Voracious

by ALICE HENDERSON

  The driver of the vehicle in front of her, a heavyset man with an Oregon Ducks sweatshirt on, was deep in conversation with the RV owner in front of him.

  She tried to listen in.

  “I don’t know,” Oregon Ducks was saying. “Just went crazy, I think.”

  She wondered if he was referring to the screaming man or the possible bear who had mauled him for behaving stupidly.

  Morbid curiosity tugged at her to go look at the source of the turmoil, but she knew she’d just get in the way. If some guy was injured or “going crazy,” the rangers would need space to work.

  For three more minutes she sat in her Rabbit, and still the screaming persisted, though now it was completely incomprehensible.

  “Why don’t they just tranquilize the guy or something?” murmured Oregon Duck to the other RV owner. “We’ve been here forever.” He had walked in front of the other guy’s RV, had his binoculars out, and was surveying the scene.

  Finally Madeline decided to climb out and see what the fuss was. She shut the door behind her, pocketed her keys, and walked up to Oregon Ducks.

  “What’s going on?” she asked him.

  He answered without removing the binoculars from his eyes. “Some crazy guy is down there screaming at the rangers in the middle of the road. He’s poured gas all over himself but doesn’t have a lighter. He keeps telling them they’ve got to set him on fire. Can you believe it? They’re trying to talk him down. Jeez! This is just like an episode of Real Trauma!” The man’s face positively gleamed as he took in the scene, delighting in the stranger’s ordeal.

  He made her sick.

  She had no idea what Real Trauma was, but she suspected it was one of those reality shows where they showed people getting eaten by sharks or falling off bridges.

  “You don’t understand!” she heard the man scream. “If I can’t kill him, what fucking use am I?” The suddenly coherent though still maniacal voice was uncannily familiar.

  Madeline raced forward, down the line of cars to the front. Oregon Ducks yelled “Hey!” behind her.

  When she reached the ranger’s truck, she immediately saw the law enforcement ranger Suzanne, who’d helped her the night she arrived desperate and wounded from the backcountry. Steve stood next to her, both talking quietly and serenely, their hands out in supplication. And in front of them stood Noah, doused head to foot in gasoline.

  His Jeep was parked off the road with a dripping hose hanging from the gas tank.

  “Help is on the way,” Steve was saying.

  “I don’t want fucking help!” Noah yelled. “I want a fucking match and you people to leave me the fuck alone!”

  For a moment, though the voice belonged to Noah, Madeline couldn’t even believe the figure before the two rangers was actually him. His blond hair lay plastered to his face, eyes red and enraged, fingers tensed into fists at his side, neck muscles and veins bulging. He stood hunched over, glaring at them with an intense hate she’d never seen in someone before, like a force of violent energy striking out in pulsating, visceral waves. If he had a gun right then, she had no doubt he would have shot the rangers. His demeanor made her think of a rabid dog, all sense of peace and logic gone, just a snarling, snapping beast in agony, lashing out at anyone stupid enough to approach it.

  “If I can’t kill him, what fucking use am I?”

  She couldn’t imagine the hopelessness Noah must be feeling. He’d followed Stefan for two hundred years, finally had the perfect weapon, the only weapon, to destroy him, and now it was gone.

  But this—this was an insane, hateful way to end things.

  None of them had seen her yet.

  Now she stepped out behind the ranger’s truck and approached them. “Noah,” she said, when she’d reached Steve’s side. “This is crazy. Please don’t do this.”

  He took her in, rage-filled eyes roaming over her. In a rain of spittle he uttered low and threateningly, “You goddamn, lousy sack of worthless shit! I’d still have the knife if it weren’t for you! I should kill you before I kill myself, reach in your belly and rip out your intestines, tear your face apart, you foul, useless shit!” He advanced suddenly, and Steve stepped quickly in the way, holding out his hand in protest.

