The Silent Child Boxset

by Roger Hayden

  “There’s no proof,” I told myself. “No proof of anything.”

  It took me fifteen minutes to arrive at the factory. I stuck to the back roads to avoid after-school traffic, including buses and crosswalks. I remained calm as I exited my car, fastening the top button on my shirt. There were five other vehicles in the parking lot, including my father’s pick-up truck. I also took note of an electrician’s van parked nearby.

  The sun was beating down without a cloud in the sky. It was warm that day and spring was right around the corner. I suddenly realized that Valentine’s Day was coming up. It was on Thursday, only a few days away, and had completely slipped my mind. I paused at the entrance, shocked at the oversight. Maybe that’s what Betsy was upset about. I hadn’t asked her out for Valentine’s Day.

  “You idiot!” I said under my breath with my fist balled. That explained everything. Only, I didn’t know for sure. I walked inside, feeling a rush of air from the overhead vent, and removed my sunglasses. Oddly enough, the bay floor was quiet. All the lights were on, but none of the machines were running. I saw my father and a bunch of people gathered around a press with flashlights in hand. I could slip in undetected for a moment. I shuddered at the sight of Bruce standing nearby with his hands on his hips and his large gut protruding from his shirt.

  “Hey guys. What’s going on?” I asked.

  There was an electrician on his back, under the engine compartment of the machine. “I’m not sure what it is,” he said, face hidden. “Something ain’t right.”

  “With all of them?” my father said in angered disbelief. His face was flushed and exhausted. He took one look at me and the anger only grew.

  “Come here,” he said and grabbed me by the shoulder. “I want to speak to you.”

  He led me off and away from the machines as everyone watched. We walked toward his office in the back as an intense nervousness took hold. What did he know? Once we were out of earshot from everyone, he turned to a trash can and pulled out two empty Bud Light bottles.

  “You know what this is about?” he said all suspicious-like.

  I glanced at the bottles and shook my head. “No. Why?”

  He dropped them back into the trash can with a clang. “Couple guys found them by the molding machine. I can tell you that no one in this factory drinks Bud Light.”

  I kept my cool with a shrug. “Never seen them before.”

  His unconvinced eyes narrowed. “Really? That’s strange. Somebody screwed with the machines. We’ve lost a day’s production so far over this shit.” He paused and took a deep breath. “And you don’t know anything about it?”

  I shook my head. “I have no clue. What’s wrong with the machines?”

  “Parts missing,” he said. “Little electronic resisters, plugs and stuff, just gone. Ralph is making a list of it as we speak.”

  I was surprised at the news, even more to learn that they’d spent all day trying to figure it out. He breathed heavy through his nostrils as he examined me without a word. I kept the best innocent face I could muster. Whatever had happened, I didn’t see any connection between the secret Friday evening rendezvous and faulty machines.

  “Your mother says that you were out late on Friday,” he began. “You and these new friends of yours. One of them is that Erickson kid. Just what were you doing?”

  “Nothing,” I said. “We, uh… we went out and played some pool.”

  “Hmm,” he muttered. “If I find out that you’re lying, we’re going to have some words.” He shook his head, deep in thought, and then pointed at me. “Whether the machines are working or not, you’re going to be here. I want this place swept and cleaned. Bathrooms too.”

  “No problem,” I said. He walked away without another word.

  I went to the janitor closet and grabbed a broom. If that was the worst of my father’s wrath I was okay with it. The brown bristles of the push broom pushed against the concrete floor with my slow movement down the hall.

  A realization swept over me that perhaps Cooper and the others did have a hand in the factory’s sabotage. It seemed a strange coincidence. But why would they do such a thing?

  I didn’t see anything. Then I remember the ten or twenty minutes Betsy and I were away from everyone. It still didn’t strike me as a real possibility. The mere thought was absurd. I stayed as far away as I could from the ongoing issue on the floor. I heard the electrician stating the pieces missing from the machines as my father made a list. I pushed a mop bucket by just everyone was leaving.

  “You stay here,” my father said, pointing at me. “We’ll be back in a little bit.”

