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  Lydia tried desperately to lose them. First, she used her blinker to signal that she was taking the next exit. She veered her car toward the exit lane. They followed. At the last second, she returned to the highway, hoping it would be too late for her followers. It was for one of the cars, but the other car was able to cross the grassy V that had formed between the highway and the off ramp, and he caught up to her once again.

  “One down, one to go,” Clara muttered.

  The silver bullet behind them raced toward their bumper and tapped a warning that said, “Pull over, or we’ll do it for you.”

  Lydia punched the pedal again. Her speedometer needle soared into uncharted territory. She flew past the right side of a tractor trailer hauling Bunny Bread, temporarily leaving the lone silver car in her dust. She cut the truck driver off, passed to the left in front of him and then hit her breaks to slow down in the lane to the left of the Bunny Bread truck. It was her hope that the car chasing her would end up in front of her, and she’d be able to exit the highway unseen.

  It worked! For a moment. The driver of the car quickly realized she had disappeared. He surveyed the area, and discovered that she was now behind him.

  “Dammit!” Lydia whispered.

  The silver sedan hit the brakes, almost coming to a complete stop along the interstate. Lydia was at a loss for what to do, so she hammered down again. She sped past the slowing sedan, and he gave chase again. They continued to weave in and out of traffic barely escaping several near-misses.

  “Lookout!” Clara screamed.

  Ahead, for only an instant, Lydia saw what Clara’s warning pertained to. A flatbed tractor trailer hauling some scary looking farm machinery was slowing in the rush hour traffic ahead.

  Clara grabbed the wheel and spun it hard toward the right. The Lumina, which was traveling at a high rate of speed, instantly screeched and tilted onto two wheels and went into an airborne spin. Clara, who had undone her seatbelt moments ago to get a better view of the cars chasing them, was thrown from the passenger’s side window, while Lydia remained buckled inside the rolling car.

  Somehow, someway, Clara rolled along the pavement. somersaulting into a standing position. She hadn’t had time to celebrate her survival yet when she saw barreling toward her the silver car. It was close enough that she was able to make eye contact with the driver. Before she knew it, she was in the air. Her shoulder hit the roof of the car and she rolled off the back. Had she been hit? Did she jump? She didn’t know, but when she landed on her feet, once more, this time facing the same direction the car was traveling she realized she wasn’t hurt. Or maybe it was the adrenaline. That happened sometimes, she thought, like when a mom lifts a car off her baby.

  Instantly, she saw that while she was not hurt, the men in the sedan soon would be. In a twisted metal slam and squeal, they collided directly into the back of a now completely stopped semi’s flatbed trailer. The force of their speed caused the top of their car to peel backward, and Clara did not want to see what was inside. She was sure those two men would never bother her again, though. In the chaos, Clara heard squalling tires and turned to see a black Jetta skidding toward her. Luckily, the Jetta had already been slowing having noticed the traffic ahead. Clara stood, frozen, and the Jetta came to a complete stop inches from her quivering legs.

  Horns blared and people screamed as they ran to see if they could help the people in the silver sedan. It was futile. There was almost nothing left of the car and even less left of its occupants whose heads, Clara assumed, had been peeled back just like the roof of their car. Clara wheeled around and scanning for Lydia. There! In the grassy shoulder! Clara bolted toward it and leapt over an errant tire which had broken off the Lumina’s axle in one of the barrel rolls along the asphalt.

  The car was resting on its top, and as Clara approached, she could see Dr. Lindenhurtz dangling from her seat belt inside.

  “Dr. L! Can you hear me? Are you okay?”

  Lydia groaned. “Yes. I think so,” she answered and then groaned again.

  Clara unclicked Dr. L’s seatbelt as she helped Lydia brace herself so she wouldn’t slam onto the ground.

  “Clara, find my briefcase. And the emergency bag.” Lydia winced as she slowly pulled herself from the mangled heap that used to be her car and had been the pair’s only mode of transportation.

  “They’re not here!” Clara shouted, searching the back seat and under the front seats.

