Fragments - Book One of the Missing

Chaper 12 - Rowan

If her fear was running the show, she could have run forever. But as it happened, her body started to give in and break down after what felt like hours. She zig-zagged through the streets up to and around Point Lookout Park. On her way she passed the Hanging Beams - a series of iron beams that stretched up the avenue, two stories high. Designed so when you walked under the beams, you could see the feet of hanging men right above you. It was designed to instill fear. She could have avoided it, but she needed the reminder of what the Officials were capable of. This was where the Officials hung men and women after the riots. Now, just one of the places they punished criminals.

Stars, the Officials almost had her. What would they have done to her? Could it be this? What did her father owe them that she was ample payment? Payment for what?

Panic hitched her breath. She knew they were looking for her, but she didn't think they had any idea where to start looking now that she had left the only place she had ever known. Her only connections were back in Cinclair, either hoping for her capture and hoping for her safety. She had no pipeline, no connections. What was she going to do?

Her sight was blurred with tears over the betrayal, the loss of her sisters. Her arms pumped hard, and legs stretched further to flee from those feelings. But of course it didn't work. Who she was, and what she worked for was all history. She was alone. Her body was exhausted but her mind screamed at her loud and clear. Unwanted.

Margeaux, who was never on her side, came to her rescue without hesitation. What did she miss? How could Rowan thank her for giving her the time she needed to escape?

Her legs slowed as she approached a large tree, close to the northeast point of the park. She slumped against the trunk. She let her tears turn to sobs that soon wracked her body. She won't be able to see Olive or Rosie grow up. She would never see her mother get better. And she would never get further explanation from her so-called father.

If she was being honest with herself, she didn't even care who her real father was. She was more concerned with what went wrong.

She lifted her head out of her hands and tried to take a few calming breaths. The fear that consumed her could not take control. She knew what she needed to do. She needed to get rid of her emotions and fill them with something else entirely. Without her bookshelf handy to fall into another story, she knew exactly what to do and where to do it.

After a few more breaths, she got up and slowly walked through the rest of the park, careful to keep to the shaded and less worn paths. The corner of Adams and Garner beckoned to her. A small part of her was concerned about the Officials finding her in such a well-known area of the city, but another part was louder. The part that demanded to feel something outside of herself, something different and new.

It took a good ten minutes to reach the corner of Adams and Garner, two large avenues that were the epicenter of entertainment and tourism in this once great city. It used to be well traveled and well visited. The lights and shows and sounds and people attracted people from all walks of life. But now it was known for its legends, which the old stories now were, and the Missing posters.

The intersection was now deserted. But families used to pour out of the park, women carried large shopping bags and men pushing their children in strollers. Young couples carried picnic blankets and baskets. And there were so many cars. The cars used to scare her; the blaring sound of horns would keep her up at night. Now she missed the hustle and bustle so much she would happily put up with such noise.

But here, now, it was hard to pretend she was not a fugitive. A part of her didn't want to admit why she was there, while the other took in the posters and felt like she found her people - the others who were lost. She knew the place was perfect for what she needed to do. Her need to forget.

It was the perfect scene, amongst so many theaters, for her ever evolving tragedy. To get lost in someone else's story. She slowed, and looked for a particularly friendly face amongst the Missing posters.

She stared at the sea of faces. Most without any emotion whatsoever. It was like the life had been drained out of them the very second they disappeared. But despite the stares from faces on the walls, she walked and searched for a face to spark her own selfish interests.

She finally spied a young girl who looked much like Olive, perhaps a little older. She stopped in front of the poster and looked the girl in the eyes. A quick glance over her shoulder told her no one was watching. But she didn't need to check. No one came here anymore.

She pulled off the gloves and gently touched the girl's face.

The wind was knocked out of her. She gasped for breath. And suddenly, she remembered.

She remembered the day she went Missing.

She was playing in the backyard. Mama was drinking a glass of that red stuff, laughing while she tried to catch fireflies. She didn't know why Mama was laughing. She used to help with this. And she was doing pretty well if she did say so herself! She had already caught three fireflies. And that is definitely enough to know she won't need the nightlight.

She was trying to catch her fourth—a jumpy bugger—when Mama called that she was going inside for a refill. So much for Team Firefly.

The girl didn't know why Mama drank so much of that stuff. It smelled terrible. It tasted even worse. She tried it once when Mama wasn't looking.

But she knew she shouldn't get so distracted. It was time to make her move. She inched closer to the lightening bug hovering over one of the back bushes. A twig snapped and the bug flew away. Ugh.

She was better than stepping on a twig mid-hunt. She looked down at the grass to see how she could have missed it.

Someone stepped in front of her, but before she could look up, say anything or even scream, she froze. It was a weird sensation. Fire and ice meeting first in her fingertips then finding their way to her heart. It hurt. Oh Mama how it hurt. Where was she?

From far away she could hear her. "Sarabeth? Sarabeth? Where are you?" She couldn't move. She couldn't scream. What was happening?

The lights went out. For both of them.