by Nancy Isaak
“You’ve got a nice house,” added Rhys. “I like your flowers.”
There were two window boxes of geraniums hanging off the patio walls. Coral-colored flowers bloomed within, their blossoms cascading over the edges.
“My mom likes ganiums,” Ethan said. “She thinks they’re pretty.”
I took the key from him and opened the door. “Your mom is right, Ethan. Ganiums are very pretty.”
* * * *
I had been in a couple of these townhouses before, so I knew that they were all built following the same floor plan. Ethan’s was no different; living room, kitchen, half-bath on the bottom level—two bedrooms, full bath on the top.
Ethan immediately pulled me into the kitchen, to point out the plastic Mickey Mouse bowls on the counter. One was empty, the other bowl was half-full of warm milk.
“That’s where I was sitting,” Ethan said, pointing to a stool. “I was eating my cereal and when I looked up Lily and my mom was gone. And Pugly. He was sitting in Lily’s lap.”
“Kieran, Rhys—look around,” I ordered.
My brothers moved off, opening up doors, looking behind furniture—searching for a mother and a little girl we intuitively knew that we would never find.
* * * *
“Do you think they’re dead?” asked Ethan, looking worried.
I reached out and passed my hand over his face, wiping away his frown. “They are not dead. I am one hundred per cent confident that your mom and sister are alive and somewhere. I am—unfortunately—also one hundred per cent confident that I don’t know exactly where.”
This brought a slight smile to his face.
We were in the smaller of the two upstairs bedrooms. While Rhys and Kieran roamed the immediate neighborhood—searching for any sign of Ethan’s family—I was helping the little boy pack some belongings into a small backpack.
“Maybe an alien took them away,” he suggested, shoving some Legos into a front pocket. He reached for a large brown teddy bear.
“Dude, you might want to consider packing some actual clothes,” I said. “We can always come back for toys later.”
Reluctantly, he placed the bear back where he had found it. I immediately picked it up and tucked it inside of my shirt. “I didn’t mean this one!” I grinned. “We absolutely need this one!”
Ethan smiled.
“And aliens didn’t take your family, bro. No aliens! Now go pack some clothes,” I ordered. “And a toothbrush.”
There was a small, framed photo sitting on a shelf, just above Ethan’s bed. I went over and picked it up, looking at the redheaded woman and the tiny strawberry-blond girl in the picture.
“Is this Lily and your mom?” I asked.
Coming over, Ethan tapped the corner of the photo. “And that’s Pugly.”
I looked closer. Sure enough, there was a goofy-looking pug photo-bombing the two girls over their right shoulders.
“This is coming with us, too,” I said, tucking the photo into Ethan’s backpack.
* * * *
“It’s a Tesla Model S,” I said. “That’s seventy, eighty thousand dollars’ worth of car right there. Without the add-ons.”
The pearly-white electric vehicle was sitting in the middle of the road, just across from the entrance to the Agoura High School football field. Rhys walked around it, pulling at the door handles.
“It’s locked up,” he said. “And the keys are in the ignition.”
I bent down and looked in through the passenger’s window. “There’s a purse between the seats.”
Kieran walked around to the other side and placed his hands against the driver’s window, peering into the car. “I can see a wallet in the purse. And her phone is in the charger.”
“Aw, crap,” I sighed.
“What is it?” asked Rhys.
Beside me—holding my hand—Ethan’s eyes filled with concern. If anything, his grip tightened.
“Look at her seatbelt,” I said, pointing into the car. “It’s still done up.”
“I don’t get it,” said Rhys. “What’s wrong with that?”
“If her seatbelt is still done up,” I asked, “how did she get out of the car?”
Rhys’ face dropped.
“Did she disappear, Jacob?” asked Ethan quietly. “Is that how the driver got out of the car?”
I looked down at his worried face. “I don’t know, bud,” I said, honestly. “But I think so.” Then I looked over at Rhys to see that he was trembling. There were tears in his eyes and he looked frightened.
“You okay, Rhys?” I asked him.
“Mom and dad,” he whispered.
JOURNAL ENTRY #3
I think when we first saw all those empty cars on the 101—we knew.
We knew that Mom and Dad were gone.
But I don’t think that we wanted to admit it to ourselves. In some ways, I think that’s why we didn’t come straight home. Why we went to Ethan’s townhouse instead.
The longer we stayed away—the longer they lived.
At least in our hopes.
* * * *
It was hard to keep Kieran from running straight home. Maybe if we didn’t have Ethan, I would have run with him. But there was no way a 7-year old kid would have been able to keep up, and I certainly couldn’t carry the little boy the whole way.
“We have to stay together,” I yelled, grabbing Kieran’s arm.
“But it’s mom and dad!” Kieran yelled back, struggling to free himself. “We have to find them!”
“Shh!” Rhys hissed, trying to shut us up. “Please guys,” he begged. “They’ll hear us!”
“You can’t run off on your own!”