  Noah went on. “I’ll take you down with me before you have the chance to fuck up someone else’s life! You’re a god-damned joke!” Stopping in his tracks, he suddenly cocked his head to one side and said in a mocking voice, “ ‘I’ll help you stop him.’ ” She remembered saying those very words to Noah when she’d returned in the middle of the night after the forest fire ordeal. She’d meant them. Her mouth fell open, his words cutting to the core. He continued to mock her. “ ‘But ooops! Gosh, did I let the creature get the knife?’ ” Then he roared in her face, rushing forward and colliding with Steve’s outstretched hand. “ ‘Yes, I fucking did!’ ” Spittle rained over her face.

  The reek of gasoline was unbearable. She staggered backward, her eyes stinging as a huge lump formed in her throat. She hadn’t let the creature have the knife.

  Suddenly she wondered if he was the creature, once again taking on Noah’s appearance, saying these terrible things to drive them apart. They’d be less of a threat individually. It made sense.

  But one look in his eyes told her that this was the genuine article; his grief-stricken face was the same face that had relayed to her the story of Anna’s death. The creature could be convincing, but not this convincing.

  He continued to scream at her as Suzanne gently pushed her back, out of his reach. “I should have fucking left you for dead on the mountain. Or better yet, used you for bait. While he was feasting on your ruined corpse, I could have snuck up behind him and finished him off once and for all.”

  “Noah!” she cried, wounded and retreating. Her mind spun. The rage in his eyes took on an almost physical manifestation. The veins in his neck bulged, his lips drawn back cruelly from his teeth as he shouted.

  He hated her. Truly, utterly hated her.

  Suzanne took hold of Madeline’s face to get her attention. “Honey,” she said. “You need to move back. You’re making things worse. He’s deranged. Just move back.”

  Once again Madeline thought of a rabid dog. The way the ranger spoke of him, he might as well be.

  Steve pushed hard against Noah, trying to restrain him, gas soaking the naturalist’s clothes as well. “Help!” Steve said to Suzanne. “I’m not trained for this sort of thing.”

  The law enforcement ranger moved in. She grasped Noah in a painful-looking hold, with his arm twisted severely behind his back. Noah grimaced and sucked in breath sharply. She pushed him against the car and pulled out her handcuffs. Slapping them on his wrists, she cursed, “Where the hell are the other rangers? We radioed them ten minutes ago!”

  As if on cue, sirens blared in the distance then died out just as quickly. Two park service trucks pulled onto the campground road, approaching rapidly.

  Noah twisted in Suzanne’s grasp, but she held on tightly, one strong hand on his shoulder.

  The two rangers driving the trucks leapt out and rushed to her side.

  “Took you guys long enough,” she said.

  They grabbed Noah, one on each side.

  “And be careful. He’s covered in gasoline.”

  “He’s not the only one,” Steve put in.

  “So we smell,” quipped one of the backup rangers.

  Madeline rushed forward to Suzanne’s side as the two rangers wrestled Noah into the back of one truck.

  “What are they going to do with him?”

  She squinted at the truck as it pulled away with Noah inside. Through the window he glared at Madeline with palpable hatred.

  “Unfortunately, we can’t do much. We’re not cops. Unless a serious crime happens, we don’t even call in the Feds.”

  Madeline stood stunned. A serious crime. What, like murder? she thought sarcastically. How about five of them? And that’s just so far.

  Suzanne went on. “He did
n’t hurt anyone, though he seemed pretty ready to do you harm.” She paused, scrutinizing Madeline. “Do you know what he was talking about?”

  She froze.

  “Was it the same thing you say you saw on the mountain?”

  Finally she nodded.

  The law enforcement ranger looked at her with concern. “Maybe you should talk to a counselor when you get home. Surviving a frightening experience like a flash flood can be traumatic and have deleterious effects.”

  Madeline opened her mouth to protest and looked over at Steve, who was vigorously shaking his head no behind the ranger’s back. “I think several of us are going to need a therapist when this is all over with,” she said.

  “Can I get a phone number so I’ll know where they’re taking him?” But even as she said it, the painful lump that swelled in her throat descended heavily to her gut. She was unwelcome. She had made things worse.

