The Face Behind The Mask

31

On her hands and knees, she sloshed through the foggy soup of mud, twigs, and ferns jeweled with droplets of dew. Kelsey lost sight of the road. The veil of mist blinded her. Clumps of wet leaves stuck to her hands and her knees. She couldn't feel her toes. She licked her lips, wiping away the foam that had dried in the corners of her mouth and she felt queasy. She closed her eyes and listened for the sounds of automobile traffic but the forest played its own song of swaying branches, buzzing insects, and distant frogs.

She felt some part of herself coming loose from her body and drifting off into the soggy air. And somehow she was four again, fresh from a bath, nestled in her mother's lap in the corner of their old corduroy couch. She leaned into her mother's chest gently rising and sinking with every breath. She smelled the perfume of laundry detergent in the sleeves of her pajamas and she inhaled her mom's sweet scent. And she wondered if she'd ever smell it again.

Something moved through the leaves behind her. Something bigger than a mouse. She glanced over her shoulder, eyes bulging. It stopped and then it drew closer, burrowing beneath a layer of leaves.

She planted her toes in the soft earth and drove forward. She stumbled but righted herself with stiff outstretched fingers against the forest floor. She couldn't waste the momentum and pumped her arms, willing herself onward. She moved like a drunk staggering and lurching but she managed to find her equilibrium. The landscape tilted up beneath her feet as if gravity had become unbalanced.

She hadn't forgotten about the man. He hadn't driven away, leaving her behind. He'd probably parked just out of sight and set off into the forest to find her. He wouldn't let her escape. He was out there in the darkness looking for her.

The mist thinned out and Kelsey could make out a glistening surface up ahead, moonlight catching a dimpled stretch of pavement, cold and silent. She lumbered toward the edge of the woods where she clung to a tree, hoping and praying for an approaching car. She thought she was too weak to tremble yet her body shook. She wondered how much of the night was left.

Please. Somebody come before he finds me. 

She glanced over her shoulder at vague shapes shifting in the drifting mist. To her right, soft headlight beams cut through the dark. She lunged out into the road and braked.

What if it's him?

She retreated to the cover of the tree as she watched the vehicle approach, her breath quickening.

Wait!

The car looked white, or maybe silver. Her captor's vehicle was dark. Black, maybe charcoal. She had to risk flagging it down. She had nothing left except the smallest slice of hope.

She trudged out of the forest onto the side of the road, waving her arms wildly. She squinted into the beams of the headlights. The car slowed but didn't stop. She screamed, "HELLLLPPP!" as the vehicle passed. She dropped her arms, bent at the waist, and her sobbing nearly broke her in half.

The car stopped in the road, the engine running, the tail lights flashing. The driver's door opened and a man got out. He leaned into the vehicle and said to his passenger, "You stay right there."

Kelsey took a few off-balance steps before crashing to the pavement. The man advanced cautiously.

"Hey," he said.

She forced her eyes open, looking up at him. He looked about the same age as her dad, maybe a little younger with a short-cropped beard.

"What happened?" he said quietly, his words drifting on a soft steam.

She couldn't produce words. He looked down the road, into the pitch-black forest, and finally at his own vehicle.

"I'm Dray... Hey... What's your name?" 

She drifted off. He gave her a gentle nudge. "Hey. Come on. Stay with me now." He pushed an arm beneath her neck, the other between the blacktop and her ice-cold legs. He strained, managing to lift her, and started toward his car.

She couldn't speak but mouthed, "Thank you."

Under the ashen sky where the moon took cover, he struggled to his car, his breathing labored. "Jada," he called to his passenger. "Open the back door. Jada, let's go."

The door swung open and he laid Kelsey down on the back seat. He shook his head as he examined the pretty girl, her hair in tangles, infiltrated with dried leaves. He unzipped his jacket, pulled it off, and covered her. He closed the back door and got in behind the wheel.

"Is she dead?" his eight-year-old daughter asked, peering over the seat at Kelsey.

"No, she's not dead."

Kelsey shivered violently, her skin taking on a dull blue cast.

"Where's her clothes?"

"Be still now." He turned up the heat.

"Hey," Jada whispered to Kelsey. "Are you gonna be okay?"

Dray lifted his iPhone. "Siri. Closest hospital." He started the car.

Siri replied, "The closest hospital is Reynold's Memorial Hospital. Would you like–"

"Directions."

"Head north to Finley Drive toward Route 231."

Headlights washed the back window of the car. Kelsey's eyes shot open and she jerked upright. "Go!" she growled. "Please! Go!"

The tone of her voice sent a jolt of fear through him. He put the car into gear and drove down the dark road. He squinted into his rearview mirror and then averted his eyes from the high beams of the vehicle behind him, taking a peek at Kelsey. 

She was coming apart, whimpering. Her feet moved involuntarily like she was dreaming, running in her sleep.