The Other Side of Me - 11. Chapter 11

The air was getting cooler as a hint of a late afternoon storm clouded the sky and Jay picked up his pace again, trying to ignore the way that his lungs were beginning to burn from running. It was all he could do to keep up with Frank, who’d seemed to be hit with an unmatchable rush of adrenaline. Jay didn’t know where he was going, but he knew he couldn’t lose him. Frank did know something; although, somewhere during their conversation, Jay had lost track of what that was. But, Frank wanting to go to Oliver worried him. If Frank planned to warn the guy that they were onto him and his family, Jay wasn’t exactly willing to let that happen.

“I going to call the police!” Jay shouted from behind him, but Frank didn’t slow his pace, or object like Jay suspected he would.

“Go ahead,” he called back.

Jay groaned, pushing himself harder until he was on Frank’s heels. “Do you wanna tell me what’s going on?”

“I have to get Oliver away from his parents... he’ll be home by now.”

“Why? Can’t we just call someone first... Frank!” Jay came to a stop, placing his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. “Frank, if they had anything to do with Odetta...”

Frank stopped just ahead of Jay and looked back, his face flushed from running. “Look, Odetta’s been dead for, like, a year. I’m pretty sure she can wait a little while longer. I need to find out what happened to David before the same thing happens to Oliver.”

Jay frowned. “What are you talking about?” he demanded.

Frustrated, Frank shook his head and kept running. “Keep up and I’ll tell you everything.”

“Frank, wait!”

“What?” Frank shouted, spinning around again.

“Can we at least take my car?” he replied. “It’ll get us there a lot faster, and there’s no way I’m running all the way around the lake.”

......................................................

“How could you possibly fall for that?”

“Will you watch the road!” Frank snapped, pointing out the front window to the road ahead of them as Jay swerved recklessly over the gravel. He hadn’t really been in danger of hitting anything. Frank simply wanted to avoid answering the question since he’d been asking himself the same thing and couldn’t quite come up with an answer that didn’t make him feel like the world’s largest idiot. “It was believable... and Oliver talks to himself--I mean, he talks to David, when he’s not even there. Look, it doesn’t really matter now. The point is, the Martins are trying to convince him that David doesn’t even exist... probably because they don’t want anyone to figure out what they did with him.”

“What do you think they did with him?” Jay asked.

Frank swallowed against his dry throat. “I don’t know,” he said. And he certainly didn’t want to speculate. The sudden silence in the vehicle suggested that neither of them did, since it was difficult not to think the worst.

“Okay,” Jay said calmly. “The last time I saw David... it had to be about two weeks ago, when he went to see the boat. So, we know he was okay then, right? Unless it was Oliver--sometimes it’s hard to tell, unless one of ‘em’s talking.”

“It wasn’t Oliver,” Frank said. “He wouldn’t be near that boat... I think it scares him.”

“Okay, so sometime in the last two weeks...”

“Nine days,” Frank cut him off.

“What?”

“Whatever happened, happened exactly nine days ago.”

“How do you know?”

“Because that’s the last time I talked to David,” Frank explained. “I got this weird phone call... He said he was going to tell me something, but before he got the chance the line went dead... I went over there and they had Oliver locked up under their house. That’s when they fed me that story.” Frank paused, releasing a shaky breath. “Fuck, and I bought it all...I’ve been seeing it like... God, I’ve probably got Oliver’s head as fucked up as his parents do. He just wanted me to listen to him and I...”

“Hey. Like you said, that’s not what’s important right now. “We need a plan, Frank. These people are dangerous; if you wanna get Oliver we can’t just walk right in there...”

“I can get him out,” Frank said confidently. “I mean, if his dad isn’t home yet... I can get him out.”

“And then what?”

Frank sighed. “We can get the oars from my house and go to the police... but I don’t really know if that’s going to be enough proof, Jay. Our best bet is to prove something happened to David.”

Jay nodded. “That won’t be as hard as you think if he’s really missing, Frank. No one really saw much of Oliver and David, but we knew they were there--both of them.”

Frank sighed, looking out the window. He wished that someone would have mentioned that before. Hell, he wished that he would have paid more attention to what Oliver was trying to tell him. At the very least, listening to his own instincts about the Martin parents would have been helpful. Now, Frank felt like it was too late. At least, for David. For Oliver, it was a different story, and Frank swore that as soon as he got to him, the Martins never would again.

Jay took the road to the Martins’ house slowly as they came closer and both boys took a good look around. It had just started to sprinkle, and as the small water droplets hit the windshield things appeared to be quiet.

“I don’t think Brian’s home,” Frank said, finding that he was whispering, even if it wasn’t necessary. “I’m just gonna knock on the door... we probably shouldn’t let Oliver’s mom suspect anything just yet.”

Jay nodded his agreement. “Okay,” he said as he turned off the engine and pocketed the key to his car. “But I’m gonna go with you.”

Frank frowned at that idea. “I don’t think so.”

“Look, I’m not gonna freak out if that’s what you’re worried about. I do have some control over my temper.”

“You scare Oliver,” Frank said bluntly.

“I’ll be nice.”

“Jay...”