  “Find them!” Lydia pleaded climbing to her feet.

  In the highway behind them, Clara spied the briefcase which had miraculously remained closed. As she sprinted toward it, she also located the black emergency bag near the grooved rumble strip on the outer edge of the highway. She retrieved both and yelled, “Got ‘em!” as she returned to her injured doctor.

  “Dr. L, you’re bleeding. Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Yes. I’m fine. I’ll be fine.” She said as she wiped blood from her temple then inspected her fingers. “We have to get out of here.”

  Without verbalizing a plan, both women ran, one hobbled, actually, into the woods off of I-70. In the confusion of twisted metal and screams behind them, no one noticed the two women slipping off into the brush.

  They maneuvered the trees and vines and downed branches for over an hour before they sat down on a hollow log to rest. Knowing that they had only suffered minor injuries, their immediate need had been to get as far away from the interstate as possible. Once at a comfortable distance, they assessed the damage.

  Lydia’s forehead, temple and right cheek were now caked with dried blood. Dried blood was good. This meant the bleeding had subsided. She had started out with a limp bad enough that Clara had to help her for the first few hundred yards, but she “walked it off” so to speak, and now just had a sore and swollen ankle. She could have sworn it shattered in the crash, but now, it was just bruised and ugly. Other than a few additional minor scrapes and bruises, Lydia was going to be fine.

  Clara, though. Clara was unscathed with not even a hair out of place on her uninjured head. She was thrown from an airborne vehicle, possibly hit by another vehicle and rolled over the cab, and was almost run down by a third vehicle. And not a scratch? Both women deemed this a miracle. Divine intervention. They discussed it no further. There were bigger fish to fry.

  “Who are these people?” Clara asked.

  “I don’t know, Clara. But they want you, and they want you bad.”

  “But why?”

  “I don’t know that either.” Lydia pulled her tangled hair into a loose bun and scrubbed at her forehead with the sleeve of her blazer.

  “We’ll need a place to hide overnight. When we get moving again, keep your eyes peeled for somewhere safe. Somewhere warm.” Even in August, the night air would be cold in this part of the country.

  Lydia pulled the emergency duffel toward her and unzipped it. She pulled out a bottle of Ibuprofen and a bottle of water. She downed four of them and chased it with a swig from the plastic bottle that claimed to be Pure Spring water. She offered the bottle to Clara.

  “Not too much. We need to conserve it just in case. We have no idea what the future holds.”

  Clara took a sip and replaced the cap. She handed the bottle back to Lydia and asked, “Should we go to the cabin?”

  “I think we have to. I don’t usually believe in signs, but I don’t know what else this could possibly be. Someone wanted us to end up here.”

  “What if that someone is one of them?” Clara was nervous.

  “I don’t think it is, Clara. I think…somehow…my friend Ollie is involved. He sent me the paperweight as a gift. I think he knew somehow this would play out. Maybe not in exactly this way, but I think he meant for it to be a message.”

  “Where is Ollie now, Dr. L? Can you just ask him?”

  “That’s the thing, Clara. He’s been missing for weeks.”

  They sat in silence on the log taking in everything they’d been through and attempting to evaluate what
the future held for them. Lydia took another swallow from the bottle, offered it to Clara who did not accept, and the two stood up and carried on deeper into the woods. The evening air caused the temperature to drop and Lydia resisted a shiver. Her ankle was still screaming and her entire body was exhausted from the day’s events. Clara noticed Lydia’s pace had slowed to a crawl. She offered her shoulder and helped Lydia shuffle through the woods. This eased Lydia’s pain significantly.

  “It’s getting dark, Dr. L.” Clara was beginning to worry. She wondered if it was too early in the year for hypothermia. It was definitely getting colder, and even though the sun had set and dusk had crept in, she could see her breath now each time she exhaled.

  “I know Clara. We need shelter.”

  Clara had been looking for hours. She didn’t think Dr. Lindenhurtz had. She had been in too much pain to think about much else.

