I give him Stacey’s description but I want to get to her first, find her myself.
I might not stand a chance with a girl like her, but I’ll never forgive myself if anything happens to Stacey out here.
And I know her dad wouldn’t either.
“Potentially missing?” The Sheriff drawls, and the radio crackles under the weight of another hefty thunder strike and lightning flash.
“Just a lead I’m following up, a young lady who also happens to be a family friend her dad asked me to locate. She’s running late, not technically missing,” I add, but can only picture Stacey out there.
Alone, cold and most likely scared out of her wits if I know her as well as I think I do, I have to go to her.
“Alright, Ben. You know best.” The sheriff finishes, reminding me to keep in touch by radio and satellite phone if worst comes to worst, which I think we both know it will if this storm is anything to go by so early on in the piece.
I decide not to cut through the park, taking the bitumen highway instead, which will guarantee me more safety and a predictable route to her car, which I somehow just know is right by the billboard before the Park entrance on the North East side.
I feel my foot heavy on the gas, and without fear of a ticket myself once I set my own truck’s flashing lights.
Telling the whole world that this Ranger is on duty and it’s an emergency.
Anything for my Stacey.
Fuck, I’m already calling her ‘mine.’ I’ve got this thing bad.
I intercept a few truckers using my channel, probably the strongest in the area, and I instruct them to reserve radio chatter for emergencies only.
“I don’t need to hear what you had for lunch, this is a restricted channel for the U.S Parks and Wildlife service. If you don’t need our help, kindly switch off,” I snarl, annoyed at the radio banter that has nothing to do with my current dilemma.
The radio goes quiet and I find even my strong hands fighting at times to keep my truck straight as the wind becomes something else.
The rain’s a slick, silvery sheen across the windshield that I have to fight to see through. Not helped by my speed, but I can’t help it.
I have to get to her. I have to find her.
All my own feelings aside, she’s my best friend’s only daughter and I’ll risk all I have to reach her before any of this gets any worse.
The few things I have to swerve to dodge are all parts of trees or buildings, spitting out in front of me as I speed along.
Any birds or other wildlife I’m used to spotting on the road is long gone, sensing the coming storm and getting themselves to safety long before our radars even picked up on the terrible squall.
My hands are white-knuckled on the steering wheel, and not from any hesitation on my part. But just my sheer will to find her.
I thump and punch the wheel a dozen times, every time I think about her on her own and driving across the country.
Never again. I won’t have it. Not without me by her side.
The sheriff checks in by radio once more, letting me know he’s heading into his basement for the night unless they get a call for help. Where he is, a few miles further east, mini-tornadoes are touching the ground and the town’s been ordered to seek shelter.
It feels like forever, but rounding the bend I know takes me homeward, I spot that stupid billboard with my face on it.
It’s almost grimacing back at me, daring me to fail until I spot the sleek outline of what I imagine to be an all-electric car parked clumsily on the soft shoulder of the highway.
The rain’s so heavy the car looks like it’s tilting, sagging towards the woods as though it’s showing me something already.
“Stacey,” I growl, leaving my truck lights flashing and pulling up behind the car.
I can see it’s empty.
Fuck!
What would Ranger Ben tell you, girl? Stay with your vehicle no matter what.
Reaching for my weatherproof and a flashlight, I shut off my truck and use my light to examine her car and what’s left of her muddy footprints.
Leading off into the woods.
Why though?
I can only think of one reason, the same as anyone.
Nature calling.
I can’t see any other prints, her tiny imprints are all and heavy on the front like she was in a hurry so I assume it’s not a cross-country hike she was rushing towards.
I open my mouth to call out for her, shining my light towards the edge of the woodland, but the weather crashes over me.
Thunder, lightning, and rain, with that damned howling wind that’s got an icy edge to it.
No way could she hear me or I could hear her shouting back unless I was right on top of her.