Authors: D. B. Douglas
Frank moved into his rehearsed routine —
“You’re referring to the time gap on my resume — and probably wondering what I’ve been doing since I last taught at —”
Keith interrupted him with an upheld palm.
“— Relax, Frank. Relax… I’m sure you had your reasons. I can see you’re nervous — but you shouldn’t be. Really.”
Frank took a deep breath.
He just didn’t want to blow it. Neither did he feel it was appropriate to get into his past desire to be a novelist — and a
horror
novelist at that. It didn’t usually go over too well to have other ambitions — They always wanted you to be thrilled to be there and be a grateful lifer… His nervousness was just trying to cover that gap gracefully… But he needed to back it off…
“Okay… Sorry…” He managed to say with a huge exhale.
Keith smiled.
“You have no need to be, Frank. Frankly —” He caught himself — “Sorry, old habit — Actually, as far as I’m concerned, you already have the job. And you’d be doing me a huge favor.”
He leaned forward and spoke in a conspiratorial whisper.
“I hate interviews.
Hate them
. When I saw your name in the pile, I thought,
Thank God! — One less stranger I have to talk to
. Is that terrible? I guess it is, but we all have our peccadilloes and interviewing’s mine. There, I said it. Now you know my terrible secret.”
Frank didn’t know what to say. He seemed to have had remarkable luck at interviews lately, first at the hospital, now here. Keith misunderstood his silence.
“You do want the job, Frank?” He asked, showing even more of that pull of concern at the corners of his mouth than he had before.
“Yes, yes — Of course!” Frank replied, realizing he must’ve seemed like a bit of an imbecile.
Relief spread across Keith’s face and he plopped back in his chair with an exploding exhale that was several times as forceful as Frank’s had been. One would’ve thought it was he that had desperately wanted the job and just landed it.
From that point on, the conversation was noticeably lighter — Keith appeared almost giddy to be done with this part of his duties. He later explained to Frank, amidst several anecdotes, that the reason for the posted position was because half the teaching staff seemed to be getting the flu, one after the other, so there was a strong likelihood that there would be plenty of substitute work for Frank over the next several months.
He finally stood to indicate that the interview was at its end and put out his hand for Frank to shake once again.
“Congratulations.” He said, and Frank now understood that this was meant towards the both of them for concluding this unpleasant interview business.
Frank felt he needed to say something in parting that was both humble and gracious…
“Well, I hate to capitalize on the misfortunes of others…” He began, almost apologetically, “but I’m really glad you had an opening…”
He tipped his head in a nod of thankfulness and deference.
“My wife will be too…”
Keith seemed very pleased with this exchange.
“I look forward to working with you again, Frank. See you Monday morning.”
Frank left the office quickly with enthusiasm beginning to well up.
He’d taken the first step back to normalcy —
It felt good — No, it felt better than good — it felt great! And he could just imagine how proud Jackie would be! Two earners in the family chasing the American dream — What could be better than that?
It was a strange thing to return to patterned life — and Frank expected to feel some resistance — but he didn’t. The getting up at 6:30 in the morning, the jockeying for the use of the shower, the mad hurry of throwing a lunch together and getting out of the house fast enough to be on time for his classes at school — it all made him feel like he had a sense of purpose — He was no longer wallowing around struggling for ideas, procrastinating all day waiting for a writer’s inspiration and then feeling guilty if he didn’t accomplish what he felt he should. The routine felt good — and being around kids again was a wonder — He’d forgotten how good that felt. He was a productive member of society again — useful — transparent in his intent without a hidden agenda and
needed
.
Teaching children this age wasn’t exactly his specialty and certainly wasn’t as rewarding as when he’d taught high school (where he could really see the effects of his lessons as they quickly digested and applied his teachings), but it wasn’t as much work either. If he was honest with himself, he’d more likely call this babysitting — his days consisted mainly of keeping the peace between the diverse variety of different types of kids in this Santa Monica school, and seeing that they understood and followed the basic routine he laid out.
After a week and a half, he had his days worked out pretty well — He was a rotating substitute so he usually alternated teaching the same two classes each week. He had memorized most of the faces and connected them with the names and was really beginning to enjoy himself — in particular he found it fascinating that the kids had almost no sense of pretense. They were completely real and had no inhibitions about being themselves. Once or twice he’d caught a child trying to lie and all he had to do was pause and give them a hard stare and the truth came tumbling out.
Oh, if it were only so easy with adults.
Evenings too had changed for him radically. Now, when Jackie came home from work, they actually had information to exchange — and she seemed to really enjoy hearing about the different kids and their assorted antics. It felt more like they were partners now — both holding up their side of the bargain — not parasitical or imbalanced as he had now come to see their past.
Two weeks had become three and all was well and comfortable. The kids seemed to like him and he was beginning to loosen up around them. At first he’d been concerned — he knew parents had become highly sensitive and over-protective in this generation and he didn’t want to come off the wrong way. He knew his humor could seem a bit brusque and again, he wasn’t used to treading so lightly or being so conscious of being politically-correct. But his fears in this regard seemed to be without merit. Without exception, the parents were kind to him and seemed both appreciative and welcoming — and this had really added to his pleasant sense of well-being and rapid adjustment to his new life.
Then came Thursday.
