Cry Of The Wild

A midnight-black wind swirled around Crysta Meyers, drawing her toward a point of light that grew steadily larger. When she reached it, she found herself walking along a brightly lit corridor. Alarmed without knowing why, she examined the walls and saw that they were actually tall stacks of sturdy packing boxes, each about two feet long and over a foot deep. A storage building of some kind? Dust particles stung her nostrils. Fluorescent light fixtures, blue-white and eerie, hung from lofty steel ceiling beams. Her boots echoed on the concrete floor as she moved along the narrow aisle. She paused to make a quick inventory of the boxes and came up with over a hundred. What was inside them? And why this sense of urgency? She took another step, then glanced down at herself. The top three buttons of her blue chambray shirt were unfastened, the neckline gaping. Each time she moved, corded muscle flexed in her thighs beneath the faded denim of her jeans. She wore a wide leather belt with a large silver-dollar buckle. She studied the buckle a moment and then realized it was her twin brother Derrick's, personalized with his initials. She had had it made for him five years ago as a twenty-fifth-birthday gift. Crysta turned a corner and found herself in still another aisle. Something sticky swept across her face. A cobweb. She sputtered and wiped her lips. Ahead of her, she saw a row of wooden crates. Diablo Building Supplies, Inc. was printed in black on the side of each. She wanted to hurry forward to see what was inside them, but her body froze midstride. She could hear her heart slamming, feel sweat popping out on her forehead. Fear. Was someone coming? Yes, she heard them now, men talking, somewhere off to the left. She shrank back and immediately wondered what had prompted her to hide. Who were the men? And why did they frighten her so? Crysta heard the men drawing closer. The more distinct their voices became, the more frightened she felt. A shadow shifted in the aisle up ahead. Crysta stared, then whirled and ran. Up one aisle, down another, left, then right, like a terrified mouse in a maze. The jogging loosened her belt. She heard a clatter. She whirled and spied Derrick's buckle lying on the floor several feet behind her. The silver dollar had been jarred loose and was rolling to disappear beneath a wooden pallet. She shouldn't leave it behind, not with Derrick's initials on it. Before she could go back for it, though, the shadow ahead took on the distinct outline of a man.Anderson, Catherine is the author of 'Cry Of The Wild', published 2006 under ISBN 9780373470884 and ISBN 0373470886.