At the Stroke of Madness (49 page)

A
dam found Maggie’s rental parked off the road but no one was inside. Did she know about Simon? How could she? He pulled his El Camino in behind the Ford Escort and jumped out, heading through the ditch until he thought of something. He ran back to the pickup and grabbed the pry bar from the back.

He barely got to the trees before he saw Luc Racine, wandering behind one of the buildings. The old man looked lost. Adam started to call out to him, then stopped, looking around for Simon. He had called the funeral home before he drove out here, hoping he’d catch Simon and be able to confront him in public. But they told him Simon had called in sick, and that alone sent a wave of panic through Adam. Simon never called in sick.

Now he wished he had tried to get ahold of Henry again, but each time he had tried, Beverly told him Sheriff Watermeier was in a very important meeting and could not be disturbed. That his deputy had been instructed to handle any emergencies.

Adam made his way to Luc, staying in the trees and watching for signs of Maggie or Simon. When he was close enough, he called to Luc in a low voice, “Mr. Racine. Hey, Luc.”

The old man turned around so suddenly he almost tripped. His eyes darted everywhere and Adam worried he might be having one of his blank moments.

“Over here, Mr. Racine.” He came out from the trees and walked to Luc, his eyes watching in all directions.

“Oh, Professor, it’s you. You scared me.”

“Sorry. Where’s Maggie?”

“I don’t know. But I think I heard someone in this cabin over here.”

“Have you seen Simon?”

“No, no, not at all. We need to find Maggie. I just don’t have a good feeling. I think she’s been gone too long.” He was shifting from one foot to the other, back and forth in almost a nervous dance.

“Okay, calm down. We’ll find her. Let’s check in here.”

They couldn’t see in through the windows and the door was locked with a chain and padlock. Adam used the pry bar, twisting and pounding at it until finally it broke open. The light in the room was dim. Adam thought it looked like a cozy cabin, except for the shelves that lined the walls. Shelves with rows and rows of jars and crocks that reminded him of his own lab back at the university. Then he noticed the bed in the far corner. Someone moved under the covers.

The woman curled up and strapped in the bed jerked awake. She cried out when she saw them, smiling and laughing. Then suddenly she winced and cried out with pain.

A
dam found Maggie’s rental parked off the road but no one was inside. Did she know about Simon? How could she? He pulled his El Camino in behind the Ford Escort and jumped out, heading through the ditch until he thought of something. He ran back to the pickup and grabbed the pry bar from the back.

He barely got to the trees before he saw Luc Racine, wandering behind one of the buildings. The old man looked lost. Adam started to call out to him, then stopped, looking around for Simon. He had called the funeral home before he drove out here, hoping he’d catch Simon and be able to confront him in public. But they told him Simon had called in sick, and that alone sent a wave of panic through Adam. Simon never called in sick.

Now he wished he had tried to get ahold of Henry again, but each time he had tried, Beverly told him Sheriff Watermeier was in a very important meeting and could not be disturbed. That his deputy had been instructed to handle any emergencies.

Adam made his way to Luc, staying in the trees and watching for signs of Maggie or Simon. When he was close enough, he called to Luc in a low voice, “Mr. Racine. Hey, Luc.”

The old man turned around so suddenly he almost tripped. His eyes darted everywhere and Adam worried he might be having one of his blank moments.

“Over here, Mr. Racine.” He came out from the trees and walked to Luc, his eyes watching in all directions.

“Oh, Professor, it’s you. You scared me.”

“Sorry. Where’s Maggie?”

“I don’t know. But I think I heard someone in this cabin over here.”

“Have you seen Simon?”

“No, no, not at all. We need to find Maggie. I just don’t have a good feeling. I think she’s been gone too long.” He was shifting from one foot to the other, back and forth in almost a nervous dance.

“Okay, calm down. We’ll find her. Let’s check in here.”

