Page 52 of The Woods

It takes Quinn’s brain a few seconds to compute what his mother is saying. She’s covered in dirt, it’s all over her clothing and smeared on her face, and her hair is a wild mess sprouting from an elastic at the back. Quinn finally understands what she’s screaming.

“Call 911!”

Quinn steps into her path and puts his hands out to stop her. He grabs her by both arms, swinging her around. “Mom,” he says. “What’s the matter?”

She struggles in his grasp, but not enough to free herself. Tears stream down her face and her eyes are wild with fear. He’s never seen her like this before, and it makes him feel like he’s going to puke.

“A phone,” she yells at full volume, even though he’s standing right in front of her. “Give me your phone. I need to call 911. Your dad, Nana. They’re in the woods. They’re—” A sob prevents her from saying any more and she starts swatting at the pockets of his jeans in search of his phone. When she doesn’t find it on him, she yanks free from his grip and runs inside.

Quinn follows, his high vaporized by the intensity of his mother’s terror. He’s right behind her as they go through the back door, and she stops so suddenly he almost knocks into her. Her crazed panic has, as far as he can tell, quickly turned to frozen shock as she stands there staring at his dad and his nana.

“How?” she says before moving to his dad to put her hands on his face, then run them down his chest, as though testing his solidity.

“My goodness, Alice,” his nana says. “What happened to you?”

His mom turns her attention to his nana and puts her hands on her shoulders and gives her a gentle shake. “How can it be?” she says. “You were in the woods. I saw you.” She takes her hands away, leaving smears of dirt on the light pink fabric of his nana’s shirt. “You were in the woods.”

“I was on a run in the neighborhood,” his dad explains. “Just got back. I wasn’t in the woods.”

“And I was in the garage going through some boxes,” his nana says.

His mom shakes her head hard. “No. I saw you both.”

His dad puts a hand on his mom’s back and guides her toward a chair at the dining table. “Come sit down. You look like you’re in shock.”

His nana steps close to Quinn and asks, “What’s going on?”

He shrugs. “I have no idea. She came running out of the woods yelling, ‘Call 911.’ ”

“You didn’t go into the woods too?” she asks, searching his face as though he might have gone off the deep end just like his mother.

“No. I was letting Panda out.”

His nana pats him on the arm. “Okay. Then why don’t you get your poor mom a glass of water?” She turns before he can answer and moves over to his mom and dad.

Quinn does what he’s told.

“Thank you, sweetie,” his mom says, taking the glass of water from Quinn, her hand shaking so badly she can hardly hold it. While she gulps it down, he notices his dad and nana exchange a look, one that seems worried and knowing at the same time. Do they think his mom has finally lost her mind?

His mom explains how she fell down a ravine and dropped her phone. She carries on with her story, pausing now and again to stare at his dad and nana, reaching out to touch an arm or a hand, as though still testing that they’re real. He understands why when she gets to the part about the bodies. The part she can barely get through, she’s crying so hard. She must be really traumatized, Quinn thinks, for her to be sharing something that graphic with him in the room. She usually makes him leave when they’re discussing adult topics, like he’s still eight years old or something.

“Shh, shh,” his dad says, stroking her cheek when she’s finally finished explaining how she crawled out of the ravine and ran the whole way home, thinking they were dead. “We’re right here. We’re fine.”

She shakes her head. “But how? I know what I saw. I felt it, your skin.” She looks at his nana. “Your hair. It was real.”

“Babe,” her dad says, and Quinn tries not to cringe. When did his dad start calling her that? “You had a serious fall. You could have hit your head on the way down.”

His nana starts examining his mom’s head at the suggestion and Quinn is surprised she lets her. Then again, she doesn’t look like she has the strength to fight off anything, even his nana.

“I do feel some bumps,” his nana says after a thorough examination of his mom’s skull.

“Or maybe Polly’s magic-mushrooms theory isn’t so stupid after all,” Quinn interjects, and they all look at him like they forgot he was there. “Maybe you fell into a patch and you hallucinated.” They stare back at him. “What? That was Polly’s explanation after Dad went missing in the woods and didn’t remember any of it.”

His dad gives a sideways nod. “It’s a bit far-fetched, buddy, but something to consider.” He follows it up with a placating smile, which Quinn hates, then turns back to his mom. “I think we need to get you cleaned up. Then get some ice on that head. You need to take it easy for the rest of the day, and you’ll be fine. Whatever happened in there sounds horrible, but let’s just focus on what’s real. I’m okay. Your mom is okay.” His dad pats his mom’s leg. “I’m going to go run you a hot bath.”

His mom nods, looking too tired and drained to say anything.

“I have some ice packs from when I hurt my knee,” his nana says. “I’ll go to my place and get them for your head, dear.”