Voracious (3 page)

Sun-bleached branches floated by her, twigs, leaves, and then she saw the girl, bobbing facedown on the surface a few feet away.
Just like Ellie.
Madeline swam toward her, coughing up icy water and struggling against the current. Her hand closed around gauzy fabric, and she pulled, reeling the girl in against her body. She turned her over quickly, horrified to see the wide-open eyes, the blue lips of the tiny mouth.

Angling an arm beneath the girl’s chin, Madeline swam on her side toward the shore, a tangle of sodden logs, pine needles, and kinnikinnick bushes. She reached the bank, hauled the girl out in front of her, and then crawled onto the soggy earth beside her.

Immediately she felt for a pulse and was relieved to find one, though it was very weak. But the girl was not breathing.

Madeline’s father was a wildlands firefighter and emergency medical technician and had taught her CPR when she was just a kid.

Madeline went to work.

She remembered she had to check three things: airway, breathing, and circulation. Rolling the girl onto her side, Madeline reached into her mouth and checked for obstructions. Her index finger hooked around a small twig and a plug of mud, and she fished them out. Squeezing the girl, she forced water from her lungs. A stream of fluid escaped between the blue lips, followed, to Madeline’s great relief, by a small gasp. Quickly she worked to stabilize her, administering a ten-count of mouth-to-mouth. Kate coughed and sputtered, drawing in a ragged breath, her eyes fluttering, blinking, and tearing up. Madeline checked her pulse. It was stronger.

The girl coughed again, flecks of water raining from her mouth.

Madeline had to get help. Knowing it was too dangerous to move her, she spoke softly to her. “Can you hear me?” After a moment, Kate’s eyes turned and attempted to focus on Madeline. “I have to get help. You have to lie here very still while I’m gone, do you understand? You could have other injuries, and moving around might make them worse.” The girl didn’t speak, just continued to breathe raggedly, her eyes dazed and wide. “I’ll be back as fast as I can.” Madeline didn’t like how blue the girl’s skin was. Hypothermia. She had to move quickly.

Trying to determine how far they’d drifted downstream, she stood, shivering in her own soaked clothing. “I’ll be back,” she said, looking back down at the girl reassuringly.

The girl’s mouth moved, a whisper escaping her lips.

“What?” Madeline bent down to listen.

“Winthrop,” the girl whispered.

Madeline raised her eyebrows. “Winthrop?”

“My … my dino.”

Madeline thought of the smiling brontosaurus she’d found in the field. “He’s fine,” she told Kate. “I found him myself. He’s waiting for you.”

The girl shuddered and coughed again.

“Try to stay awake,” Madeline told her, and then dashed off along the riverbank in her sock feet. Avoiding sharp rocks and pointed branches, she soon reached the dam and the worn path. Grabbing her shoes, she slid them on, not bothering to lace them. Stooping again, she grabbed Winthrop and the robot and took off for town.

Madeline reached the Stevensons’ house in under ten minutes, a painful stitch in her side and her lungs on fire. Kate’s parents summoned the paramedics. The minutes stretched endlessly as they waited. Madeline knew her father would likely be one of the respondents, and she dreaded seeing him, not knowing what to say. The ambulance roared up, and he jumped out of the back, saving her the awkwardness of talking to him by completely ignoring her. Even as she led them back to Kate, he didn’t so much as meet her eyes. On the riverbank, the EMTs immobilized Kate on a gurney and transported her back to the ambulance. Madeline placed Winthrop next to Kate’s thin arm as they loaded her inside.

Her chest expanded with relief as her father drove away. Another moment of uneasiness over, another moment of their inevitable encounters survived. It hit her powerfully then that when she moved, she wouldn’t have to see either parent ever again.

Now she sat in a worn-out cushioned chair in the emergency room, having been checked for hypothermia herself. Luckily she was all right and had changed into dry clothes. Her long, wavy brown hair hung in wet tangles around her shoulders. Across from her, Kate’s father wept noisily, holding the girl’s robot, and her mother looked exhausted, anxiously glancing up every time a doctor entered the room to talk to a nurse or another family.

As Kate’s father cried, Madeline couldn’t help but notice the stench of alcohol radiating from him. He smelled saturated with it.

