Unused Novel Opener #2

Laura Carswell was lost. In every sense of the word.

This much she knew: she was in the woods, she appeared to be uninjured, and she had no idea how she got there.

In the five minutes since she'd been awakened by a bird noisily taking flight from a low branch in the tree above her, this was all she could assemble with certainty, though she still stroked her hair periodically expecting to find dried blood from a blow to the head. Nothing.

Was she still in Vermont? It seemed too warm for a May morning.

Was it even morning? Her watch was gone. And though the dense tree cover blocked a clear view of the sun, the angle of sunlight filtering through the leaves seemed right for 10 or 11.

Not knowing how she got there meant that the perpetrators of this...was it a crime? Were there perpetrators? She didn't want to draw attention to herself. Some minutes passed before she finally worked up enough courage to call out.

"Hello?" Nothing. Again, louder. "Hello?"

The lack of response to her cries was both a relief and somewhat disheartening. If someone had in fact dumped her in the woods, they appeared to be long gone. But she also had to accept the fact that she was completely alone, with no idea which way to move towards civilization. Following the path of least resistance she moved through the trees and underbrush where it seemed most passable.

After what seemed like an hour - maybe two - Laura was certain that an area in the near distance must be a clearing. The treeline looked different, and the birds had ceased all sound and movement.

As she fought through the last 30 yards of brush, her head was filled with thoughts of what she might find: A Rangers' station? A house? A fishing hole with a couple of locals lazing away the morning?

But nothing prepared her for what she found herself staring at when she reached her destination. There, directly in front of her, frightening only for its appearance in such a strange place, was an unweathered carousel. And though it might have been the wind or a trick of the eye, it appeared to have come to a stop a mere second after Laura first gazed upon it and tried to wrap her racing mind around it.

No one was on the carousel, no one was near it, and the clearing itself was barely big enough to hold it. Beyond it, the woods once again became dense.

Laura sniffed the air intensely, trying to place the smell that was in the air when it finally dawned on her. In addition to the scents of pine and her own sweat, the strange new smell was pneumatic fluid, recently heated and dispersed to the air from the carousel's operation.