miles away. The old couple at the host site was supposed to keep an eye on things at night, but I didn’t want to drag them into something potentially dangerous. I didn’t know anyone else in the campground.
I could get closer and start waving my light around and calling out to try to scare them, but that might backfire. If they were kids, they might try to escape down the canyon, where they could get hurt. I could wait and try to get a look at them when they left, but the wind was already raising goosebumps on my skin, and I’d foolishly neglected to bring a sweater. I’d be fine when moving, but standing around in the cold night air did not appeal. And if I went back to my campsite for another layer, chances were they’d have moved on before I returned.
I watched for another minute and then reluctantly decided it might be better to do nothing. A confrontation could lead to injury, and I didn’t have the authority to do more than scold them anyway. I sighed and turned back toward the visitors center.
I let myself in and flicked on the lights, then carried my box of equipment to the counter. The two small windows here were black squares. No need for heavy curtains to keep out the glare of streetlights. But if someone looked in, they’d be able to see me and I probably wouldn’t be able to see them. A gust of wind rattled the windows. The floor creaked when I shifted my weight. And yet the building seemed too quiet. I was still more at home with the rumble of traffic and voices outside my window.
“There’s no need to get jumpy.” My voice sounded strange, but I kept speaking aloud. “Your anxiety is just a reaction to triggers. It’s all right to be afraid, but that doesn’t mean you are really in danger.” The now-familiar calming technique helped settle me. I couldn’t always control my emotions or my body’s sensations, but I could control my behavior. The old “mind over matter” worked—sometimes—once you’d had training.
I could more easily convince myself I was safe if I made sure I was protected, so I crossed the room and locked the front door. Then I went into the back room and fixed a cup of tea, trying to clear my mind by focusing closely on that mundane task. Finally I settled down to work.
As always, the work helped. I quickly got so caught up that I forgot everything except what I saw through the microscope.
Something jolted me back to awareness. I lifted my head and listened. What had I heard?
Probably nothing. Normal night sounds. They just weren’t normal to me.
Or maybe whoever had been in the ruin was leaving. A glance at the clock showed me that over an hour had passed, which seemed a long time for anyone to be poking around in ruins, but if it was them, maybe I could get a look. I went to one of the small windows and looked out, but with the glare from the inside light and the darkness outside, I couldn’t see much. I crossed to the door and hesitated. Should I stick my head out and check? Or stay safely inside?
My hand hovered over the door handle. I couldn’t hide away forever. Sometimes you have to face your fears.
Pounding rattled the door. I jumped back with a gasp.
A voice outside yelled, “Help! Let us in!”
Chapter 8
“Damn it! Kylie!” The voice was low and rough, that of a man—or Lily West.
I fumbled for the door handle and pulled open the door. Lily pushed past me, dragging someone behind her. “Close the door,” she said between gasping breaths.
I closed and locked it, then turned to stare at the little group huddled in the center of the room—Lily, holding the younger boy from dinner, and a thin woman clutching the hand of the older child. The children stared with enormous eyes but didn’t move or make a sound. Soft sobbing came from the woman.
“The phone,” Lily said. “Call 911.”
I crossed to the counter. “What’s happened? Is someone hurt?”
“Not yet,” Lily said. “We need the police.”
My hand shook as I
I could get closer and start waving my light around and calling out to try to scare them, but that might backfire. If they were kids, they might try to escape down the canyon, where they could get hurt. I could wait and try to get a look at them when they left, but the wind was already raising goosebumps on my skin, and I’d foolishly neglected to bring a sweater. I’d be fine when moving, but standing around in the cold night air did not appeal. And if I went back to my campsite for another layer, chances were they’d have moved on before I returned.
I watched for another minute and then reluctantly decided it might be better to do nothing. A confrontation could lead to injury, and I didn’t have the authority to do more than scold them anyway. I sighed and turned back toward the visitors center.
I let myself in and flicked on the lights, then carried my box of equipment to the counter. The two small windows here were black squares. No need for heavy curtains to keep out the glare of streetlights. But if someone looked in, they’d be able to see me and I probably wouldn’t be able to see them. A gust of wind rattled the windows. The floor creaked when I shifted my weight. And yet the building seemed too quiet. I was still more at home with the rumble of traffic and voices outside my window.
“There’s no need to get jumpy.” My voice sounded strange, but I kept speaking aloud. “Your anxiety is just a reaction to triggers. It’s all right to be afraid, but that doesn’t mean you are really in danger.” The now-familiar calming technique helped settle me. I couldn’t always control my emotions or my body’s sensations, but I could control my behavior. The old “mind over matter” worked—sometimes—once you’d had training.
I could more easily convince myself I was safe if I made sure I was protected, so I crossed the room and locked the front door. Then I went into the back room and fixed a cup of tea, trying to clear my mind by focusing closely on that mundane task. Finally I settled down to work.
As always, the work helped. I quickly got so caught up that I forgot everything except what I saw through the microscope.
Something jolted me back to awareness. I lifted my head and listened. What had I heard?
Probably nothing. Normal night sounds. They just weren’t normal to me.
Or maybe whoever had been in the ruin was leaving. A glance at the clock showed me that over an hour had passed, which seemed a long time for anyone to be poking around in ruins, but if it was them, maybe I could get a look. I went to one of the small windows and looked out, but with the glare from the inside light and the darkness outside, I couldn’t see much. I crossed to the door and hesitated. Should I stick my head out and check? Or stay safely inside?
My hand hovered over the door handle. I couldn’t hide away forever. Sometimes you have to face your fears.
Pounding rattled the door. I jumped back with a gasp.
A voice outside yelled, “Help! Let us in!”
Chapter 8
“Damn it! Kylie!” The voice was low and rough, that of a man—or Lily West.
I fumbled for the door handle and pulled open the door. Lily pushed past me, dragging someone behind her. “Close the door,” she said between gasping breaths.
I closed and locked it, then turned to stare at the little group huddled in the center of the room—Lily, holding the younger boy from dinner, and a thin woman clutching the hand of the older child. The children stared with enormous eyes but didn’t move or make a sound. Soft sobbing came from the woman.
“The phone,” Lily said. “Call 911.”
I crossed to the counter. “What’s happened? Is someone hurt?”
“Not yet,” Lily said. “We need the police.”
My hand shook as I
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