beta reader: Jade Augustine

A New Day

Meg slowly walked down the street. The sidewalk was still wet from the rain, and the street lamps seduced the black tar to orange glittering. To the left of her was an endless hedge, behind which lay one property after the other, while on the opposite side of the road there was a slope, and after a few meters, the treeline.
Meg tried not to look in the forest's direction, but she didn't succeed. Again and again, her eyes peered into the thicket and searched for an explanation, a clue, before Meg forced them back towards the street. Was the nightmare really over? Had the Entity just let her go like this? Or had he been forced? Meg remembered the strange noises and the unusually fast succession of hunts. Something must have happened.
And then there was the Nurse who had just given up her prey right in the moment of triumph. Meg could only vaguely remember the scene in the forest, but again she came to the same conclusion. Something must have happened.
Fortunately, the athlete knew exactly where she was and unerringly she took a turn into a side street. It wasn't the fastest way, but it brought some distance between her and the forest. Meg was on the outskirts of Waltonfield, a mid-sized city in the east of the United States. She had spent her entire life in this city. First in a suburb like this, later closer to the centre.
After her mother got sick, they sold their house and moved to a small apartment, where Meg took care of Vanessa. Sometimes she went to the sports field for her daily training, but more often than not she had been drawn out here. Since it was easily accessible by bus, the area was perfect for long runs. The air was fresh, and the adjacent forest had always given Meg a sense of calm. At least until that fateful day when the Entity had kidnapped her into its cruel kingdom.
The sun rose in the east and seemed to hit Meg right in the face. She passed a bus stop, but kept walking. Without a ticket, the driver would not pick her up and Meg had no money on her. She would have to walk. A cold wind blew through streets and the athlete pulled the hood of her red sweater over her head. She didn't know how long she had been trapped in the fog, but the day of her kidnapping had been in fall. Now it seemed to be sometime in spring.
It must have been somewhere around six months.

He was back. In Waltonfield. Dwight could not believe it. He didn't know why the Entity had released him. He also didn't know if it had been intended that Dwight had suddenly burst out among the trees in the midst of a hunt and had seen his hometown instead of a generator. Dwight didn't know if the nightmare was over, or if it was just another perfidious trick of the Entity.
He passed an advertising pillar and stopped for a moment. There, under the colourful poster of a jazz band, his own face smiled at him. It was a flyer, evidently printed by his parents. Multiple copies of it had been hung. The headline read: "Missing." Below was a photo of him along with his parents' contact information and a promised reward for each clue. The flyer was probably several months old; one could barely decipher the letters.
Dwight could feel tears in the corners of his eyes. Although they had never told him, Dwight had always suspected that his parents had been disappointed with him. He had always brought below-average grades from school, he had tried various sports, but if a team ever recruited him, it never took long for him to be thrown out again.
He had never been musically gifted. His mother Elizabeth, a violin teacher at a local music school, must have been especially disappointed. Even though she had never addressed the subject, Dwight hat always felt her grief.
He never excelled in any area. He had even lost his job as a pizza delivery man after repeatedly delivering to the wrong addresses. His father, James, hid his displeasure well, but Dwight hadn't missed it. James was a relatively important man in the administration department of an insurance company and eventually had gotten his son a job in his office. After the first few days it had already been clear that he would never receive a promotion.
He had also never introduced his parents to a girl. They probably already doubted his heterosexuality. At school he had always been the doormat of all the others, a weakling who deserved no attention.
Dwight had been a disappointment to his parents. And yet here was a note on which they desperately asked for clues and promised a reward if only they would get their son back.
And they would. Dwight took a deep breath and tried to calm down. He was back. He had managed to escape the Entity. His parents would get him back and the family would come together again.
He was about to move on when his eyes fell on another flyer. It seemed to be older than the one of the Fairfields, but it had exactly the same purpose. "Missing" was written in large letters above the picture of a young girl. "Nea Karlsson" were the words situated under it, and again, there was a request for clues.
