Estimated reading time — 23 minutes

1:48 AM

Aiden’s eyes opened slowly in the darkness just past midnight as he was pulled from sleep. He’d been in a pleasant dream, but the memory was fading, drifting away quickly, until it was as though it had never been there at all. Crust flaked off onto his hands as he scrubbed his eyes, and he flicked it away. The ceiling fan above him spun quickly yet silently, hitting him with air that chilled him despite two layers of blankets. The blue nightlight plugged into the outlet next to the door was alight, fighting against the darkness of the room. Rain pattered lightly on the roof above; a cozy sound. The shadows of the branches from the tree in the front yard danced on the top of the blankets as the wind blew through them, like arms reaching for something unseen.

He sat up in his bed, looking at nothing in particular. As his eyes adjusted to the dark, he listened to the silence of his room. The only thing that could have pulled him awake from sleep at…what time was it? He glanced at the clock on his nightstand—it flashed 1:48 AM. He thought maybe he had to use the bathroom, but he didn’t feel the urge. He’d already gone before lying down the night before. Studying always made him stay up late.

He swallowed and immediately winced at his dry throat. It felt like swallowing a pack of razor blades. This was far from the first time this had happened. Even if he’d filled his water glass the night before and drank plenty of it before going to sleep, he often woke up in the middle of the night with a scratchy throat. Fumbling at the nightstand for his water glass, he found it empty. It took a moment to remember he had drunk all of it while studying last night and had forgotten to refill.

He pushed the covers off him and swung his legs over the side of the bed and onto the carpet floor. Using his feet, he pulled his pair of gray slippers out from under the bed and slid them on. He grabbed the glass, walked slowly across the room, and eased the door open. The hallway was cloaked in darkness, the only light coming from a dim, blue night light glowing next to the stairs. Aiden’s eyes had already adjusted to the dark, and he found his way down the hall without any trouble.

At the clap of his slippers on the wooden floorboards, he started tiptoeing. Even without the slippers, walking regularly on the uneven floorboards risked waking up his parents and, worst of all, his baby sister Sarah. Her door was open when he walked down the hallway. She usually didn’t like the fan turned on, but only if she was awake. If Aiden or his parents forget to leave her door open, within a few minutes she’ll start crying, and either Mom or Dad would have to get up and comfort her before putting her back to sleep, remembering to turn her fan on and leave the door open as they left.

Aiden reached the stairs, placing each foot silently onto each step as he reached the bottom. He walked normally once he reached the living room, as there was a carpet draped across the floor in front of the TV and sofa.

He placed his glass on the granite table. Over the island in the kitchen next to the refrigerator, three bulbs burned, casting a warm, dim light across the table and walls. Squinting, he opened the freezer, quietly dug out four good-sized ice cubes, and dropped them in the glass. Pushing a button on the fridge, he changed the dispenser from ice to water and placed the glass inside. Once it was filled up, he wasted no time taking a sip, letting the cold, delicious water work its way down his throat. The dry agony, which had pained him since he’d woken up, evaporated with every swallow.

He looked and realized with a slight surprise that he’d finished the entire glass. As he went to refill it, the feeling grew in him that he was being watched. He turned to look behind him. Across from the kitchen, in the hallway that led to the front entrance, the basement door hung slightly ajar. He looked at it, confused. Surely the door had been closed last night. It was never open unless Mom or Dad had to go down there for something, and they always closed it when they came back up.

In the darkness behind the door, a slight movement…

Aiden frowned as wetness slopped over his hand. Snapping his head around, he realized he forgot to remove the glass from the dispenser, and now cold water ran down his arm, the fridge, and onto the floor. Setting the glass down, embarrassed, he scrambled to grab some paper towels and wipe everything dry. Stupid thing, letting fancies take hold of him. He was too old to think those thoughts.

But something had moved behind the door. He was sure.

Throwing the towels away, he grabbed his glass and walked out of the kitchen, approaching the door, and examining it. It hung open by less than half an inch. It was as if someone had swung the door back as they walked away from it, but it had failed to close. It was not the first time Dad had done that accidentally; this door didn’t swing freely all the way.

