Chapter 9

“Don’t move.”

   “Who said that?” Gerald asked. He looked around, not seeing anyone.

   “You wrecked your car. You’re not hurt, but you need to wake up slowly, on your own.”

   “Okay, seriously, who the hell is saying that?” The voice did not speak again, but laughed softly. Gerald knew that laugh. “Tracy?”

   After a long silence, Gerald heard, “Well, sort of.”

   “But, you . . . you’re . . .”

   “I know. That’s why sort of and not yes,” the voice, supposedly Tracy, said. The memories of the forest, the fire, the creatures violating Tracy flooded Gerald’s mind.

   “Last night, in the forest—”

   “That wasn’t me.”

   “But—”

   “It wasn’t me that you saw. I’d never do anything to hurt you like that.”

   “Really? You wouldn’t?” Gerald said, regretful for the accusation, but also relieved he’d finally gotten to say it. Tracy didn’t respond. “I . . . I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

   “No. You have no reason to apologize . . .” Tracy trailed off. “But it wasn’t me in the forest. Regardless of anything else I did or didn’t do, that wasn’t me.”

   Gerald took his time responding, taking care not to say anything else he’d regret. Finally, he said, “I know,” then added, “I miss you.”

   “I need to go now.”

   “No . . .”

   “I don’t have a choice,” Tracy said. Gerald could sense she was fading, but heard her say, “But you do.”