They couldn’t see in through the windows and the door was locked with a chain and padlock. Adam used the pry bar, twisting and pounding at it until finally it broke open. The light in the room was dim. Adam thought it looked like a cozy cabin, except for the shelves that lined the walls. Shelves with rows and rows of jars and crocks that reminded him of his own lab back at the university. Then he noticed the bed in the far corner. Someone moved under the covers.

The woman curled up and strapped in the bed jerked awake. She cried out when she saw them, smiling and laughing. Then suddenly she winced and cried out with pain.

M
aggie felt the exhaustion. She needed to think. She needed to stay calm. No good would come from panic. Her hands throbbed with pain. That was good, good that she could still feel something even if it was pain. Yes, it was good that the cold bit into her skin, that it hadn’t gone totally numb. Good that she could still hear her teeth chattering and feel her body shivering.

Shivering was the body’s way of warming itself. Soon she’d be too tired to shiver, her blood too thick, her heart and lungs too slow to respond. Even her brain would become less efficient as she crossed the boundary into hypothermia.

She tried to remember what she could expect. She tried to remember what happens during hypothermia. If she could remember maybe she could look out for the signs and fight them.

She knew it was possible to survive several hours in extreme cold, but how many? Two? Three? She couldn’t remember. What else was there? She needed to remember.

Soon the cold would shut down her metabolism. Her lungs would take in less oxygen and her breaths would become fewer so that it would look like she wasn’t even breathing. That was good, because there couldn’t be much air in this freezer. Oh, God! Would she suffocate before she froze to death?

She knew the same was true for her heart rate. It would slow down, too, which seemed impossible at the moment. It seemed so loud, hammering in her ears. But it would slow to a faint, almost inaudible rate, so that if someone were to feel her pulse, he might not feel one at all.

She kept telling herself that she had plenty of time until they found her. But who would come looking for her? Other than Simon the only person who knew she was here was Luc Racine. Would he come looking for her when she didn’t come back to the car? Would he call for help? Oh, damn! How could he call for help? And again, she remembered that she had left him with a dead cell phone. What did it matter? He might not even remember where he was or who she was.

The panic clawed at her. She resisted the urge to beat her fists against the walls of the freezer again. She told herself that panic was also good. It was when the panic subsided that she’d need to start worrying. Although by that time she might not care.

She tried to concentrate again. She wanted to go through the list of things to expect. It would keep her mind working.

What other things were there? Oh, yes, the lack of oxygen would trigger hallucinations. They could be visual or auditory or both. She might see people when there was no one there at all. Or she might hear someone talking or calling to her, but it would only be her mind playing tricks on her.

There was also the sudden and extreme heat. Yes, heat after the cold. It was one of the cruel paradoxes of severe hypothermia. There was supposedly a burning sensation that made victims want to tear off their clothing and rip at their skin. No problem there. She couldn’t move enough to do either. Ironically, the heat was one of the last things they remembered before losing consciousness. That’s if they could remember.

Amnesia would eventually chip away at the brain. Maybe it was the body’s last defense, a sort of odd blessing to replace the memory of pain and cold with a simple void.

She could feel her muscles already getting stiff. They throbbed and ached from the shivering. She tried to think of warm things. Maybe Gwen was right. Maybe she did need a vacation. And she tried to imagine a beach, hot sand between her toes, the sun beating down on her skin, warm, refreshing waves washing up against her. If not a beach then maybe her hands wrapped around a steaming mug of hot chocolate while her body cuddled into a thick down comforter while she sat in front of a roaring fire. So warm she could curl up, curl up and…sleep.

She was so exhausted. Sleep sounded good. She closed her eyes. She could feel her breaths coming slower, more and more shallow. The pain in her hands had gone away. Or maybe she simply couldn’t feel the pain anymore. The panic had subsided. She felt it slipping away. She was so very tired, so sleepy. Yes, she’d close her eyes. Just for a moment or two. It was so dark, so quiet.

She’d allow herself to sleep. Just for a little while. She’d sleep under the warm sunshine. She could hear the waves splashing, a seagull up above. From somewhere in the back of her mind, someplace where her brain had slowed down but hadn’t stopped working, from somewhere there came a faint whine, a soft, almost inaudible alarm insisting she open her eyes, pleading with her to not give in to the darkness.

