Chapter Sixteen: The Park Bench PlanningA Chapter by Not here Read the Author's Note. “And then he handed me this,” Michael finished. He had repeated, almost verbatim, everything Detective Smith had told him. Brandon looked thoughtful. And afraid. The two of them sat alone at a picnic table, under the shade of an incredibly large, full tree. All around them, Pine-Tree Park was bustling with folks. A man ran by without waving, quickly passed by a lady on a bike. Behind them a ways, a middle-aged couple strolled, the leash to a brown dog in his hand, a small child in her arms. Everyone seemed to be here today, possibly preparing for the barbecue that weekend. “Can I see it?” Michael handed over the slip of paper without hesitation, eager for somebody else to share his worries. Christian and Crystal were not here; Michael did not call them. Brandon wondered why at the moment, but he imagined Michael would let him know soon enough. The paper was wrinkled from being crumpled and folded many times. It also had that light, air-thin texture, which often-handled paper often acquires after not very long. Words and numbers were scrawled on it, apparently some sort of chart. According to Michael’s story, the detective had made it. Judging from the shaky text, he was in a hurry to get it down. Maybe he was worried he would forget the facts; maybe he was afraid. Afraid of the unknown and unseen. It read: Gathered from Records, Town Legends, Files, Etc. 1835- 1 teen, 2 little girls 1855- 2 teens, 1 little girl, 1 baby girl 1875- 2 teens, 1 little boy 1895- 1 teen, 2 little boys 1915- 1 teen, 2 little girls 1935- 2 teens, 1 little girl, 1 baby girl 1955- 2 teens, 1 little boy 1975- 1 teen, 2 little boys Notes: No gender pattern with teens. Little kids pattern- boy/boy/girl/girl. Always back-to-back. Not every kid from families taken. 1955’s known as Lost Three. No substantial evidence before 1835. People arrested for kidnappings, but nobody ever convicted. “So what do you think?” Brandon asked, looking up from the paper. Michael shrugged, looking defeated. “I’ve been studying it, and thinking, and all I’ve got is a few miles-long theories.” “Well, let’s look at it together, then.” He looked up in surprise at Brandon. Even since that terrible night, Brandon was still one to crack an occasional joke, although with much less enthusiasm and no laughter from himself. He expected to be the butt of one this time around, or at least have Brandon join in the hopeless emotions coursing through him. Instead, Brandon had offered to help. “Seriously?” “Yeah, man. We’re in this together, like it or not. This is just another problem we gotta solve. I want them back just as much as you.” Michael could not help grinning as he stood up and situated himself on the other side of the picnic table. Would passersby think it was peculiar, maybe awkward for them to be sitting so close, alone at a park bench? Maybe. That did not matter; what mattered was solving the problem. Together, they had a better chance of finding the answer. “Well, first look at the teen patterns,” Michael said. He felt newly invigorated and ready to take on the world. A good friend can be like a fire underneath you, bring the wind to your sails. “Alright. I really wish we knew more of the years, though.” “Maybe there aren’t any,” Michael said. “This could be when it all started.” He put a finger on 1835. “No, I don’t think so,” Brandon responded, shaking his head. “Look at the teens. 1, 2, 2, 1, 1, 2, 2, 1. They’re pairs.” Michael nodded his head. “And the detective’s note says that there is no pattern in the gender, which means it’s just the numbers.” “So it would have started twenty years before that, in... 1815.” “Maybe,” Michael said. “Or not. It could have started earlier, just there are no records.” “So this could have started at the beginning of the world!” Brandon exclaimed. “We could be fighting Satan!” Michael laughed and shook his head. “I think you’ve been reading Pilgrim’s Progress too much.” “Hey, you know a Christian book! Congratulations, man.” They both laughed loudly, until the suspecting looks of people walking by quieted them. This was a bad situation, and there was hardly any reason to laugh anymore. Thank God for Brandon, who could turn a joke out of anything. Everything seems much funnier when there’s nothing to laugh about. “So what about the kids?” Brandon asked. “That’s trickier,” Michael said, staring at the paper with an unwavering gaze. “There is some pattern here; we just have to find it.” “Why?” Brandon wondered out loud. Michael turned to stare, his eyes asking for a further explanation. “I mean, if we know one teenager is going to be taken, why does the kids pattern? We already know who’s taken. Our sisters!” “Because I want to know who this lady is,” Michael answered after a moment of thought. “She is pure evil, and I want to know what causes it. This is more than just getting Lilly and Grace back; it’s beating whatever terrible force has controlled our town for decades, maybe centuries.” “That’s a very grownup thing to say,” Brandon commented. “It’s a very grownup thing to deal with.” “Fair enough, Superman. Back to the paper.” After they both pondered it for a moment, Michael spoke