"It will get better, Brian. Trust me. You just have to be patient."
Michelle glanced at the note in her hand and found an apology. Shelly apologized for skipping town but did not say where she had gone. She said only that she would return by Sunday night and that she wanted a rain check for the girls' day out. Michelle looked back at Brian.
"Did Shelly say where she went?"
"No. But I think she tried to catch up with her parents."
"What do you mean catch up?"
"I mean they left before she did. They left Friday morning."
"Friday morning? For where?"
"They went to their cabin. The police called Mr. Preston the other night and told him that someone had broken into their place over the winter. I guess they busted all the windows and kicked in the door. They took all their camping stuff too. So Mr. and Mrs. Preston just left."
A sickening feeling swept over Michelle.
"Brian, listen carefully. Are you telling me that the Prestons went to their summer cabin? The one in Washington?"
"Yeah. That's the one."
CHAPTER 52: MICHELLE
Saturday, May 17, 1980
Michelle had never lamented the absence of cell phones more. In the world of 2010, she could have solved her problem with a text message from the Prestons' driveway. In the world of 1980, she had to race to her landline phone at home and somehow try to contact a family that had probably already reached its destination, a destination that was about to become the most dangerous place on Earth.
"I have to get a message to a family. It's urgent," Michelle said into her phone.
"None of our deputies is available at the moment," a dispatcher responded.
"I know you're busy. I just want someone to check on a property on Coldwater Creek and deliver a message to the owners. I have to reach them today."
"We'll do what we can, ma'am. How can I help?"
"Please send a car to the Preston cabin. It's four miles north of the Spirit Lake Highway on Forest Road 41. Have the Prestons call one of these numbers as soon as they can."
Michelle gave the dispatcher the home phone numbers of April Burke and Brian Johnson. She had already instructed April and Brian to tell the Prestons to meet her at a motel in Castle Rock and to let them know that she would explain everything when she arrived. Michelle hadn't given a second thought to staying home. She knew that the odds of reaching the Prestons were slim and was prepared to warn them in person if necessary.
Michelle also left a message for Robert, one that explained where she had gone and why. She felt uncomfortable telling him that Mount St. Helens was about to blow its top until she realized that she had a chance to solve two problems with one letter. He would read the note on Saturday night and know that she had predicted the eruption hours in advance. She would use the letter to win over his skeptical mind when she finally came clean about her time-traveling past.
Twenty minutes later Michelle Land shifted into high gear ten miles west of Unionville on Interstate 80. As she raced westward toward Portland, she tried to answer some questions. Why had she not seen this coming? Her parents had never gone to Coldwater Creek during a school year, even the year the cabin had been vandalized. What had changed?
She needed less than a minute to find the answers. The Prestons had not checked on their cabin because they had participated in a May 17 fundraiser. Fred Preston and dozens of other Unionville professionals and merchants had donated labor and merchandise to raise funds for a music scholarship that would be given in memory of April Burke. By saving April's life in her second run through 1980, Michelle had made it possible for the Prestons to leave town on a weekend they were supposed to stay home. She had inadvertently put them in harm's way.
Michelle thought again about how she had changed the lives of others over the past year and wondered whether it had been worth the cost. She realized now that even good deeds could have negative consequences. Then she thought about her unusual meeting with Alice Franklin. Alice had told Michelle to be conscientious and prudent when applying her knowledge of the future to the people and problems of the present. But she had also urged her to be bold.
Whatever you do, don't hold back.
Michelle wasn't quite sure what she would do when she got to Washington, but she was sure of one thing. When she reached the cabin, she wouldn't hold back.
CHAPTER 53: MICHELLE
Castle Rock, Washington – Saturday, May 17, 1980
"Let me get this straight. A deputy went to the cabin and checked it out, but all he found was an orange Volkswagen with Oregon plates?"
Michelle cupped her hand around the receiver of the pay phone. The noise outside of the convenience store just off Interstate 5 made it hard to hear the desk officer.
"That's what I said, ma'am," the officer said. "He found one car but no people. He was there about an hour ago."
"Did he walk around the property? Did he leave a note on the door? Did he see any evidence that they were still in the vicinity?"
"I don't know, ma'am. That's all the information I have."
"OK," Michelle said, exasperated. She sighed. "Thank you for trying."
Michelle's stomach sank as she hung up the phone. Where were the Prestons? Where was their other car? She quickly called April and Brian but learned that they had nothing new to report. They had not heard from anyone. Both wanted to know what was going on. Michelle provided no clues. She said only that all of their questions would be answered when she got back. She knew now that she had to come clean not only with Robert but also with others.
The time traveler stepped away from the phone and glanced at two 1950s-era motels on the other side of the street, the Toutle Inn and the Lucky Duck. She had checked into the former minutes earlier and had asked the clerk if she had seen or heard from any of the Prestons. She had not. It was clear now that Shelly and her parents had not seen the deputy's note, if there was a note, and would not be joining her at the motel. She would have to go to the cabin herself.
