Alice Henderson - Voracious

Breaking into a run, Madeline followed the path toward the cabins, the dirt and small pebbles of the path crunching underfoot. As she rounded a turn in the path, ducking under a low bough of hemlock, she passed several startled-looking people who stared at her as she went by. She gave them a curt nod, as if that would convince them she wasn’t a mad person fleeing the scene of a crime. She supposed she did make something of a spectacle, tearing down the path at full tilt, not even having the decency to wear jogging clothes and thereby explain her haste.

She continued on, and soon through the white trunks of the aspen, the cabins came into sight. She jogged to hers, reaching into her pocket and producing the key.

Before she inserted it, she glanced over her shoulder at the cabin parking area. No Jeep. Noah hadn’t returned yet. She felt torn about seeing him again. She had grown to care for him and longed to see him. But if he truly hated her, honestly wanted her dead, then she hoped she wouldn’t run into him again. It hurt her more than she wanted to admit. Her whole life she’d tried to create a tough shell around herself so that if people rejected her-which they usually did, thanks to her lovely gift-it wouldn’t hurt so much.

She opened the door slowly, and though she knew the creature couldn’t possibly have beaten her there, she quickly scanned the main room and dashed to the small bedroom to check it, too.

It was clear.

She grabbed her wallet off the little table in the main room, and then the toothpaste and toothbrush Noah had bought her, along with the Swiss Army pocket knife. Thankfully she’d had it in her pocket when the flash flood hit. Had it been in her pack, it would be lost in the drink. She slipped the knife and wallet into the roomy back pocket of the jeans.

Not wasting a moment, she crammed the toothpaste and toothbrush into the paper bag she’d brought the sandwiches back with and quickly left the cabin, locking the door behind her.

Once again she scanned the parking area, but Noah’s car was nowhere in sight.

She glanced at her watch. George should be here any minute. She just wanted to jump in the car and drive straight to Mothershead. She probably wouldn’t be any safer there, but at least there she knew the territory. If the creature still insisted on pursuing her, she’d be ready.

Picking up the pace, Madeline hurried toward the camp store, where George and she had agreed to meet.

When she reached the parking lot in front of the cabins, she saw his familiar light blue Toyota Celica pull up. Behind the wheel, George scanned over the tourists for signs of Madeline. She waved, jogging over to the car.

When he saw her, his face lit up. He stopped the car in the middle of the parking lot, much to the chagrin of the cars waiting behind him, great white sharks ever vigilant in their circling for a parking place. He stepped out of the car. “Madeline!”

“George!” She knew she’d be happy to see him, but to have him there in the actual flesh was more comforting than she’d realized. The sun streamed on his long black hair, making it shine in the bright light.

He opened his arms, and she raced into them, resting her chin on his shoulder. His familiar scent washed over her: the smell of his lime shaving cream and floral shampoo, the hint of Egyptian Musk oil he wore on occasion. “George, it’s so good to see you,” she breathed. “Let’s get out of here.”

Impatient drivers behind them started pulling around, squeezing between George’s car and the parked cars beside it. Several glared at them poignantly.

“But… already? I just got here. It’d be nice to stretch my legs. It’s just as beautiful as I’d remembered. Haven’t been here for a long time.” His gaze wandered out to the breathtaking expanse of Lake McDonald, with the mountains beyond growing golden in the oncoming sunset. “Wow.”

“We can come back,” she said quickly. “And I can drive if you’re too stiff.”

He looked back at her, studying her face. “What’s wrong?”

She sighed. This wasn’t the time to explain everything. “Tell you on the way.”

“Is everything okay?”

“It will be if we get out of here now.” With each passing moment, she pictured the creature dragging itself out of the river and shaking itself off like a beast upon the riverbank, then coming to find her and finish its job.

“You looked really spooked.”

She went around to the passenger door of his car and lifted the handle. “I have good reason. Please, George, just get in and drive me back.”

He nodded, gave a last look at the soft ripples of the darkening lake, and climbed back in his car. Closing the door after himself, he studied her once again. “Straight back to Mothershead?”

She nodded. He threw the car in gear and navigated through the parking lot, the backup of cars behind him restlessly creeping along behind them, tailgating.

George wound around one end of the parking lot and started toward the exit, driving by several trinket shops and the backcountry ranger station. Madeline kept her head low, not wanting Stefan to spot her. Once out of the congested area, George turned onto the road that led toward West Glacier, the small community just outside the park. Madeline lifted her head once the speedometer climbed to twenty-five miles an hour on the main park road.

“Mind telling me what this is all about?” her friend asked, peering at her out of the corner of his eye.

She looked over his car. Three bags of chips lay empty and gutted, crumbly remnants covering the driver’s seat and clustering beneath the emergency brake. A half-empty bottle of Pepsi sat in a cup holder near the stick shift.

“I appreciate your coming on such short notice.”

He smiled. “No problem.”

In the backseat lay several paperback novels, some old CDs, and an umbrella. On the floor behind the driver’s seat lay crumpled wet clothes.

A red shirt lay under a pair of sodden black jeans.

“Why are your clothes wet?” she asked, trying to remain calm.

He frowned. “They’re not.”

She took in his current outfit, a black T-shirt and faded black jeans. “I’m not talking about what you’re wearing. I’m talking about these!” She grabbed the wet clothes and brought them forward, slapping them down in George’s lap.

He started at her sudden move, then just stared at her.

“Well?”

After a pause he said, “I got caught in a sprinkler system at a truck stop. They were watering this little grassy stretch where people can walk their dogs-”

She wrenched her hand up quickly and grabbed George’s hair in her fist. It was completely dry. But that didn’t mean the creature couldn’t create hair that was dry when he shape-shifted.

“Then how come your hair’s not wet?” she said, releasing it.

He looked at her incredulously. “Because it happened a couple of hours ago, on my way up here. I changed my clothes right after it happened. And my hair just air dried.”

Madeline squeezed the dripping clothes in her fists. Water streamed from the fabric, and it smelled musty, like river water. “These are not two hours dry.”

He turned to face her, momentarily taking his eyes off the road. “Madeline, are you okay? What’s wrong?”

It was then she noticed the faint bruise on the underside of his chin, black and blue precisely where she had struck the creature back at the river. The extent of healing matched the timing of the blow.

She reached up, placing her hand on the cool of George’s headrest. Nothing but white noise flooded into her, interspersed with a vivid flash of a short, muscular man, a previous owner of the car, stepping out to pump gas, thrilled about landing a new job. She pressed her hand there a moment longer, seeking visions of George. None came. She withdrew her fingers and stared back at him.