The Missing

Chapter 9

'I'm going to come closer so we can talk,' Darby said. 'Okay?'

Darby crawled across the muddy ground of spilled trash, soda cans and newspapers. The most atrocious body odor she had ever smelled hit her. She dry-heaved, coughed.

'You okay, Terry? Please tell me you're okay.'

'I'm fine.' Darby was breathing through her mouth now. She leaned her back against the wall. She sat less than two feet away, on the other side of the barrel. The woman wasn't wearing pants or shoes. Bones jutted out from underneath her skin.

'Did you see Jimmy?' the woman asked.

Darby had an idea. 'I saw him, but I didn't recognize him at first.'

'You've been gone away for a long time. I bet he's changed a lot.'

'He has, but it's… I'm having trouble remembering things. Small things, like my last name.'

'It's Mastrangelo. Terry Mastrangelo. Will you introduce me to Jimmy? After everything you've told me, I feel like I know him as much as you do.'

'I'm sure he'd like that. But first, we have to get out of here.'

'There's no way out, only places to hide.'

'I found a way out.'

'You've got to stop that foolish thinking. I tried, remember? We both did.'

'I came back for you, didn't I?' Darby took off her windbreaker and held it across the barrel. 'Put this on. It will keep you warm.'

The woman went to grab the jacket, then pulled her hand away.

'What's wrong?'

'I'm afraid you'll disappear again,' the woman said. 'I don't want you to disappear on me again.'

'Go ahead and take it. I won't disappear, I promise.'

It took several minutes of thinking, but finally, the woman touched the jacket. The terror, the pain and fear – all of it seemed to collapse. She hugged the jacket against her chest, burying her face in the fabric and rocking back and forth, back and forth.

The ambulance was here now. It had pulled up to the bottom of the driveway without the sirens or spinning red lights. Thank God for small favors.

'You really found a way out?' the woman asked.

'I did. And I'm going to take you out with me.'

Every part of Darby's body screamed at her not to do it, but she ignored the warning and held out her hand.

The woman gripped it fiercely. Two of her fingers had been recently broken and had healed at sharp, painful angles. Splinters covered her arms.

The woman was watching the ceiling again.

'There's nothing to be afraid of anymore,' Darby said. 'You're going to hold my hand and we're going to walk out this door together. You're safe.'