Dead to the World

Stackhouse never have to do more than crook his little finger at a girl for her to come running, much less take one hostage and do weird stuff to her, but if you’re saying Sookie let this Cooper girl free when Jason didn’t come home, and then tried to run over her, well, all I got to say is, you can go straight to hell!”
    God bless Catfish Hennessy is all I had to say.
    Alcee and Andy left soon after, and Catfish and I had a disjointed talk consisting mostly of him cursing the lawmen. When he ran down, he glanced at his watch.
    “Come on, Sookie. You and me got to get to Jason’s.”
    “Why?” I was willing but bewildered.
    “We got us a search party together, and I know you’ll want to be there.”
    I stared at him with my mouth open, while Catfish fumed about Alcee and Andy’s allegations. I tried real hard to think of some way to cancel a search party. I hated to think of those men and women putting on all their winter gear to plow through the underbrush, now bare and brown, that made the woods so difficult to navigate. But there was no way to stop them, when they meant so well; and there was every reason to join them.
    There was the remote chance that Jason was out there in the woods somewhere. Catfish told me he’d gotten together as many men as he could, and Kevin Pryor had agreed to be the coordinator, though off-duty. Maxine Fortenberry and her churchwomen were bringing out coffee and doughnuts from the Bon Temps Bakery. I began crying, because this was just overwhelming, and Catfish turned even redder. Weeping women were way high on Catfish’s long list of things that made him uncomfortable.
    I eased his situation by telling him I had to get ready. I threw the bed together, washed my face clean of tears, and yanked my hair back into a ponytail. I found a pair of ear-muffs that I used maybe once a year, and pulled on my old coat and stuck my yard work gloves in my pocket, along with a wad of Kleenex in case I got weepy again.
    The search party was the popular activity for the day in Bon Temps. Not only do people like to help in our small town—but also rumors had inevitably begun circulating about the mysterious wild animal footprint. As far as I could tell, the word “panther” was not yet currency; if it had been, the crowd would have been even larger. Most of the men had come armed—well, actually, most of the men were always armed. Hunting is a way of life around here, the NRA provides most of the bumper stickers, and deer season is like a holy holiday. There are special times for hunting deer with a bow and arrow, with a muzzleloader, or with a rifle. (There may be a spear season, for all I know.) There must have been fifty people at Jason’s house, quite a party on a workday for such a small community.
    Sam was there, and I was so glad to see him I almost began crying again. Sam was the best boss I’d ever had, and a friend, and he always came when I was in trouble. His red-gold hair was covered with a bright orange knit cap, and he wore bright orange gloves, too. His heavy brown jacket looked somber in contrast, and like all of the men, he was wearing work boots. You didn’t go out in the woods, even in winter, with ankles unprotected. Snakes were slow and sluggish, but they were there, and they’d retaliate if you stepped on them.
    Somehow the presence of all these people made Jason’s disappearance seem that much more terrifying. If all these people believed Jason might be out in the woods, dead or badly wounded, he might be. Despite every sensible thing I could tell myself, I grew more and more afraid. I had a few minutes of blanking out on the scene entirely while I imagined all the things that could have happened to Jason, for maybe the hundredth go-round.
    Sam was standing beside me, when I could hear and see again. He’d pulled off a glove, and his hand found mine and clasped it. His felt warm and hard, and I was glad to be holding on to him. Sam, though a shifter, knew how to aim his thoughts at me, though he couldn’t “hear” mine in return. Do you really believe he’s out there? he asked me.
    I shook my head. Our eyes met and held.
    Do you think he’s still alive?
    That was a lot harder. Finally, I just shrugged. He kept hold of my hand, and I was glad of it.
    Arlene and Tack scrambled out of Arlene’s car and came toward us. Arlene’s hair was as bright red as ever, but quite a bit more snarled than she usually wore it, and the short-order cook needed to