1

1.

"Come on, girls," she said, "it's time to walk."

Groans were heard from every corner of the house. It was early morning in the middle of summer, and the four angels needed sleep. No school, no reason to get their lazy bottoms going.

"Let's go, while it's still cool enough out," she said, as she pushed bedroom and bathroom doors open as she walked down the corridor.

The littlest lamb asked, "Do we ALL have to go?"

"Today? Yes," mom said.

Ten years ago, Emma was blessed with her fourth beautiful daughter, and the others ranged up to seventeen years old. Dad was convinced that if they tried ONE MORE TIME he'd get that son, but God clearly has a sense of humor.

"Come ON, ladies…it's going to get hot soon, once that sun comes out."

Emma went back downstairs, realizing that she had done her job convincing the girls that they wouldn't get out of it. She heard the shuffling of footsteps in each room, and if she listened closely enough, she could hear the grumbling and protests while they were getting ready.

She filled the water bottles from the cool spring water dispenser, and slowly the first sign of the troops made their way down, glaring with evil but sleepy eyes at their darling mother.

"You'll thank me someday," she said behind a smile.

"Just not today," the oldest, Lori protested. "I've got college stuff to go over…"

"Really?" Emma said somewhat sarcastically, "You're telling me that over the next hour, you would be elbow-deep in financial aid paperwork?"

Lori looked defeated. She didn't deny being a procrastinator, and she usually loved defending her arguments so much that extended family have said numerous times that she should become a lawyer. Though, this time, she was frankly too tired to argue.

"EXACTLY," Emma finished.

She saw the rest of the smug faces of Millie, Megan and Beth, saying the same thing as Lori without saying a word. They clearly could find something better to do over the next hour.

Emma was very proud of her girls. They were all healthy and very active in their own activities, year round. The schedule was always full with picking up girls from dance rehearsals to soccer fields to chorus practice to basketball courts, depending on the time of year. None of them were too far out of shape as a result. The girls missed this angle, though, with their mom, because if they stressed to mom how they were 'exercised out' from sports and so very tired, they may have struck a chord of guilt and she may have softened her position on the walk.

They were all committed, and by the time they left the house, there was no more protest.

The three older girls pressed ear buds from mp3 players into their ears in unison, as this was the clearly the way that they were going to get through this. The littlest one was content to just chat with mom as they walked. Chat, and chat, and chat…and Beth made no excuses; she openly admitted that when she talks about stuff during the long walk, she forgets that she's even doing it because it keeps her mind busy, and the walk is over before she realizes it.

Emma didn't mind at all, because Beth's imagination was so vivid. She would tell stories about her friends from school, or her favorite "music band of the day", or sometimes she would ask a lot of questions to her mom, sparking an in-depth dialogue that surprised Emma each time it happened. She would ask deep, serious questions about war, politics or love, and Emma enjoyed Beth's curiosity and passion for learning new things.

This particular day, though, Beth started light-hearted, talking about a neighborhood mutt that came into their yard recently and she describes how "you could see the fleas jumping right off of him." Emma's first thought was "great…that's all I need. An infestation in the house with my own dog and cats…"

And she followed that train of thought right up to her response.

"Did you shoo him away?"

"Of course, I did. He was GROSS."

The conversation got quiet as they got to the difficult portion of the walk. They lived on a hill in a quiet section of the suburban "city", though the only reason they call it a city was because of its population. It was still very much suburban, with its large percentage of wooded areas and the houses in most neighborhoods were far enough apart from each other so it didn't feel much like a city.

The hike up to the top of the hill to the gated body of water that was used as a backup water supply for the city, known as the Reservoir, was the most difficult stretch of the 3+ mile walk, as this went straight up the hill for a solid half mile. Once they reached the top, they would walk the perimeter of the man-made lake, cutting straight across laterally to the ball fields and the elementary school and coming back down a not-as-steep decline on the school side back to their home, which resided about half-way up the actual hill in the city.