“Fine, I’ll stay here... but as soon as something doesn’t look right, I’m coming in.”

Frank studied the other blond for a moment. “Thanks.”

Jay only nodded, and Frank left the car, heading towards the Martin house. Outside of the vehicle the raindrops felt particularly cold on his warm skin, and he found himself approaching the front steps more quickly than he cared to. Shaking inside and out, Frank wasn’t sure how he was going to keep up pretenses with Mary Martin after everything he’d just learned. And, while he was more confident when it came to handling her than Brian Martin, he didn’t underestimate the woman for a minute. She’d been the only one there the night that Frank had found Oliver in the basement. He didn’t doubt that she had something to do with David’s disappearance... although, remembering how Brian had mysteriously run out in the middle of the night was worth worrying about now, too. For all Frank knew, Brian’s errand could have consisted of the disposal of a body. David’s body. Trembling, Frank didn’t want to think about it. He felt like he was putting the pieces together a little too quickly, and didn’t quite care for the picture they were creating.

At the door, Frank knocked. He waited, telling himself he’d make it quick. Mary would likely answer; he’d tell her he needed to tell Oliver something, grab him, and they’d run. At least, he hoped it would be that simple. Maybe it would have been, if Mary Martin had answered the door. If anyone had.

Frank glanced back at the car to find Jay watching intently. It was a comfort having him there, even if a small one, and Frank knocked again, louder this time. When no response came again, he frowned to himself, and reached for the doorknob, looking back at the car again, this time to make sure Jay saw what he was doing. Apparently, Jay didn’t miss anything, because before Frank even swung the front door open, Jay was standing next to him on the porch.

Together they looked into the Martins’ living room cautiously, their eyes adjusting to the darkness of the house slowly. “Hello,” Frank whispered, as if he didn’t really want anyone to hear him as he slid his hand against the inside wall in search of a light switch. He found one, flicked it on, and yanked his hand back as if the lid to the cookie jar was about to close on it.

Silently, Frank looked into the orderly living room, wondering if Mrs. Martin was going to pop out at them at any given moment. He opened his mouth, deciding that he should call out again, but before he followed through with that, Jay’s hand was between his shoulder blades, pushing him forward.

“What are you doing?” Frank demanded.

“Go in,” Jay urged.

“You go in!” Frank hissed.

“Sure... I’ll be right behind you.”

Frank rolled his eyes, and forced himself to take the first step into the house. Since the last time he was there, he didn’t notice anything different, or strange... but then, he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to. It wasn’t as if the Martins would be hiding their secrets, or the body of their apparently missing son--if there was a body--in plain sight.

“I don’t think anyone’s home,” Jay said, following Frank in. “Maybe we should just go.”

“No,” Frank stated. “Oliver’s gotta be around here somewhere.”

“You don’t know that.”

Frank looked back at Jay, frowning. “He has to be, because I’m not leaving here without him.”

The clanging sound of a pan dropped somewhere in the house caused them both to jump, Jay going so far as to grab hold of Frank’s arm. “Okay, someone’s definitely here,” Jay admitted, leaning forward to sniff the air. “And I think... something’s burning.”

“Kitchen,” Frank whispered, and together they headed towards it. But, before they got there, Jay paused to unplug a table lamp before he lifted it up, and Frank stopped to regard him with a mixture of curiosity and annoyance. “What are you doing?”

“Self-defense,” Jay informed him and nodded for Frank to continue.

Frank frowned at the reminder that they might actually have to defend themselves, but didn’t ask Jay to put down the lamp as they continued slowly towards the kitchen, each of them attempting to keep their footsteps as silent as possible. But as soon as Frank reached the kitchen, and saw who was making the noise, he turned and grabbed the lamp right out of Jay’s hand, feeling that it was a reasonable precautionary measure before he stepped past the hallway, placed it carefully on the floor, and looked over his surroundings.

“Oliver? What are you doing?”

It was a good question. Looking around the kitchen, Frank found it, unlike the rest of the house, in disarray. The refrigerator door, cabinet and drawers were open, cans of non-perishable items opened, littering the counters along with an assortment of chopped vegetable and raw meat. There were pots and pans smoking over the stove, the empty bottoms burning as Oliver stood over the kitchen table, appearing to be setting it, adding the forks next to the plates. He seemed slow in noticing that Frank was even there, and when he did look up he seemed pale, his eyes dark and heavy.

“Hi, Frank.”

“Oliver... what are you doing?” Frank asked again as he walked around the table to get to him, while Jay took it upon himself to go to the stove and turn off the burners.

“I have to cook dinner, Frank.”

Frank frowned, knowing that he wouldn’t think this was strange when it came to Oliver if he wasn’t aware of the fact that Oliver did know how to cook without causing the kitchen to explode.

“More like destroying it,” Jay remarked, and Oliver spun around, looking alarmed like he’d just noticed Jay was there. He backed up until his shoulder was touching Frank’s.

“Jeremy Flaskis’s in my house,” he whispered.

“It’s okay,” Frank told him, reaching for his hand. “He’s gonna give us a ride. Come on, we’ve gotta get out of here.”