Curiosity seeped into Aiden, and he opened the door all the way, examining the dark staircase. This darkness was thick, thicker than the darkness in his bedroom. It swallowed the little light coming from the kitchen island. He stared intently into it, wondering at it. Dad didn’t go into the basement last night for anything; neither did Mom.

There’s someone down there…

With a racing heart, Aiden pushed the door closed and backed against the opposite wall. He couldn’t help it. That kind of darkness could prod those thoughts out of anyone.

Chastising himself, Aiden turned away and started up the stairs again. He tiptoed down the hallway, glancing at Sarah’s door as he passed it. Her crib sat on the opposite side of the room, next to the window and the drawn curtain, letting only a dim glow enter the room. Her monitor was positioned on the corner of the crib, ready to wake Mom and Dad up if she did. But for now, it seemed she wouldn’t be waking up anytime soon.

Aiden stepped into his room, shutting the door before kicking off his slippers and placing the water glass back on his nightstand. Looking at the clock, it read 1:59 AM. Putting the basement door out of his mind, he got under the blankets and closed his eyes; sleep came almost immediately.

_______

The man checked his watch as he smashed the basement window glass. 1:48 AM. If this house had an alarm system, and it went off, he could book it into the surrounding woods without catching any attention. Behind him, the neighborhood of Auburn’s Corner slept quietly under the rain. On the street, parked against the curb, was his red Toyota Tundra. He’d been careful to drive slowly through the neighborhood, doing no more than fifteen miles per hour. Any chance of making noise, he avoided—had to avoid.

He listened carefully. Nothing. No alarm.

He smiled.

Taking out his flashlight, he shined the light down inside the basement of the house. Against the wall, directly above the window, sat a long work table, covered with tools and scattered papers. Behind the table and to the left, was a narrow wooden staircase that led up to the first floor.

Looking around him on the grass, he kicked away shards of glass that hadn’t fallen inside, got down on his stomach, feet facing the window, and slid inside. He felt with his shoes for tools or a loose piece of paper that could sabotage him before planting them firmly on the table.

He stepped onto the concrete floor, dusting the grass and dirt off his shirt. Raising the flashlight, he scanned the basement, well-organized—save for the table—and clean. Cleaner than most, he’d say. He tested the bottom step on the staircase with his foot, feeling for any possibility it may creak. Nothing. It was firm.

Tiptoeing up the stairs, he suddenly stopped, listening. Someone was walking on the main floor. Was it Elaine? What was she doing up at this hour? Or what is her damn husband, John? The name irked him to his core and brought with it a hatred so intense it made him strengthen his grip on his flashlight until his hand ached. A part of him wanted to swing the basement door open and throw himself at the bastard right then and there—he’d taken his wife from him! Slept with her! Never mind that now. If the man could just take one of their children—he’d seen on Elaine’s Facebook pictures of the little monsters; a boy of about twelve, Aiden, and a newborn girl, Sarah—then maybe he could force Elaine’s hand. Maybe get her back. Yes, yes!

Calming himself, he inched closer to the basement door, pressing his ear against the wooden frame. The sound of a glass being placed on a table…a drawer opening…ice cubes rattling.

Taking this chance, he turned his flashlight off, turned the doorknob slowly, and looked out onto an empty hallway. Around the corner was the kitchen, bathed in warm light, and…it looked like Aiden was getting ice from the freezer.

Take him, a voice in his head raved. Take him now!

No, he said to it firmly. Patience. With this kind of thing, haste could get you caught. For now, he just watched the little snot from behind the crack in the basement door. He was filling his water glass now…he’s drinking it…he’s filling it again…

Shit! He’s turning! Sure enough, Aiden slowly turned his head and looked at the basement door. The man watched the kid as his eyes fell right on his hiding spot. His glass sat in the dispenser, still filling with water. Aiden couldn’t look in his direction for long, otherwise he’d spill it everywhere.

