That evening, Scott reported back to the base. “We’re almost to Crossville, sir,” he said. “We haven’t heard any reports of sightings on any police bands and she can’t possibly be any further than that in this amount of time, so she must have changed directions.
”I’m in favor of staying out here, sir. Marsha will set up searches in the news data networks to watch for sightings of any kind that might be related. She things if we can get a lead, starting from here would be quicker than returning to base and having to backtrack. I agree with her, sir.”
”Do so,” Magnum said. “Good luck and keep me advised. Magnum out.”
It had gotten dark when she came on a divided highway traveling almost due north. As she crossed it, a transfer truck came hurtling around a curve. She sprang into the air as it roared beneath her, weaving, brakes squealing, as the startled driver fought for control. Without a backwards glance, she jumped the chain-link fence bordering the edge of the roadway and vanished into the woods beyond. A few hours later she’d crossed another highway and the Tennessee River yet again and continued trotting in a northwesterly direction.
Late that night she came to the banks of an enormous river. She padded down to the water’s edge and drank thirstily, then shapechanged and stood looking at it wearily. She couldn’t tell how wide it was, only that it was wider than anything else she’d crossed since she left the base so precipitously. This might be the river the Americans call the Mississippi, she thought. If so, it would take me an hour or more to swim it, and I might be too tired to make it across.
I wish I had thought to tell the others. They would have helped me, but I did not think to. And I can not go back now. I would have wasted a day or more. Oh, Tracker!
A surge of panic and despair welled up in her heart. She was trapped! What if she couldn’t reach him in time! She cowered down on the bank, shivering, arms wrapped around her body, fighting back the terror. After a minute, she forced herself to stand. There has to be some way for me to cross, she thought, biting her lip. She glanced at the night sky. Almost dawn, she thought.
To the north she noticed a line of pinpoint lights across the river. A bridge? She shifted back to tiger form and ran along the bank. Non. Just a town on the other side. The river itself had begun to veer eastward, so he turned back south and resumed her trek, knowing she had to cross the river somehow but too tired to care.
As the first glow of dawn spread in the east, the ground began to rise, folding up into low, rounded hills forming bluffs over the river, clothed in forest and dotted with small farms. She ran steadily, winding her way above the banks.
She’d been running without a break since Tracker had been taken from her. She had to rest. Tigresse recalled, through a fog of exhaustion, that roads often had tunnels under them just right for sleeping in. She loped slowly along the shoulder of a road she came upon, watching for an opening. Soon she found one and crept into it.
Once safely inside the drainage culvert, she shapechanged back to human and reached out towards Tracker with her dangersense in fearful anticipation, hand at her mouth. It thrilled its alarm through her mind. Tears of exhaustion, loneliness and terror welled up, tightening her throat and spilling down her cheeks.
”Mon amant, I am coming!” she vowed softly, lifting her hand and clenching it into a fist. “I will find you and free you, or I will wreak a bloody vengeance on those who took you, mon amant!” She curled up on her side in the wind-drifted leaves, hugging her knees, and cried herself to sleep.
Antoinette stirred with a moan. Hunger and a sudden driving, terrified urgency to find Tracker dragged her up from sleep. She sat up. Her stomach was a knot of hunger cramps and she ached in every muscle and joint, but the leaden exhaustion was gone.
With a whimper of pain, she crawled out of the culvert. The sun was high overhead, sometime a little after noon, she thought. She reached out with her dangersense to Tracker. Its alarm was slightly more muted, as if the danger, while still real, was a little less grave.
”Mon Dieu,” she whispered, “please, do not let them hurt Tracker, je t’implore!”. Tears trickled down her cheeks as she crossed herself. Then she shapechanged and Tigresse padded stiffly back to the riverbank. In a few minutes, she had worked out enough of the stiffness to resume her ground-eating lope. Not long afterwards she discovered a tall, spindly-looking bridge crossing the river. Hope renewed, she ran forward to discover her find was a railroad bridge and that, at least for the moment, it was clear. Ten minutes later she leapt off the western end of the bridge just as a train started its eastbound crossing.