Frank headed towards the door, but when he tried to take Oliver with him, Oliver yanked his hand back, looking unreasonably upset. “No! I have to cook dinner, Frank! I have to cook it for my mom!”

“Oliver, listen,” Frank responded. “I know about David--I know the truth. I’m sorry I didn’t believe you, and I want to talk about it some more, but right now, I’m worried about what’ll happen if I don’t get you out of here. Please...”

Frank held out his hand, and as Oliver bit at his bottom lip when it began to quiver, he stared down at the offering. But, he didn’t take it. Instead, he turned back to the table, rotating the plate in front of him. “I have to make dinner,” he said again, his voice sounding uneven.

“Hey,” Jay said roughly, moving towards him. “What kind of idiot...” he was silenced when Frank placed a hand on his chest and placed himself between Jay and Oliver.

“Oliver, please,” Frank said. “If you’re mad at me right now, I really can’t blame you... I would be, too. But we have to go now. We’ll get help, alright, like we talked about before...we’ll tell everyone David’s real.”

Oliver slowly shook his head as he lifted his eyes to meet Frank’s. “But he’s in so much trouble now, Frank.”

Frank bit at his tongue, reminding himself to keep his words calm. “I know... your parents did something to him, didn’t they?”

Oliver sucked in a breath, choked on it. His hand slid over the plate in front of him and it fell from the table, shattering on the floor and causing everyone to jump, and as Frank lifted a hand to steady Oliver, Jay stepped away, frustrated.

“Frank.”

“Hold on, Jay,” Frank gritted out.

“No--fuck this,” Jay snapped. “I’m gonna find a phone and call for help... then I’m outta here, with or without you. I swear it, Frank.”

If Jay had intended to provoke a reaction out of Frank that would get them out of there faster, he was soon disappointed as he came to conclude that every bit of attention Frank had was on Oliver, and frustrated, he left the room, wishing he’d never agreed to go there first.

“Oliver, do you know what happened to David?” Frank asked, giving him a gentle shake to draw his attention. “I think you do...where he is? What happened to him?”

Oliver defensively wrapped his arms around himself. “I don’t know, Frank. He stopped talking to me!” Oliver suddenly knelt down, his hands shaking as he struggled to pick up the larger pieces of the broken plate, even as Frank followed him, grabbing his hands to stop him. “I have to make dinner now!” Oliver snapped. “I have to! It has to be my job now! I can’t... I can’t talk about David anymore. I don’t know why...” Oliver frowned, wiping his face on his sleeve before he looked at Frank again. “I don’t know why he won’t talk to me anymore.”

Frustrated, Frank pulled Oliver to his feet, wondering if he should use a more forceful approach. But, as he took a moment, and Oliver’s words sunk in, his eyes slowly widened in realization. “Oh god...” he whispered, studying Oliver closely for several long moments before he swallowed hard and tightened his grip on the other boy’s hands. “You already told me, didn’t you?”

..................................................

“... and if you idiots are going to have an emergency line, then at least one of you lazy sons-of-bitches should be around to answer the damn thing!” Jay concluded irritably. He was running out of people to call. That was the third time he’d called the police after being unable to reach his parents, or even Jenny and her parents. Frustrated, he slammed the phone down on the receiver, cursing as the force caused it to fall.

Habit caused him to bend down to pick up the mess, but as he reached for the phone, he paused as the rug at his feet caught his attention. The corner was turned up: nothing that seemed out of the ordinary. But there was a small detail there on the carpet beneath that had him forgetting about the phone as he stepped aside and slowly pulled back the rug. Cocking his head, he stared at the stain on the floor curiously. A rusty-looking ring, it wasn’t very large, but still, there was something about it that had the hair on the nape of his neck prickling, and his instincts knotting his stomach as he slowly reached out and touched it with two fingers.

The carpet was soft, and as he looked closer, he could see that the stain looked smudged. The place had definitely been washed. Again, nothing so out of the ordinary. Accidents happened. People cleaned them up... But, then he was reminded of last winter, the evening his father and grandfather returned from their annual hunting trip to Colorado with an antelope that would help feed their families, and others in need over the next months. His dad had taken a break from cleaning the animal, walked into the house to use the restroom, and was promptly scolded by his mother halfway across the living room when she realized that he’d stepped in part of the mess outside and tracked it across the floor. They’d discovered that blood wasn’t the easiest thing to get out, and despite numerous cleanings, his mother had finally given up and thrown down a rug until they could replace the carpet. The Martins hunted, but he doubted that the stains on the carpet had anything to do with it. When it came to these people, Jay was most definitely one to jump to conclusions, and the fact that Frank had told him he’d received a call from David before he disappeared was all he needed to suspect foul play. If he was right in his assumptions that David was going to give up a few family secrets to Frank, and one of his parents found out, then Jay could easily picture him being attacked from behind before he got around to it.

“Hey, Frank, come look...” Jay paused as he looked up, his eyes getting a clear shot down the hallway.

He could have kicked himself. Silently, slowly, he moved back against the closest wall, annoyed and terrified that they had made the mistake of not making sure that Oliver was the only one in the house before they’d become distracted. Leaning forward, looking back down the hall, Jay stared at what had rattled him. Hanging off the visible corner of a bed was a foot: small, dressed in a white shoe. He’d hoped that it had been nothing more than his imagination, but there was no mistaking it. Someone was in the back room.