Michelle stepped inside the store and filled a large paper cup with coffee. If nothing else, she would need to stay alert. The sun was dropping and she might be in for a long night.
When she approached the counter and prepared to pay for her beverage, a toddler, dressed in bib overalls, scampered around a stand of potato chips and smacked directly into Michelle's shin. He fell on his bottom but did not cry. He instead got up, looked at the two-legged obstacle, and smiled. Black licorice covered much of his face.
"I like candy!" he said.
Michelle looked at him and laughed. He was just the comic relief she needed for a day that had become more stressful with each passing hour.
"Yes, you do," she said.
"Joel, come back here!"
Michelle looked up and saw an attractive brunette, who didn't look a day over thirty, walk briskly up an aisle. She wore the face of a loving but harried mother who had done this before, the kind of mother Michelle Land wanted to be.
"I'm sorry. He can't stay put for a minute."
"Oh, that's all right. He's adorable."
The woman put her hands on her hips and called her son.
"Joel, we have to go now. You leave this nice lady alone."
The boy looked at his mother and shook his head.
"Joel Francis Smith, you come here now."
The toddler gave his mother a scornful glance.
"No."
He rushed toward Michelle and wrapped his arms around his favorite shin.
The harried mother sighed and looked at Michelle with a red face.
"I'm sorry for the intrusion. He does this a lot. He seems to like pretty ladies."
"I don't mind the attention," Michelle said with a laugh. "I don't have children of my own, so I don't get this very often. Do you mind if I hand him to you?"
Please say yes.
"Be my guest. I'd probably need the Jaws of Life to pry him from your leg."
Michelle smiled, put her coffee back
on the counter, and stepped to the side so that other customers could pay for their merchandise. She then reached down with both arms and gently picked up the boy. He smiled broadly and waved a half-eaten rope of licorice in her face. He was a vivid reminder of what she had missed in life.
"You are a delightful young man, but I think you belong to your mother."
Michelle handed the boy back to the woman. Two other children, a girl and a boy who appeared to be about six and four, respectively, stood nearby and smiled.
"Thank you," the woman said. She held the boy with one arm and offered her free hand. "I'm Cindy Smith."
"Michelle Land."
"I noticed the logo on your jacket. Are you a teacher in Unionville?"
"Oh, no, I'm the attendance secretary at the high school. My husband is the baseball coach. Why do you ask?"
"My brother teaches social studies at the junior high. His name is Rick Jorgenson. Perhaps you know him."
"I've heard of him. Robert teaches math at UHS and he's mentioned Rick. I've lived there only a short while and don't know a lot of people at the other schools. Are you from Unionville?"
"Oh, no. We live in Seattle. We're just returning from a day in Portland. All of that tax-free shopping is hard to pass up. My husband is in the Navy, so I take the kids on weekend trips as often as I can to keep them occupied. They're a handful."
Cindy repositioned the still-smiling toddler in her arms.
"How about you? Are you just passing through?"
"I'm here to see relatives," Michelle said. "They're staying in a cabin up the road."
"You're not driving toward the mountain, are you?"
"I am. In fact, I'm headed there now."
"You're braver than I am. This is as close as I'll get. My neighbor is a seismologist with the USGS and says St. Helens could blow at any time."
He has no idea.
"That's why I'm here. I'm going to try to persuade them to relocate."
"Well, don't let me keep you. It was nice meeting you."
"You too."
Michelle stepped out of the store into the cool spring air. She glanced at the cloudy eastern sky and then at a clock at a nearby bank, where two black hands formed a perfect vertical line. She had two and a half hours before sunset, the onset of civil twilight, and a time when finding the Prestons would become difficult, if not impossible.
Michelle got into the Jeep, pulled out of the lot, and started down Highway 504 toward a cabin her grandfather had built. She had plenty of time to get to her destination and bring the others back to Castle Rock before nightfall. She didn't worry about what she would say or what she would do if they resisted. She would get it done. Failure was not an option.
CHAPTER 54: MICHELLE
Spirit Lake Highway, Washington – Saturday, May 17, 1980
She clicked off forty-five of the fifty miles before she ran into trouble in the form of two artificial barriers in the middle of the highway and one very real Washington state trooper on the side of it. Michelle dropped her head to the steering wheel and rolled down her window.
"Evening, ma'am," the young patrolman said as he reached the Jeep. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to turn around."
"I just have to check my cabin. It's only a few more miles."
"I can't allow it. The road is closed by order of the governor."
"Please. It's very important. I need to reach some people who may be there."
"I'm sorry, but you'll have to come back tomorrow. We'll allow property owners to check their places at ten. That's the best I can do."
"It will be too late. Can you at least send a car to the cabin?"
"I'd like to help, ma'am, but it will have to wait."
Michelle sighed. She had not expected this. The Preston cabin stood more than two miles beyond a red zone that restricted access to the volcano and the lake. There was no logical reason why she should not be allowed to pass. But she was not about to drive through a roadblock and saw no point in debating the matter further. She would not be able to help anyone from a jail cell.
"I understand. I'll be back in the morning."