  “Dr. L, a while back, I saw something that might work. I haven’t seen anything since. Do you think we should go back?”

  “What was it? I haven’t seen anything at all.”

  “Well, it wasn’t much. But it’s better than sleeping out in the open.” Clara suddenly felt embarrassed at her suggestion. “It was a huge, hollow log. Big enough that I think we could fit inside.”

  Reluctantly, they turned around and traced their steps for almost half a mile.

  “There!” Clara shouted, relieved to have found it.

  They were tired and dirty and ready to rest. The inside of the log was disgusting to say the least. Parts of it were semi-rotten and it was full of leaves and such.

  “Clara, give me your jacket.” Lydia commanded. She took off hers as well.

  “Dr. L, it’s cold. Shouldn’t we leave them on?”

  “Jacket, please.”

  Lydia held out her hand expectantly. Clara handed over her only source of warmth. When she did, Lydia immediately tied the sleeves together and tossed them into the log as far as they would go while holding on to one sleeve. They didn’t go far. Lydia found a long stick—one you might use as a walking stick on a stroll through the woods—and cleared out some debris. She was able to drag the other sleeve farther through the log.

  “Dr. L, what are you doing?”

  “Here. Bend down at the other end of this log. See if you can reach your jacket sleeve.”

  Clara could and did. “Now, pull it out of your side. It should clean some of the inside out and frighten away any animals or bugs. I hope.”

  Clara did as she was told and when the second jacket emerged, she saw in the fading light that they were caked with dirt and leaves. She shook them out the best she could.

  “Dr. L, maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all. Maybe we should just sleep on the ground. It’ll be cleaner,” Clara said as she shook the jackets again, hard.

  “No, Clara. It will be too cold, and we can’t sleep out in the open. People are looking for us. We need to remain hidden the best we can. I’m not happy about it either. Let’s push the jackets through one more time.”

  When the empty log was as clean as it could be, the women donned their jackets and sat on the log to rest.

  “We’ll need to hide those too,” Lydia said as she pointed to her briefcase and duffel.

  Clara searched for a hiding place nearby. She found a bush and slid them underneath. She laid a few branches in front of it and smoothed the leaves so there would be no trace of disruption. She returned to the log where Lydia sat.

  “We should get some rest. We can start moving early in the morning,” Lydia motioned to the log, “After you.”

  Luckily, the women were both petite and fit as comfortably as a person possibly could inside of a dank, rotting log in the middle of the forest. They lay inside the log foot to foot, overlapping to the knees. It wasn’t the most relaxing position in which to sleep, but they were tired and this was all they had. There was no tossing and turning—there was no room for that, but they both lay awake—Lydia on her back and Clara on her stomach with her head resting on her crossed arms, shivering and brushing off creepy crawlies well into the night before drifting into a semi-restful sleep.

  Clara awoke first. Far way, she heard the distinct crunch of autumn-crisp leaves underfoot. She listened intently for many moments until she was sure the rustling leaf sound was coming closer…and closer.

  She kicked gently at Dr. L and whispered, “Wake up. Dr. L, someone’s coming. Hey!” Here whisper was more of a hiss, but she knew she needed to be loud enough to wake Dr. L and quiet enough that the approaching person or people couldn’t hear her. She gave another soft kick and Lydia stirred.

  “What is it? What’s wrong,” she said in full voice.

  “Shhhh! Listen,” Clara whispered.

  Lydia, still groggy, was now awake enough to hear what Clara had heard. Was it an animal? A person? It was too difficult to tell. All they could do was wait and pray they weren’t discovered by either.

  Soon the crunching was near Clara’s head which was only an inch or so away from the opening of the log. She scrunched down as far as she could and held her breath.

  Please go away, please go away, please go away. She thought to herself, but her visitor remained. The rustling moved along the edge of the log, pausing twice. Clara imagined a man smiling to himself knowing he’d successfully tracked his prey and thought of him reveling in the quite moments before he flushed it out and landed his kill. The crackling of the leaves moved once more in Clara’s direction.