Dwight's thoughts suddenly turned towards the other survivors. Did they make it? Had they been released as well? It was exactly for a case like this that they had exchanged their addresses in the fog. Dwight knew Meg and Feng both lived in Waltonfield. Claudette had moved here from Montreal and Nea from some town in Sweden, he recalled. Jake had hidden away from his family here, Ace had not been able to tell them exactly where he lived, and David had just grunted.
Dwight was determined to catch up with all the others as soon as possible, or at least try to. Maybe he was the only one who had escaped from the fog. In this case, he had to alarm the authorities and tell them, that he knew the locations of the numerous missing persons. But what exactly would he tell them? A horror story of a monster in the dark forest that was kidnapping and feeding children to merciless killers?
Dwight brushed the thought away. He had to try. And besides, it was the truth. Quickly, he walked through the streets of Waltonfield. The Fairfields' house was not far away. He had been familiar with the area since childhood, but with each step it seemed more and more surreal. Did he really escape? Could it be true?
All doubts were swept away as Dwight came to a stop in front of his home. Through the window he could see his mother pouring coffee for his father. The two of them looked tired, even hopeless. Had they given up their son, declared him dead and ended his search for him? Dwight shook his head and walked up to the front door. After a short breath, he pressed a finger on the bell. Then he heard footsteps behind the door.

The front door of the house was slowly open and a woman appeared. She raised a hand to her eyes to protect herself from the rising sun, which shone directly into her face. When she saw who was standing at her door, the woman's breath stopped for a moment. Her lower lip began to quiver and her eyes widened in disbelief.
"Hi, Mom."
"NEA!" The woman shrieked and burst into tears of joy as she pulled her daughter into a close embrace. It was not the reaction the young Swede had expected. She had already foretold in her mind that her parents would slam the door in her face, shout at her, or simply stare in astonishment. From their point of view, it must have looked like she had run away from home, as if she had done exactly what they had always expected her to.
The relief that this was not the case caused Nea struggle for breath. Now bursting into tears as well, she returned her mother's embrace, pressing herself against the woman's shoulder and closing her eyes. After all the months in the fog, it was finally time for her to drop all the facades, finally feeling safe enough to let all her emotions run wild.
For several moments, the two women remained in the doorway, just happy to be able to hold each other again. Nea's father appeared in the hallway behind the door. He had heard his wife call their daughter's name and had risen so fast that he had stained his white shirt with tea. Immediately he joined the embrace.
Then, after a few moments of pure joy, the family broke up again and looked at each other. Iris and Noah on one side, Nea on the other. Immediately, her mother's attention shifted to the dried blood on Nea's temple. She had fallen painfully in the last hunt and suffered a slight head injury, but when she had looked up again, she had been back in Waltonfield.
"Great God, are you alright?" Iris asked, visibly worried. She hurriedly examined the wound. Then she gently turned Nea around in a circle, searching for further injuries on her daughter's body. She found none. Nea could not help but laugh in relief, still wiping the tears out of her eyes.
"Don't worry, I'm fine."
It was only a small wound, not dangerous in any way. And yet her mother stood there behaving as if Nea had suffered an open break. Everything suddenly seemed so strange to Nea, so alien. In the fog, injuries like these were commonplace. Nobody had ever taken much interest in them, as escaping a hunt without more than a small laceration just wasn't considered to be something bad.
"Where have you been?" Iris asked, looking her daughter in the eye. But before Nea could answer, she was pulled back into a hug by her mother. "It doesn't matter, I don't care. Thank God, we have you back. Nothing else matters."
"Here, come in," Nea's father welcomed her, stepping aside, his right hand invitingly stretched out. Immediately, Nea was pulled into the house by her mother and escorted from the hallway to the living room. Everything still looked exactly like the day she had disappeared. All the pictures of their relatives in Sweden, the gnarled dining table Nea's parents had bought from a junk dealer, and the old rocking chair that had belonged to Noah's father. Everything was there, just as if she had never been away.

An exhausted Claudette climbed the stairs to her apartment on the fifth floor. The elevator had been out of service due to technical issues before she had been abducted into the fog, and in the meantime, nobody seemed to have taken care of the problem. Claudette was not surprised.