“You’re not the boss of me!”
“Today I sure as hell am!”
Beside me, Ethan suddenly burst into tears. He sat down on the ground, stuffing his fist into his mouth. A few moments later, he began hiccupping.
I turned to Kieran, glaring at him. “Satisfied?”
Kieran calmed down—somewhat.
“Can we please just go?” he begged.
* * * *
We took the straightest route home—straight up and over the hill on the far side of the high school football field. Kieran and Rhys led the way. I followed, holding Ethan by the hand.
As we climbed the hill and came down the other side, I scanned right and left, checking out the houses around us, searching for signs of life—or trouble.
There was nothing.
But—every few blocks—we came across at least one vehicle, sitting in the middle of the road or angled up against the curb. After the first three, we stopped looking inside for the inevitable keys in the ignition and fastened seatbelts.
* * * *
Rhys was the first one to notice that there was a baby carriage in Sumac Park.
It was one of those big ones with a kind of awning over top. The carriage was just sitting there on the grass—all by itself—while a couple of crows clucked their disapproval in the trees overhead.
“Do you think there’s a baby in there?” asked Rhys, looking horrified at that thought.
“Wait here.”
I handed Ethan over to Kieran and ran over to the baby carriage. Crossing my fingers, I looked inside.
It was empty.
“No worries,” I called back to the guys.
They came over quickly, checking the inside of the carriage, as if they didn’t quite believe that I was telling the truth.
Meanwhile, I grabbed Ethan’s hand. “Come on, little dude,” I said. “We’re just over there.”
And I took off running—Kieran and Rhys right behind.
* * * *
Our house is one of those older single-storeys that you see all around Southern California. They call them Craftsmen houses.
It was built in the 1950’s.
We have four bedrooms—two on one side of the living room, two on the other side. In the backyard we have a pool—which I absolutely love—except when I have to clean it.
* * * *
It’s funny how you can tell that a house is empty the moment you enter it. There’s something about the way sounds echo through the rooms—a deadness in the air.
When we came through the front door, Rhys and Kieran raced around, going through room after room, searching for our parents.
I didn’t bother; I already knew that they were gone. I could hear it in the echoes—feel it in the air.
Placing Ethan’s backpack on the hallway table, I took the little guy by the hand and walked him over to our family portrait on a nearby wall. Mom had us take it last winter on Zuma Beach, because she said the light would be good there.
I wouldn’t know about that. Zuma’s always been about the waves for me.
It was kind of embarrassing at the time, because Mom made us all wear the same sweater. I remembered praying that the girl I loved wouldn’t show up that day. (Sometimes she likes to paint down at Zuma. I guess the light is good for her there, too.)
Whenever our eyes would meet, she’d nod hello. Then she’d go back to her painting. I kept trying to get up the nerve to talk to her.
But I never did.
Luckily, she didn’t show up that day.
Instead, there were only strangers to witness my sweater-humiliation.
* * * *
That’s my mom and dad,” I told Ethan, pointing up at the portrait.
“Your mom is pretty,” he said.
“Very,” I agreed. “See how Rhys and Kieran have the same blond hair as her. I have brown hair like my dad.”
“Her eyes are like your eyes.”
“Yes, they’re light blue like mine. And my brothers have my dad’s dark blue eyes.”
“My hair is red like my mom’s and Lily’s.”
I nodded. “Strawberry blond. Very rare. You’re lucky.”
Kieran and Rhys walked up from the back of the house.
“We can’t find them,” said Kieran. “They’re not anywhere. And the power’s out just like everywhere else.”
Rhys looked like he was struggling not to cry. “What are we going to do?” he whimpered.
I took a deep breath before I answered.
“For now,” I began, “we make an early supper. We have a good meal and a good night’s sleep. In the morning—after we’ve had a chance to think things through—that’s when we’ll figure out the rest.”
JUST IN CASE
Because there was no electricity, we decided to fire up the barbeque. It only made sense, with all the meat in the freezer slowly unthawing.
I manned the grill while Kieran made a salad. Rhys, meanwhile, took care of Ethan, showing him his computer and Xbox that were now totally useless, except as tiny coffee tables.
“Here’s your stupid salad,” said Kieran, dropping the bowl of greens on the patio table. We had decided to eat outside, using what natural light there was left before the sun dropped completely below the horizon.
Kieran turned to go back into the house. I stopped him, so I could talk to him quietly without the other two overhearing.
“What’s up?” he asked.
“While I’ve been standing here grilling, I’ve been thinking about something. Maybe it isn’t a good idea for us to stay tonight in the house,” I said, keeping my voice low.
“You want us to sleep outside?”
“No,” I shook my head. “I want us to sleep in another house. Somewhere close by where we can watch this place, just in case mom and dad come back.”
“What’s going on, Jacob?”
“It’s probably me just being paranoid, but I keep thinking of Betsy, back in the canyon,” I said quietly. “The car registration is in the glove box.”
