Child of Ransom

Yes, I know. I start to many stories. But I have worked on this one a lot and have developed it very well, so you can expect it to be continued.


Child of Ransom


“We’re moving.” I heard the words that I had been expecting in my mothers tired voice. A slight edge indicated I shouldn’t argue.

“Hmph. Where?” I ask as I plop down onto the couch. The old springs squeaked as I bounced on it.

“A small town called Whitby. It’s just for a year or two until your father can get his name cleared.” Translation- a month or so until your father is found, then we’ll have to move to another small town and hide in some old shack so he doesn’t get arrested. Honestly, I think we’re running out of small towns.

I groaned. “When?”

“Tomorrow.”

There was no surprise in me, except for the fact that we stayed here so long.

“Brynn, in this new place, you need to be careful.”

There, a surprise. Finally. I had been waiting for one my whole life. The sides of my mouth turn down. My eyes ask the question.

“It’s a ghost town.”

That got my remaining attention.

“What?!” I stop picking at the pudding stain in the old green couch.

“A ghost town. A town that used to be highly populated but is now inhabited by only small amounts of people? Didn’t you learn that in school?” She asked me, concerned.

Oops, I forgot that I put a fake phone number down on the contact information! They didn’t even know I was expelled from this school 2 weeks ago.

“Oh, yeah. Right. Sorry.” I cover up my shock. She gives me a look and continues.

“Three years ago, all the children ages 9-12 disappeared without a trace. Then, any children that came for a visit were gone. But, for the past year, none have gone missing, so I don’t think its anything to worry about.” Her words said otherwise, but I could hear that it wasn’t true.

An argument was making it’s way to my lips as the door opened.

Father was home.

Even across the room I could smell the scent of alcohol that he always carried with him. He stumbled across the room, obviously drunk despite the early time of day.

“Brlyn, Clairey.” He addressed us wrong. He never pronounced our names right. “Let’s go.” He ordered, almost gagging as he talked.

“Dear, I thought we decided to leave tomorrow?” My mom, Claire, asked.

“Oh really, and why was I not consulted on this decision?” He slurred.

“Hun, you made the decision.” She responded calmly.

“Hmph. Lies! We leave now.” He announced, holding up a mostly empty beer can. I stand up and walk down the dark hallway that led to my bedroom/closet. After 9 years, I still haven’t gotten comfortable on the floor.

OK, tragic backstory time. My name is Brynn Matlock, and I’m 14 years old. When I was 4, my father, John Matlock, was framed for a murder. Not just a little murder. A mass murder of most of the congress. He didn’t do it, or so my parents say. I take what they tell as a grain of salt. My dad was strong at first, he kept his cool and made wise choices. Those wide choice sorta went down the drain, and now he is a heavy drinker that is more than slightly insane.

My mom on the other hand, I have no idea why she married him. He is an ignorant fool. She is calm, thoughtful and caring, for the most part. She has a bad side. A very bad side. It’s one full of anger, fear, contempt, worry and carelessness towards the ones she loves. She hides that side with her other, putting it in a dark shadow that no one can see. Most don’t know it exists. But anyway, we moved from small town to small town, never staying in one place for more than a month. We stayed her for almost a month, which is more than the usual.

I grabbed the stuffed green duffel bag that had never been unpacked.

“Ready!” I call in my slightly low, smooth voice. The mirror catches my eye as I turn to go back to the living room, and I was met by my cold reflection. My wavy brown hair fell down just past my shoulders, and my tan, clear skin made my bright shirt pop out. The blue eyes that I inherited from my mother stood out on my face.

Taking a deep breath, I turned and exited the room. My old tennis shoes squeaked on the fake tile floor as I returned to the small kitchen to see my parents with their stuff all ready too. We silents filed out the door in the order we were used to. My father, my mother and then me. My dad threw his duffel into the trunk, and my mom followed suit. Since it was a small car, mine didn’t fit, so, like every time, my duffel bag got to ride on my lap.

No surprise there.


