Voracious - Alice Henderson [95]
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