Rust: One

Chapter 11

"Let me read the Volkswagen's license plate back to you. L-3-2..."

"You've checked it twice! Find her!"

Two men, one calm and one near hysterical. The policeman and the husband, Fitch figured.

"I can't find her without the right information, sir."

"I already gave the police all the details-"

"No harm in making sure. Now, let's work through some possibilities. You called the hospital?"

"She's not there. Well, if she is, she didn't check in. Doctor Keller hasn't seen her."

"And you don't know where she likes to go?"

"I don't know! She just vanishes sometimes."

"How often?"

"Twice now. She just takes the car, no explanation, poof. But this time it felt different. She said goodbye, like... Like it was final."

"You think she might harm herself?"

"I wouldn't have called otherwise."

"Okay." Footsteps. The policeman pacing, Fitch assumed. "Has she been spending time with anyone suspicious? Made any new friends?"

A pause. Then, "There's this guy."

Fitch froze. It felt like a giant hand had reached into his gut and squeezed tight.

"They talked outside about a week ago, right after she got out of hospital. Well, I heard whispering, but when I looked out the window he was already walking away. And the day after that I saw someone across the road watching the house."

"Did you speak to-"

"Nope."

"A friend, you think?"

"Fuck, I don't know. Maybe she's having an affair."

"A day after leaving hospital?" More footsteps as the policeman paced through the kitchen. "More likely that she made a friend while she was there... although Doctor Keller told me she didn't leave her room."

The policeman knew her? A personal friend? That made things difficult. Fitch knew when to cut and run, and this was one of those times. He edged away from the window, keeping low, rain pattering on the back of his head.

Then: "I saw his car."

"What?"

"I just remembered. I know just about every car on the block, and I keep seeing this blue pickup. Really beat up, I think the driver's door is busted in. It went past the house three times that night she ran away. Never saw it before she went to hospital."

"What about the plates?"

"I-"

Fitch ran. He didn't care what noise he made or whether the neighbours saw him. His heart was in his mouth as he sprinted back up the hill and dove into his pickup. The thing in his pocket was screeching, its little pseudopods flexing against the fabric of his jacket, throbbing like a second heartbeat.

He hit the gas and tore down Rosewater, leaving 118 far behind. Only when the suburbs were a memory in the rear view mirror did he let the thing crawl over the knuckles of his left hand, teasing at his sixth finger.

"Where is she?" he whispered. "You know where she is? Help me out. Show me. Show me!"

The tug was there, the force in the centre of his chest dragging him... where? Towards the mountains? Was she trying the tunnels again, or...