Page 55 of The Chain

Another morning. That feeling in her stomach, those butterflies of terror, of gut-churning horror. You’ve never experienced fear until something or someone puts your child in danger. Dying is not the worst thing that can happen to you. The worst thing that can happen to you is for something to happen to your kid. Having a child instantly turns you into a grown-up. Absurdity is the ontological mismatch between the desire for meaning and the inability to find meaning in this world. Absurdity is a luxury parents of missing children can’t afford.

She sits at the living-room table. Eli the cat meows next to her. He hasn’t been fed in almost two days.

She fills his bowl, drinks a mug of cold coffee, and steps out onto the deck. Then she puts on a coat and walks along the basin trail to the Appenzellers’ house.

The sun comes up over the Atlantic and the big houses on the eastern side of the island. Her iPhone rings.Unknown Caller.Her stomach lurches. What now? “Hello?”

“I need you! Get over here!” Pete yells.

“I’m two minutes away.”

“Run! I need help.”

She sprints along the basin trail and onto Northern Boulevard. Heart pounding, she runs down the path onto the beach and up the back steps of the Appenzellers’.

Worryingly, the door is open.

She goes inside.

On the kitchen table there’s Pete’s .45 and a bag of what looks like drugs. What the hell? Is Pete a user? Her mind races.

Can he be trusted? Jesus, is he part of all this?

Rachel thinks she knows Pete, but can you ever really know anybody? He’s crazy about Kylie but there were those arrests a while back, and what has he been doing all these years since getting out of the Corps?

She shakes her head. No, it’s Pete, for heaven’s sake. This is the paranoia talking. The Chain has nothing to do with Tammy and it has nothing to do with Pete.

But drugs? This is serious. She’ll have to—

“Rachel! Down here! Put your mask on.”

She puts on her ski mask and runs down the basement stairs.

Pete is holding Amelia, who is wrapped in a towel, writhing and shaking. Cereal is spilled all over the floor.

“What happened?”

“Gave her the Rice Krispies. I thought it would be fine! I didn’t see the small print. It says that it might contain trace nuts.”

“My God!”

“The EpiPen won’t be here until later this morning,” Pete says in a complete panic.

Amelia’s lips have swollen and she’s deathly white. There are specks of foam at the corners of her mouth and her breaths are shallow and raspy.

Rachel puts the back of her hand on Amelia’s forehead.

Fever.

She lifts Amelia’s shirt.

Hives.

Rachel opens Amelia’s mouth and looks inside. No obstruction. Her tongue isn’t swollen. Yet.

“Are you having trouble breathing, Amelia?” Rachel asks. “Can you breathe? Answer me.”

Amelia nods.