Jay supposed it was lucky that he and Frank hadn’t been discovered, even when he’d raised his voice to call out only moments ago... and that was weird. Too weird.

Jay reached for the phone to call for help again, only to remember that it wasn’t going to do him any good until someone got his messages. He paused for a long moment, breathing deeply as he looked towards the kitchen. He wanted to call for Frank again, but no longer had the nerve to. He could go get him. It was a good idea. A reasonable idea. Cautiously, he stepped away from the wall, meaning to head towards the kitchen, but with his eyes trained down the hallway, Jay’s feet carried him in another direction.

Jay had always wondered what he’d find inside of the Martin house. He’d always imagined it to be a little home of horrors, but then, that could have been wishful thinking on his part. There were still several times in the past when he was tempted to find out, though. Maybe he would have, if Jenny hadn’t drawn the line at breaking and entering. She put up with a lot from Jay, but had always been the first to stop him short of any major illegal activity. He wished she was with him now to tell him to go back to the kitchen, not to get any closer to that bedroom, because he wasn’t stopping on his own. Not until he reached the bedroom door where he had to stop, his body falling heavily back on the door frame as he forced himself to recover from the blood rushing to his head as a result of what he was looking at.

Jay’d only ever seen one body before. And even then, seeing Odetta Grover being pulled out of that lake wasn’t the clearest of memories. The image had been distorted by tears before his father had pulled his face against his shoulder and repeatedly ordered him not to look. He wished he had his dad’s shoulder now, and it was strange, because the sorrow he felt didn’t feel genuine.

Jay didn’t know Mary Martin. What he did know, he didn’t like. But the parted lips still open from her last breath, and lifeless eyes focused somewhere far away, were like Odetta Grover all over again. His arms flailed and caught the edge of the bed near Mary Martin’s feet as he forced himself forward around the bed until he was looking down at the delicate features of her face. He avoided her eyes, finding that had he had to resist the urge to close them, even as the idea of touching her at all made his skin crawl.

Stepping back for a moment, he held his breath as he rubbed his hands over his face, forcing himself into detached concentration before he looked again, this time focusing on Mary Martin’s throat, and the cause of her death, which Jay would have said wasn’t an accident even before he’d found the proof.

He wasn’t sure how long he looked. It couldn’t have been for too long. The discovery had him wanting to get out of there even more than he’d wanted to upon stepping into the house. But, he was feeling strangely calm as he walked out of the Martin parents’ bedroom, pausing at the end of the hall to frown at the front door, still wide open. He didn’t feel safe with it like that all of a sudden, but at the same time, he feared feeling worse if he closed it. The back door, he decided. He’d get Frank, and they’d go out the back door. They simply couldn’t wait for help to find them. They needed to get to it. Only now, as Jay headed back to the kitchen, he began to think of Oliver. The boy was a problem.

Jay no longer wanted to bring him along. Leave him here. Let the law deal with him. He could be a murderer. After all, Oliver was the only one there in the house. He was acting strangely, even more so than usual. He obviously knew there was a corpse in the back room. The question Jay had was whether or not Oliver had put it there.

The thought frayed his nerves, and he found himself moving faster, wanting to get to Frank. He was disappointed when he reached the kitchen and didn’t find what--or more specifically who--he was looking for.

...................................

Confused. Numb. Terrified. These were all familiar feelings for Oliver Martin, but feeling them all at once, so strongly that it shook him, made it difficult to determine if he wanted to run away, or hide where he was. And he was so alone. He wasn’t exactly sure how it all had happened.

He was supposed to be at Frank’s house. He’d wanted to believe that Frank was right; that it would be safe. If Frank said it was okay to ask Mrs. Seaberg for help, then Oliver wanted to believe that. He wanted things to go back to the way that they were before, when David’s bed had been in their bedroom, and they could talk whenever they wanted. Before Oliver wasn’t allowed to call David his brother anymore. He’d believed that Frank could fix it.... but then everything got messed up again.

Oliver remembered being with Frank, when they were supposed to make everything okay again. But then he was afraid. Bad things would happen if he told. He’d known they would, but hadn’t listened to his instincts, so when he saw his dad outside of the Seaberg house waiting for him, he’d run. He had to. He had to get home and prove that he could be good. Bad things would happen.

But then, they did happen. Blackout. It was like hitting his head every time that it happened, only without the pain. Like walking towards an open door, only to hit a wall once he got there. And it was unsettling. To not know. Minutes unaccounted for, but worse, more often than not it was hours. Before, he’d always had to trust his family to account for that lost time. He’d counted on David to reassure him that everything was alright, that nothing was amiss. That he should smile and move on. You have nothing to worry about, Oliver. David had said those words on more than one occasion. But, this time was different.

The last time it had happened, Oliver had woken up in the dark with Frank at his side. At the time, things had seemed so distorted in his mind, and he’d been unable to recall exactly what the last thing he remembered before the blackout. But images had began to flash in his mind during his lonely moments. David, like the ghost their parents had been saying he was. That night seemed to be coming back to him in small pieces, but he couldn’t put it all together. He didn’t want to. Too scary. Oliver didn’t like scary.

