Catalyst

Chapter Two

The strip of unkempt trees and dirt that people in the city referred to as MarketPark was so named because it started at the edge of the big supermarket, where a muddy swamp eventually dried and started to resemble a forest. It was a popular spot for gangs of kids with spray cans or drugs to lounge and not be worried about adults venturing by. Phoebe had only gone into the woods twice: once on a dare, and once with their friend Dan who swore up and down that he was raising a family of opossums there and training them to act like kittens. Once past the sinking muck, it could actually be quite beautiful, she remembered thinking. But one of the opossums had bitten her, and that was the last set of rabies vaccines she ever wanted to live through.

She picked a parking spot close to the roped-off swamp and looked at James.

"You think she's here?" Phoebe couldn't keep the skepticism out of her voice. She couldn't see Kara venturing through the swamp for any reason, unless Dan, troublemaker that he was, had convinced her that he was trying his hand yet again at opossum-kittens.

James nodded, his eyes peering out the windshield, bracing his hands on the dash.

"Have you ever gone through the whole woods?" he asked.

She shook her head. "No, I stopped at the rabid animals and never looked back. I know it's a pretty long ways though."

"Yup." He unbuckled himself and got out of the car and she followed suit. "It goes almost all the way to our street, but stops because of that creek. So if you want the path, you have to go through the swamp entrance."

"Okay," she drawled. "And we need the path because?"

"Most of the kids stop when you hit the trees. By the time you're there it's really unlikely that anyone will see you, but if you go further in and keep to the path there's a hunting cabin. It's tiny, but it's there. Kara and I would go there sometimes to get away from Dad when he got messed up."

"Oh," she said, stunned. She tried to imagine a younger James, holding Kara's hand and leading her around the grimy water and into a thick forest which must have felt more comforting than stifling to them. Phoebe thought it was too dense, like pushing her way through a concert crowd; all the sweat and heat and weaving left and right, full of blank apologies. How could they like it? Was it just that anything was better than watching their father drink himself stupid?

"Wait," she said, "you would walk all the way to the supermarket to trudge through mud and head basically back to your own house?"

"To the cabin. Not home."

They stood by the car, not moving, but as she looked at the faded yellow rope circling the ground that dipped into the swampy marsh, the roar in her ears started again, and her skin flushed. Her heart pounded good, good, today so hard she thought it might bruise her ribcage. Phoebe rubbed a hand against her sternum, trying to understand it. It had never happened this frequently before. James turned to look at her as she massaged the skin below her collarbones.

"You're not having... you know..."

"No!" she caught herself and shot her hands down to her sides. James knew that sometimes she could experience bad vibes or feelings, but she had never revealed to him the better side of her "warnings;" the ones that proceeded good things. It was easier to say you got a bad feeling about something than to say you could predict outcomes either way. She didn't want to sound absolutely crazy. Kooky was enough. Even eccentric was fine. But crazy? No thanks.

His eyebrows lowered and he scrutinized her face from across the car roof.

"I swear, I'm not. Honestly. No bad feelings." It was true enough. She didn't want to lie to him. He could usually tell when she did. Apparently she had a tell, but James wouldn't clue her in as to what it was.