The young student lived alone in a small apartment in one of the more rundown parts of Waltonfield. The rent was low and so was the motivation of her landlord to take care of his customers well-being. Only twice had Claudette seen the old man in her life, once at the signing of the lease and once by happenstance on the stairwell. The grumpy old man had not paid any attention to her or her kind greeting. He probably hadn't even recognized her. The old man received his money by means of a standing order through the bank and to him, his tenants were little more than bank account numbers.
That was why Claudette hoped her flat would still belong to her. When she had come to Waltonfield, the introverted Canadian had quickly retreated to the solitude of her home, leaving only for shopping or university. Most of her social life happened in digital form. In a forum she had been known under the pseudonym "ScienceGirl" as a botany expert and regularly helped the various visitors of the site with homework, graduation papers and the like.
Of course, she always wished for something else. In her imagination, she had met a young man, not necessarily a beau or a daredevil. Just a nice, honest guy with whom she could fall asleep in front of the TV with her head snuggled against his warm shoulder. It had never happened and it would never happen.
Claudette had now arrived on the fifth floor and stopped in front of one of the numerous white doors. To her left was a doorbell button set into the wall, above which was written in an unclean handwriting: "Claudette Morel."
The apartment still belonged to her, the student noted with relief. Or the new owner had just been too lazy to swap the name badges. Claudette briefly rummaged in her left pocket and pulled out her apartment key. She had lost it countless times in the fog, but just as her wounds had miraculously disappeared after a sacrifice, the key had always returned to her pocket. Luckily, she had not lost it in the last hunt.
Claudette fumbled nervously at the keyhole, the damn thing was still as clamped as on the day she had left. Then the key finally turned and the door to her apartment swung open. Sunlight flowed through the single, east-facing window into the rectangular room. Just below the curtain-lined window was her bed, on the opposite wall was the kitchen, and in the middle a circular table had found its place. There were two chairs, but Claudette had always only needed one. On the north wall she saw the desk with her computer and to the right of it a shelf filled with lexica and textbooks. A narrow door led into the bathroom. Everything was covered in a fine layer of dust, but nothing had changed since her last visit. Claudette's little kingdom was untouched.
The Canadian slowly closed the door behind her and put the key on the central table. She barely managed to take off her boots before she dropped onto the bed and immediately fell asleep.
When she awoke, she lay in the dark, drenched in sweat. The pale glow of the street lamps shone in through the window, and tiny dust particles were floating in the orange light cone. Claudette got up shakily. She knew she had had a nightmare, but could not remember it. Still dazed, she stumbled to the sink and splashed a gush of cold water on her face.
Claudette could only imagine what she had dreamed about. At the thought of Entity, her heart suddenly began to beat faster. A lump formed in her throat and she felt as if someone had squeezed the air out of her lungs. She felt like she was being watched. Was it the Wraith? Or the Trapper? In panic she rushed to the light switch and the lonely bulb on the ceiling awoke to flickering life. The room was completely empty. She was alone.
Dejectedly, Claudette slid down into to a sitting position, her back resting against the wall. With her legs drawn up, she buried her face in her hands. Slowly, her racing heart began to calm down and she was able to breathe again, but the lump in her throat remained. It had been nothing but a panic attack. No killer haunted her. No hooks threatened her with their iron bite. She was safe.
Claudette sobbed softly. Was she really safe? What if the fog called her back tomorrow? If it just gave her a short gasp of air before the next season of hunts? Maybe it wanted to avoid its victims collapsing under all the psychological burden. Perhaps it was just another sadistic torture method, and a brief moment of freedom should, as soon as it was suddenly withdrawn, finally rob them of their last bit of hope.
She raised her head and tried to sweep the thoughts aside. There was no point in thinking about the fog and if it did come back to fetch her, there was nothing she could do about it. But Claudette could do something else.
With one hand wiping away her tears, she quickly stood up and tried to get a stable feeling in her legs. She didn't succeed. If she had managed to escape from the Entity, perhaps other survivors had returned to the real world as well. They had exchanged their addresses and numbers exactly for a situation like this.
