“Tracey,” she said, “I have to go get us some food. I need you to stay here.”
Fear rushed through Tracey. Alone? Again? “Please, Mummy. Please let me go with you!” she begged. “I promise I’ll be good. I won’t run away. I won’t scream. I promise!” Tracey’s words were frantic, pleading.
“No, Tracey, it’s too soon. You need to stay here and get cleaned up. Don’t forget about the toxins,” she reminded her.
Toxins? Tracey held back her tears and nodded. Tracey worried about the toxins. What were they, and why hadn’t her own mother warned her about them? Maybe she didn’t care about Tracey. Maybe Mummy would not come back because of the toxins. Maybe they’d kill her! Tracey ran to Mummy’s side. “Please stay!” she begged. “I don’t want the toxins to get you, either.”
Mummy knelt down and held Tracey by her shoulders. “Don’t you worry, Tracey. I will be back. I know what to do,” she said. “You get cleaned up, and Mummy will be back really fast, okay?”
Tracey relented, fearing the toxins more than she feared being left alone. “Okay, Mummy,” she said. Her lower lip trembled, but she knew better than to cry. She covered her mouth with her hand and stood up straighter. She could do this! She had to. She had to be a big girl, and big girls didn’t cry.
“By the time you’re cleaned up, I’ll probably be back,” Mummy said. “I’ll go really quickly.”
Tracey nodded. Her legs trembled, and she chewed on the rough edges of her fingernail as she watched Mummy walk toward the tunnel. Mummy turned back to face her. “Tracey, honey,” she said, “now don’t you try to find our play spot, okay? There could be snakes and other dangerous things. I want my little girl to be safe,” she smiled.
Tracey inched closer to the dirt wall of the changing chamber, “Okay,” she said. “I’ll stay right here.”
When Mummy left the chamber, she slid the big wooden board over the entrance. Tracey heard something thud against it. She stood, staring at the board, running her eyes over every inch of it. She was alone—really alone. Just below the board there was a gap between the dirt floor and the board where the ground was uneven. Tracey wondered how Mummy thought that board might keep snakes out and began to worry. She bit her lower lip, then called out, “Mummy!” She wanted Mummy to fix the gap, but she was answered with silence. Mummy had gone. Tracey panicked. “Mummy!” she yelled again. Tears welled in her eyes. She tried one last time to get Mummy back. “Mummy!” she yelled so loudly that her body shook. She received no answer.
Tracey told herself that since no snakes had come in when Mummy was there, there was no reason to think they’d come in with her gone. She told herself that she had nothing to worry about, that she was being a baby.
She crouched by the tub of water, wet the washcloth, and slowly ran it up and down her shivering arms. The warm, soapy water smelled fresh, clean. It felt good on her arms, but when it began to dry, goose bumps formed. The water turned brown as she continued to wash. Yuck! As Tracey reached for her new clothes, she eyed the wood which blocked the entrance and wondered if she could find the way back outside. If she were able to find her way, could she run away? No! Stop thinking about the outside world where the toxins are! she silently scolded herself. It made her sad when she thought about the outside world, and it was better not to be sad. It won’t be that bad here with Mummy—if I can just be good.
Tracey finished washing up and dressed in her new outfit and boots, mildly aware of her empty stomach’s rumblings. She walked over to the plywood and ran her finger over the rough surface. She thought about the maze of tunnels and knew she could never remember which one led to the bad spot and which one led outside—or even how to get to the worship chamber. The room began to feel spooky, unsafe. The silence was deafening. Tracey went back to the soiled mattress and pulled her knees up under her chin, wrapping her shaking hands around her legs. She rocked back and forth, telling herself to be brave. She rolled onto her side and stared at the barricaded exit, waiting for Mummy to return. Eventually, Tracey’s eyes grew heavy, and she drifted off into a dream.
She pumped her arms and ran through the tunnel as fast as she could, her hair lifted from her shoulders with each thump of her feet. Her skin tingled with the feel of the outside air, replacing the stale tunnel atmosphere even before she could see the sunlight. She climbed out of the tunnel and burst into the bramble, spinning around and suddenly realizing she was alone—truly alone. Mummy was not there. She was frightened, shaking, and turned back toward the entrance to the tunnel. “Mummy?” she frantically called out. “Mummy, where are you?” Her questions were met with silence. She peered down the slim tunnel entrance. A force pulled her body away from the tunnel, placing her in front of an almost imperceptible hole in the bramble. She crawled through the hole and into the open forest. She walked at a brisk pace, stepping over vines and branches, around holes, and kicking her way through piles of leaves. Suddenly, she lifted her gaze from the ground, and there were hoards of people, the air filled with voices, conversations, shouting. The crowd was pointing at the sky. Tracey lifted her eyes, shielding them from the glare of the sun. She moved closer to the crowd, squinting to see what held their attention. Then she heard her familiar, comforting voice, “Tracey!” Tracey spun around, her heart pounding with excitement. She ran, fast and hard, into the safety of her open arms, without ever being seen by the people in the outside world. “Mummy!”
Eighteen
Molly drove toward the police station, fully intent on giving the police the necklace she had found, hoping they would search the woods again—more carefully this time—and that this might prove that she wasn’t involved in the disappearance of Tracey Porter. She ran through her encounter with Officer Brown and their troubling conversation. Suspect? Please! She slowed at the last turn before the station and realized that by turning in the necklace, she might solidify Officer Brown’s inclination that she was a suspect; he might turn this evidence on her. Molly was in a quandary, and she didn’t like it one bit. Somehow she knew the necklace belonged to Tracey. Her thoughts were interrupted by her cell phone. She pulled the van over to the shoulder and dug through her pack to find it. “Hello?” she said, hurriedly. “Hey, baby,” Cole said flirtatiously. “Hey!” she smiled, surprised by his playful manner. “Are you feeling better? More awake now?” he asked. “Thank goodness, yes. You have no idea!” “That good, huh? What are you up to?” She was so excited, she didn’t know where to start. “Well, you won’t believe this,” she said, and told him everything.
“You what?” he asked angrily.
She bit her lip, unnerved by his wrath. She continued hurriedly, “Anyway, I, uh…I got the necklace.” She reached down and felt the necklace, safely coiled in her pocket.
“This is unbelievable, Molly, really, just…unbelievable.” He paused. “You think Erik has these visions, too?” he asked with a mixture of concern and disbelief.
“Yes, maybe, I don’t know,” she sighed heavily, thinking about the pain Erik might be in for—the agonizing feeling of not knowing when he’s innocently dreaming and when he’s being given a sign, a message. “Cole, please don’t mention it to him. I’m not sure he wants people to know.”
“I’m his father, Molly.”
Molly heard the hurt in his voice. “Yes, and you’re my husband, and how many years did it take for me to admit to you that I had visions?” she paused. “And you still don’t really believe me,” she said, sadly.