Does he see me? Not wanting to take any chances, the man moved out of the line of sight, going backward down the stairs and hiding around the corner. From the kitchen, the sound of water leaking and dripping, followed by the hurried sound of paper towels tearing. Idiot. He wasn’t sure who he meant that for.

The sound of walking. Closer…closer.

Dim light flooded the staircase. The door was open.

He’s coming down!

No, he told himself. He’s not. The light shone for a few more seconds before being cut off quickly as the door closed—he could hear the latch hit—and the sound of footsteps walking up the stairs.

The man turned his flashlight on and made his way back up the basement stairs. Distantly, the footsteps stopped somewhere on the second floor.

Take the girl.

He checked his watch one more time as he eased the door open and stepped out. 1:59 AM.

2:04 AM

Aiden awoke abruptly, bringing him back into the faint glow of his bedroom. The fan was still spinning, and the rain was still pattering on the roof, slightly louder.

Something had woken him up, and it wasn’t his throat this time. Sitting up in bed, he strained his ears, listening. He wasn’t sure what he was waiting for, but he figured if he could pinpoint the sound, he would know if he had to get out of bed and fix it. Perhaps something had fallen, and he was the only one who heard it. That wasn’t likely—what could have fallen now, and at this hour?—but it wouldn’t hurt to check it out.

Swinging his leg out from the blankets and onto the floor, he pondered the possible meaninglessness of the task. Maybe it really was nothing. Maybe he was wasting his time, and losing valuable sleep worrying over something that hadn’t even…

Crying. Sarah was crying. Aiden sighed with relief. Before long, Mom or Dad would speedwalk down the hall to her room and try to put her back to sleep. Something else came to him then, a low, throaty, droning noise coming from her room. To Aiden’s ears, it was like the sound of someone humming along to a song they’d heard, but couldn’t remember the melody.

The hairs on Aiden’s neck and arms stirred.

Turning his head, Aiden read the clock on the nightstand; the glowing numbers read 2:08 AM. Not even ten minutes?

Sliding his slippers on, he walked to the door and pressed his ear against it, trying to listen further. Through the paneled wood, more distinct now, the humming continued. There was no musical intonation to it at all. He turned the knob, his hands surprisingly slick with sweat, and eased the door open, looking down the hall behind him towards his parents’ room. Mom was still asleep, he could tell; her snores were loud enough to check the sound of the humming in intervals. Humming. Snore. Humming. Snore.

That’s what it is. Sarah probably woke up, and now Dad’s trying to put her back to sleep.

Since it would be impossible to go to sleep until it stopped, Aiden decided to check it out. He started down the hall, not bothering to tiptoe since he was no longer the only one awake. The humming grew louder as he approached, though Aiden thought it hesitated for a moment when he started walking.

Aiden turned into Sarah’s room and paused. His father was standing underneath the ceiling fan, holding Sarah in his arms, rocking her back and forth, humming that tuneless song. His silhouette starkly contrasted the white glow from the window behind him, darkening his features so no part of him showed. His shaggy hair was the only part of him Aiden could make out. Sarah was already asleep, but he didn’t seem to notice. He turned to face Aiden. He stared at him for a few moments before bringing the index finger of his free hand to his mouth, gesturing for Aiden to be quiet. He then pointed to the door.

Aiden took the hint and turned to walk out of the room when he stopped. His father’s voice was…odd. The tuneless sound was the same, but…what was it?  Aiden turned to look at him. He was still pointing for him to go. Whatever; it’s probably nothing. He was tired; and nobody sounds like they usually do when they’re woken up, especially under this circumstance.

Stepping into the hall, Aiden decided to check on his mother to see if she was still asleep or if Sarah had woken her up. Behind him, the humming came to a stop. Dad must have noticed Sarah was asleep, and now he was putting Sarah back in her crib. Aiden turned and looked at the doorway to Sarah’s room, expecting his father to walk out and return to his room. But he didn’t.

Aiden approached his parent’s bedroom, glancing in to see if Mom was awake. Under the blankets, her chest rose and fell with each breath, her snores reverberating around the room. No wonder Sarah didn’t wake her up.

