J. Gonzalez - They

“ Because I can’t ” he’d bellowed at her. He’d flinched as she drew back at the ferocity of his voice. He’d told her the same thing the afternoon he handed her the plane tickets—and the doctored identities he wanted her and the children to live under. That had been three weeks ago, when he told her that he and Mike had stumbled onto something big, something that could very well threaten their lives. “The people my parents were involved in weren’t just another hippie cult; they’re fanatics . I think the things I was exposed to as a kid weren’t unintentional. I think it meant something, and I’m going to find out what it is, and who they are.” That was all he would tell her. As much as she’d begged and pleaded for him to tell him everything, as much as she’d tried to get him to tell her exactly why they were in danger, he’d insisted on sending her away to New England.

Thinking about Brandy and the kids now made him miss them more than ever. He felt his chest ache, his throat constrict. A tear ran down his cheek as he tried to keep his pain from spilling out. He could very well join them. He’d created his own new identity back then, too, in the event he had to slip away. That new identity was now waiting for him in a safe deposit box in New Hampshire.

When they reached Mike’s development, Frank cruised slowly, keeping a steady watch for anything suspicious—police activity, people sitting in vehicles parked at the curb. Mike was on the lookout too; he seemed more alert, more aware of his surroundings than he’d been since last night.

They approached the street Mike lived on and drove slowly. “Look okay?” Frank asked.

“So far, so good,” Mike answered.

They drove past Mike’s house. Mike’s car was still parked in the driveway. The front door was still shut. To all intents and purposes, everything looked okay.

Frank drove around the block, still keeping with a steady speed so they wouldn’t attract unwanted attention. “Do you know what you want to get out of the house?”

“Yes.”

“Where is it?”

“Upstairs, in my bedroom.”

“What is it?”

“My wedding album and the scrapbooks Carol made. Jimmy and Doug’s baby albums. And Kimberly’s baby album too.”

“Okay.” Frank couldn’t fault the man for wanting family heirlooms like that. “But you’re going to make it quick. I’ll go in with you.”

“Don’t you think you should stand guard outside?”

Mike had a point. “I’ll walk you to the front door and make sure you get inside. I’ll leave the car running. Anybody comes to the house, I’ll take care of them.”

“What if it’s the police?”

“I’ll take care of them.”

“You’ll shoot them?”

Frank shot a quick glance at Mike. “If that’s what it takes.”

Mike remained silent as they drove around the block and began heading back up the street his house resided on, in the center of the quiet, middle-class, tree-lined residential neighborhood.

Frank pulled the car into the driveway next to Mike’s car. He took one more quick look around, and then opened the driver’s side door. “Let’s do this.”

Both men exited the car and headed to the house. Frank drew his weapon as they approached the door. Mike fished inside his pockets for the keys. He inserted the key in the lock, gripped the doorknob, turned it.

Then they both stepped inside.

WHEN THEY ENTERED the house, Frank stepped in front of Mike, gripping the handgun in front of him in classic shooter’s stance. Mike hesitated a moment, the destruction of the house bringing him back to last night when he’d first encountered the sudden horror of what had happened. He took a deep breath, feeling his adrenaline rise as Frank quickly made a sweep of the living room and kitchen. He hustled back to Mike and looked up the stairs. Go !

Mike headed for the stairs and was startled when his cell phone rang.

He stopped halfway up, glancing at Frank, who ushered him to keep going. Mike held a hand up and unclipped his cell phone from his belt. He gasped. “It’s Jimmy,” he said. He answered the phone and began heading up the stairs. “Jimmy?”

“Dad!” It was Jimmy. He sounded frantic. “Thank God! I’ve been trying to call you for the past couple of hours and—”

“What’s the matter?” Mike said, his alarm rising.

“Kimberly’s missing,” Jimmy said, and then his voice broke. Mike felt his heart freeze up. Kimberly was his and Carol’s only granddaughter; she was three years old. “Cathy left the office and went by the daycare to pick her up for her doctor’s appointment and one of the aides turned white. She said that Cathy had been in an hour earlier to pick Kimberly up and now she’s gone !”

“ What are you talking about !” Mike had yelled into the phone. His heart was racing.

From the foyer, Frank: “Mike, let’s get going!”

“Somebody took Kimberly!” Jimmy was yelling, his voice panicked. “They took her and we can’t find her!”

“Oh my God,” Mike said, and he felt the world spin. The air seemed to thicken, he felt his limbs grow heavy as the nightmare crashed down. He was at the top of the stairs and he leaned against the hallway, unable to continue any further.

Frank called out from downstairs. “Mike! What’s happening?”

“We’ve tried calling you, and we’ve been with the police since, oh I don’t know, since ten-thirty, eleven maybe,” Jimmy said, crying. “I even went by the house earlier and you weren’t home.”

“When were you by the house?” Mike asked, feeling his throat constrict.

“Around noon maybe,” Jimmy said. “Dad, I don’t know what to do!”

“When did this happen?” Mike wasn’t thinking clearly as he resumed his walk down the hallway to the master bedroom. From behind him, he dimly heard Frank tell him to hurry it up, to get back down here now .

“Cathy… Cathy tried to pick Kimberly up at a little after ten,” Jimmy stammered, “and… and they said that Cathy had been in at nine and gotten Kimberly. They said that Cathy had already been there! How could she have already been there? She was in a meeting at that time!”

“I don’t know, son,” Mike said, feeling his heart freeze up as he suddenly stopped just shy of the master bedroom—

—where there was a large splash of fresh blood staining the carpet.

From downstairs, Frank called up to him. “Mike! You okay? Talk to me or I’m coming up.”

“No,” Mike said as he took another step closer to the master bedroom, Jimmy forgotten, everything else forgotten now, even Frank as he stepped to the threshold of the bedroom he’d shared with Carol. From behind him and down the stairs, he dimly heard Frank say, “No, what?”

There was a light on in the master bedroom.

He heard Jimmy’s voice coming through the cell phone as he stepped into the master bedroom, his muscles tense. The blood spatters became more pronounced, more evident in its coppery scent as he entered the master bedroom and when he saw the new destruction in the bedroom his mind rebelled. It was so sudden, so ugly, so wrong , that his mind took it in as jumbled images: melted candles, still lit; the crude symbols written on the wall, painted on the carpeted floor, the bloody piece of meat in the center of the symbol that was strangely satanic in look and design but which did not resemble anything remotely satanic in any of the research he’d uncovered. Then he saw who was there and the shock was so great that Mike thought he was going to scream.

At first he didn’t recognize them. There were six of them, three standing around the strange symbol, the other three seated on the floor. They all turned around at the sound of his entering and smiled at him, as if awaiting a long lost friend. Mike stood frozen in shock, trying to force his voice to unlock from the grip of fear. Who the hell are you and what the hell are you doing in my house ? he wanted to say. What came out was a parched hiss.