  He’s looking for me. Of course he wants me first, she thought, frozen in terror. At the end of the log, the movement ceased. This is it. I’m dead meat, she decided in her mind.

  She felt his presence. She knew he was watching her, waiting for her to make a move. She squeezed her eyes tighter and pressed her lips together suppressing the urge to scream. Finally, he was upon her. She felt what she thought was his hand on her head. Knowing she’d been found and would soon be pulled out of the log by her long brown hair, she bravely opened her eyes to face her fate head on. When she did, she did not see an angry man reaching for her. When she opened her eyes, she was face to face with a cold-nosed red fox. Relieved, she giggled, startling him away. He scurried into the darkness, which was now breaking way to light, as loudly across the leaves as he had come.

  “Clara! Who was it!” Lydia cried, again in full voice.

  “Not who….it was a what. It was a sweet little fox.”

  “Oh, thank God! He sure made a big noise for being such a “little” guy.”

  “And he scared me half to death!”

  “Me too! If my heart ever stops racing, I think we should get out of here. It looks like it’s getting light already. Did you get any sleep?”

  “Not much.”

  “Me either.” Lydia agreed as she crawled out into the cold morning air.

  They rummaged through the duffel for breakfast—a half a granola bar each—and some water. Lydia’s ankle surprisingly felt much better. She thought it would have seized up in the cold overnight, but it hadn’t.

  “Let’s get moving. It’ll warm us up,” Lydia suggested, rubbing her folded arms.

  Clara had attached the briefcase to the duffel’s strap and slung the two over her right shoulder. They were heavy, but she was able to carry the weight with ease.

  “Where are we going?” Clara questioned.

  “I think we made it most of the way to the cabin before the accident yesterday. If I’m right, we could potentially reach it by nightfall. Unfortunately, I’ve always been a little directionally challenged.”

  An image of a map popped into Clara’s head without warning. She mentally traced the line on which they were travelling to their destination—the cabin. She made an x on the map approximately where they had been run off the road and realized they would need to change direction. She thought for a moment, studied her surroundings.

  “No, this way,” Clara ordered. “This is north,” she said pointing to their current path, “We need to head northwest if we w
ant to make it to the cabin,” and she led in determined steps toward their new direction.

  “How do you know?”

  “I don’t know…I guess I’m not directionally challenged.”

  They both laughed in spite of their dire situation. They made good time, stopping only to rest and eat enough to keep their energy up. Lydia was again thankful of her practical taste in clothing and footwear. This would have been a much different and much more uncomfortable expedition in heels and a skirt.

  The day, which the sun had warmed up nicely, was again fading into a cold gray as evening approached.

  “Are you sure we’re going the right direction? I thought we would have been there by now.” Lydia asked, worried about having put her trust in a teenage girl. What had she been thinking?

  “Ummm…yes?” Clara answered in a tone that sounded more like a question. “I mean, I think so.”

  “Clara, please tell me we haven’t been traveling the wrong direction all day!”

  But when Lydia looked up from her feet, Clara was gone.

  “Clara?” she called. No answer. “CLARA?” Nothing. She turned slowly in a complete circle searching for any sign of her travel companion. She was nowhere in sight.

  Her first instinct was to run full speed ahead in the direction they had been traveling. Perhaps Lydia had just fallen behind her much younger, more energetic walking partner, but that still, small voice—the one that said, “Don’t panic. Be logical,”—chimed in and Lydia halted.

  She called again. Maybe she fell. Maybe she’s just out of my sight and ear-range. Or maybe…maybe she’d been found. Lydia imagined Clara, crouched behind a tree in the distance, wide-eyed with a knife to her throat and a dirty hand over her mouth as she tried to scream out. She imagined herself being found momentarily. She’d be face down on the ground with a heavy black boot on her back and a gun against her occipital bone. They didn’t need her for anything—of that she was sure. She winced as she imagined a gunshot ringing out and a distinctly female laugh.