Sweet air comes through the box. She carefully puts her hand through the opening. She moves slowly, a bit at a time, ready to pull back at the first sharp pain.
But nothing stops her. Finally, her whole arm is Out There, in her world, where the air seems to be made of raindrops.
She closes her eyes. For the first time since they trapped her, she can breathe. She lets out a long, desperate howl.
Come for me, that noise means, but she stops in the middle of it. She is so far away from her cave. There is no one to hear her.
This is why Him always told her to stay. He knew the world beyond her chain.
Out There is full of Strangers who will hurt Girl.
And she is alone now.
YEARS AGO, ELLIE HAD GONE TO THE DRIVE-IN WITH HER THEN-BOYFRIEND, Scott Lauck, and seen a movie called Ants. Or maybe it had been Swarm. She wasn’t entirely sure now. All she really remembered was a scene with Joan Collins being swarmed by Volkswagen-sized ants. Ellie, of course, had been more interested in making out with Scotty than watching the movie. Still, it was those long-ago film images that came to her now as she stood in the hallway outside the lunchroom, sipping her coffee and looking out at the melee in the station.
It was a hive of people. From her place at the end of the hall, she couldn’t see a patch of floor or a sliver of wall. It was the same way outside and down the block.
The story had broken this morning under a variety of headlines.
THE GIRL FROM NOWHERE
WHO AM I?
REMEMBER ME?
And Ellie’s particular favorite (this from Mort in the Gazette): FLYING MUTE LANDS IN RAIN VALLEY. His first paragraph described the girl’s prodigious leaping capabilities and, naturally, her wolf companion. His description of her was the only accurate report. He made her sound crazy, wild, and heartbreakingly pathetic.
At eight A.M. the first call had come in. Cal hadn’t had a moment’s peace since then. By one o’clock the first national news van had pulled into town. Within two hours the streets were jammed with vans and reporters demanding another press conference. Everyone from journalists to parents to kooks and psychics wanted to get the scoop firsthand.
“So far nothing has panned out,” Peanut said, coming out of the lunchroom. “No one knows who she is.”
Ellie sipped her coffee and eyed the crowd.
Cal looked up from his desk and saw the two of them. He was talking into the dispatch headset at the same time he fielded questions from the crowd of reporters in front of him.
Ellie smiled at him.
He mouthed, Help me.
“Cal’s losing it,” Peanut said.
“I can hardly blame him. He didn’t take this job to actually work.”
“Who did?” Peanut said, laughing.
“That would be me.” Ellie looked at her friend, said, “Wish me luck,” and then waded back into the sea of clamoring, shouting reporters. In their midst, she raised her hands in the air. It took a long time to quiet them. Finally, she got their attention.
“There will be no more comments—either on or off the record—by anyone in this office today. We’ll conduct a press conference at six o’clock and answer everything then.”
Chaos erupted.
“But we need photos!”
“These artist renderings are crap—”
“Drawings don’t sell papers—”
Ellie shook her head, exasperated. “I don’t know how my sister—”