Part 2
Caleb Price saw the pig in his headlights at forty-five miles an hour.
He slammed both feet toward the floor, one on the brake and one uselessly striking the clutch as his old Ford pickup fishtailed across wet leaves. Nora Bennett threw an arm against the dashboard. The truck slid onto the shoulder and stopped with its right tires sunk in mud.
The pig stood in the middle of the road.
Caleb leaned over the steering wheel, breathing hard. “What is wrong with that thing?”
Mabel stared into the headlights, sides heaving. Then she turned and ran toward the open gate of the farmhouse.
“Probably got loose,” Caleb said. “I nearly killed us because somebody can’t fix a fence.”
He shifted into first gear, but Nora caught his sleeve.
“Wait.”
Mabel had reached the driveway. Instead of disappearing into the dark, she stopped beneath the gatepost, looked back at the truck, and squealed.
Caleb tapped the horn. The pig ran into the yard.
“See?”
A moment later, she returned.
This time she came close enough that Caleb could see mud along her flank and something dark caught between the bristles around her mouth. She looked toward the farmhouse, then at Nora.
Nora opened her door.
“What are you doing?” Caleb asked.
“She’s not trying to escape.”
“She’s a pig. How do you know what she’s trying to do?”
“I don’t.”
Mabel ran toward the gate again, stopped, and turned.
Nora stepped onto the road. “But she keeps checking whether we’re following.”
Caleb muttered something under his breath, switched on the hazard lights, and climbed out. They had been driving home from dinner in Ash Creek, arguing pleasantly about whether Nora’s community-college anatomy class was harder than Caleb’s electrical apprenticeship. Neither had brought a coat thick enough for standing on a rural road after dark.
The pig waited at the entrance until Nora crossed the ditch. Then she trotted into the yard.
“Stay behind me,” Caleb said.
Nora looked at him. “In case she’s armed?”
“In case she bites.”
“She could’ve stayed in the road and let us hit her.”
“That does not make her friendly.”
Mabel led them past the barn and toward the side of the house. Halfway across the yard, Nora saw the scattered firewood.
Then she saw a hand between two logs.
“Oh, God.”
Helen lay on the wet ground with one arm beneath her and her face turned toward the house. Mabel stood over her, pushing at the shoulder of her coat.
Nora dropped to her knees. “Ma’am? Can you hear me?”
Helen’s eyelids did not move.
Caleb pulled out his phone and called 911 while Nora leaned close enough to feel faint breath against her cheek. She had completed a basic patient-care course but had never used it anywhere except a bright classroom with a plastic mannequin.
“She’s breathing,” Nora said. “Tell them she’s breathing.”
Caleb repeated it to the dispatcher. He gave the address from the numbers painted on the mailbox, then put the call on speaker.
The dispatcher’s voice remained calm. She instructed Nora not to move Helen unless her breathing stopped, to loosen the scarf at her neck, and to keep her warm.
Caleb ran back to the truck and returned with a plaid stadium blanket. Mabel followed him halfway, then hurried back to Helen as though afraid the humans might leave.
Nora spread the blanket over Helen. “The ambulance is coming. You’re not alone.”
Helen’s eyes opened briefly.
They were unfocused at first, fixed somewhere beyond Nora’s shoulder. Then they shifted toward Mabel.
“Frank,” Helen breathed.
“We’ll find him,” Nora said. “Help is on the way.”
Helen tried to say something else, but her face tightened in pain.
Mabel lowered herself beside Helen’s legs, pressing the length of her warm body against the blanket. Nora placed one hand near Helen’s wrist without squeezing it. Her pulse felt fast and uneven.
Sirens rose in the distance.
The sound made Mabel stand. She ran toward the driveway, squealing as red light began to flash across the barn roof. The ambulance turned through the open gate, followed by a volunteer fire truck and a county sheriff’s cruiser.
Two paramedics hurried across the yard with equipment. Nora backed away only when one of them touched her shoulder.
“You did fine,” he said. “Let us take over.”
They placed adhesive pads on Helen’s chest, started an IV, and fitted an oxygen mask over her face. The older paramedic studied the screen of a portable heart monitor.
His expression changed.
“What?” Nora asked.
“We’re taking her straight to North Valley Regional. She’s having a heart attack.”
Mabel moved toward the stretcher when they lifted Helen. Caleb caught the pig gently behind the shoulders, but she strained against him, calling in short, frightened bursts.
“She belongs to the patient,” Nora told the deputy. “She brought us here.”
The deputy looked at her. “The pig?”
“She stood in the road until we followed.”
The paramedics rolled Helen toward the ambulance. Mabel followed all the way to the driveway, stopping only when the wheels crossed the road.
The rear doors closed.
For several seconds after the ambulance pulled away, Mabel stood beneath the gate light and watched the red flashes vanish between the trees.
At 6:17 p.m., the office phone rang inside Merritt Lumber. Frank had just poured coffee from his thermos when the mill foreman appeared in the break-room doorway. “Frank,” Jim said, his face drained of color. “It’s Helen”…
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