  With a shudder she recalled the burning look in his eyes. Had she really messed everything up? For once in her life she’d felt a purpose, had begun to make sense of her gift and how she could use it to benefit others. Had she been so caught up in self-righteousness that she got careless and made things worse?

  He had been ready to kill her just now. Only Steve and Suzanne had stopped him from trying.

  That cut her deeply. Her protector, her knight from the mountain, wanted her dead. Her head began to pound.

  Suzanne pressed a small card into her hand. It had the number written on it.

  “Thanks,” she said shakily and turned away.

  “Wait!” Steve called. He caught up to her. She could actually see the shimmer of fumes rising from his clothes. “Are you going to be okay?”

  Clutching the card, she looked at him, trying to swallow back the painful lump that had risen once again at his kind words. “I don’t know,” she said honestly. “But I think I’m going to go home. There’s nothing I can do here now.”

  She started to walk back toward her Rabbit. Steve followed, throwing a cautious glance back at Suzanne. She was climbing into her car, well out of earshot. “But what about the … thing?”

  She stopped and looked at him, squinting in the bright afternoon sun. “It’s still out there,” she told him. “And I have no idea what it’s planning next. I only know we’ve lost our only weapon and our best warrior.”

  She turned then and walked back toward her car. Steve didn’t try to follow. When she glanced back, he had turned, walking slowly back to the truck one of the backup rangers had left behind.

  She felt bad, just leaving him like this. But if Noah was right about the creature, then unless Steve got in the way again, he was safe from Stefan. She couldn’t say the same about herself. But because the creature had had the opportunity to kill her and hadn’t, the fear that once consumed her had dulled slightly. That can make you careless, she thought.

  With RVs and cars pulling around her as the road cleared, she walked slowly back to her car, wondering about Noah and if she’d ever see him again.

  And if she did, would he be waiting some night with jagged claws, eager to tear through her flesh as the creature had longed to do—the hero having become the monster?

  17

  MADELINE opened the car door and climbed in, closing it with a soft click. In front of her most of the RVs and other cars had started their engines and driven off.

  Instinctively Madeline locked the door. Home. That’s where she would go now.

  There was nothing left for her to do here. If the creature came for her now, she may as well be home instead of here. At least there she had friends who could help her.

  A couple cars impatiently moved around her, and her attention returned to the present.

  Inserting the key into the ignition, she started the car. It roared to life, and she checked the mirror and pulled forward. The car sputtered, jerked, and went dead. She tried to start it again. It tried to turn over but didn’t catch. She let it sit for a moment. The reek of gasoline was still strong, and she rolled down the window in an attempt to get some fresh air.

  Instead, a fresh wave of gasoline fumes bloomed into the car. Madeline coughed, tried the engine again. For a moment both car and person sputtered simultaneously. She looked down at the gas gauge. Impossibly, it read empty, even though she’d filled it a few days before and had driven it only thirty miles since.

  She turned the key off, opened the door, and climbed out, pulling the neck of her shirt up over her nose to filter out some of the overpowering reek. She walked around the edge of her car and saw a large puddle of gasoline pooling beneath it.

  Three cars drove by, no one stopping to see if she needed help, just concerned to be on their own hurried way.

  Kneeling down, she peered under the car where the gas tank was. The metal fuel line lay broken and twisted, hanging down to the asphalt. The fuel filter was completely missing, and through a gash on the underside of the tank dripped the last remnants of fuel.

  Something had utterly demolished her fuel system, and fear seized Madeline like a plunge into an icy-cold lake. Snapping her head up, she gazed frantically in all directions.

  Another car drove by, the passenger giving her an unfriendly look that said, “What are you doing parked in the middle of the road?” No offer of help. No “Are you okay?” Just “Get out of my way.”

  She straightened up, heart threatening to beat right out of her chest. The thing must have done it while she was talking to Noah. It was possible Stefan had damaged her car earlier, but the stink of gasoline surely would have tipped her off when she climbed into her car back at the cabin.