Aiden turned to go to back his room and get the sleep he’d been missing. It was then that he saw it. His breathing stopped. He could feel the blood go cold inside of him.

In the bed, on the other side of his mother…his father was asleep next to her.

Aiden didn’t know how long it took to regain his composure, but when he did, he looked around and saw he was still standing in the doorway of his parent’s bedroom, staring at them, asleep.

Turning around in a hurry, Aiden walked…no, he ran down the dark hall to Sarah’s room. His slippers clacked on the hardwood floor; he didn’t care. Entering her room, he felt his hand along the wall, searching for the light switch. His hand found it, two of them. He flipped both…

The bedroom was empty.

Aiden walked to Sarah’s crib and looked inside, not noticing as the fan above him started turning. He felt the tears coming before he could stop them. He collapsed to the floor, shaking with sobs.

Sarah was gone.

——————————————————————

The man crept down the first-floor hall and opened the front door, stepping back out into the cool, night air. Sarah was asleep against his shoulder as he carried her to the truck.

He eased the back door open, buckled Sarah into the booster seat, and jumped into the driver’s seat.

Keying the engine into life, the tires squealed as he sped away.

2:07 AM

Hugging his knees, Aiden lost track of how long he cried. When Aiden raised his head, he could only look at the crib.

Outside, the sound of an engine starting and tires peeling on the pavement.

She’s gone. Aiden thought, bitterly. My sister is gone, and there’s nothing I can do.

Footsteps. A movement to his right.

“What are you doing in here?” a familiar voice asked. Aiden looked up; his father was standing in the doorway in his blue polka-dot pajamas, his face haggard, and his eyes puffy. “Aiden, why aren’t you in—“ he paused, kneeling in front of his son. “Aiden? It’s okay; you’re going to wake Sarah up. Let’s go.”

Standing up, he walked to her crib and froze. Aiden thought he heard a sound come from his father, but he couldn’t tell what it was.

“Where’s Sarah? Aiden?! Where is Sarah?!” Aiden could only shake his head and weep.

Without another word, his father stormed into the hall and raced down the stairs into the kitchen, where Aiden heard the front door fly open; the bang echoed around the house.

Aiden shot up to his feet, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. He stepped into the hallway, wanting yet not wanting to see what was happening. His mother stepped into the hall, tying her robe around her waist, shouting after him to tell her what was happening; instead of answering her, he started down the stairs to meet his father.

The front door, which led from the kitchen onto the front porch, swung open lazily, the night air freely blowing inside. Looking out, Aiden saw him standing in the rain next to the sidewalk, hands on both sides of his head, hopelessly looking left, up the road, then right. Left. Right.

Mom appeared at the bottom of the stairs, running over to Aiden. Her fuzzy, unkempt blonde hair and strained, panicked face made her look mildly deranged. “What is going on?!” Grabbing his shoulders, she whirled him around to face her. “Do you have Sarah? Where’s your father? Where is Sarah?!”

“She’s gone, Mom.” he choked. “Someone took her.” That was all he could say; he dropped his head down.

“Who?! Where!? AIDEN!” Releasing her hands from his shoulders, she turned and ran out the door, calling after his father. Aiden leaned his hand on the kitchen island for balance, his fingers touching the landline phone.

The phone. Of course! Picking it up with shaking hands, he dialed the three numbers his parents had taught him and placed the receiver to his ear, waiting for someone to answer.

——————————————————————

John picked a direction and ran that way. He couldn’t care less about his bare feet on the hard, cracked concrete, or that he was now soaking wet. Behind him, Elaine was screaming after him; he ignored her, sprinting up the sloping sidewalk of Cardinal Lane, past dozens of houses and parked cars. If there was a chance to find Sarah, this was it. The last thing he was going to do was wait for the cops. God, please let this be the right way.

Lights flipped on in some of the homes he passed; some people opened their doors, stepping onto their porches and calling after him. The threads of reality and consciousness seemed to be snapping with every step he took. He screamed for his daughter. For her life. His own life.