But then, he found himself in a living nightmare now, one that didn’t vanish within his blackouts. Maybe that was because it couldn’t. There was no escape this time, not even into the darkness that protected him as much as it terrified him. One moment he’d been running from his father, the air pumping through his lungs until it burned his chest, and the next he’d been wide awake, oddly calm as he found himself sitting in his parents’ bedroom. He’d felt soft, cool skin beneath his right hand before he turned his head and discovered his own hand at his mother’s throat, her lifeless eyes staring at him accusingly. He could hear David’s voice over the ringing in his ears, remembering the last time he’d spoken to him. I wish she’d stop breathing, David had said vehemently of their mother. And now she had.

Oliver seemed to hear the footsteps before he actually saw the body standing in front of him, drawing him out of his trance. He jumped upon looking up into Jeremy “Jay” Flaskis’s glaring face. Oliver didn’t have time to react much more than that before Jay barked something at him, the tone causing him to recoil, unable to answer because he hadn’t actually made out the words.

Leaning closer, Jay rolled his eyes. “Well? Where’s Frank?” Jeremy asked again, waving a hand in front of Oliver’s face. “Are you fucking listening to me?” Oliver managed a nod, but it didn’t seem nearly enough for Jay, who suddenly reached down and yanked him up out of his chair. “Where is he?” Jay snapped, shaking him until Oliver suddenly pulled away, his breaths coming heavily.

“He said to stay here,” Oliver managed to get out.

Frowning, Jay gave him a long, measuring once-over before he suddenly grabbed one of Oliver’s hands and slammed it down painfully on the table, causing Oliver to gasp. But, Oliver’s attempts to pull it back were thwarted as Jay held his wrist tight and stared down at his flattened fingers for several long moments before suddenly releasing him.

Oliver jerked back, rubbing at his wrist before he looked at Jay accusingly, only to find that the other boy was staring at him in an oddly inquisitive manner, hiding thoughts that he obviously didn’t want to share. “Does Frank know?” Jay finally asked, his voice void of emotion. This time, Oliver wasn’t confused, and he felt a tear slip down his cheek as he shook his head. Jay’s frown only deepened as he suddenly stepped forward and gave Oliver a shove. “Let’s go,” he ordered.

“But Frank said...” Oliver started to say, even as he was forcefully led from his house through the back door.

“I don’t care what he said,” Jay stated. “Where’d he go?” He obviously wasn’t in the house. If he had been, Jay was mostly positive that he would have stormed into the kitchen by now, objecting to the rough way Oliver was being treated.

“I don’t know,” Oliver insisted as Jay led him around the outside of the house.

“Well where do you think he went?” Jay demanded, his voice sounding increasingly hostile as he attempted to hide his own panic. He didn’t want to, but damn if he wouldn’t leave Frank there if he had to. There was a goddamn corpse in the house for crying out loud!

“I don’t know,” Oliver said again, but this time there was something uncertain in his voice that Jay didn’t quite like, and he spun him around by his shoulder. Oliver backpedaled quickly. “I don’t know!” he shouted.

“You’re lying!” Jay snapped. “What did you do? Did you say something to him? Oliver!”

Jay advanced, but stopped short as the other boy’s chin began to quiver. “I’m sorry,” Oliver whispered. “I had to.”

......................................

Frank didn’t pause as he ran past the frayed rope hanging from the tree this time. He didn’t stop until his shoes began to stick in the soggy terrain beneath his feet, and he was staring at the tall tree surrounded by old litter. Closing his eyes, he ran both hands through his sweat-dampened hair and took a deep breath. It was getting dark now, the sun casting blue shadows over the woods, and he tried to remember anything that might have been important. Anything he’d dismissed before. This is not a game, Frank! This is where I talk to David! Oliver’s voice was practically pounding in his head, and suddenly Frank opened his mouth, and he screamed.

“David!” It was a far cry from how he’d called out the name earlier in the day. Frank could hear his voice echoing off the hills, and then he opened his mouth and did it all over again, his eyes wildly searching the area for anything he wasn’t supposed to see as he listened.

Nothing in the trees. Nothing in the shadows. Nothing, nothing, nothing. Frank closed his eyes again, this time picturing Oliver there. His body language. It had been in his body language. Frank took a few steps forward, until he stood in the exact spot Oliver had been in as he hopelessly pleaded his case. Pointing to the ground.

His eyes widening in realization, Frank looked to the ground as he remembered the way Oliver had spoken to David in his bedroom. A ghost. Could that be it? Frank wondered. Oliver really hadn’t been talking to David after nine days ago... maybe he’d just imagined it, made up his brother’s voice as a sense of comfort. No. Frank didn’t want to believe it. It had been devastating enough to think that David had stopped talking to Oliver that morning, and he’d known that the odds of finding him safe had to be slim... but now that he was there, in this spot, Frank didn’t want to believe what he was putting together in his head. But he had to know.

