by Dan Dillard
*****
The rest of that morning was crying, calling neighbors, calling friends, calling the school, calling the hospitals, and calling the police.
“Maybe he ran away,” my father said to one officer. “Kevin’s a happy kid. I don’t know why he would run away, but maybe he did. It looks to me like he dragged his blanket and sheets to the window, like he intended to use them for a ladder. When he got there, he probably decided it wasn’t that far and just climbed down.”
My mother was crying. Of course she was.
The policeman said, “It’s possible. I’ve seen that happen before. A dozen times, maybe.”
My father stood up and paced; in between his words, he chewed on the end of his thumb.
“But why would he tear the screen? Why not open it? Why not just use the goddamn front door?” he said.
I could see on the policeman’s face that my father had hit the proverbial nail on the head. The officer waved another cop—a new arrival—up the stairs. He looked at my father and put a comforting hand on my mother’s shoulder. I’d never seen my father so angry. So lost.
“I’m sure he’ll turn up,” the cop said. “We’ll do everything we can, sir. Everything we can.”
Kevin didn’t run away. That was crap. He was smart. He was happy. He loved us. He never would’ve left home, not like that, not in the middle of the night. I wanted to speak up and tell them I knew who took him, and that the witch—the devil woman—lived right there, on the corner. But they wouldn’t have believed me, a ten-year-old kid with a big imagination, one whose brother just disappeared. Other than a pat on the head and a compassionate look, they didn’t interact with me at all. Not the police, not the neighbors and not my parents.
Adam came in with his parents who were there to support in any way. “If you need anything,” they all said. “Anything at all.” They were there to help mom and dad cope with the unexpected and frightening circus. Then Erin showed up.
“What the hell’s going on?” she asked.
I grabbed her hand and Adam’s hand and led them toward the front yard where we could sit on the driveway and be out of the way. Mom grabbed me.
“I’m just going out front,” I said.
Her eyes were stern, wild and bloodshot from crying. “I don’t want you out of my sight,” she said.
“We’ll be with him,” Erin said and Adam nodded.
“He’ll be fine, honey,” my dad said. “Let them go.”
She hugged me and I felt the tears spill over my eyelids and dampen my cheeks. “Don’t leave the yard,” she said and collapsed into my father’s shoulder, sobbing.
We squeezed in between neighbors and the police and went out the front door. I was still wiping tears from my face when Erin asked the question.
“What happened?”
“Kevin’s gone.” I sniffed.
“What do you mean gone?”
“Just gone,” I said.
“You mean run away? I know a girl who did that. Her daddy whipped her good when they found her.”
I interrupted her story before it reached mach speed.
“He didn’t run away…I think she took him.”
They stared at me, then at each other. Each went pale and silent.
“He was ripped out of his bed and right out the window last night, just like in my dreams. She took him and it’s all my fault.”
We all looked up to Kevin’s window and to that horrible piece of screen that flapped like the American flag in a strong wind.
“How’s it your fault?” Erin asked. “We were all spyin’. We all made fun of her.”
“But he saw her. Kevin and Jason looked at her and now she’s coming after us just like in the poem. She’s probably eaten him already,” I said, and the tears flowed once again. I put my head down to hide from them, not that it mattered. Adam touched my shoulder and then pulled his hand away and didn’t say a word. What could he have said?
“I’m going over there to get him back,” I said with a sniff.
“What?” Adam said.
“You’re an idiot,” Erin added.
I wiped clear snot off of my face with my shirt sleeve and fixed her with a hard stare.
“You two can come with me if you want, but I’m going either way.”
Adam shook his head. I glared at him, then looked back at her. She smacked him, her eyes narrowed to slits and her lips pursed into a thin, pink line. “Then I guess we’re all idiots. We’ll go,” she said.
Adam shook his head in protest, then looked at the window again…then at me and his face softened. Erin put her arm around him. He was only brave with backup.
“I say we go right now,” she said.
We left around the side of my house and jogged through my next-door neighbor’s back yard, headed toward the bus stop. My front yard was still full of neighbors, cars and policemen taking measurements and photos. They weren’t watching me. I heard my father through the window, as he shouted orders at the police.
“Do something! Do anything!”
His voice strained, laced with tears.