——————————————————————

The truck sped down the road, the man gripping the steering wheel with white knuckles, toward the interstate onramp as the rain now pelted the truck. The dashboard clock read 2:10 AM. Looking in the rearview mirror, he saw Sarah was still asleep, strapped in the booster seat. He looked down the road behind him at every other moment, searching for flashing lights. One of them had to have called the police by now.

Turning onto the acceleration lane, he floored the gas pedal and flew onto Interstate 28, the speedometer creeping up toward ninety. At this hour, there were no cars on the road ahead or behind him, giving him free rein over the four lanes.

As Sarah came awake, her cries could be heard over the rain and the roaring engine. Wincing, the man turned up the radio, letting it drown out the noise and his thoughts.

2:11 AM

Aiden placed the phone back on the receiver and closed the front door; it was getting cold inside. The kind lady on the phone said they would get here as soon as possible; exactly how soon, she said she didn’t know. I should lie down.

He made his way into the living room and sat on the couch facing the window, waiting for something. His thoughts swam as he listened to the rain. How did this happen? That was his father in Sarah’s room. At least, he thought it was. He should have turned on the light, to see if it were true. But what would he have done, then? Would he have taken you, too?

The sound of the door opening made him turn his head. His mother stood in the doorway. “Aiden!” she shouted into the dark kitchen.

“Right here,” he said blankly, his voice far away.

Her footsteps approached, and Aiden felt her weight on the couch as she sat next to him. She didn’t say a thing; she let Aiden rest his head against her arm; the shirt was soaked through. She wrapped it around him. He still felt like crying, but he didn’t know if he had any tears left to shed.

“Where’s Dad?” Aiden asked.

“He’s gonna get Sarah back, sweetie,” she replied. “I know he will.”

“How do you know that?”

“I just know it. You remember that. Can you do that for me?”

Aiden nodded, not believing a word. For a time, they sat there in silence, neither saying anything to the other.

Faintly, the wailing of sirens came up the street; the windows and curtains were flashing blue and red. The sirens stopped outside the house. Aiden got up and threw the curtains back, looking out the rain-soaked window; half a dozen police cruisers sat on the street, two running over the curb onto the sidewalk. Finally.

A knock at the door; Mom got up and opened it. She let the officer inside; he other pulled out a chair from the kitchen table and sat down, with Mom across from him. Aiden got up and sat next to her.

“My name is Officer Ross,” he said as he removed his camp. He looked down at Aiden. “We got your call, young man.” He looked back at Elaine. “Could you tell me exactly what happened?”

With a last look at Aiden, she began.

————————————————————

Sarah had fallen asleep again, her head resting against the window. Her chest rose and fell slowly with each breath.

The man had turned the radio off, and now the truck was speeding down Interstate 28 in relative silence. The speedometer read 82 miles per hour. Towering trees blurred past them on both sides. The weight pressing against his chest had dissipated with each mile he put between him and the house.

The rain was getting worse. The windshield wipers were on full blast as the man tried to see the road in front of him.

He’d surprised himself with how easily he pulled it off. Aiden had almost caught him, but the kid hadn’t bothered to see what that motion behind the basement door was; that decision saved his life—if Aiden had caught him, the man probably would’ve had to kill him; an unnecessary death.

Up ahead, through the dark fog, his exit came into view. He veered the Tundra into the right lane and slowed to a stop at the red light at the top of the onramp, not seeing the cop car parked behind the green sign. The officer behind the wheel, Alan, had received an alert from Ross and was told to be on the lookout for any suspicious vehicles on the road.

As the man turned right, down an even more wooded road, Alan called in a 10-80 and followed after him.

————————————————————

John finally came to a stop at the intersection of Cardinal and Clover Lane, gasping for breath, hands on knees. He’d run almost five blocks before his brain started working and demanded to know what he was doing out here. Do you think you can find her out here, the voice chastised. Running around in the rain while she’s probably being driven away in a car somewhere? For all you know, she could be in the next county over. For all you know, she could be dead!