Claudette crossed the small room and sat down at her desk. As a matter of habit, she turned on the PC on the floor with her toe while reaching for the phone. She was about to dial Dwight's number when her thoughts wandered to her parents.
It was more than three years ago that Claudette had left Montreal and moved to Waltonfield. During this time, she had rarely visited her old hometown and so she had slowly but surely moved away from her parents. Claudette knew that they loved her with all their heart and she returned that love. However, both they and Claudette had always failed to really understand one another.
As early as her elementary school days, Claudette had been identified as "gifted," but that label had its consequences. Not only had her classmates struggled to get along with her, even her parents had often not known how to deal with their daughter. It hadn't been their fault, not at all, and Claudette knew that. She placed the blame on herself more than on them, but what could she have done? She had always been introverted and socially incompetent, and she had desired to be different all her life. But that's not how life works. With trembling fingers, she typed her parents' number into the phone and then raised it to her ear.
Occupied.
A nice sound told her that her computer was now operational. Almost instantly Claudette typed in the password, the scientific name of her favourite plant, as she had done countless times before. Next, she opened her internet browser. As always, her account ScienceGirl was already registered and her inbox filled with a lot of unread messages. She ignored them, navigating directly to the main thread.
"Hi guys, I'm back," she wrote after a moment's thought. Claudette would have to wait a bit for an answer, so she picked up the phone again and again she dialled her parents' number. This time it rang. Three times, four times, five times.
"Morel?" A woman answered.
"Mom?", Claudette said in a suddenly trembling voice: "It's me, Claudette."
For a moment, there was nothing but silence and Claudette thought that her mother had hung up on her. Then she heard a noise that sounded as if someone was trying to fight her tears.
"Claudette, darling, is it really you? Say something!"
"Yes, I'm here."
Now the tears welled up in her own eyes as well.
"Oh God, thank you, thank you." Claudette's mother sobbed before she said: "Claudette, where are you? Is everything alright? Oh God, when you didn't contact us, we already thought ... Claudette, are you still there?"
"Yes, I'm here," Claudette answered. "I'm fine. I'm in Waltonfield. Don´t worry, I'm fine. "
"Claudette, what happened? You didn't call in such a long time and when we heard that you had been reported missing, we already thought ... "
Her mother burst into tears.
"Mom, it's all right, I'm fine," Claudette tried to comfort her. She had absolutely no idea what to say in moments such as this. She just didn't know. That's why she did what she had always done: enter silence, wait, and hope for the best.
After a while, her mother calmed down and started asking questions again. Most of the time Claudette couldn't even answer, as she was immediately interrupted again. A few moments later, her father was at the phone, greeting her with a similar reaction. Again, he asked a lot of questions and under different circumstances, Claudette probably would have felt quite uncomfortable. But hearing familiar voices and hearing the love carried in them soothed her anxiety, giving her a sense of security that she had not known for a long time. Finally, everything culminated into the question of where she had been for all the time. Claudette thought for a moment, but she couldn't think of any words that even came close to what the past six months had been.
"I can't tell you, not over the phone," she finally said, "I have one more thing to do here. Then I'll fly to Montreal."
"No, stay where you are. Take a break. We'll come to you." Her father replied: "And take care of yourself. We can't lose you again."
"I'm fine, Dad," Claudette reassured him. In the back of her mind, however, she was still haunted by the thought of the Entity.
"We love you," her mother said, "Always remember that. We love you."
"I love you too," Claudette answered. It surprised her how good it was to say those words and to really mean it. Then she ended the call. Her attention fell to the computer screen where an answer had already appeared. It read: "Should we know you?"
Claudette stared at it for a moment. She read over the letters several times, each time a little slower. Then she nodded briefly and closed the window with a swift press on ALT and F4. Next, she grabbed the phone again, already scouring her memory for Dwight's number.

A pair of strong hands grabbed Feng's arms and pushed her to the ground. In panic, she tried to free herself and escape from the hard grip. The girl desperately defended herself with bare hands and feet by throwing herself wildly from one side to the other. It was futile, the killer had caught her and wouldn't let her go. Feng cried out in fear and kicked at her tormentor. With the right foot she met resistance.