⛯⛯⛯⛯⛯⛯⛯⛯


“Hey, what country is it in?” I ask after what seemed like a week sitting in a cramped car with a heavy bag of clothes on my lap.

My parents must not have realized I wasn’t kidding.

Was it to hard to turn on the radio? Or stop for a nap? Or a Bathroom break? I checked my watch. It had been about an hour- since we left the house (I’ve learned not to call any place home). Wow, you’d think I’d be used to long car trips by now.

A decade later, we pulled into a little driveway that led to a small house. It was yellow but run down. The windows were intact, but one was cracked, and an ugly brown door proved that it was indeed an old house.

Most would be scared to enter such a house, but one definitely gets used to sleeping in some strange and potentially dangerous places.

In I go.

The first thing I notice as I grab the door handle is that is was not very well sanded and I had acquired a brand new sliver. Delightful. I push open the door with a sigh and a small gasp of surprised. I hadn’t expected the door to open so easily. The room smelled musty and dry, and the floorboards were few and far between. Dust made up the floor and some random weeds and grass had sprouted in the entryway. Royal green curtains hung from the windows, covered in dust. The pale red carpeting looked stunning compared to the pale gross green couch that was stained with various colors.

Yay, I’ve always wanted a puke colored couch covered with accidental tie dye.

I set my bag down on an old rug and began to walk around the house, looking for a suiting room. To our immediate right was a living room. Stairs ascended next to the long hallway that stood in front of us. I kitchen was at the end of the hallway. To the right of the kitchen was a bedroom. It was elegant and even had a bed, a bedstand and a bench. My parents room, of course. To the left was a bathroom, which was obviously not functional. That’s ok, I normally didn’t have a working toilet.

I back tracked back down the hallway, headed towards the stairs. I stepped up onto the about to be petrified wood and for an instant thought it would break underneath me, but it held. I climbed up the steps slowly. Once I reached the top I was met by an old window with blinds identical to the ones downstairs. To my left was a bathroom, also not functional and to my right was another bedroom. I entered it slowly, still careful of the not so strong floorboards. The room was simple and old, and it looked used. Not recently, of course, but as if it had been abandoned and the person who left it hadn’t touched a thing. There was a bed.

Score!

I walked over to it and sat down. I could feel the springs, but it was better than the floor.

I rest my head on the pillow, coughing at all the dust. Soon I stand up and walk to the window, looking at the dusty photo’s. The smiles of the family seemed to lighten the room, and their eyes were bright. The child’s hair was brown and short, and he looked about 8. His eyes looked happily content with his life. A family. I really wanted one.

Just thinking about it made me sad, so I set the picture down and picked up a different. The same little boy sat on the ground, a big smile on his face and a soccer ball was being held in his arms.

What happened to them?

I thought, wonder seeping into my mind. I shook it out and went back downstairs to grab my duffel bag.

“Brynn, we need to go enrol you into school.” My mom announced as I appeared down the steps. I groan loudly, but my mom wouldn’t take no for an answer. All to soon we were driving down the deserted roads of whitby headed towards the old brick school.

“Look, a sign of civilization!” I pronounce sarcastically, pointing towards a soda can on the side of the road. My mom rolls her eyes and continues down the road. The school was about a mile away, but I knew I would have to walk their everyday. Best to get expelled ASAP. Since it was the middle of the year and the day, school was still in session. I walk in the building reluctantly, my mom at my heels.

“May I help you?” The ancient lady at the front desk asked.

“Um, yes, I need to get enrolled for 8th grade?” I say, more as a question.

“Oh, ok! It’s not often we get a new student. I’ll get you the forms right away,” She told us an opened her desk. “Oh, dear, I must have misplaced them. Oh well, I’ll get them to you tomorrow. For now, lets meet your class, eh?” She suggested and hobbled out from behind the desk and out the door, urging me to follow her. I do reluctantly and my mom turns and leaves. We walk about a hundred yards down the hallway before turning into a room. Four kids sat in the room, watching their teach wearily. They were all thin and gaunt, their eyes dark but friendly.