She found herself in a maze of railroad tracks curving off north, south and west. Since the trackbed was a little easier going than cutting cross country, she ran with the rails westward, inwardly happy when they initially began to curve the direction she wanted but almost immediately concerned when the roadbed continued curving to almost due north. She cut through a line of trees to discover another set of tracks headed almost exactly the way she wanted to go and picked up speed. A sign she passed, had she turned to look, stated, “Cairo Yard Limits.”
She ran easily, ghosting like a great orange shadow through flat land covered with farms, some now overgrown with brush and young trees. Cows lowed and dogs barked in alarm, but she passed unseen by humans. The tracks she followed faded under the soil shortly after finding them, leaving her trotting on a dirt road running parallel to a lightly-used highway to her right. To her left she could smell water and hear the sounds of river traffic. At one point the road she followed ended at a three-way intersection on the banks of a broad creek. Fortunately, she found the old rail bridge still standing well enough to provide her a path without veering over to the highway. On the other side of the creek she lost the roadbed, but found another graveled road that cut due west and seemed to curve in the direction she wanted. Another hour’s travel, and she found herself on the banks of another river.
Sacré, she thought as she let Tigresse rest. Another river? I must cross! I must find Tracker!
Again she followed the banks of the river, finding herself moving through more forested country as she ran. Miles later she found another railroad bridge and raced across it. She followed the tracks westward, taking the northern, less-used track when it forked, choosing to take the one going northwesterly. A few minutes later the tracks entered a town, passing through the back yards of a row of wood-framed houses. Taking a chance, she swung onto the road crossing the tracks and padded more slowly into town.
She spotted a police car sitting in front of a small diner, engine running. The passenger door was open and the driver was slouched behind the wheel, hat pulled down over his face to keep the bright westering sun out of his eyes. She paused, then turned towards the car.
The car jounced on its springs and he sat up, pushing back his hat. “Ready to go?” he asked, turning towards her. He froze. “Oh, shit!” he muttered, staring in paralyzed disbelief at the great, fanged head only inches from his own. She shifted back to her human form and pushed her hair away from her face as she knelt naked on the car seat.
”I am Antoinette Duval, with the Defenders,” she said, her hands punctuating her words with urgent haste. “Please contact FORCE and have them tell the Defenders that Tracker is in trouble and that I am following him. Tell them where this place is. Please!” Then she backed out of the car, changed back into the tiger, and ran off still heading just north of west.
”Wait!” he shouted, throwing open the door, but she kept going.
Tigresse raced through the town. She made no effort to hide herself, but she was careful not to get into congested areas that would slow her down. The town was small and in only a matter of minutes she was out into the farmlands again.
She ran far into the night, finding herself in deep forest and relatively unpopulated land. The cool darkness brought with it a small surge of new energy. Tigresse lengthened her stride, running with dogged determination. Her human mentality, always greatly restricted in tiger form, cowered in the back of her mind, numb with fatigue, loneliness, and terror. Tracker! She took refuge in memories of the times he had held her, warm and safe in his arms. Almost, she could feel it still and she let the memories of his love enfold her, soothing her fear.
Somewhere around midnight, Tigresse paused on a small wooded ridge. On the breeze she could scent cow and hunger twisted her stomach savagely. Without hesitation, Tigresse angled towards the source of the smell. In a few minutes, she came to a pasture and saw several cattle bedded down under a tree.
Breaking cover, she charged with the best speed she could muster, and sprang. She hit the nearest one, bowling it over as she landed on its back. Sinking her teeth into its neck just below its skull, she broke its spine as the others scattered in panic. She tore ravenously at the hot meat, gorging herself. After a while, she sat back, licking blood from her muzzle. Waves of fatigue washed over her. She dragged herself to a small thicket of trees not far from her kill. Crawling in under cover, she fell asleep.
It was still dark when Antoinette woke. She sat up, hugging her knees, and focused her dangersense on Tracker. Still in danger, but no longer immediate. “Protect him, mon Dieu. Keep him safe for me,” she prayed. She stood stiffly and walked wearily towards the dead cow. The night breeze was cold on her bare skin. Having nothing else with which to leave a message, she used the cow’s own blood to print her name onto what remained of its hide, hoping someone would see it and summon help.
