Lucy
waited for Jared and Alec to look up, signaling they had finished reading. “It’s
hard to see our mothers listed as test subjects,” she said.
“And
ourselves,” Alec added. “Though were not named.”
“So, these
are the mothers of the pack.” Jared said with a solemn finality. He stood and
pounded his fist into his hand. “We need to find them, so we can find the pack
members.”
“And
when we do?”
“Convince
them to join us.”
“And if
they don’t want—”
“Or
don’t believe you,” Lucy broke in.
Jared
shook his head. “They have to.”
“I
didn’t believe you. Not at first.”
Jared
crumpled back into his chair. He ran his hand over his short dark hair. “I’m
open to suggestions.”
“They
could already be moving in on them,” Lucy said. “They came after both of you.”
“We
don’t know what they’re doing,” Alec said.
“We
know more than I knew a year ago,” Jared said.
“Why
can’t you home in on them, like you did with me?”
“Because
Darius led me to you. I don’t have him to follow.”
“But if
you had something of theirs—” Lucy began.
“Yes?”
“You could
track them?”
“Right.”
“So we
start with what we have. Their hometowns. We search them out Internet-stalker
style and get you a scent to follow.”
“People
move all the time.”
“People
stay put all the time too.”
Alec
tired of their arguing and launched to his feet. He flipped the laptop on the
table around and typed in Mary Snug, Lime Springs. “She’s still there,” he
said.
“Who?”
Lucy asked.
“Mary
Snug. She’s still in Lime Springs.”
“I
guess we’re going to Iowa,” Lucy said and stood, as if she were ready to pack.
She looked at Alec and Jared. “Am I going alone?”
“Now?”
Jared asked.
“We can
have lunch first.”
* * * *
A murky
winter sun cast long shadows across the frozen land as Jenna Nichols stumbled
out of the woods. In the bluish twilight of the setting sun, she emerged
between trees. A narrow country road cut across the frozen landscape before
her. Like a newborn fawn, tentative, and seeming to have little comprehension
of cars, she stumbled, naked, onto the road.
A car
filled with teenagers swerved to miss her as the car headlights flashed on her
naked, alabaster skin. They swerved to miss her, and their car skidded toward a
roadside ditch. Snow burst into the air as the car collided with a snow bank.
Jenna stared at the car for a long while before approaching. As the driver,
shaken up but not hurt, called the police, a young girl in the backseat opened
the door and called to Jenna. “Are you hurt?”
“Help
me,” Jenna sobbed. The girl then noticed the dried blood that caked one side of
Jenna’s body. The girl scanned the woods, fearing whoever hurt Jenna now had
them in their grasp. She realized with certainty that so many horror movies
began this way. The realization sank deeper as she heard the car’s tires
whirring in the snow, unable to find traction. She forced down her panic, and
offered her coat to Jenna and helped her into the car.
An hour
later, Darrin Nichols received a phone call that his wife and been found, and
he rushed to the hospital where she was being treated. Joy and apprehension
wrestled within him as he approached the room where she was being treated. He
pushed the door open. “Jenna?” He whispered.
“Darrin,”
she cried, raising her arms toward him. He darted to her and clutched her,
sobbing in relief.
Jenna’s
memory of what happened was hazy; she remembered jogging, remembered finding
the woman, but nothing else. She was treated for minor injuries, including a
bite wound, and released from the hospital.
On the
nightly news, Darrin expressed his gratitude to all those who helped search for
Jenna, and he wept joyously when he said, “I can’t believe she’s home.”
A Midwest Mid-winter
Looking
out the car window, Lucy noted
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