I don’t look for long. Truthfully, I doubt I’ll find anything worth using. I need a massive piece of plywood, and I won’t find that on the edge of the woods near a dog park. I gather together as many sticks as I can find and run back to my car, wincing when sharp rocks jab into my bare feet with each step.
Both of my back tires are stuck in the mud. The right one is worse than the left, so I start there, my feet sinking into the wet mud as I step closer. I drop my sticks on the ground and try to remember what my dad used to do. I need to get the sticks beneath the tire, right? But how can I do that if the tire is stuck in mud? I bend down and use my hands to haul away some of the mud, but it’s like quicksand, filling right back into the hole as quickly as I can move it.
I’m so close to giving up. The rain is relentless, and now my hands are too muddy to wipe my eyes. I blink and try to clear them, but my vision is still cloudy. Maybe that isn’t rain; maybe I’m crying now.
As I bend down, digging and digging, trying to haul away enough mud to make a difference, more fills in, making it impossible to get ahead of the problem. I’m struggling and working hard, and yet nothing I do seems like it’s enough. There is no getting out of this hole, and I see that now. This hole, this stinking goopy mud pile is my life.
I understand that while other people slip into jobs they love and marriages that seem more like fairytales, I, Madeleine Thatcher, am destined for a tougher life. Nothing has come easy for me, and with every pile of mud that I move, I feel better. Most people would have given up already, but not me. I’m tough. I can do this. I dig and I dig, wedging the sticks beneath my car’s wheels until I think there’s enough to make a difference.
Before I step back into my car, I shake out my hands and feet, flinging off as much mud as I can manage. There are a few napkins stuffed in the driver’s side door and I use them to wipe my hands. It’s not enough, but it’s something.
I start my car, shift it into reverse, and the tires spin and spin, spewing mud and sticks.
The clock on the dashboard reads 10:45 PM; I’ve been stuck here for an hour, and I’m no closer to getting myself free.
The rain continues on, relentless and unyielding.
I let my head fall against the steering wheel and I close my eyes against the tears.
I’m sorry, Mouse.
I’m so sorry.
…
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Raindrops drip down lazily on my window, barely pulling me out of a deep sleep.
TAP. TAP. TAP.
The sound is growing louder.
I groan and try to steal another minute or two of sleep. I don’t know what time it is, but it’s too early to be awake. Mouse hasn’t nudged me with his nose, which means it must still be the middle of the night. He’s more dependable than an alarm clock.
Mouse…
MOUSE!
I jerk awake and wipe sleep from my eyes, surprised to find myself in the front seat of my car, not back home in bed. I must have fallen asleep by accident. I was sitting here after attempting to get my car unstuck for the second time. I cried for a little, ate a smashed granola bar I found wedged between my back seats, played a sad CD and imagined it was the soundtrack of my life, cried more, and then at some point I must have put my head down on the center console and dozed off.
TAP. TAP. TAP.
I jump a mile in the air and whip my attention to where someone is standing on the other side of my driver’s side door, tapping a flashlight against my window. The rain didn’t wake me up, he did.
A thousand slasher-movie scenarios play through my mind in a matter of seconds. I’m in the middle of nowhere. It’s still raining. There’s a person dressed in all black trying to break his way into my car. At first I’m worried that he’ll want to have his way with me, but then I remember I’m covered in mud, smell a little funky, and generally look like the scary girl from The Ring.
“I DON’T HAVE ANYTHING GOOD IN HERE!” I shout. “I have no money and nobody loves me, so there’s no chance for a ransom!”
The flashlight clicks off, and everything goes dark.
I pinch my eyes closed and prepare for a swift death.CHAPTER TWENTY-SIXADAMAfter leaving Madeleine’s apartment, I called Lucas to alert him about the situation. He got Daisy involved and within a few minutes, it seemed like everyone in town was mounting a search for Madeleine. I took Mouse back to my house and washed him off. After he had food and water and I was sure all the doors were closed and securely locked, I headed back out and joined the search myself.