Michelle backed the Jeep onto the shoulder and then pulled forward to complete a U-turn. She drove around a bend and headed west toward Castle Rock but had no intention of returning to town empty-handed. A half-mile down the highway, beyond the view of the patrolman, she turned north onto a logging road that paralleled Forest Road 41 and switched to four-wheel drive. She would not be denied by red tape.
Ten minutes later she cut across a clearing that led to FR 41. She found the stump-covered meadow much as she had remembered it. She had ridden horses here as a teenager and had hiked often with her parents and siblings. A small pond with big trout occupied a spot just beyond the tree line. Though she could not have taken the same shortcut in her BMW, she had no difficulty crossing the clearing in Robert's Jeep. When she reached FR 41, she turned north, shifted back into two-wheel drive, and drove the remaining distance to the cabin.
She arrived at eight, just as the sun dipped below a ridge to the west, and parked next to an orange Beetle in front of the structure. She got out of the Jeep and gave the lot a quick inspection. The property appeared unoccupied, which raised some questions. If the Prestons were not at their cabin, where were they? Why had Shelly left her car behind? Surely they were not out on a family hike or visiting neighbors. Not at this hour.
Michelle walked to the sturdy, undamaged front door and found a pleasant surprise: a note from the sheriff's office. It contained all of the information she had given the dispatcher. Score one for law enforcement. But the presence of the note only raised new questions. Had the Prestons seen it? If so, why hadn't they taken it? If they hadn't seen it, where had they been all day? Where were they now?
She tried to open the door and found it locked. She knocked twice but got no answer. Unless someone was sleeping very soundly, there was no one inside. Frustrated, confused, and tired from a long day of travel, Michelle walked around the cabin and looked for anything that might bring enlightenment. She saw a badly damaged side door, several broken windows, and graffiti that covered the back, the side that faced the creek. Vandals had indeed violated the cabin during the off-season, but their handiwork offered no useful information.
Michelle tried again to reconcile the empty cabin with Shelly's car. Had the Prestons gone elsewhere for the evening? If so, did they plan to return? Michelle thought of her father. He had grown up in this area and knew dozens of property owners between Castle Rock and Spirit Lake. She would not at all have been surprised to learn that he and the others were at another residence playing poker well into the night. She swore loudly as she again lamented the absence of cell phones or even any phones.
Deciding that she could do no more, Michelle wrote another note and attached it to the door. She informed the Prestons that their house in Unionville had burned to the ground and urged them to contact the police as soon as possible. It was a lie as big as Moby Dick, but it was one that might save their lives. If they returned to the cabin later that night, they would undoubtedly see both notes and act on them. It was all she could do. The rest was in God's hands.
Michelle returned to the Jeep and pondered her options from the front seat. She thought about taking FR 41 all the way to the highway but quickly dismissed the idea. The time she might save was not worth another encounter with the patrolman. He might not arrest her for circumventing the roadblock, but he would almost certainly ask a lot of questions and take up a lot of her time. She could do without that.
So she flipped on her lights and drove the quarter mile to the clearing. The dusk that had followed her to the cabin had now become night. No lights could be seen on the road or in the hills. If any of the property owners on FR 41 had visited their residences, they were long gone. This stretch of road was as empty and dark as the cabin she had left.
Michelle crossed the clearing easily and turned south onto the logging road. In four more miles, she would rejoi
n the highway, drive another hour to Castle Rock, and resume her search from the motel. Feeling increasingly confident that the Prestons were somewhere safe, she allowed herself to relax for the first time all day. She pushed the Jeep to forty miles per hour and headed down a dirt road that was remarkably smooth for the time of year.
She slowed to round a sharp corner and resumed her speed before noticing that her empty coffee cup had popped out of its holder and landed by her feet, near the accelerator. She looked down just long enough to find the cup and remove it from its problematic position.
The action proved costly. When Michelle returned her attention to the road she saw a fawn in her path. She snapped the steering wheel to the right and went off the road into a large tree. She heard the engine die and a stuck horn blare before her world went black.
CHAPTER 55: MICHELLE
Sunday, May 18, 1980
Michelle awoke to the light of the day and the sound of chirping birds. The obnoxious horn had apparently given up the ghost sometime during the night. She put a hand to her forehead and felt dried blood and matted hair as a pounding headache began to take hold. She felt stiff and sore from head to toe but, as best she could tell, she had no broken bones.
She unbuckled her seat belt and slowly extricated herself from the Jeep. The front of the vehicle flowed almost uniformly around the trunk of the tree. Two tires, one in front and one in back, were completely flat. The Jeep was a lost cause.
Michelle walked slowly to the road and looked to the east. The sun had already cleared the horizon by fifteen, maybe twenty degrees. Even without a watch she knew it was well past seven o'clock and probably close to eight. She had less than an hour to get out of harm's way.
As she put her hands to her head and tried to quell her headache, the girl who never liked math did some grim calculations. She was at least three miles from the highway. Even walking at a brisk clip, she would need thirty to forty-five minutes to reach the pavement and any trappings of civilization. She did not have that kind of time.
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