  I nodded along as I soaked the mop. My father, his four employees on shift, and the electrician, all walked out together like it was some big mission. I waited for the door to close and then approached the machines with their back panels removed and guts of wiring sticking out. It was hard to believe that Cooper or anyone else would have been digging around in there. What did any of them know about electronics?

  I returned to my mop bucket and pushed it off toward the bathroom where I suddenly caught a faint whiff of this weird sulfur smell. It wasn’t enough to stop me in my tracks. I appreciated the quietness of the empty factory during their absence. It gave me time to think. I pushed open the bathroom door and wheeled the mop inside.

  About an hour later, Ralph the electrician returned with Bruce the fatso and Andre, one of the night shift workers. They said that my father was busy with other matters and would return later. The floors had been swept and mopped where needed, and there wasn’t much else for me to do but to watch. Ralph set a plastic bag of purchased parts next to his thick leather electrician belt. Bruce and Andre stood next to the work bench and watched as Ralph laid out caps, connectors, wires, and plugs, still in their plastic.

  “All of that was taken?” I asked.

  Ralph nodded and then scratched his shaggy red hair. He had large glasses, a mustache, and wore a blue jumpsuit. I didn’t know him, but it was fair to say I took a liking to him. His demeanor was that of a laid back 1970s relic. “Looks like the nabbed some copper wire too,” he added.

  Bruce glanced at me with growing suspicion. “Your pop’s at the police station right now, filing a report.”

  I said nothing as my eyes shifted down.

  “But you wouldn’t know anything about anything, would ya’?” he continued.

  I gave Bruce a sarcastic smirk and said, “You’re the genius. You tell me.”

  His face reddened as he stepped forward. “What’d you say, you little—”

  Andre grabbed Bruce’s arm and held him back. “Easy there, compadre. Leave him be.”

  Sensing the tension, Ralph interjected. “Landon, is it?”

  “Yes sir,” I said.

  He handed me a flashlight and asked me if I could check the circuit breaker for him. “Need you to make sure it’s still off. And once I get these wires connected, I’ll tell you to turn it on. Got it?”

  It sounded easy enough. I preferred anything standing around. I walked off toward the hallway and went inside the electrical room the size of a broom closet. The door of the large gray box on the wall was already opened, and all the switches were off.

  “Everything’s off!” I shouted.

  I heard Bruce say something about me being just a kid and if they were going to take my word for it and had to laugh. I walked outside the room and leaned against the door frame, watching as Ralph went to work on the first machine. Bruce and Andre handed him parts and tools, and all the while the sulfur smell became stronger.

  Weird smells in the factory were nothing new. It was an everyday thing. But this was a new one. It began to smell more like gas. Ten or so minutes passed when Ralph told me to go ahead and try breaker A3. I went to the box and shined my flashlight on all the switches. A3 was on the top left.

  “Ready?” I shouted with my finger on the switch.

  “Go for it!” Bruce shouted back.

  I flipped the switch and expecte
d to hear the press machine come to life. Instead, a deafening explosion shook the walls and sent me to the ground like a crash of lightening. I could feel the heat of fire followed by anguished screams. I stood up, disoriented, with a high-pitched ringing in my ear.

  I instinctively grabbed a fire extinguisher from near the door and rushed outside. I froze in shock to find the bay floor ahead engulfed in an inferno of flames quickly spreading. Andre crawled on the floor horribly burnt and unrecognizable. There were bright orange flames on his back. Nothing looked or seemed real. His face was half melted on one side. He looked up and let out this awful scream that sounded like death himself. I stayed lowed and hustled toward the blast sight as flames spread up the wall and ceiling all around me. Halfway to Andre, I tripped and stumbled forward. Turning around, I saw Bruce’s lifeless charred body still covered in flames.

  The unbearable heat pressed down upon me. The fire was spreading too fast. I aimed the fire extinguisher hose on Andre and sprayed him, dousing him in white powder phosphate. He stopped screaming but didn’t move. I heard another loud crash and saw that part of the roof above had just fallen in. There were flames everywhere in all directions, building in size and unstoppable.