At the same time came the realization that she had already stopped shivering. And she knew it was too late.

M
aggie felt the exhaustion. She needed to think. She needed to stay calm. No good would come from panic. Her hands throbbed with pain. That was good, good that she could still feel something even if it was pain. Yes, it was good that the cold bit into her skin, that it hadn’t gone totally numb. Good that she could still hear her teeth chattering and feel her body shivering.

Shivering was the body’s way of warming itself. Soon she’d be too tired to shiver, her blood too thick, her heart and lungs too slow to respond. Even her brain would become less efficient as she crossed the boundary into hypothermia.

She tried to remember what she could expect. She tried to remember what happens during hypothermia. If she could remember maybe she could look out for the signs and fight them.

She knew it was possible to survive several hours in extreme cold, but how many? Two? Three? She couldn’t remember. What else was there? She needed to remember.

Soon the cold would shut down her metabolism. Her lungs would take in less oxygen and her breaths would become fewer so that it would look like she wasn’t even breathing. That was good, because there couldn’t be much air in this freezer. Oh, God! Would she suffocate before she froze to death?

She knew the same was true for her heart rate. It would slow down, too, which seemed impossible at the moment. It seemed so loud, hammering in her ears. But it would slow to a faint, almost inaudible rate, so that if someone were to feel her pulse, he might not feel one at all.

She kept telling herself that she had plenty of time until they found her. But who would come looking for her? Other than Simon the only person who knew she was here was Luc Racine. Would he come looking for her when she didn’t come back to the car? Would he call for help? Oh, damn! How could he call for help? And again, she remembered that she had left him with a dead cell phone. What did it matter? He might not even remember where he was or who she was.

The panic clawed at her. She resisted the urge to beat her fists against the walls of the freezer again. She told herself that panic was also good. It was when the panic subsided that she’d need to start worrying. Although by that time she might not care.

She tried to concentrate again. She wanted to go through the list of things to expect. It would keep her mind working.

What other things were there? Oh, yes, the lack of oxygen would trigger hallucinations. They could be visual or auditory or both. She might see people when there was no one there at all. Or she might hear someone talking or calling to her, but it would only be her mind playing tricks on her.

There was also the sudden and extreme heat. Yes, heat after the cold. It was one of the cruel paradoxes of severe hypothermia. There was supposedly a burning sensation that made victims want to tear off their clothing and rip at their skin. No problem there. She couldn’t move enough to do either. Ironically, the heat was one of the last things they remembered before losing consciousness. That’s if they could remember.

Amnesia would eventually chip away at the brain. Maybe it was the body’s last defense, a sort of odd blessing to replace the memory of pain and cold with a simple void.

She could feel her muscles already getting stiff. They throbbed and ached from the shivering. She tried to think of warm things. Maybe Gwen was right. Maybe she did need a vacation. And she tried to imagine a beach, hot sand between her toes, the sun beating down on her skin, warm, refreshing waves washing up against her. If not a beach then maybe her hands wrapped around a steaming mug of hot chocolate while her body cuddled into a thick down comforter while she sat in front of a roaring fire. So warm she could curl up, curl up and…sleep.

She was so exhausted. Sleep sounded good. She closed her eyes. She could feel her breaths coming slower, more and more shallow. The pain in her hands had gone away. Or maybe she simply couldn’t feel the pain anymore. The panic had subsided. She felt it slipping away. She was so very tired, so sleepy. Yes, she’d close her eyes. Just for a moment or two. It was so dark, so quiet.

She’d allow herself to sleep. Just for a little while. She’d sleep under the warm sunshine. She could hear the waves splashing, a seagull up above. From somewhere in the back of her mind, someplace where her brain had slowed down but hadn’t stopped working, from somewhere there came a faint whine, a soft, almost inaudible alarm insisting she open her eyes, pleading with her to not give in to the darkness.

At the same time came the realization that she had already stopped shivering. And she knew it was too late.