"Shit! Feng! Feng, stop, Feng! Aaah, shit. "
She would never stop kicking the disgusting guy who was holding her down. The next moment he began to shake her violently, trying to get her under control.
"Feng! It's me! Stop it! It's me! Fuck!"
No way!
A knee landed on her chest and pushed her to the ground. She was now almost unable to move and couldn't do anything but angrily stare at the bastard over her. A face appeared in the darkness of the forest.
"Ace?"
"Finally. I already thought you wanted to kill me," the Argentine replied. The weight on Feng's upper body disappeared as Ace withdrew his knee. "Did you think I was one of them? Damn, I knew the wrinkles are noticeable."
A wry grin spread on Ace's lips.
"Sorry," Feng Min mumbled, trying to control her breath. But there was not time to rest.
"Ace, we have to get away from here. Fast…"
"I think you should take a look around first," Ace said, helping the young lady get on her feet. Even though she didn't know what to look for, Feng did as he said. Immediately her eyes fell on Waltonfield, peacefully stretching out beneath her like an ocean of stars.
"What the hell?" Feng looked to Ace.
"Yup, looks like we're back," the gambler replied, still grinning. Feng looked at the city. Then back to the Ace. Finally, her eyes went up to the stars, which hovered over her as brightly lit guardians in the sky. She was not in the fog anymore. She was in the United States. At home.
Feng needed a moment to recognize the situation. Then her knees buckled under her and she fell back to the ground, finding herself on all fours again. Suddenly tears burst out of her as the unspeakable pressure of the previous months disappeared from her shoulders.
She had suffered fears of death. She had run for her life. She had been tortured, mutilated, hung on cruel hooks, and sacrificed in sadistic rituals. And now she was back. Back in the real world. Unharmed. Healthy.
Feng's shoulders began to shake as she felt her heartbeat. Her normal, natural heartbeat that signalled to her with every pulse that she was alive. Ace touched her carefully and helped her up a second time.
"Hey, I know, that's a lot to take in here, but if we can get out, maybe they can too."
Feng knew exactly who he was talking about. Suddenly the fear returned. Standing on shaky legs, she peered into the forest behind her.
"Let's get away from here," Ace decided, pulling Feng gently but firmly with him. It took them less than five minutes and the forest was out of sight. The sun was now rising and the street lights would turn off in a few minutes. Silently, they walked side by side through the suburbs of Waltonfield, every now and then shooting a glance over their shoulders back the way they had come. Even of the hedges seemed to watch them. Finally, Feng spoke up.
"Earlier, in the fog," she whispered hesitantly and uncertainly, as if she was afraid of being overheard by someone. "A little while ago in the fog. You just left me behind."
It was a statement. So dry and cold that it could not have been more accusing. Ace glimpsed at Feng, who looked him straight in the eye.
"You know exactly how this works," Ace replied, looking forward to the sidewalk, unable to maintain eye contact. "When the killer shows up, it´s everyone for themselves. One on the hook is better than two."
Ace would have liked to withdraw the last sentence as soon as he had pronounced it, but it was the truth. The killers were relentless. Their bloodlust culminated in inhuman determination, and if one hesitated for just a second, they would inevitably die a slow death. Ace knew exactly how that felt.
"Did you know we were about to escape?" Feng asked after a brief silence.
Ace sighed inwardly, but didn't show it. The fog had behaved extremely unusually over the last few hours and the Argentine had immediately interpreted it as a weakness. It had seemed to him as if the Entity was in dire need of Energy. Why else would it have sent all the survivors into a hunt at the same time?
Over the course of his life, Ace had learned to look for opportunities, and if necessary, to take advantage of them as soon as possible. Today he had expected such an opportunity and when Feng stumbled over a root, Ace hadn't wasted a second in turning away and continuing to run. In the end, everyone had to watch their own ass. A motto, that had been proven right in a great many precarious situations.
"How would I have known?" he asked, keeping his eyes on the road. Feng didn't answer, thus initiating a long silence between them. It was only after a while that she spoke again.
"Where are we going?"
