moment of resistance, not a declaration that his fear has vanished. When Faye looks back, Ernie gives her an OK sign, but his thumb and forefinger are only slightly steady. Her answering gesture is interrupted by Marcie’s scream. The small physical tremor makes his effort visible: he can reassure someone else while still struggling to reassure himself.

Caretaking in the Dark

After Marcie briefly remembers something, she sinks back into a deep, unresponsive catatonic state. She says nothing, but eventually tightens her arms around Ernie. He hugs her in return as the Cherokee rocks and lurches through the snow. Her silent grip does not resolve his missing memory or establish that his phobia has ended. It gives him a new immediate responsibility: to offer steadiness to someone who feels safe in his arms.

The change in his attention is striking. After months of fearing every shadow and meeting twilight with despair and horror, Ernie feels profoundly satisfied that Marcie needs his strength. He murmurs to her and strokes her hair, so absorbed in comforting her that he fails to notice the night surrounding the Cherokee and pressing against its windows. Darkness has not become harmless, and his earlier fear remains part of his experience. But in this passage it no longer occupies all of his attention. Care briefly displaces dread, turning the feared night into the setting in which Ernie can protect and comfort another person.