“Children, this is Brynn. She is joining your class.” The old lady turned and left.

“Um, Hi? I’m Brynn.” I introduce myself.

“I’m Ms. Grant, this is Kayla, Dayl, Grace and Calvin.” She told me, pointing to each kid in turn.

⛯⛯⛯⛯⛯⛯⛯⛯



For the majority of class, we learned about boring stuff and pointless stuff, and I’m not positive which one was which. The kids never said a word, and the teacher only asked rhetorical questions. In the middle of math (Maybe it was science ?) I couldn’t take it anymore.

“Ms. Grant, what happened here?” I blurted. She jumped and stared at me for a second, shocked. Guilt probed at my stomach, surprising me. I don’t get guilty easily.

“I’m assuming you’re referring to the disappearances 4 years ago?” She paused, and when I didn’t respond, she continued. “No one knows. One day a little boy didn’t show up to school. Then the week later a little girl never came home. Over the course of a week, every single kid disappeared. They were there, then they were gone. Not a trace. The best bloodhounds couldn’t pick up their trail. Every single child from grades 4-9. Gone. Over 600 kids. You heard about it on the news, i’m sure.” She explained.

“Yes. Well, um, no. I saw something mention it, I guess, but I didn’t know the details.” I stated lamely. It was the truth, but I was so shaken I was stuttering.

“No clues have been found in the area since then. After two months, the schools reopened and no one has disappeared again.” She finished the story as school came to an end.

Time to walk home.

So cool! Love it!

It's very good!!!!

Thank you!!!

“We’re moving.” I heard the words that I had been expecting in my mothers tired voice. A slight edge indicated I shouldn’t argue.
“Hmph. Where?” I ask as I plop down onto the couch. The old springs squeaked as I bounced on it.
“A small town called Whitby. It’s just for a year or two until your father can get his name cleared.” Translation- a month or so until your father is found, then we’ll have to move to another small town and hide in some old shack so he doesn’t get arrested. Honestly, I think we’re running out of small towns.
I groaned. “When?”
“Tomorrow.”
There was no surprise in me, except for the fact that we stayed here so long.
“Brynn, in this new place, you need to be careful.”
There, a surprise. Finally. I had been waiting for one my whole life. The sides of my mouth turn down. She actually sounded sincere.
What does that mean about this place?
It's bad.
REALLY bad.
She didn't mention to me that the last place was so close to the Mexico border that we had to surrender our house to drug dealers almost every night.
My eyes ask the question.
“It’s a ghost town.”
That got my remaining attention.
“What?!” I stop picking at the pudding stain in the old green couch.
“A ghost town. A town that used to be highly populated but is now inhabited by only small amounts of people? Didn’t you learn that in school?” She asked me, concerned.
Oops, I forgot that I put a fake phone number down on the contact information! They didn’t even know I was expelled from this school 2 weeks ago.
“Oh, yeah. Right. Sorry.” I cover up my shock. She gives me a look and continues.
“Three years ago, all the children disappeared without a trace. Then, any children that came for a visit were gone. But, for the past year, none have gone missing, so I don’t think its anything to worry about.” Her words said otherwise, but I could hear that it wasn’t true.
An argument was making it’s way to my lips as the door opened.
Father was home.
Even across the room I could smell the scent of alcohol that he always carried with him. He stumbled across the room, obviously drunk despite the early time of day.
“Brlyn, Clairey.” He addressed us wrong. He never pronounced our names right. “Let’s go.” He ordered, almost gagging as he talked.
“Dear, I thought we decided to leave tomorrow?” My mom, Claire, asked.
“Oh really, and why was I not consulted on this decision?” He slurred.
“Hun, you made the decision.” She responded calmly.
“Hmph. Lies! We leave now.” He announced, holding up a mostly empty beer can. I stand up and walk down the dark hallway that led to my bedroom/closet. After 9 years, I still haven’t gotten comfortable on the floor.
OK, tragic backstory time. My name is Brynn Matlock, and I’m 15 years old. When I was 4, my father, John Matlock, was framed for a murder. Not just a little murder. A mass murder of most of the congress. He didn’t do it, or so my parents say. I take what they tell as a grain of salt. My dad was strong at first, he kept his cool and made wise choices. Those wide choice sorta went down the drain, and now he is a heavy drinker that is more than slightly insane.
My mom on the other hand, I have no idea why she married him. He is an ignorant fool. She is calm, thoughtful and caring, for the most part. She has a bad side. A very bad side. It’s one full of anger, fear, contempt, worry and carelessness towards the ones she loves. She hides that side with her other, putting it in a dark shadow that no one can see. Most don’t know it exists. But anyway, we moved from small town to small town, never staying in one place for more than a month. We stayed her for almost a month, which is more than the usual.
I grabbed the stuffed green duffel bag that had never been unpacked.
“Ready!” I call in my slightly low, smooth voice. The mirror catches my eye as I turn to go back to the living room, and I was met by my cold reflection. My wavy brown hair fell down just past my shoulders, and my tan, clear skin made my bright shirt pop out. The blue eyes that I inherited from my mother stood out on my face.
Taking a deep breath, I turned and exited the room. My old tennis shoes squeaked on the fake tile floor as I returned to the small kitchen to see my parents with their stuff all ready too. We silents filed out the door in the order we were used to. My father, my mother and then me. My dad threw his duffel into the trunk, and my mom followed suit. Since it was a small car, mine didn’t fit, so, like every time, my duffel bag got to ride on my lap.
No surprise there.