Feng had already moved away from home a year ago and ever since she had followed her own way. After telling her parents goodbye in a loud argument, her life had not changed for the better. She'd gone to Waltonfield, kept herself over water with low-paying jobs, and tried to turn her hobby into a profession: video games.
It had been an unspeakably stupid decision. It had already been clear to her after two weeks. But Feng was too proud to return to her parents, to ask for forgiveness, and to prove them right. She'd had an apartment in Waltonfield, but her landlord had kicked her out at some point since Feng had been overdue with the rent one to many times. That same fateful night, she had found herself in the fog.
"Don't worry, I have a shelter in the city," Ace replied, "We'll have a roof over our heads in no time."
After a while, they two reached one of the most run-down quarters the girl had ever seen. The Argentine had made his way unerringly into the city centre before passing through various side roads into a dodgy area. Feng had followed him silently.
"Here we go," he announced as they finally stopped in front of a rickety block of flats. Feng looked at the dilapidated facade and the glassless windows before giving Ace a disbelieving look.
"It's not what you had in mind. I can imagine that," Ace said, as he walked up to the dusty front door, pulling it open with some struggle. "But I didn't voluntarily live here, mind you. You see, before this whole thing with the Entity and the killers, I had some debt. Debt with the wrong people. I had to disappear for a while. An old friend helped me submerge and gave me this hideout. The house has been empty for several years, it was a good hiding place."
During Ace's explanation, Feng had followed him into a dirty stairwell and up to the first floor. A long corridor presented itself to the two and Ace took the second door on the left. It was secured with a strong padlock, but apparently Ace knew the combination. A moment later, he pushed open the door and made way into a comfortable-sized apartment. The furniture looked old and rundown, but everything had its order. The kitchen was tidy, the chairs neatly shoved under the table, and in an adjoining room Feng could even spot a cushy-looking sofa.
"Mi casa es tu casa," Ace announced, inviting Feng to come in with a welcoming gesture. As soon as she had entered the apartment, Ace followed and closed the door behind him. The soft click gave Feng a pleasant sense of security. With an elastic motion he hung his baseball cap on a hook beside the door, before slipping out of his beige jacket.
"Make yourself at home," Ace said with a long yawn and Feng's eyes closed slowly but surely as well. The hunt in the fog, followed by their long walk through Waltonfield, had deprived her of her powers and she longed for a bed. Ace seemed to recognize her exhaustion, because he gently took her by the arm and steered her into an adjacent room. There was a bed, a small table, an old wardrobe and a completely empty desk. Feng wondered if Ace had ever had anything as normal as an office job in his life. The Argentine went to the closet, opened one of the double doors and hung his jacket on a hanger, before grabbing a blanket from an upper shelf.
"The bed is yours," he told Feng in passing. "The mattress is not exactly at its peak performance, but unfortunately I haven´t got anything better. And there is a bath behind that door to the right." He smiled crookedly at her.
"And where will you sleep?" Feng asked her host uncertainly.
"I'm going to enjoy the sofa to the fullest," Ace replied, "tell me if you need anything."
Feng nodded and Ace was already leaving the room, when she held him back again. "Ace, wait ..."
He turned around and she looked straight into his eyes.
"Thank you."

Dwight set the mobile phone aside. He had just talked to Claudette and the conversation had made him a lot calmer. He had told her that he had contacted Nea's family during the afternoon. The Swede had evidently also escaped and was back home again, safe and sound, just like Claudette and himself. Dwight was glad to hear that the two of them were fine, but he was still worried about those who had not contacted him yet.
With tired eyes, he looked around his room. It was equipped as plainly as it possibly could have been. The desk, chairs, and bed had all been purchased on a trip to Ikea on the same day. Red curtains kept out the daylight, and an unbearably slow computer in a strikingly ugly case stood beside a half-full wastepaper bin. The bedding matched the white wall in colour. Mere moments ago, Dwight had lain over there until Claudette's call had ripped him out of a fitful sleep.