He’d had another good day at school — His kids (as that’s what he had now come to call them in his mind), had done exactly what he’d asked of them all day long without a single hitch and had seemed to have had fun doing it. They were becoming conditioned to him — They would settle down immediately when he entered the classroom and would listen attentively to every word he said. At first he had thought he might have frightened them — but this thought was soon replaced by something he had heard many years before —
Children needed discipline — whether they showed it or not, they craved it. An undisciplined child was an unhappy child. Children needed clear structure and order. Give them this and they will grow to the best they can be.
He’d come home from school around four o’clock feeling proud of “his” kids. Only one child in the last week had needed to be punished and he had taken it like a man. His time in the corner with a dunce cap on his head had made an example of him and he was unlikely to push the little girl next to him in the future. Nor were any of the others likely to get out of line. It had seemed a bit cruel at the time but he had asked another teacher and had been told “time-outs” were commonplace and totally acceptable. He hadn’t asked about the cap — He considered this to be a reasonable alteration of an accepted treatment.
He had immediately walked Argus around the block and then settled in at their small dining table for a light snack. Jackie wouldn’t be home for hours and he was famished. As he nibbled on a piece of toast and jam, it occurred to him that he usually read the newspaper while he ate (especially at Breakfast) to catch up on the news and that the paper had been absent for the last several days. The last time he’d asked Jackie about it, she’d said that the paperboy had been missing their house but that she didn’t want to complain because she didn’t want him to lose his job. At the time, he’d thought it was just another example of her hyper-considerate character and had taken it at face value. When she had added apologetically that she’d be sure to catch him soon and talk to him herself to correct the problem, it had quickly slipped from his mind.
That would’ve all been well and good except that he now noticed a corner of a newspaper sticking out of the kitchen trash. His first thought was that it had been a mistake — She’d been at home that morning, after he’d left, and maybe it had been delivered then and she had quickly read it and —
— But why immediately throw it away? If that were the case, she’d know he hadn’t read it yet and…
He shook the smelly coffee grounds from the crumpled section and tried to dry off the big brown stain in the middle with paper towels before transporting it to the kitchen table. The last thing he wanted was for it to collapse and fall on the floor and make a mess. When it was almost dry, he dashed it over to the table where he’d already laid out several layers of paper towels to absorb any more moisture that might bleed through. In his mind, he was struggling to avoid making a big deal out of this minor possible betrayal but, against his will, it had already become one.
Why had she thrown it away? It felt somehow as if she were trying to hide something from him…
It took only a few seconds for him to find out why.
He carefully unfolded the soggy paper, then delicately separated the clinging pages, and flipped back to the beginning.
There it was, right on the front page, a big, dark aggressive and nasty headline that viscerally slapped him in the face and almost left his cheek stinging with the shock of it:
CHILDREN MISSING FROM SOUTHLAND SCHOOLS NOW AT THREE
His heart thumped against his chest at the capitalized text that was all too familiar and almost word-for-word from Eli’s past. He quickly scanned the article. Three kids, from age six to eight, had recently disappeared from two different schools (the school Frank currently taught at wasn’t one of them). The police were seeking any information from possible witnesses and warning parents to be extra cautious and watchful.
How could he not have heard of this? Why hadn’t Keith announced it to the school or sent out a school bulletin?
So what if their school hadn’t yet been one of them — It soon could be..!
And then there was Jackie… He already knew what she’d say — She’d done this to protect him… She didn’t want to upset him…
You’re damn right, I’m upset!
, he thought.
Should he chalk this up to yet another coincidence?
He re-read the article again. Not much there — three kids, young, two boys, one girl, missing, no witnesses, no suspects yet, no bodies found, the schools were local.
Coincidence. COincidence.
The thought kept rolling around in his head and got rejected each time.
How many abductors could there be? The M.O. was the same… Still… There wasn’t enough to absolutely connect it to... It was strange — Yes. Absolutely. Concrete? No way.
His inner logic kicked in and rebuffed him —
He wasn’t seriously thinking that it was —
The photos of the three missing children peered up at him from beneath the headline. Billy Wasau. Alex Woody. Linsey Hammons.
They were all cute. All innocent and smiling. All so young. What was the commonality?
He was sure detectives were swarming all over the case thinking the same thing.
He left the dining table, went to his room, and slid the shoebox from under his bed where he’d stored the yellowed articles and the ring that he’d found in Eli’s room.
Shoebox under the bed — Why’d he done that—just like Eli..? Was he trying to imitate him — putting these things in a shoebox and putting the shoebox under the bed? It was a creepy coincidence, he hadn’t even thought about it before… There it was again — Coincidence…
Something was wrong — every nerve was jangling —
Something was wrong..!
He shook his head hard like it was literally full of cobwebs that would detach and fly loose and leave him once again clear-minded.
Not enough to go on. Not enough to make a solid connection. Coincidence. COincidence.
He re-read the article yet again, eyes darting across the page.
What was he missing?
Where was the link? Coincidence. Let it go… Coincidence…
Something didn’t click — something wasn’t right. His eyes moved to the upper left corner of the paper like magnets — Wednesday, November 2
nd
—
Wednesday — today was Thursday!
He burst out the front door and ran to the sidewalk, searching…
There, three doors down in the driveway — a Newspaper — it looked fresh…
He got there quick —
Sure enough — Today’s…
He raced back to the dining room table and slid the stained newspaper out of the way. He set down the new newspaper and flattened it out. His hands were shaking — badly.
Calm down… Calm down…
His fingers felt blunted, he had trouble flipping the pages. He finally fumbled to the local section — then swung the rest of the paper away and exposed the whole page with a dramatic flourish.