  I shouted for Ralph. A groan sounded from the press machine and I saw him lying flat on his stomach badly burnt without any hair left. But he was alive. I stepped over a mess of boxes and tools as the heat intensified. Amazingly, as I looked at the mold machine and saw wires sticking out from the bottom, time seemed to stop. The exposed copper under the red and green wire sparked. A split second later, a second explosion tore through the factory floor, decimating everything around it. I was thrown a hundred yards into a brick wall where I heard and saw nothing else. Only darkness.

  Reckoning

  Detective Dobson sped into his driveway and slammed on the brakes. His tires screeched as the Chevy Impala halted at an angle, inches from Rachel’s car. Harris sat gripping his arm rest and opened his eyes. They had driven over a hundred to get there. Dobson swung open the door and stepped outside with the keys still in the ignition. Rachel was standing behind the living room window, much to his relief. Harris opened his door halfway to avoid striking her car.

  “You’re a real maniac. You know that?” he said, stepping out.

  Dobson slipped back in, grabbed his keys, and slammed the door shut. “I’m not into taking chances anymore.”

  Harris ventured around the car, pulling at the ends of his coat. “You mean driving like that isn’t taking a chance?”

  The afternoon sun was out in full force with thin transparent clouds spread throughout the bright blue sky. An unseen dog barked in the distance in the otherwise quiet neighborhood. Dobson stopped before entering the front door and looked around to see if they were being watched. The killer was everywhere and nowhere at the same time. For Dobson, nothing was impossible anymore. He bypassed the door and walked alongside the front of the house, starting out into the road. Harris watched him from the driveway, curious as Dobson cupped his mouth and shouted out, “You out there, Landon! Show your face or what’s left of it!”

  Rachel watched him from the window with concern as Harris rushed across the freshly cut grass to block him from the street. “What are you doing?”

  Dobson stared past him in a fervent glare. Harris placed both hands on Dobson’s arms and tried to get his attention once more. “If he is watching, what good is this going to do?”

  A car suddenly drove by. Its female driver glanced at the two detectives and kept going. Dobson stepped forward, inches from Harris’s face, and spoke through clenched teeth. “This son of bitch is threatening my family? I don’t think so. I’ll kill him right now!”

  Harris simply nodded his head toward the house. Dobson paused and turned around to see both Rachel and Penny standing at the window with intense worry across their faces. A relative calm followed as Dobson took as step back and ran both hands down his face. Harris adjusted his tie and held his arm out for his old partner to enter. The door opened halfway with Rachel standing behind it.

  “What are you two doing out there?” she asked. “Come inside already.”

  Dobson took another glance of the neighborhood and reluctantly went inside with Harris following. He closed and locked the door behind him, with Dobson and Rachel all awkwardly cramped in the foyer.

  “Where’s the letter?” Dobson asked straight out.

  “Keep your voice down,” Rachel said in a hushed tone. “I don’t want to upset Penny.”

  She led them inside the adjacent living room. The television was on, playing day time soap operas with the sound muted. Upon their entrance, Penny turned away from the window and hurried to Dobson, giving him a hug. Dobson stroked her thin blonde hair as she coughed into his chest.

  “How are you doing, honey? Good?”

  She looked up, revealing tear-soaked eyes. “Fine. Glad to see you.”

  “She needs to go to the hospital,” Rachel said, arms crossed.

  “I’m better now!” Penny protested, followed by a harsh cough.

  Dobson raised one hand for calm. “Everyone calm down. One thing at a time.” He pointed to the couch where Penny’s vest and machine sat. She’d sit for hours at a time with what looked like a life preserver on as it vibrated the mucus buildup from her lungs. Dobson released Penny and guided her back to the couch. “Everything’s going to be fine,” he said, kissing her on the forehead.

  “I opened the letter,” she said. “The same one they’re talking about on the news.”

  “It’s just a dumb hoax. Nothing more.”