“No,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Please no.”

In the distance, he could hear sirens approaching. Looking over the rooftops, blue and red lights reflected off of the fog. By now, people were stepping outside onto their porches, wondering what was going on. In the house next to him, an older couple stepped onto their porch, clad in their robes, and looked at John, soaked through to the skin and staring transfixed at the lights around his house.

“John?” the lady said. “What’re you doing outside?”

Her name was Clara. John would occasionally run into her while on his morning jogs before leaving for the office, if only for a brief ‘good morning’. Beyond those moments, they hardly knew one another. Now she was looking at him with a face mixed with confusion and concern.

John turned to look at her before running toward the lights. Clara called after him, but he ignored her.

————————————————————

“Is that all?” Officer Ross asked, his pen coming to a stop on his notepad. Elaine nodded, turning to kiss him on the head.

Aiden had tried to answer the questions the best he could when asked, but found himself constantly having to look at the officer when his mother told him to; it was hard for him to look at Officer Ross. He felt he would get in trouble if he didn’t answer correctly. He couldn’t give him the description of the man he saw in Sarah’s room—his features were shrouded in darkness, he had told him. The last time he saw him was when he left; he went to his parent’s room and saw both of them asleep.

“Okay,” Ross said, placing his pen and notepad on the table neatly in front of him. “Here’s what’s going to happen: The best we can do is wait for any sign of suspicious activity on the roads nearby. We’ve sent out a motion to be on the lookout for anyone on the road. It’s unlikely many people will be out this time of night. If we can get a visual on the vehicle the suspect was driving, maybe a plate number—”

Just then, Ross’s walkie-talkie came to life with a static buzz before a voice came in.

“We got a 10-80. Pursuing possible suspect. I repeat; 10-80. We have a possible suspect. Pursuing now.”

2:15 AM

Lights, blue and red, burst into life in the rearview mirror, and the sound of sirens was deafening. What the hell?! The man hadn’t even seen the car, and suddenly it was behind him, almost touching his back bumper. Was it behind the sign at that intersection? Shit, he thought, panicking. Shit!

From the car, a voice boomed out of loudspeakers: “Pull over! Pull over now!” Sarah came awake immediately, lifting her head and crying loudly. The man couldn’t think with all this noise. He closed his eyes.

“Shut up,” he screamed at her. “Shut up!” It did nothing. The sirens, the rain, the engine, and Sarah’s cries all clouded his mind like a red fog, and he couldn’t shake it.

“I’m not going to say it again,” the voice over the loudspeaker demanded. “Pull over now!”

There was a pothole in the road a tenth of a mile ahead of him, a deep one the town hadn’t gotten around to paving over. In the few months it had been there, it had caused a reasonable number of near-accidents—the worst resulting in a blown tire and minor car damage. Sitting just next to the white line on the right side of the road, it was easy to miss even in daylight and good conditions. But on a night like this, with the pounding rain and dark fog, the pothole was all but invisible to the man as he sped toward it.

—————————————————————

Ross stepped out onto the porch under the overhang and spoke into his walkie-talkie. “10-4, Alan.  I’ve received your 10-80. What’s your status?”

“In hot pursuit,” the hoarse voice responded. “We’re on his tail. He’s not stopping.”

“What’s his license plate?”

“No idea,” the deputy said. “I can barely see anything out here. All I know is that it’s a red truck; a Tundra, it seems. I’ll follow up when I’ve got him.” With that, the radio clicked off.

Ross stepped back inside, looking into the mother and son’s faces, pleading with him for any new information. “They’re pursuing a suspect on the road now. We can’t know for sure if your girl is there or not. In the best-case scenario, she’s with the suspect and still alive. If not…” he paused.

“What?” the mother asked, standing up, eyes wide. “If not, then what?!”

“I…”

“No, no!” she screamed at him. The boy shrank into the chair at her voice. “Don’t you dare tell me you’re not gonna do anything!”

“Mom. Please—“ the boy began.