⛯⛯⛯⛯⛯⛯⛯⛯

“Hey, what country is it in?” I ask after what seemed like a week sitting in a cramped car with a heavy bag of clothes on my lap.
My parents must not have realized I wasn’t kidding.
Was it to hard to turn on the radio? Or stop for a nap? Or a Bathroom break? I checked my watch. It had been about an hour- since we left the house (I’ve learned not to call any place home). Wow, you’d think I’d be used to long car trips by now.
A decade later, we pulled into a little driveway that led to a small house. It was yellow but run down. The windows were intact, but one was cracked, and an ugly brown door proved that it was indeed an old house.
Most would be scared to enter such a house, but one definitely gets used to sleeping in some strange and potentially dangerous places.
In I go.
The first thing I notice as I grab the door handle is that is was not very well sanded and I had acquired a brand new sliver. Delightful. I push open the door with a sigh and a small gasp of surprised. I hadn’t expected the door to open so easily. The room smelled musty and dry, and the floorboards were few and far between. Dust made up the floor and some random weeds and grass had sprouted in the entryway. Royal green curtains hung from the windows, covered in dust. The pale red carpeting looked stunning compared to the pale gross green couch that was stained with various colors.
Yay, I’ve always wanted a puke colored couch covered with accidental tie dye.
I set my bag down on an old rug and began to walk around the house, looking for a suiting room. To our immediate right was a living room. Stairs ascended next to the long hallway that stood in front of us. I kitchen was at the end of the hallway. To the right of the kitchen was a bedroom. It was elegant and even had a bed, a bedstand and a bench. My parents room, of course. To the left was a bathroom, which was obviously not functional. That’s ok, I normally didn’t have a working toilet.
I back tracked back down the hallway, headed towards the stairs. I stepped up onto the about to be petrified wood and for an instant thought it would break underneath me, but it held. I climbed up the steps slowly. Once I reached the top I was met by an old window with blinds identical to the ones downstairs. To my left was a bathroom, also not functional and to my right was another bedroom. I entered it slowly, still careful of the not so strong floorboards. The room was simple and old, and it looked used. Not recently, of course, but as if it had been abandoned and the person who left it hadn’t touched a thing. There was a bed.
Score!
I walked over to it and sat down. I could feel the springs, but it was better than the floor.
I rest my head on the pillow, coughing at all the dust. Soon I stand up and walk to the window, looking at the dusty photo’s. The smiles of the family seemed to lighten the room, and their eyes were bright. The child’s hair was brown and short, and he looked about 8. His eyes looked happily content with his life. A family. I really wanted one.
Just thinking about it made me sad, so I set the picture down and picked up a different. The same little boy sat on the ground, a big smile on his face and a soccer ball was being held in his arms.
What happened to them?
I thought, wonder seeping into my mind. I shook it out and went back downstairs to grab my duffel bag.
“Brynn, we need to go enrol you into school.” My mom announced as I appeared down the steps. I groan loudly, but my mom wouldn’t take no for an answer. All to soon we were driving down the deserted roads of whitby headed towards the old brick school.
“Look, a sign of civilization!” I pronounce sarcastically, pointing towards a soda can on the side of the road. My mom rolls her eyes and continues down the road. The school was about a mile away, but I knew I would have to walk their everyday. Best to get expelled ASAP. Since it was the middle of the year and the day, school was still in session. I walk in the building reluctantly, my mom at my heels.
“May I help you?” The ancient lady at the front desk asked.
“Um, yes, I need to get enrolled for 9th grade?” I say, more as a question.
“Oh, ok! It’s not often we get a new student. I’ll get you the forms right away,” She told us an opened her desk. “Oh, dear, I must have misplaced them. Oh well, I’ll get them to you tomorrow. For now, lets meet your class, eh?” She suggested and hobbled out from behind the desk and out the door, urging me to follow her. I do reluctantly and my mom turns and leaves. We walk about a hundred yards down the hallway before turning into a room. Four kids sat in the room, watching their teach wearily. They were all thin and gaunt, their eyes dark but friendly.
“Children, this is Brynn. She is joining your class.” The old lady turned and left.
“Um, Hi? I’m Brynn.” I introduce myself.
“I’m Ms. Grant, this is Chase, Wren, Grace and Calvin.” She told me, pointing to each kid in turn.
⛯⛯⛯⛯⛯⛯⛯⛯


