Page 3 of Angel

Time ticks by as I strain for sound. All the time wondering what’s happening out there.

I’m not sure who the men are or why they are here at all. It must be because of my father’s work. I’m aware it’s something secret.

Tension settled over the house. Frantic whispers, strained smiles and conversations that cut off when I entered the room. Then there were the phone calls, the ones late at night, anxiety a constant on my parent’s expressions, and the fact that we didn’t venture out anymore.

It’s lucky it’s the summer. No school bus to meet. Just endless days playing in the yard, shooting tin cans with the old air rifle my father allows me to use under his guidance.

The door to the barn slams open. I cower under the truck, in the darkness, noting daylight filtering inside.

“Check all the cars. He can’t be far.”

My heart is racing. That’s not my father’s voice. It’s cold, the accent rough, unfamiliar, threatening.

More than one person moves through the barn. The dull tread of their footsteps moving ever closer.

“He’s not here.”

One of the men whines, causing another one to hiss, “Keep looking. He can’t be far.”

“He may not be here?”

“There are three of them.”

“So what? It’s summer, he could be at camp.”

“Just do your fucking job or I’ll skin you alive if one of them gets away.”

His tone changes, and he calls out, “We know you’re in here, Jason. Your mommy told us where to find you. Come out, boy, and I’ll take you to be with them.”

I clench my fist as his footsteps move closer. I can almost hear him breathing as he chuckles, “Your mom is pretty. Such a feisty spirit. Perhaps you should step in and protect her from us, like the good little soldier you are.”

My blood heats as his words destroy, the image of my pretty mom in their hands slaying me from inside.

“It’s okay, son. Your parents are waiting for you. We’re gonna take a trip to the city. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

I say nothing. My hands pressed against my mouth, suppressing the sob that reveals how weak I am.

I’m no match for these men. I already realize that. The best form of defense is silence on this occasion and to hope they give up the chase. They do not have our best interests at heart; it’s obvious and as his shoes appear in front of me, he stops walking and his tone is ominous as he whispers, “I know where you are, boy. Don’t make me ruin a perfectly good suit by dragging you out from under that truck.”

His friend laughs, but it has no emotion in it. It’s chilling, cementing my fate in place as they discover my hiding place.

His sigh is heavy as he growls, “Fine, have it your way, but there is no escape.”

A second pair of footsteps move toward us, and he growls, “He’s under this truck; the dirt is freshly disturbed. You go to the other side; I’ll flush him out with my gun.”

I have never felt so helpless. I’m unarmed, unable to protect myself, and waiting for discovery with no form of defense. I’m hiding, not fighting, and I have never felt so ashamed.

Bitter tears streak my face, burning their scorn into my young skin. I am disappointed in myself. I’m a victim, not brave at all, and even if I fight back, I’m already aware that two powerful men against a young boy are odds I would never bet on in a million years.

I could run. I’m faster than they are and know the barn like the back of my hand, but there’s the risk of being shot. I am backed into a corner of my own doing, and in this moment, I hate how helpless that makes me.

He grunts, his footsteps shifting, and as he drops down, I note the steel of a gun pointing at my face. I can only see his hands from where I am, but his success is unquestionable.

“Come out, boy, and I won’t beat the shit out of you. If you make me drag you out, I can’t promise I won’t get mad and smash your fucking face in before I start on your mother.”

Tears blind me as I face surrender, the other man’s footsteps behind me now.

Then a shot rings out.