It made her profoundly sad. Paul Stevenson was a nice man, a creative genius who had never been able to realize his dream in life: to make a living at painting. He had turned to drinking just last year and lost his job because of it. The whole town knew about it, and small towns could be as cruel as they were kind. The rumors were tearing his family apart, and Paul wept now, openly and grievously, in the face of such a near tragedy.

The double doors of the emergency room slid open, admitting a gush of fresh air. Madeline looked up. George New-castle stood there, his eyes searching the room. He spotted her and rushed over. A tall man in his early twenties, with long black hair swept back in a ponytail, George usually exuded calm. Right now he looked spooked.

“Madeline,” he breathed, kneeling down and wrapping his arms around her. “I just heard. Are you okay?” The sensation of being hugged always thrilled her, and she welcomed the familiar scent of his wool jacket.

He pulled away and studied her with his intense brown eyes.

She’d known George for a little over seven months, and he had quickly become her closest friend. Her only friend. He’d moved to her little town and rented a house there to save money while attending the university in Missoula. Rent prices there were highly inflated, so he had chosen to commute instead.

He hugged her again, and she was grateful for him, for her life. She could be bobbing down the river right then, sightless eyes staring up at the darkening sky.

She pulled away, not wanting to hug him for too long. He was very nice, but he had feelings for her that she didn’t return, and she didn’t like the thought of leading him on.

“Thanks for coming, George,” she told him.

George slid in beside her. Taking her hand companion-ably, he whispered, “Any word?”

Madeline shook her head. “We’re still waiting.”

They returned to silence, listening only to the soft gasps and sniffs from Kate’s father.

A few minutes later, the door to the examination rooms opened, and a young Chinese-American doctor with short, spiky hair appeared. He approached them confidently, a pleased look on his face. They all stood up tensely.

“She’s going to be fine,” he told them, holding his hands out in a placating gesture. “She’s suffering from hypothermia and has some superficial cuts and bruises, but she’s going to be just fine.”

“Oh, God,” her dad gasped, bursting into tears again. “I couldn’t bear to lose her.”

“Well, you’re not going to,” the doctor reassured him, placing a hand on the man’s shoulder. “Madeline here saved her life.” The doctor smiled at Madeline and gave her a slight nod.

Kate’s mother hugged her husband, then shook the doctor’s hand and thanked him over and over again.

“You have some paperwork to fill out, though,” the doctor told them.

The mother nodded and then turned to Madeline. “Thank you,” she said, her face twisting with emotion. “Words just don’t seem enough …” Then she grabbed Madeline, hugging her so tightly the air fled from her chest. Madeline grunted from the squeeze. Then reluctantly she released Madeline, gazing at her with such gratitude that Madeline grew uncomfortable. “Thank you,” she said again. “A thousand times thank you.”

“It’s okay,” Madeline said quickly. “You’re welcome.”

“No, it’s not enough,” Kate’s dad put in. “If it weren’t for your”—he paused, trying to find a word—“
gift
, then we wouldn’t have found her. Our little girl would be—” He didn’t finish.

“It’s okay. Really.” Madeline hated being the center of attention. She just wanted to slink out of there and go shut herself up in her apartment. “You’d better go finish that paperwork,” she said lamely.

To her relief, Kate’s parents nodded and turned away to follow the doctor.

“Get me out of here. Please,” she breathed to George.

She hoped word of this wouldn’t get out. She could already picture herself on assignment with the police, going over grisly photographs and murder weapons, her mind filling with images of horror and murder. It was exactly what she’d been avoiding since she lost Ellie.

George put one protective arm around her and led her out of the hospital. She laid her head on his chest, allowing herself a moment of feeling comforted.

She was about to transfer away from her hometown to a college in San Francisco. Two years at the local community college had only served to make her stigma grow, as more and more people met her as the “Weird Girl.” She needed to clear her mind before she left and started a new life.

As the hospital doors whooshed shut behind them, she thought of Kate and her loving parents and felt a little hurt. Maybe even a little jealous. When was the last time she’d talked to her parents? Or rather, when was the last time they’d talked to her? Six months? A year? And they lived here in Mothershead.