For the majority of class, we learned about boring stuff and pointless stuff, and I’m not positive which one was which. The kids never said a word, and the teacher only asked rhetorical questions. In the middle of math (Maybe it was science ?) I couldn’t take it anymore.
“Ms. Grant, what happened here?” I blurted. She jumped and stared at me for a second, shocked. Guilt probed at my stomach, surprising me. I don’t get guilty easily.
“I’m assuming you’re referring to the disappearances 4 years ago?” She paused, and when I didn’t respond, she continued. “No one knows. One day a little boy didn’t show up to school. Then the week later a little girl never came home. Over the course of a week, every single kid disappeared. They were there, then they were gone. Not a trace. The best bloodhounds couldn’t pick up their trail. Every single child from grades 4-9. Gone. Over 600 kids. You heard about it on the news, i’m sure.” She explained.
“Yes. Well, um, no. I saw something mention it, I guess, but I didn’t know the details.” I stated lamely. It was the truth, but I was so shaken I was stuttering.
“No clues have been found in the area since then. After two months, the schools reopened and no one has disappeared again.” She finished the story as school came to an end.
Time to walk home.

Chapter 2

Pale green leaves and branches drooped over the overgrown trail. Roots jutted around my feet as I stumbled through the foggy woods. It was only 4:00, but grey clouds had gathered above the town.
My breath coming in short pants, I ordered my legs to move faster. Fear pounded in my ears. Nothing mattered except making it home. Crunches cut through the humid air as my feet crushed pine needles and old, dead leaves. I knew that each footstep was bringing me closer to home. Closer to safety. The fact that no kids had been taken in years did nothing to comfort me as I ran, panicked through the forest. I whimpered as a sharp branch caught the skin above my left eyebrow, but it only made me run faster.
The Road!
I thought, changing my direction toward the road that I knew was just a few hundred yards to my right.
The road came into sight slowly, as if I was walking towards it with all the time in the world.
I took a huge gulp of air as I burst onto the clear concrete.
“You must be new.” A voice came from behind me. I spin on my heels and turn to face the speaker, new fear rising. A boy stood there, watching me calmly. He had brown hair and eyes with tan skin. He looked athletic.
It was Chase, from school. My sigh of relief as I recognized him was loud.
“How could you tell?” My response was sarcastic but not unfriendly.
“Oh, just a lucky guess,” Chase replied. “So, where’s your house at?”
“It’s an old yellow one, down the road and to the left.” I gesture non helpfully down the road.
“Ah,” His gaze darkens. “Pip’s house.” I frown.
“Who’s Pip?”
Chase sighed. “I forgot how dumb new kids are.” As I open my mouth for a sharp retort, he continues. “Pip was my best friend.” Sounding like he was finished, I open my mouth again. “He was taken.” He finished. We stood in silence for a moment, my fear forgotten. But, since it couldn’t be gone forever, it started to creep back in.
“Hey, um, would you mind helping me get back to my house? I have a feeling you know where it is more than I do.” I stutter out a plea for help. There was no way you could get me to go anywhere alone. He gave me a strange look with his royal blue eyes.