There was no denying by anyone that this was a great power walk.

The breathing from the girls was heavy by the time they made it to the gate of the Reservoir, and you could hear the relief in the exhales acknowledging that the worst was over.

Emma was a very good mother. She was always attentive to her daughters' every need, and very receptive and responsive to them in every way. So it was no surprise that her radar went off before any of the girls even noticed anything.

"Here we go, let's pick up the pace," she said almost in a hurried, anxious voice.

Millie, the 15 year old who was the most in touch with her emotions, recognized it.

"What's wrong, mom?" She asked, but her eyes followed her mom's line of sight in that split second that she was holding the ear bud out of her ear to hear her mother's response, and she understood.

Standing about 50 yards away with a mountain bike between his legs was a guy in his mid-twenties, Emma assumed, just standing there. He was upright, holding the bike between his legs and staring at them. His short hair was tousled, and he looked a little dirty from what she could see.

Normally, she'd say hello to people, but the things that creeped her out the most about this guy…this PERVERT…was the length of time that he'd stare. It was almost like he didn't care that you saw him looking at you.

The other thing that prompted the footsteps to quicken was the expression, or lack thereof.

His face was completely blank. EMPTY. He wasn't smiling. He didn't squint in the early sun. He just stood there, watching, as if her were lost in a DVD movie playing on the television.

This guy didn't care that it went against all human morals of decency to stare for that long. It was just flat out inappropriate, and for his face to be that empty, that devoid of emotion, what was he capable of doing?

Emma shuddered as the chill rose between her shoulder blades. She instinctively rallied around the girls and positioned herself between her babies and this creep-o. They rounded one of the corners around the pond, and thankfully out of his vision.

The thing that troubled Emma, though, was that now HE was out of HERS, too, and had she stuck around long enough to see, she would have witnessed him turn his bike and speed off down the road in the opposite direction.

"It just goes on and on my friends…" little Beth started singing 'The song that doesn't end', and Emma started singing along, hoping to force the tension out of her body and to believe that they were safe now.

They made it to the next corner a few moments and a bunch of "shut ups" from the protesters who couldn't tolerate another round of the never ending song, and just as the confidence rose in Emma that they were fine again, there he was, waiting for them, standing directly in their path.

All heads were upright now, as the situation presented itself to all the girls.

"Detour," Emma immediately said, as they turned to the right and continued on down a road that they never usually do. Emma recognized that her daughters knew what was going on because not one of them questioned their sudden change in direction down a road that they never usually walk on.

"Home…" Emma said, authoritatively, "Forget the school."

"What does he want?" Beth asked.

"Don't know, honey," Emma said.

"I was gonna wave, but he didn't look like a happy person," Beth said, in her dainty, high-pitched little voice.

Emma turned her cell phone over and over in her pocket, reassurance as they marched on, their pace the quickest they've ever done and not one of them complaining.

Emma looked all around as they walked, continuously scanning the next road to see if he was waiting for them.

The last thing that she wanted was to let this guy know where they lived.

They turned the corner to their street with still no sign of him, but Emma did a 360 degree scan to make sure that he didn't see them climb the stairs to their porch.

She exhaled sharply and gave herself the "all clear", as she was the last to enter the house.

"Whew, was THAT creepy," Megan said. She was 13, and the bookworm of the bunch. Her grades were always at the top of her class, though all the girls did well academically. She was more INTO it…she loved science and the English language. Her fashion sense and style made what she said humorous, as she was one that liked the gothic, gory, thick black eye-liner and purple hair, and for her to say that anything was creepy was a surprise. This girl was absolutely in heaven studying hairy spiders…

"YES," Lori said to her sisters, "high fives for short walks!" And they slapped hands, as she said, "I'm going back to bed…"

"The hell you are…start breakfast," Emma said, to more groans of disappointment.

Emma dialed the numbers to her husband's work.

"Hey, you want to hear something freaky?"