  No. This was fresh.

  He’d done it while everyone was focused on Noah. Which meant Stefan had healed.

  The damn creature had snuck up here while she was only yards away and tore up her precious VW. And with Noah hauled off by the rangers, it was her only means of escape.

  Frantically she glanced around, feeling more vulnerable than she ever had before. Until now she’d had Noah, and Noah had the knife. Now she was alone, weaponless, with no idea how she’d get away from the creature if it decided to attack. She couldn’t outrun it, couldn’t defeat it in a fight. Safety now lay only in movement and escape.

  But for several moments she stood rooted to the spot, listening for any sign of the creature lurking nearby.

  Several more cars passed. Mountain chickadees fluttered and sang in the trees nearby. Chee-dee-dee. Chee-dee-dee. A chickaree warbled and darted quickly up a tree, chirping agitatedly as it went.

  Forcing her racing mind to slow, she thought logically. Her car needed to be fixed. She would tow it to the repair garage in nearby West Glacier, just outside the west entrance of the park.

  Luckily it was Wednesday. Hopefully someone would be at the garage.

  A beat-up old Subaru station wagon approached, slowed, and to her amazement stopped. Two women rode in it, both with shoulder-length blonde dreadlocks, braided hemp necklaces, and worn and faded T-shirts. They looked like sisters, both with similar freckled faces and the same sloping, upturned noses.

  “Hey,” the passenger said. “You need help?” She was young, somewhere under twenty-five, Madeline guessed.

  Madeline nodded quickly, stooping over so she could look at the driver, as well. “Yes. My car sprang a fuel leak. Can you drive me to the garage in West Glacier? The one just up the road?”

  “Sure,” said the driver. “Hop in!”

  “Thank you!” Madeline said gratefully. “Just let me get my car off the road.”

  “You need help?” asked the passenger.

  Madeline looked at the level ground and shook her head. “No, thanks. It’ll just take me a sec.” She jogged back to the driver door, stooped in, and inserted the key. Then she put the car in neutral, disengaged the emergency brake, and started pushing the car off the road. The Rabbit was light and easy to push on such level terrain, and in less than a minute, it was safely parked in the short grass along the road.

  She l
ocked up her car and moved to the back door of the Subaru.

  “Oh, shoot! Carly, can you move some of your stuff?” the driver asked hastily.

  As Madeline opened the door, a heap of gear spilled out, including a tent, an unrolled sleeping bag, as well as a bunch of bananas, a well-worn boot, and two unwrapped toaster pastries that looked older than the boot.

  “Sure thing,” Carly said, turning around in the passenger seat and helping Madeline pull in the unruly gear and place it back on the seat.

  With a small space cleared, Madeline sat down and closed the door behind her. Her fingers touched the vinyl seat of the car.

  The two sisters hiking in the high country, backs laden with heavy packs, stopping at a rock pile to watch for pikas …

  Carly as a teenager, sitting in the backseat of the Subaru on the way to a piano recital, nervous as never before …

  The other sister, crying, ankle broken after a fall on a skateboard, Carly driving her to the hospital …

  Their mother, in mid-lecture, warning them of the dangers of not following a more traditional path, wanting them to be lawyers or bookkeepers …

  She pushed the myriad images to the back of her mind. The driver took off, and Madeline gave a long, mournful look at her faithful VW. I’ll be back, she mouthed to it. Don’t worry.

  It was the only time she’d ever had to leave it somewhere like that. In all the time she’d had it, it had never broken down once. Now ragged holes gaped in its underside.

  “I’m Meg,” said the driver.

  “And I’m Carly,” added the passenger.

  “Madeline,” she answered, smiling at them.

  Meg sized her up in the rearview mirror. “You been out here for long?”

  “Standing on the side of the road or camping in the park?”

  She laughed. “Camping.”

  “Not long. Four days. But it’s been one hell of a four days. What about you guys?”