She spun around in a fury, her robe swishing around her. “Quiet, Aiden!” She turned back to look at Ross, her eyes narrow, teeth bared. “I’ve lost my daughter, and I have no idea where my husband is now. For all I know, he’s—“

Distant shouting outside. An argument. She stopped.

Stepping to the window, Ross pulled the curtain back to look at the police cars, just in time to see a man sprinting for the door. Ross backed away just as the door burst open, slamming against the wall. The man stood in the doorway, wearing blue polka-dot pajamas that dripped water onto the wooden floor. His hair was plastered against his skull, and his eyes were wide and intent.

Ross drew his gun in an instant, aiming it directly at his chest. The man raised his hands over his head in an instant.

“No!” Aiden and his mother cried out with outstretched hands.

His walkie-talkie kicked on in that instant, and the trembling voice told him: “Suspect vehicle is down. I repeat, the suspect’s vehicle is down.”

————————————————————

The Toyota Tundra’s tire hit the pothole at nearly ninety miles per hour, exploding in a burst of rubber, and sending the truck spinning through the air before hitting the ground, rolling sideways down the road like a giant tumbleweed. Sparks flew in every direction with each impact, and scraps of metal scattered across the road along with glittering shards of broken glass.

Inside, the airbags deployed at once; the force of the impact against the man’s face knocked him senseless. Behind him, Sarah shrieked in terror and pain as bits of glass from the shattered windows sliced her face and arms. It was a hurricane of noise and glass, and Sarah couldn’t do anything to stop it. The lights from the police car behind them flashed in strobes as it passed in and out of sight.

The truck came to a final stop upside down on the side of the road next to a ditch, a battered and broken mess of metal and glass. Steam billowed from beneath the ruined engine hood, and gasoline flowed from the broken fuel line, spreading across the asphalt. And dripping inside.

Alan stepped out of the cruiser into the downpour, staring transfixed at the truck’s steaming wreckage. He brought the walkie-talkie to his lips and sent the trembling transmission to Ross. “Suspect vehicle is down. I repeat, the suspect’s vehicle is down.”

As he approached, he could hear the screaming cries of a baby; they carried a mixture of terror and pain. The hair on Alan’s arms and the back of his neck tried to stand on end as he drew his pistol. If the driver was still conscious—even though Alan couldn’t imagine that—he had to be ready. Enough close calls during his time in the service had taught him to never make that mistake. 

Stepping around pieces of metal, he made his way toward the hood of the truck, kneeling to look through the shattered windshield. The driver was slumped over, arms hanging over his head, either dead or unconscious. Behind him, strapped into a booster seat, hanging in the air by the seatbelt, was the baby girl, still screaming. The unmistakable smell of gasoline surrounded the wreckage. Looking around him, he saw he was stepping in it as it flowed across the asphalt and toward the ditch.

Cursing aloud, he put his pistol back in its holster and ran to her side of the car, wrenching the door open. The force of the truck’s impact had broken the hinges, and he took a step back as the door fell to the road with a crash.

He instinctively reached for the girl when he stopped. Up this close, he noted how delicately the booster seat was held in the air by the seatbelt. He had to choose where his hands went carefully; one wrong move, and the seat and the girl would tumble to the ground. All it takes is a single spark, a panicked voice told him. One spark and the whole thing goes to the moon. That spurred his hands to move quicker, desperately trying to unbuckle the girl from her seat.

With shaking hands, he pushed the button on the booster seat, and the straps came loose. The girl—Sarah, her name was, according to Ross—tumbled screaming into Alan’s hands. Almost slipping on the gasoline, Alan stepped backward, as far from the wreckage as was safe.

From the driver’s seat, a muffled groan came to his ears. Alan could see the man, his arms hanging limply beside him. The man’s head moved around as if wondering where he was. It didn’t take long. With a terrified shout, he worked at his seatbelt, trying to unbuckle himself. He turned out the window, what was left of it, and cried out to Alan: “Help! Oh god, help me!”