Sinking to his knees, his hands searching the mud beneath the tall grass, he began to crawl forward slowly, and then to his right... to his left, and back again. He wasn’t sure if what he expected to find, or if he really expected to find anything at all. If it was a grave he was looking for, he couldn’t find a spot in the grass that seemed to be disturbed enough to be one. But that didn’t stop him from looking for loose soil, anything that might give him a clue. And whatever he’d expected, he hadn’t been the sudden sharp sensation cutting through his palm.

Jerking his hand back, Frank looked at the small cut below his middle finger; the blood dripping down to his wrist. He only allowed the indignation he suddenly felt towards the ground itself to distract him for a moment before he looked down at the spot, and then very quickly, began to push the grass back, out of his way.

For long moments he stared at the rusted metal pipe sticking only a few inches out of the ground, unsure what to make of it, but noting that it looked to run deep. It was just wide enough to stick his arm down, and lacking a brighter idea, he did so, pulling back when he found that there was no bottom that his fingers were capable of reaching. Cautiously he lowered his face towards the dark tunnel, and he blew. His breath echoed back at him, and he found himself moving even closer. “David!” his voice echoed in the same dull, way, and for a long moment, he listened for a response that didn’t come. But this was something. If Oliver had heard David’s voice at all, there was a good chance that the hidden pipe had something to do with it, and as Frank’s attention turned to finding out whatever was down there--to getting down there--his eyes drifted no more than four feet away at the pile of old boards beneath the tree. Forcing himself to his feet, he was in front of the rubble in seconds, pushing aside everything he could, and pausing only when he uncovered a short ladder. Maybe he wouldn’t have taken much notice of it--if it hadn’t looked new enough to have been hanging in someone’s garage just over a week ago.

...........................................

Jessica shifted into park, and turned to reach into the back seat of the Subaru, tugging at the four plastic bags holding her groceries, and pulled them with her as she left her car. She closed the door with her hip as her gaze drifted towards a boat not far from their house, anchored close to the shore. She could hardly see it in the dark, but it looked a lot nicer than the small boats manned by old men and their fishing poles that she’d seen around the area. Thinking nothing of it, her eyes drifted to Sam’s car. He and Rudy were home. Good. She would have hoped that Frank had managed to come home, too, but she didn’t want to let herself down. She knew when it wasn’t her place to force it, and when it came to Frank and his dad, she knew that they’d have to work out their problems on their own... just like she was working on her own problem when it came to her ex-husband invading her home. It was true that she’d told Sam he could visit the kids at the house; she just couldn’t help feeling somewhat intruded upon. This was her home. Her life. Or at least, the one she was trying to build. But, at least one of her children was happy about their visitor, and seeing Rudy smile about something again was worth all of it, she decided as she headed towards the front door. And, maybe there was a chance--a remote chance--that Frank would come home early for dinner, and all of them could have a nice quiet evening. There were board games in the attic. She’d get one of those out.

“Hello?” she called as she reached the front door, juggling her groceries. “Does someone want to open the door?” She wasn’t all that surprised when there was no response, but frowned anyway as she managed to open the door. Sighing as she stepped into the house, Jessica found the living room dark, and the television on. It wasn’t unusual. What was, however, is that when she saw her daughter sitting stark still, alone on the sofa; Rudy wasn’t smiling at all. In fact, there was a terribly stricken look over her pale face as she turned, her eyes wide and watery as they took in her mother. “Rudy?” Jessica asked as she moved forward, concerned. “What’s the matter, sweetie?”

Silently, Rudy’s gaze drifted somewhere behind Jessica. Feeling suddenly startled, Jessica spun around, having no time to scream as her groceries scattered over the floor and the door slammed behind her.

.......................................................................

Andrew P. Dron was sixty-seven years old. By all means, too old for this shit, according to him. But there he was in the rustier of his three pickup trucks, adjusting his wide hat in the rearview mirror as he pulled out of his driveway.

He knew it had been a mistake to get involved with his neighbors. For over forty years he’d lived a relatively peaceful life in this town--the last twenty, on his own. But, there’d been something about Jessica Seaberg when she’d moved in to town. He respected her; nice woman on her own trying to raise her kids. She’d reminded him of the daughter he’d buried the same year as his wife after losing them both to cancer. So when Jessica Seaberg looked like she needed a hand every now and then, Mr. Dron didn’t mind giving one. Besides, the fresh baked cookies she’d dropped off last week had been the best he’d had in a long while. He considered himself a man’s man, but if Dron had a weakness, it was most definitely baked goods.

But then Jessica had to go shining up his reputation around town. He was sure it was all in the best of intentions, but suddenly people seemed to think he was such a nice guy that he’d get involved in everyone else’s business, and it seemed that was exactly what had led to a phone call from Brenda Crook.

The woman was in one hell of a temper, too; all angry with her husband for running off again with the drunken stooges that called themselves a gentleman’s club. Meanwhile, Brenda was concerned over a call she’d received from Mary Martin, and Mr. Dron had finally agreed to go make sure everything was alright, just to get Brenda off the phone. He wasn’t happy about it, either. The Martins, dastardly people. He’d never cared for any of them. He’d been put off to find that the Seaberg boy was spending time with the Martin kids, but didn’t feel it was his place to say. The kind of man who minded his own business, that’s who Andrew P. Dron was. Until, he thought grudgingly, now.

