“Maybe we should look for wolves,” I say.
One of the professionals gives me a sidelong look, then ignores me. Fair enough. Understandable.
I go back to the car and I sit there while everyone departs. A few stay on, the professionals, running searches later into the night. I don’t want to leave. I feel like going would be abandoning him. I know I’m not useful, but I desperately want to be.
I spent the night in my car. I didn’t really mean to. I closed my eyes at one point and when I opened them again, it was starting to turn to dawn.
Click.
My passenger door opens. I turn my head swiftly, hoping that it is him.
It’s not.
It is Veronica Valentine. She slides in and shuts the door.
“What are you doing here?” I ask the question bluntly.
“I could ask the same,” she says to me. “You should go home and get some sleep.”
“I’ve already slept in my car and I’m going to help restart the search at first light,” I tell her.
“Very dedicated of you,” she notes. There’s something faintly accusatory in her tone, as if I am doing something wrong by caring. I don’t like it at all. I notice that she has not joined the search. She is still in her corporate attire and heels, and her hair is smooth and entirely devoid of bits of twig that would indicate she’s been out looking. She must have driven out just to see what is happening rather than help.
“A man is missing,” I reply.
“You must be very attached to him.” There’s that tone again. That smug, vicious judgment. There’s something triumphant about it, too. Like she’s won something.
I just stare at her. I don’t really owe her politeness, and I definitely do not owe her an explanation.
“Don’t overexert yourself,” she says. “Simon has ways of looking after himself.”
“Is that why the forest is overrun with search and rescue right now? Because you think he is looking after himself?”
She smiles at me in a frankly maddening way, and I only just manage to bite my tongue and avoid telling her to get the fuck out of my car.
“Sleeping with your boss doesn’t mean being obligated to save your boss.”
“Get the fuck out of my car,” I say.
Not so avoided after all, I guess.
Her smile fades. “You’re rude,” she says.
“So are you. And I’ve been told I can’t quit. Which means I can’t be fired. Which means I don’t actually give anything resembling a semblance of a fuck as to what you think. Now get out of my car and leave me alone.”
The look she gives me as she gets out tells me I made an enemy. I hope that the look I give her in return tells her that I do not care.
What did she even want? To wind me up? To test me? To tell me what to do? I think she wanted me to go home so I wouldn’t see whatever happens next. I bet the company has some means of retrieving their property.
It is almost fully daylight. I spend the day searching for him again. And when that day’s search fails to find a body, I stay overnight again. I do go home once or twice for a change of clothes, and for some snacks, but not for long. I want to be here, near him. As long as I am out in the forest, I feel as thoughI am helping. When they quit searching each day, I get back to transcribing his notes. I peruse them intently, hoping that I might uncover some secret to finding him. I find nothing.
* * *
Simon
My senses are addled. I know I should hunt, but every time I get near prey, they run. I am not fast enough. Wolves are not designed to hunt alone. We are pack hunters. Even relatively small animals are faster than I gave them credit for. Even the mice are perfectly tuned for their environment.
So I drink from the stream and I let the hunger guide me.