In the parking lot, George tucked her into his car then went around to the driver’s side. “I’ll get you home. Bet a hot shower would be nice.”

“Yes …” she answered distantly.

As he drove, she thought of the promise of San Francisco. She’d never lived in a city that big and relished the thought of being completely anonymous. This town was tiny, full of rumors and small minds, and she wanted out. She was tired of everyone knowing about her and her gift.

When they got to her little apartment, George walked her in, fussing over her to make sure she was okay. She appreciated the fussing. No one had cared since Ellie, and it felt good. At last she convinced him she was fine and that they’d meet later for dinner.

Madeline squeezed into the corner booth at the diner, glancing around at the other patrons. She heard the whispering. Eyes averted as she met them. The waitress stood behind the counter, serving a platter of greasy eggs to Ed Hanson, one of the local ranchers. She exhaled with distaste when she caught sight of Madeline. Looking back at Ed, she whispered something, and he turned on his stool, staring at Madeline. Then he swiveled back, shaking his head. Madeline caught his murmur: “Don’t envy you, Edna.”

Madeline felt for her bracelet under her sleeve, almost unconsciously. She felt the solid silver, the little box that was the focus of the piece of jewelry. Latched tightly, the decorative box held precious cargo. Through the fabric, she felt the tiny catch, ensuring it was closed. This had become her ritual when she felt sad or isolated. Sometimes, on rare occasions, she even opened the box.

After more than ten minutes, Edna finally made it over to the booth. It was always the same. They hoped Madeline would just leave, or better yet, stop coming altogether.

“Know what you want, honey?” Edna said, not making eye contact.

As if Madeline could see into her mind by meeting her gaze, anyway.

She took a deep breath, summoning up the energy to be polite to people who never gave her that in return. “I’m waiting for someone. Can I just get two cups of coffee with cream?”

“Sure thing, hon.” Edna pivoted and moved away quickly. She filled up the two cups then frowned. “I just remembered I have to check on a delivery in the back.” She looked at Ed. “Would you be a dear?”

He glared at her, then looked at Madeline over his shoulder. “I’m a customer, you know.”

“Oh, Ed,” she said, waving at him dismissively, then disappeared through the swinging kitchen doors. Slowly, Ed got up from his stool, picking up the tray with the coffee and dish of creamer. He meandered over to her table and held the tray down, but stopped short of placing the cups on the table. Finally, Madeline reached up and took the cups and dish of creamers. Ed was so busy looking away from her that the tray started to tip. As the dish of creamers slid toward the floor, both he and Madeline instinctively tried to grab it. She got there first, and Ed’s hand landed right on top of hers. He yanked it away, eyes wide, and backed up into the occupied table behind him.

“Goddammnit, Ed!” a woman snarled at him. “You’ve gone and made me spill my coffee!”

“S-sorry,” he slurred, backing around the table without breaking his gaze on Madeline.

The bell over the door rang, and a gush of fresh air spiraled into the hot diner. Madeline turned in the booth, relieved to see George. His long, dark coat caught in the wind as he pushed the door shut behind him. He turned then, scanning the diner, his long, black hair hanging freely about his shoulders.

Madeline’s breath caught in her chest. He looked different. More … vibrant. A spark that hadn’t been there before ignited in her belly. His dark brown eyes positively glittered as they surveyed the diner and then fell on her. She gave a small wave, and he navigated his way through the tables to where she sat.

“Hello, Madeline,” he said, grinning, his teeth brilliant white against the tanned glow of his skin. Something was undeniably different about him, but Madeline couldn’t quite place it.

“Hi, George,” she said after a moment. “Have a seat.”

He slid into the booth opposite her. “You look good tonight. Are you still doing okay … you know … after?”

She nodded, though inside the events at the dam had left her shaken. Her hand felt for her bracelet.

“You’re playing nervously with your bracelet again,” George told her.

“Oh, sorry. It’s a habit.”

“I’ve noticed. What’s in the little box, anyway?”

“A treasure,” Madeline said and didn’t expand.

He glanced around for the waitress then, and Edna didn’t disguise her horror at having to return to the table so soon. She started over empty-handed, and to save her the trip, George called, “Menus?”

Edna froze as if he’d just pulled a gun on her. “Menus?” she said weakly.