.............................................................

Breathing heavily as he wiped the sweat from his brow, Frank pushed aside the last wide piece of plywood at his feet, his eyes straining in the dark as he looked towards the ground. There wasn’t enough light to properly see what he was doing anymore, so he sank to his knees again, his hand reaching out and pausing as it came up against a cool metal surface at ground level. His spark of determination renewed with the discovery, Frank quickly dusted it off, shaping it out to be something that reminded him of a sewage drain cover found in the city. Forcing his finger into the cracks, he attempted to pull the object up, releasing a frustrated grunt when he found that something was holding it tightly in place before his hand found a lock. Cursing as he discovered it required a combination, he found himself calling out David’s name again, if anything so he wouldn’t feel so alone.

Looking towards the pile he’d just struggled to move out of his way, he staggered towards it, groaning as he lifted an old chunk of cement out of the rubble. He carried it back it to the cover and dropped it on the lock, to no avail. Sinking to his knees, he lifted it again, this time holding it tight, allowing the ragged surface to tear at his hands as he aimed carefully and began to pound, hoping that he was actually hitting the lock as much as he thought he was. It wasn’t until his arms had given out and his shoulders burned that he heard a forced click and shoved the cement aside. Pulling away the broken pieces of what was in his way before, once again Frank slid his fingers between the cracks and he lifted.

For several moments all he could hear was his own heartbeat as he stared into the dark drop at his knees, struggling to catch his breath. His knees felt wobbly as he got up to retrieve the ladder, but he managed to slide it into the hole, his whole body freezing as it hit bottom.

........................................................

“Will you knock that off?” Jay snapped, and in the passenger seat of Jeremy “Jay” Flaskis’s car, Oliver flinched, and quickly wiped away the tears that Jay obviously objected to.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

Jay frowned over at him, looking somewhat annoyed, but it was unclear if Oliver was the cause of it.

“Look,” Jay said. “I’m a little tense right now. I think we’re gonna stop at Frank’s first. It’s closer than everywhere else.” And as if it would help, he placed more pressure on the gas, taking the winding dirt road at a speed that would give his mother a heart attack and had Oliver reaching to brace himself on the dash.

“Maybe you should slow down, Jeremy,” Oliver said nervously. It was so dark that he could see nothing beyond the trees the headlights hit. “Jeremy?”

“Your mom’s dead, Frank’s missing--and you want me to slow down?” Jay demanded. “God, you’re such a fuck.”

“I want Frank to be okay, too,” Oliver objected, but his words came out more like a whimper, and it only seemed to set Jay off further.

“Like you fucking care at all!” Jay snapped. “You’re all out of your minds, you know that? You really think you can play God? You think for a second that you’ll get away with it?”

Oliver felt his eyes narrow, his blood pressure rise. He didn’t like talking about things that led to where he sensed this was leading to. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Jeremy,” he said quietly.

Jeremy scoffed. “Tell me something. Were you there when Odetta died?”

“No!” Oliver said forcefully. A little too forcefully.

Jeremy glared over at him, his foot pressing harder on the gas as he took a turn that had him gripping the steering wheel and Oliver’s knuckles turning white on his seat.

“Slow down!” Oliver screamed.

“How’d you get her in that boat, Oliver?” Jay pressed. “Did you push her in? What was it, huh? She didn’t get in by herself! Did you watch someone else do it? Tell me who!”

“Stop!” Oliver demanded, holding his head. He closed his eyes, but promptly snapped them open. Too scary to close them.

“Was it your dad?” Jeremy demanded. “Your brother? Maybe both of them together... personally, I don’t think you’d have the nerve. Unless she was already dead. Did’ya kill her and then put her in there? Just tell me!”

Bright light caught Oliver’s eyes as he turned them away from Jay’s, and they widened as he looked straight ahead. A horn blared, Jay cursed, and Oliver screamed just before the vehicle swerved, bouncing as the front right bumper hit a tree, shooting the back end of the vehicle back onto the road. Attempting to control his balance as Jay struggled to control the car, Oliver saw another thick tree truck coming right towards his door... or perhaps it was the other way around as his body slammed hard into the passenger door and everything went black.

One. Two. Three. Moments. Mere moments that felt more like eternity passed before Oliver blinked heavily, lifting his head from the back of the seat. There was a horrible, blaring sound in his ears, and wanting nothing more than for it to stop he reached out slowly and grabbed Jay’s shoulder, pulling his head off the steering wheel; off the horn.

Several moments later, Oliver was looking around slowly, holding his neck when he found that it hurt to move it. There was glass in his lap and at his feet from a window, and it took him minutes to put together what had just happened. Looking out into the dark, Oliver attempted to open his door. He had to force it, but it swung open, and as he stepped out on wobbly legs, he held onto the vehicle as he took a long look at the way the back end was embedded into a tree.

Down the street, it seemed the other driver hadn’t had luck that was any better than theirs; the headlights were still on, shining into the forest while the front end of the truck was nose first against a tree it had actually managed to knock sideways. Oliver’s attention returned to Jeremy’s car. His instincts were urging him to run, and he wanted to listen to them. Jeremy Flaskis was mean; plain and simple. But, Oliver couldn’t leave him there. Wouldn’t. That would be bad, and that was one thing that he didn’t want to be.

