— A little, — Elena admitted. — But we did the right thing. You can’t just leave a person to die.
Drew nodded and leaned against his mother. Outside, the wind howled. Snow lashed the windows. But inside, it was warm. And quiet. And Arthur Sterling slept in the bed, not knowing what tomorrow would bring. Not knowing if tomorrow would bring salvation or a new nightmare.
The old flip phone sat on the table between the bread and the salt shaker, looking like an ordinary part of breakfast. Elena was zipping up her parka, in a hurry: the bus wouldn’t wait. Arthur sat on the bench, cautiously stretching his injured leg. He could walk now, though he still limped.
— Keep an eye on him, — Elena said, leaning toward Drew. — If anything happens, call Mrs. Gable next door. She’s always home.
— I will, Mom, — Drew nodded, pouring tea.
Elena lingered at the door, glancing back at Arthur.
— Do you need anything? — she asked. — Any medicine?
— No, thank you, Elena, — Arthur smiled tiredly. — I have everything I need. Thanks to you.
The door clicked shut. Cassie had already left for school; Drew had walked her to the porch to make sure her hat was tied tight. Only Arthur and Drew remained in the house. Arthur stood up and walked slowly across the room, holding onto the table and the back of a chair. His leg was hurting—you could tell by the way he winced—but he pushed through it.
— Drew, do you have a phone? — he asked, stopping by the window.
— Just Mom’s old flip phone, — Drew nodded toward the table.
— Let me use it. — Arthur picked up the phone, turning it over in his hands. — I need to find out what’s happening at the plant.
Drew nodded. Arthur dialed a number and put the phone to his ear. He stepped toward the window, speaking in a low voice. Drew only caught fragments: “Yeah, I see, okay.” A minute later, Arthur set the phone back on the table. His face was grim, his brow furrowed.
— What is it? — Drew asked, coming closer.
— Mike announced I’m on a business trip, — Arthur rubbed the bridge of his nose. — In Chicago. Everything’s “normal.” No one at the plant suspects a thing.
— Well, that’s good, right? — Drew shrugged. — It means they aren’t looking for you?
— They’ll look, — Arthur shook his head. — They definitely will. Mike isn’t stupid. He knows I’m somewhere nearby. You can’t get far without money.
Drew swallowed hard. A knot tightened in his stomach. The morning passed quietly. Arthur flipped through some old magazines Elena kept for kindling. Drew did his homework at the table: algebra, English. He wrote in his notebook, glancing at the window. Around lunch, he boiled the kettle and sliced some bread. He got some leftover soup from the fridge and heated it on the stove.
— Lunch is ready, — he called to Arthur.
They ate in silence. Arthur praised the soup, saying it was the best he’d had in a long time. Drew didn’t believe him: it was just basic potato soup. But it was nice to hear.
It was about 1:30 PM when Drew heard the rumble of an engine. He went to the window and looked out. A black SUV. Expensive, shiny. It stopped in front of Mrs. Gable’s house. Two men got out, big guys in leather jackets. They knocked on the neighbor’s door. Drew froze. His heart started pounding so hard he was sure Arthur could hear it.
— Mr. Sterling, — he whispered, not moving from the window. — There’s a car. Some people.
Arthur came over and looked over Drew’s shoulder. He went pale.
— It’s them, — he exhaled. — Mike’s guys.
— What do we do? — Drew turned around.
— I need to hide. — Arthur scanned the room. — Fast. They’ll come here next.
— The root cellar! — Drew ran to the kitchen floor. He pulled back the rug and used a hook to lift a floorboard. Under the floor was a hatch. Narrow, dark. It was where they kept the canned goods and potatoes. — Get in there.
Arthur frowned.
— Hurry! — Drew grabbed his arm.
Arthur grunted as he lowered himself into the cellar. Drew closed the hatch, threw the rug back over it, and slid a chair on top. He looked out the window: the men were already walking from Mrs. Gable’s toward their house. Drew wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans. He sat at the table and opened his notebook. He tried to breathe normally. A knock at the door, loud and insistent. Drew stood up, went over, and opened it.
Two men stood on the porch. One was older, maybe forty, with a buzz cut. The second was younger, muscular, with a gold chain around his neck.
— Hey there, kid, — the older one said, smiling. — We’re looking for someone. Maybe you’ve seen him?
He pulled a photo from his pocket and showed it. Arthur. In a suit, smiling. Clearly a recent photo. Drew looked at the photo, then at the man.
— No, haven’t seen him, — he answered, trying to keep his voice from shaking.
— You sure? — The older one narrowed his eyes. — Man in his mid-forties, wearing a suit. He would have been around here recently, maybe in the woods.
— I was out for wood earlier, — Drew shrugged. — Didn’t see anyone.
The younger man peered over Drew’s shoulder into the house.
— Where’s your mom? — he asked.
— At work. In the city, — Drew replied.
— You home alone? — the older one nodded.
— My sister’s at school. — Drew gripped the doorknob.
The men exchanged a look. The older one pulled out a business card and handed it to Drew.
— Alright. If you see him, call this number. We’ll make it worth your while, — he said. — Good money.
Drew took the card and nodded. The men stood there for another second, then turned and walked back to the SUV. Drew closed the door and leaned his back against it. His legs were shaking. He peeked out the window. The car didn’t leave. It stayed parked by the road. The men were smoking and talking.
Drew went to the hatch and opened it.
— Can I come out? — Arthur’s voice came from below.
— No, — Drew whispered. — They’re still there. Watching.
An hour passed. Drew sat by the window, keeping watch. The car didn’t move. Another hour. Arthur waited patiently below, not complaining. It wasn’t until four o’clock that the SUV finally started up and drove off toward the city. Drew opened the hatch. Arthur climbed out—dirty, pale. He sat on the bench, breathing heavily.
— They gone? — he asked.
— Yeah. They were just sitting there. Watching. — Drew handed him some water.
— Damn it! — Arthur drank it down. — Mike is serious about this.
— What if they come back?
Comments are closed.