4. Chapter 2
Chapter 2
T hey found the Country Life store at Kitchen Kettle Village and drove around behind it. The collection of large green garbage bins, each the size of a small car, was there all right, just as the lady on the phone had said. Eddie stopped the truck with the headlights facing the bins and they both stared.
"I don't see anyone," Eddie said.
"He'd be tucked away somewheres, if he's here at all." Please God, let him be here.
Samuel opened the passenger door and hopped down on his good leg. "Hallo?" he called out, shining the flashlight over the bins. He moved forward, waving the light around. "Is someone here? We come to help."
Behind him, the truck engine shut off, but the headlights remained on. He heard the driver's door slam.
Dang, it was like being in a freezer out here. Samuel was wearing gloves, but the cold bit right through them. He gripped the flashlight tighter. "Hallo? Anyone here?"
He stopped to listen, but there was no answer. He opened the black rubber lid on the nearest bin and shone the flashlight inside. The garbage hadn't been picked up in days, but the cold temperatures of the past week had prevented stuff from rotting. The black plastic bags looked stiff.
"You think he'd be in a bin?" Eddie asked doubtfully, coming up alongside him.
"If it's a choice between stinkin' and dyin', what do you think?"
Eddie made a face and shrugged. Yeah, knowing Eddie, he'd probably choose to freeze. But an Amish kid? He'd get in the bin.
"I'll take this side." Eddie waved his flashlight to the right. He started checking inside bins and behind them.
Samuel did the same, shining the flashlight in the gaps behind the bins and the wall, and the bins and each other. He'd have checked underneath, only there wasn't enough clearance for even a small child. He lifted lids.
There were a dozen bins. They finished checking them all—nothing. Sam swung his flashlight around again.
"He's not here," said Eddie.
"Gotta be." Samuel felt the weight of a long and fruitless night ahead. He couldn't go back home to his warm, safe bed knowing a boy was out here—an Amish boy. But the lady on the phone had given him no clue where else to look. They could drive around to other shops in the area and check other bins, maybe. Or drive up and down the roads. Neither sounded promising. And what if the boy was in a ditch somewhere already dying? Or dead?
Eddie came over and gave Samuel a hug. "Hey. I'm sorry. I know this must be triggering you."
Triggering was one of those English words Samuel found strange. Yet he couldn't deny the anxiety clutching his chest, nor the sharp memories of how he'd felt when he'd been shunned and had no idea where to find help. Walking for miles and miles in the rain, his foot in agony and his back aching from the beating he'd taken. Feeling like he had no one in the world, like he was on a tightrope over the abyss—and if he fell, no one would know or care.
He swallowed a lump in his throat and gathered a breath. " Zind zie here, mein freund ?" He called out loudly. " Ich kommen zu helfen dich !"
He listened intently for a long moment. Just when he thought there was nothing, a soft bang came from nearby.
Sam and Eddie looked at each other, eyes wide.
"Could have been a rat," Eddie said. "Or the wind?"
" Weider !" Samuel shouted. " Wo bist du ?"
Samuel began lifting the black lids again, searching with renewed determination. A soft bang came from the bin to his right. He rushed over there, Eddie right behind him. They opened the lid. It was three-quarters full with black garbage bags.
"Must have been a rat," Eddie said with a verbal shudder.
Then a bag moved, just barely, but Samuel saw it.
"Hold this." He shoved his flashlight at Eddie and began tossing bags left and right.
A face emerged in the glare of the flashlight. It was pale and still, closed black lashes like half-moons on the boy's white cheeks, and the whole surrounded by hair so dark it disappeared against the bags.
A cry like a wounded animal sounded in Samuel's throat. " Mein Gott . Are you okay?"
"Kid! Can you hear us?" Eddie asked.
The eyelids opened to reveal eyes as big and brown as Samuel had ever seen. Except, maybe, on a cow.
" Ich wusste dass du kommen ," the boy muttered.
"What'd he say?" Eddie asked.
Samuel blinked. "He said he knew we'd come. Maybe he was dreamin'. Here, help me get him up."
The boy was of little help, his body stiff with cold, but he was small and light—no more than one-hundred-twenty pounds, Samuel reckoned. They lifted him out of the dumpster and set him on his feet. He was shorter than them as well, maybe five-five, but he was no child. Despite his elfin face and big eyes, the wisps of hair on his chin attested that he was a man grown, at least in the Amish world.
"Can you stand?" Eddie asked.
"Sure." The boy stood gamely, but he looked like a statue ready to topple over any moment.
"Let's get him to the car where it’s warm." Eddie took one arm.
Samuel sent up a silent prayer of thanks as they walked the boy to safety.