Of course, his parents had immediately wanted to know where he had been and why he had never called. He told them that he had been kidnapped and there hadn't been a way to contact them. It was still a mystery to him how he should tell them the truth without sounding like a complete madman. Instead, he'd asked his parents to give him a few hours' sleep before giving any explanations. Of course, they had immediately agreed, even if it had left all their questions and worries unanswered. First and foremost, they were just happy to have their son back.
Dwight got up from the edge of the bed and walked to the window. As he pulled the curtains aside, he discovered that it was already deep in the night. He stared out into the darkness, lost in thought; after a few moments he caught himself searching for the silhouette of a killer. A cold shiver ran down his spine. No, those times were over. He didn't have to worry anymore, didn't have to look over his shoulder. Dwight sighed. It would take some time to get used to this old life, maybe forever.
The ringing of a doorbell pulled him back into the present. The next moment he noticed that his pulse had risen significantly and sweat had formed on his forehead. Dwight shook his head and tried to calm his mind. The bell was in no way dangerous. There was no killer lurking outside the door. He was safe.
With long strides he crossed his room and went out into the hallway. As he reached the stairs, he heard his father open the front door and ask someone, "Good evening, do we know each other?"
"Hello, are you Mr. Fairfield?" A girl's voice weakly answered, a voice that Dwight thought was familiar.
"That's me," Dwight's father replied, "May I know what leads you to our front door at such a late hour?"
"Is Dwight at home?" the girl asked.
Dwight had now reached the ground floor and headed straight for the door. He gently pushed his chubby father aside to look at the person outside the door.
"Dwight," the red-haired girl whispered exhaustedly as she saw him.
"Meg?"
Before he knew it, he had pulled her into a vigorous hug. It was strange, almost abnormal for Dwight to hug someone other than his mother, least of all an attractive girl like Meg. He had always been far too shy and insecure for that. But now that he saw her safe and alive, he acted almost automatically.
Meg gladly returned the embrace. Dwight could feel her weak breath against his neck and her weight on his shoulders as she leaned against him. They remained in the embrace for several seconds before parting again and Dwight gently pulled Meg into the house. From the entrance, he led her into the living room, past his father, who raised an eyebrow in astonishment. He had never experienced his son like that before. Dwight's mother was heard in the kitchen, asking who had been at the front door.
"A friend of Dwight," her husband replied, leaving it at that. Meanwhile, Dwight had Meg seated at the large living room table while grabbing a cup from one of the shelves. His father was reliable: no evening without tea. And like every day there was a pot filled with steaming hot tea in the middle of the table. Dwight threw a quick glance at Meg as he poured some of the hot drink in her cup and handed it to her. She didn't look good. Dwight would call it a miracle that she had not fallen asleep somewhere on the road. Her face was covered in dirt, her eyes were tearstained and her hands were trembling as she wrapped them around the warm cup. The young woman was visibly exhausted, not only physically, but also mentally.
"Dwight, I ..." Meg started, but broke off mid-sentence when she was shaken by a sudden coughing fit. Dwight quickly reached for her cup to make sure she didn't spill the tea. Their hands touched and he noticed that her fingers were freezing cold.
"I'm so glad you escaped," Dwight said as soon as Meg had calmed down a bit. "Claudette and Nea are out as well. They are fine. Did you hear something from the others?"
Meg shook her head. "No, I ... I didn't hear anything."
"They'll be in touch," Dwight said, speaking with more confidence than he actually felt. Meg took a sip of tea and spoke hesitantly.
"Dwight, I ... I don´t know where to go. I was hoping I could ... "
"Of course, you can sleep here," Dwight replied, "Did you think I´d just throw you out? What do you think of me?"
His play of indignation didn't seem to cheer her up and so he fell silent again.
"We have a comfortable guest room, you'll like it," Dwight said after a brief pause, when Meg had taken a sip of her tea again. "Stay as long as you want. Take a break. Then I'll take you home."
"Dwight ..."
"You and your mother, you live in Waltonfield as well, right?" Dwight asked.
"Yes, but…"
"Did you call her already? If you want to use our phone..."
"Dwight, I can´t be with her anymore," Meg said and Dwight frowned questioningly. Tears formed in the girl's eyes and her voice began to tremble.
"My mother is dead."