“Yeah, sure.” He responded slowly and awkwardly. “This way.” Leading the way, he began to walk towards the curve in the road. Even I had not gestured that way, he seemed to know where I lived. I guess he aught to, being the best friend of Pip and all. I follow him just as awkwardly.
“So, you’re brave for moving here.” He destroys the silence.
“Er, yeah.” I agree, lapsing into a silence again.
“Do you want me to walk with you to school tomorrow? I mean, it’s a pretty lonely walk.” He asked, his face getting a little red when I hesitated.
“Please.” I responded warmly. “What time do you pass my house?”
“About 7:30.” Relief was clear in his voice.
“Great. I’ll see you then?” I ask him, groaning to myself about getting up early. We had arrived at my house, and it suddenly looked way more inviting.
“Course.” He agreed.
“So where do you live?” The question that I had just realized I hadn’t asked popped out.
“Right there.” He pointed through the tree’s. I could barely see the well cared for brown house. I hadn’t noticed it before.
“Oh, Ok. I wondered if I had neighbors.” I lied, unsuccessfully covering up my shock.
“Alright.” He dipped his head in goodbye and turning around to leave.
“Chase?”
“Yeah?”
Silence. My thank you wouldn’t come out.
“Bye.” I tell him instead. He smiled. “Bye.”

As we parted ways, I turned my attention to the cloud that hung in my head. What was I forgetting? Whatever it was, it seemed important. And it was about Chase. Shaking it out of my head, I opened the front door. I was immediately met with the smell of food. My mom must have gone shopping.
My family wasn’t poor at all, we just keep a really low profile. which apparently includes not getting me a bed.
Or a Christmas tree.
Or a kitchen table.
Or a dog.
It was pretty upsetting, especially a puppy. Honestly, how would getting a puppy give us a high profile?
As I poured myself a bowl of cereal, I used the time to look around the kitchen some more. Old wooden cabinets lined the walls at about eye level, and I knew without opening them that they were empty. The dust on the handles gave that away. The ceiling was low and hung just above the top of the cupboards. If I raised my hands straight above my head, my fingertips would be close to grazing it. Flowered boarders that were long past their glory days still stood out against the off white walls. The countertop I was sitting at was also wood, with decorative corners and edges, reminding me of a scroll on musical instruments. The same counters stretched around the whole room, only stopping for doors and a place where a fridge used to be.
Hey, I don’t blame them for taking that with them over everything else.
I knew I probably would have, too.
No work had been done on the floor boards while I was at school.
School.
The dark cloud that I had pushed away overthrew my other thoughts. Chase. Why did something seem not right with him? I wasn’t positive he was being honest, I guess. But knowing that gave me no comfort. Something was different about him, and I knew I was going to figure it out, one way or another.
⛯⛯⛯⛯⛯⛯⛯⛯

You know, an alarm clock is one of the gifts I had regretted asking for over the years, but today I was grateful for it.
I pulled myself out of bed, using all my will power.
Soon, I was dressed and eating some cereal without milk. Without a fridge, we could only buy one gallon at a time, and had to finish it within a day, or it spoiled. But, it was better than nothing, so I munched on it happily. It was gone before I knew it, and way earlier than I wanted to, I was slipping on my shoes to walk to school.