Oliver walked around the car and opened Jay’s door, frowning as he looked down at the boy he’d tried to steer clear of whenever possible. He didn’t look so tough now, Oliver supposed. Not with the bridge of his nose split open and his eyes closed. But still, he reached down cautiously to shake Jay’s shoulder, pulling back quickly when Jay’s eyes snapped open, seeming disoriented as he looked up at Oliver, and then around them.

“Shit,” Jay cursed. He hurt. Everywhere, it seemed. “Get me out of here.” He reached for Oliver, meaning to get out of the car, only to be pulled back as his seat belt restrained him. Oliver moved into action then, reaching for the buckle, unfastening it.

“Is the car gonna blow up?” Oliver asked. He was genuinely concerned. “They do that sometimes in the movies.”

Jay looked at him oddly, but ultimately only shook his head. “Are you okay?”

Oliver thought it was an odd question, not only because he thought it impossible Jay could care about his safety, but also because he was the one helping Jay out of the car. But, maybe that was because Oliver was unaware of the bleeding gash at the side of his head. “I think so, Jeremy. But my neck hurts. Won’t turn right.” Oliver tested it, and winced.

“Don’t try it again,” Jay ordered, and then ground his own teeth when he found it nearly unbearable to put his weight on his left ankle, and was forced to hold onto Oliver. But, the pain they were in didn’t seem to be his primary concern as his attention turned blurrily to the other vehicle, and he cursed again. “Come on, we have to see if they’re okay.”

Seeing as how Jay wasn’t going anywhere in his current condition without Oliver, Oliver wrapped an arm around Jay’s back, and together they headed towards the vehicle, where Jay finally let go of him to hold onto the truck as he made his way around to the driver’s side door, where he let out a whole new string of curses that had Oliver stepping back.

“Like I fucking need this!” Jay complained to no one in particular as he looked over Mr. Dron. The old man was unconscious, his seat belt holding him into his seat as an open wound oozed down his forehead. When all was said and done, Jay was pretty sure that Mr. Dron would make sure he caught hell for this one. “We’re gonna have to leave him here... send help back.”

Catching on, Oliver moved to help Jay again as he limped away from the vehicle. Frank’s house wasn’t that far from them, and at this point, Oliver just wanted to get there, since according to Jay, that’s what they needed to do, and then maybe Frank would come back. Oliver wished that Frank was there now, as the two made their way carefully down the winding road, tiring quickly.

“Come on, we’re almost there,” Jay urged, when Oliver’s pace began to slow.

“It hurts,” Oliver mumbled.

Instead of yelling at him for the complaint, Jay’s tone was gentle. “You’ll rest soon. Look, we have to...”

“I know, Jeremy,” Oliver interrupted. “We have to go to Frank’s.”

The only sound they heard for the next half mile was each other’s breathing, and Jay released an obvious sigh of relief when the shadow of the Seaberg house came into view. Urging Oliver to move faster, they made it to the front door where Jeremy collapsed at Oliver’s feet, catching his breath as he looked around. There were cars. The parents were home, and for a second, he felt only relief as Oliver began to rap hard on the door.

It was when they heard footsteps on the other side that Jay took note of a thirty-one-foot luxury boat on the lake that looked a lot like the ones rented out in town, and something about it seemed out of place. At least, here. Wincing, he pulled himself to his feet and took a step away from the door as he stared at it, still on the water. “Oliver?” he said, unsure of the question he meant to ask as he turned back around, pausing when something around the side of the house caught his eye. It was a vehicle, but it took him several moments to make out the shape of a familiar truck that he was sure didn’t belong to the Seabergs. And as he squinted his eyes, the color popped out at him like a sucker punch and he bolted towards the door, ready to drag Oliver away from it. “No!” he shouted. “It’s your da--”

But it was too late. The door swung open, and Oliver clutched Jay’s shoulder in his sudden panic. Jay’s breath hitched as his eyes focused solely on the rifle pointing at his belly before he looked up into Brian Martin’s eerily cheerful face.

“Hey, boys,” Brian said, looking at Oliver. “I’ve been wait’n for you.” But, as his attention turned to Jay and looked him up and down, his smile faded and his eyes narrowed. “But not you.”

..............................................

Uncomfortable goose bumps rose over Frank’s arms as he descended into the darkness, feeling claustrophobic. The air reeked of a rotting muskiness that made him feel dirty just breathing it, and he clutched the ladder as if he were afraid of falling, even though logically he knew that the drop couldn’t be that far. And it wasn’t.

He felt a chill run up his spine as his feet reached the bottom and sloshed in what had to have been at least three inches of water. Feeling a drop hit his nose, he jumped before realizing that whatever he was standing in was leaking in water from above. There was a muted light coming from somewhere ahead of him, likely from the vent, but it looked a lot further away than four feet. He closed his eyes tightly for a second. He felt disoriented as he took a blind step forward, wishing above all else that he had a flashlight as his shaky voice called out once more, softly this time, knowing that there was only one thing he really needed to know about this place.

“David? Are you here?”