A local woman missing- Mary Kubica

The circuit breaker is on the side of the house. Our neighborhood
is old and developed; the yard is full of trees, each of which looks
human to me. Bea and I cling to each other as we walk. Bea looks
left; I look right. From time to time, we both look behind. My neck
stiffens, my sixth sense telling me that Bea and I are being watched,
followed, tracked. Is it paranoia only or is someone there? I can’t tell.
I stop Bea to have a good look, but she tugs on my hand, urging me
on. We have to turn the power on so we can get back inside, out of
this storm.
Halfway to the circuit breaker, I regret not bringing the flashlight,
not for light, but for self-defense. I regret not bringing the umbrella.
We have nothing to protect ourselves with.
Bea and I move quickly, nearly running, but our movements are
lumbering, the wind holding us back. It blows against us so that Bea
and I have to swim upstream, fighting against the wind to get to the
side of the house. We trip over fallen sticks. Our feet sink into mud. It
splashes up my legs, making them cold and dirty and wet.
We round the corner of the house, Bea in the lead now, dragging
me behind. We stay close to the house, using it for wind resistance,
for protection from the elements. The rain comes down sideways,
straight into our eyes, nearly blinding us.
Suddenly from behind, I hear footsteps. Breathing.
Bea and I are not alone.
I spin wildly, just barely making out the whites of a man’s eyes
standing three feet behind me. I scream and something subliminal
kicks in, an animal instinct. I make a fist. I use the weight of my
whole body, driving my fist into the man’s abdomen so that he
doubles over in pain.
It’s only when he cries out that I recognize the voice. It’s Josh.
“Oh God, Josh,” I say, going to him and helping him stand upright.
I’ve knocked the wind out of him and it hurts. He’s bent downward in
the rain, stooped, trying to find his breath. His diaphragm is in
spasm; he can’t breathe. I latch on to him, steadying him, helping
him rise back up to standing. “I’m so sorry. Oh God, Josh, I’m so
sorry. I thought you were...”
But then suddenly I stop. Because I find myself wondering why
Josh is out here in the rain, why Josh is hiding out on the side of our