There was a moment before the realization hit Kieran’s face.
He gasped. “Ohmigod! If those guys go through Betsy, they’ll find out where we live!”
“Which is a long shot,” I added, quickly. “Except that—from what I can remember—Betsy was the only car parked on the side of the road heading down into Malibu. And it’s got the surfboards inside of it. That might attract them.”
Kieran thought about this for a moment. “Are there any pictures in the Honda? Other than the registration, anything that would let them know Betsy belongs to you?”
“That’s the problem,” I said. “I’m not sure. Sometimes you have to staple a picture of yourself to the surfing applications. Mom usually fills out the forms and puts them in envelopes for me to mail. I know there are a couple of contest applications in the back of the Honda. I’m just not sure what’s inside of them.”
“Where do you want to stay then?” asked Kieran.
I shrugged. “Doesn’t really matter, as long as it’s close.”
“What about Mrs. Holly’s?”
“That would probably work,” I agreed. “Her upstairs windows look down on our yard. We should be able to see anyone who comes into it.”
Kieran suddenly smiled.
“What’s so funny?” I asked.
“You know what would be hilarious?” he said. “If we go over to Mrs. Holly’s and she’s still there. Can you imagine how that’d be for her? Because you just know that she’d be thinking—it’s the end of the world and that God left her behind.”
“We’d probably find her alternating between whipping herself and praying,” I laughed.
“Okay, now that’s a disgusting visual,” groaned Kieran. “Especially since it’s probably true.”
“There’s something else we need to do,” I added, becoming serious.
“What?”
“We need to get some weapons.”
“You mean, like guns?”
I nodded. “I mean exactly like guns.”
He thought about that for a moment. “Do we know anybody who owns a gun?” Kieran asked. “Or are you talking about going to the Lost Hills Sheriff’s Station and taking theirs?”
“It might be a smart idea in any case to go to the Sheriff’s station. Who knows—there might actually be someone alive there and in charge.”
Kieran mused over this for a while. Finally, he nodded. “Makes sense. Grab some guns, a couple of batons. If someone’s there—even better.”
“All right,” I nodded, taking the chicken off the grill. “If mom and dad don’t come back tonight, we’ll head to the cop shop tomorrow.”
* * * *
Like many people in Southern California earthquake country, my mom had prepared an emergency kit after the infamous Northridge Earthquake of 1994. It was in the garage—covered in dust—but I went through it just before it got dark, pulling out everything that we could use.
The batteries and radio were useless, of course. I had better luck with the hurricane lantern. It was powered by a small bottle of oil that my mother had the foresight to include—along with a container of waterproof matches and candles.
Various packets of dried food, including my favorite—Astronaut Ice Cream—went into a large backpack, along with the first aid and sewing kits. After a long moment’s thought, I also put in the wad of cash I discovered hidden in a box of macaroni. In all honesty, I had the feeling that—in this new world—money would be going the way of the dodo. Still, it just seemed wrong to leave it.
As my mom always said—just in case.
* * * *
It was completely dark when we entered Mrs. Holly’s house.
Luckily, I knew where she hid her spare key so—at least—we didn’t have to break a window to enter. As far as I was concerned, the less evidence of our existence that we left around, the better.
Because we were afraid that Mateo and his gang of orange shirts might be in the area, we didn’t use the hurricane lamp. Instead, we fumbled our way through the dark house, using a small tea candle to light our way.
“Mrs. Holly,” I called out, as we entered. “It’s Jacob Riker from next door.”
“Come in, sweetie,” squeaked a high voice.
Rhys and Ethan both gasped.
I turned around and ba
tted Kieran on the top of his head. “Stop it! That isn’t funny!”
Kieran chuckled. “I thought it was.”
We moved farther into the house, locking the front door behind us.
“Wow, it’s dark,” muttered Kieran.
“Just follow me,” I ordered.
Slowly, I led them upstairs into the guest bedroom that looked out onto our front yard. A large bed filled the room, with a chair and a sewing machine in opposite corners.
“We’ll stay in here,” I decided. “You guys can take the bed. I’ve got the chair. I’m going to keep watch from the window.”
“Jacob,” said Ethan, quietly, “I need to use the bathroom.”
“To brush your teeth?” I asked.
He shook his head. “I need to go number two.”
Oh-oh.
“Um…okay,” I stuttered, thinking hard. Being guys, we’d just been peeing in the corner of the yard. This was the first time this particular ‘problem’ had come up.
“There’s probably a bathroom downstairs,” suggested Kieran. “We’ll just keep the door closed afterward. It shouldn’t get too stinky.”
“Good idea.” I took the tea candle and grabbed Ethan by the hand. “Come on, bud. Let’s take care of business.”
* * * *
I wasn’t the only one who was surprised when Ethan suddenly flushed the toilet. Kieran and Rhys came racing down the stairs.
“We’ve got water pressure?!” asked Kieran, surprised.