Holding Sarah tight against his left shoulder, Alan withdrew his pistol again. No chances. He called out to the man, “I’m gonna get you out. Stay put.” He had no idea how he was going to do that. Here he was, holding a baby to his shoulder, and saying he was going to help him.

He didn’t have to wonder any further. In an explosion of light and heat, the Toyota Tundra went up in a burst of flame and metal. The shockwave was strong enough to force Alan several steps backward, shielding Sarah with his hands the best he could.

What was left of the wreckage was now a towering bonfire, stretching in height comparable to the trees to the sides of them. The man inside was silent.

“Shit,” Alan said quietly.

2:20 AM

The four of them sat around the kitchen table, anxious for the next callback. Elaine was silently weeping as her husband held her. Aiden sat with his head down and hands in his lap.

Ross could do nothing for them. And it hurt like a brand on his heart. He’d been told by his superiors to sit with the family until the situation was over, whether it turned out well or not. That didn’t make him feel any better. Kidnapping cases were always the worst, not just because after a disturbingly short amount of time the child was likely to be dead, but because of how the family reacted to it. He’d been on these cases before, though luckily not many. All of them had ended poorly. Either the child was found dead, or never found at all—in those cases, they’d have to deal with the family’s calls, pleading for any new information about where their child was. And with each new call, the voice on the other end became more and more hopeless as they came to understand the horrible truth.

The walkie-talkie emitted loud static. Everyone at the table sprang to life as they listened.

“The vehicle has been destroyed. It…It exploded. The suspect is dead. But the girl is okay. I’ve got her.”

Elaine screamed. Her husband sat back in his chair, exhaling deeply. Aiden sat silent, mouth slightly agape. A weight on Ross’s shoulders evaporated with the words. He wasn’t a religious man, but at that moment, he sent his deep thanks to God.

“I’m on my way back to the house. Over and out.”

————————————————————

Alan carried Sarah through the rain to his cruiser, buckling her into the seat the best he could before sitting behind the wheel.

He sat there for a moment, breathing deeply, staring at the smoldering wreckage. He couldn’t stop his mind from pondering how it could have gone differently. What if he had handcuffed the suspect first, and put him in the cruiser before going back for the girl?

He looked in the rearview mirror at her. As he put the cruiser in gear and turned back toward Interstate 95, he smiled.

————————————————————

The words took longer to process than Aiden expected. He’d wondered what would happen if they found his sister alive. Maybe he’d jump up and down, run in circles, or maybe break into a celebration dance. But that’s not what happened. Instead, he cried; put his head on the table, and bawled like a little kid. I am a little kid! He smiled as the tears flowed down his cheeks. His mother leaned over and hugged him tight.

Ten minutes later, the door opened. A voice called out: “Ross? It’s Alan.” He stepped inside; a tall, blonde man in his late twenties. He was dripping water from head to toe. Against his shoulder, asleep with her thumb in her mouth, was Sarah.

Elaine cried out and ran to him, almost dragging Sarah from Alan’s grip. She caressed her hair and whispered reassurances. Aiden was next behind; Elaine had to bend down so he could kiss Sarah’s head. John was last; he didn’t exclaim like his wife and son. Instead, he walked over slowly, tears on his cheeks, saying his daughter’s name as if stunned, and took her from Elaine’s arms. She was coming awake.

Officer Alan stood idly by, watching the reunion unfold with a smile. It was Elaine who had the wherewithal to turn around and hug him and Ross, giving them a firm kiss on the cheek and hoarse whispers of thanks.

“Okay, honey. That’s enough of that.” John smiled.

The officers tipped their hats and said their farewells as they stepped outside. Before the door closed, distinct whooping and cheering came from the other officers standing by their cruisers.

The sounds of cars driving away. Before long, all was silent. The three of them stood in a tight circle, hugging one another.

It was Aiden who finally spoke. “Can we go back to bed, now?” They all laughed.

Outside, as the lights inside the houses turned dark, the rain lessened. The clouds parted, allowing the moon to shine again.

It was 2:28 AM. Auburn’s Corner was quiet.

Credit: @AmazingMason03