  Penny looked at her mother and then back at Dobson with skepticism. “Then why’d you tell Mom to lock all the doors and windows?” She immediately raised a fist to her mouth and coughed as Dobson patted her back. Her coughing fit soon subsided as she leaned back in the couch, tears streaming down her cheeks.

  “Need some water?” Dobson asked.

  Penny signaled to a full glass on the nightstand next to her and spoke faintly. “I’m good. Thanks.”

  “We’ll be in the kitchen just having a little talk,” Dobson said in the calmest tone he could muster, given the circumstance. Penny nodded as her eyes shifted to the TV. Dobson moved away from the couch and toward the window, shutting the blinds. He examined the rest of the room. Harris stood aside as Rachel brushed back Penny’s hair. The motherly concern in her eyes was unbreakable. Dobson walked toward the kitchen, almost unnoticed. Harris glanced up from his cell phone screen and followed as Rachel offered Penny assurances and soon left.

  Dobson entered the kitchen, rolling up his sleeves. He looked out the window above the kitchen sink and saw nothing of concern. The neighborhood was as quiet as expected on an early weekday afternoon. He turned to see a chain letter on the kitchen table, unfolded.

  Harris walked in and took immediate notice. “Looks familiar, don’t you think?”

  Rachel followed with urgency. “Keep your voices down. She’s finally calm now.” She paused and pointed at the letter. “That’s why I don’t want her watching the news.”

  Dobson scratched his chin and pulled out a chair for Rachel to sit. “Let’s take a step back and start at the beginning.”

  Rachel grabbed a glass of water from the counter and sat. Harris joined them at the table, distracted by his phone. Dobson sat with the letter below him. It was a mirror image of the others before it. The open envelope lay nearby. Their home address was typed across with “Rachel Dobson” as the recipient. The return address was none other than Priceless Plastics on Old Industrial Way. He pulled a copy of the same letter and compared them side by side. In both cases, the message was identical.

  Dear lucky student from Summerville High, Class of 1991

  Our twenty-fifth-year high school reunion is right around the corner. Congratulations! You have been selected to receive this letter of goodwill and fortune. It is imperative that you choose a classmate of choice to next send this message to, for if you fail to do so, you will find ir
reversible consequences for breaking the chain. Thank you, and best of luck!

  Dobson looked up to see Rachel wiping her eyes. Harris was still invested in his phone as though the entire world was on there.

  “Am I supposed to send it to someone?” she asked. “Is that how this works?”

  Dobson leaned forward and took her hand, sincere concern in his eyes. “You’re not doing anything with it. I need to know a few things first. How did Penny get this? Was it delivered with the regular mail?”

  Rachel nodded. “Yes. She just came in with a stack of junk and took this letter out.”

  “Why did she open it?” Dobson asked.

  “I usually let her open the mail just to give her something to do. I didn’t think this would happen. Not to us.” Rachel pulled her hand away and lowered her head. “I should have called an ambulance. We need to get out of here.”

  Harris lowered his cell phone and took notice of her anxious state. Dobson leaned closer to her, undeterred from the issue at hand. “Listen. Penny will be fine. I want you to take a deep breath and clear your head.”

  “We’ll get a car here to watch the house if you want,” Harris added.

  Dobson shook his head. “In time. Let’s stay on track.” He then looked back at Rachel. “I need you to think back to high school and tell me everything you know about Landon Kearney.”

  Rachel lowered her hand from her face with a blank expression. Silence followed as the TV sounded from the living room.

  “Landon… Kearney,” she said slowly. “I remember that name.” She then brushed back her hair with a sigh. “Yeah. I knew him in high school.”

  “What grade?”

  Rachel closed her eyes and thought to herself. Harris leaned closer as Dobson pulled a notepad and pen from his pocket.

  “I think it was tenth or eleventh grade. My God. It’s been so long.” Her face suddenly shifted to panic. “Is he the one sending these letters?”

  Dobson grimaced. “I’m pretty damn sure of it. I know all about the factory fire and the deaths that followed. Both of his parents are dead now. He spent seven years in a burn center recovering.”