up, “Look here. The genders. Girl, girl, boy, boy, girl, girl, boy, boy. And the teenage number. They don’t match up.” “So?” “So the teenage number has a pattern, but it doesn’t affect the kids. Except for the number of kids, see. Every time one teenager is taken, two kids are, and the other way around. The genders are a separate pattern from everything.” “That’s not exactly mind blowing, Michael.” “Sure it’s not, but it’s a start.” Brandon yawned, pushing his arms back behind his head and stretching. “So what about the baby?” “The baby’s always a girl, just like Daniel said. The more I look at this, the more I agree with him. She must use the baby as her student-type thing. Otherwise, there’s no reason to take her every eighty years.” “Okay,” Brandon said, nodding in agreement, “we have the reason for the baby. What about the others? Why even make a pattern?” “I don’t know,” Michael mused. “It doesn’t make sense. Unless it’s some sort of sick, ritualistic thing, there’s no reason to take certain genders and a certain number each time, over a certain amount of years.” “Yeah, sure.” Brandon was beginning to look confused. This was seeming more like a mystery show, and less like real life. There are no real-life mysteries, after all; only on television and in books. “I know, man; it’s confusing. I’m just trying to make sense of it.” “Well, my mom’ll be wanting me home soon, so we need to make sense of it quick. What do we know at this point?” “We know a teenager will be taken, still,” Michael said. “And we know if we don’t stop her, chances are nobody will for another twenty years. If they even realize this pattern then.” “Wow. Real encouraging there,” Brandon remarked with a nervous smile. “Agreed.” “Hold on a minute,” Brandon said. “I don’t think you’re right about the teenagers not being connected.” Michael looked over at him and saw a deep thought engraved somewhere between his thick eyebrows and the hair on his head. When he did not continue, Michael prodded, “Go on.” “I feel like in what he told you, there is always some relationship between the teen or teens and one of the kids. Like a brother-sister thing, most times.” Michael thought intently for a few minutes while Brandon studied the paper, as if trying to justify the theory. After a while, Michael spoke up, “You’re right. You’re completely right.” “And hear this. Who’s the only sibling of Lilly, and the only sibling of Grace?” A spark leapt out of Michael’s eyes, but then they darkened with the sense of fear clouding over that picnic table. “You and me.” “Exactly.” “So... you think one of us is that teenager?” Brandon shook his head solemnly. “I don’t think. I know.” “How can we know which one of us?” “We can’t.” Everything in the park was beginning to take on a deeper color, appearing less lively and more menacing. The whole world was turning gray and serious, like the matters on their own hearts and the effect of their emotions. Laughing at Brandon’s jokes seemed like ages ago, and that last day of school like an eternity. So much had happened since then; there was so much pain in the word, hidden before by their child-like hopes and dreams. It had worn a mask, and now that mask was ripped off. The truth hit home, and brought an earthquake with it. “I’m glad I didn’t tell the other two we’d be here.” “Why not?” Brandon asked. “I was wondering about that earlier. Usually-” “No,” Michael stopped him. “Maybe before, but not now. Especially after what you said. I think the more time we spend with them, and the closer we get, the more danger they’re in. When all hell breaks loose, I want them to be across town, safe in their house, if not farther away.” Brandon rubbed a finger through a small valley in the wood, where some bird had taken a few pecks. “I’m not sure, man. The more help we get-” “-the more people are in danger,” Michael finished. “We have to beat her by ourselves. I’m sorry; you know I want to include them. But I’d rather them be safe.” “How do we work alone without making them mad?” Brandon asked. Truth be told, Michael would cut all ties with the two, at least for the time being, if it were not for Crystal. It would break his heart to move on from her, and hurting her would absolutely crush him. He had enough agony inside as it was. “I say we just limit everything. Limit the time together, limit what we tell them, but still let them help.” “Christian is one smart dude, though.” “He is.” After Michael spoke, there was another few minutes of silence. Storm clouds could be seen on the horizon, rolling closer. Weather was unpredictable at best in Hardy; lightning one day and sunshine the next. The town folks were sure to be annoyed by those clouds, though. It would put a damper on their barbecue. “Michael?” “Yeah?” “Why’s everything changing?” This was one of those rare looks into Brandon’s true self. This was the side of him that worried, the side that doubted, and the side that was scared. Then again, weren’t they all? “Because it has to change to get better. And sometimes life takes one step back before jumping ahead two steps. That’s a lot of change; three whole steps. But, in the end, you’re better off.” © 2015 Not hereAuthor's Note
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