“Ready?” A knock on the door signaled Chase’s arrival.
“Ready.” I respond in the same voice. As I step out the door, I was met with the smell of nature. Chase was leaning on a tree as if he had been there a long time.
“Finally,” He lets out a breath of mock exasperation. “Let’s go!” he grabs my hand and starts to drag me into the woods. My stomach ties into a knot as I stare like an idiot at his hand that was still grasping mine. My face breaks into a smile and I start running. I only forgot one thing.
"Chase?" I ask him.
"Yeah?" He responded huskily.
"I found something papers in my room yesterday. I don't know if their important." I handed him the letter. "It's.... Um... It's addressed to you." My voice stutters.
He frowned and opened it.
"I wonder why he never sent it. He always..." His voice trailed off as he read. Eyes growing wide, his mouth dropped open.
"Look at the date!" He yelled, scaring me. I took the paper back and looked at it. June 5th, 4:15 PM.
Didn't mean anything to me. My confused look was enough to make him explain it in a rush of words.
"That was the day the kids disappeared!!!!!"
"Wow. I wonder-" he cut me off as I pretended to be impressed.
"Brynn!!! All of them disappeared on their way to or from school!!"I checked the date again and frantically tried to remember what time school got out.
"This means..." He trailed off.
"Pip made it home that day." I finished, finally putting the pieces together.
Chase wasn't finished.
"And his family had a curfew so that means that-" he talked faster than an auctioneer.
"Slow down Chase! I can't understand you."
"He was superstitious. He wouldn't go outside any more than he had too," he talked overly slow, as if I was a four year old.
"If he made it home," he started to conclude,
"He wasn't taken outside. He was in his house.”
We stared at each other. It took me a little while to realize that Oh, Fox dung. His house is my house.
We start walking in sync and complete silence.
“So, Brynn, what are your parents like?” He asks me, taking me by surprise with the change of subject. Neither of us knew what this new evidence could mean, so he found it best to drop the subject, I guess.
“What do you mean?” My guard flies up, like it always done when asked about them.
“Well,” He starts slowly. “Either they are police, like mine, or they just really don’t care about you.” The last part was meant to be a joke, but I can’t answer.
“Which is it?” He asks after my hesitation.
Blinking at him blankly, I try to talk. My mouth opens, but nothing comes out.
Realization dawns on him.
“Oh, man. I really didn’t mean it like that. I’m sure they really do care.” He adds, sympathetically. Looking at the ground, I shuffle my feet in the leaves.
“Do you remember that congress bombing?” I ask him after another moment silence.
“Well, I don’t remember it but I learned about it.” He responds, frowning as he looks at me. “John Matlock is the person of interest. They are almost positive it was him, but they don’t have the proof to show everyone else.. He killed over half the congress and hasn’t been heard from in years.” He studies my face. “Do you mean to say that he killed your parents?” He asks incredulously.
I looked into his eyes and knew his concern was sincere. I can trust him.
I extend my hand slowly.
“Brynn Matlock, at your service.”










Chapter 2
His eyes darken, and for a second I thought I made a mistake of telling him. He was staring at me like I was suddenly dressed as an abominable snow man with so much intensity I had to look down to make sure I wasn’t. We stood in complete silence, even the birds seemed to have lost their voices.
I drop my hand.
“No, I’m sorry. Just shocked, that’s all.” He took my hand in his again.
“Pleased to meet you, Brynn Matlock.”
We stood in silence for a while processing all this new information.
“We better get to school.” I suggest after an extended amount of time.

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As the school day dragged on as slow as molasses in the wintertime in antarctica on a cold front, I started thinking. I normally tried to avoid doing that during school because it normally entailed math, but today it didn’t.