CHAPTER FIVE #2
That was when I began to cry, and I didn't care.
I didn't care that I looked like a little kid.
I didn't care that I couldn't stop. All I could do was throw my arms around his waist, holding on tightly, holding on with every bit of strength I had, which wasn't much.
God, it was never enough. I was never strong enough.
“I love you,” I said through my tears. “I-I didn't say it before, but I do. I-I love you.”
“I love you too, buddy.”
Panic tore through me as he took my small, skinny wrists in his big hands and began to pry my arms away from him.
“N-no, y-you come too,” I begged, sobbing. “G-get Mom. We … w-we can—”
“We don't have time,” he said, keeping his voice gentle, but there was fear in his eyes. So much fear. He put his phone in my hand. “Come on, buddy. Take a deep breath. You gotta do this for me, okay? Go get help.”
Then, before I could say anything, he was picking me up and easing my body through the window, out into the relentless downpour in nothing but my pajamas and sneakers.
I looked into his eyes as I asked, “You're gonna save Mom, right? You're not going to let him—”
“Nothing is going to happen to your mom,” he whispered, and I knew he meant it.
I knew nothing was going to happen to her. He would never allow it.
“Now, remember what I said, and go.”
I dropped to the wet grass and leaned against the side of the house. I looked for the shadows, kept to the darkness, and moved quickly, quietly to the back of the little house I’d shared with Mom, holding Soldier's phone tight in my hand.
“Where the fuck are you?!” Dad shouted from inside, his voice muffled by the storm.
I cowered beneath the windows. He couldn't see me, but I shook as if he could.
As if he knew where I was, where I was hiding, and he'd appear at any moment with that gun gleaming in his hand.
He was going to shoot me. He was going to kill me, like he'd killed seven years ago, when I was six.
He wasn't going to think twice about it, just like he hadn't then.
The rain soaked through my pajamas, the T-shirt and shorts clinging to my body. It was the middle of the summer, but I shivered despite the heat, terror rattling deep in my bones.
His heavy footsteps clomped through the house and out onto the porch.
I remained hidden, squeezing my eyes shut and praying he didn't come around the back.
Hoping, hoping, hoping he didn't jump out—SURPRISE!
—and fire at me—BANG! I waited for it, certain that was what was going to happen, but then I heard a clatter coming from the front of Soldier's house.
The broken steps.
Dad cursed, and I was tempted to look, to see what had happened, but I couldn't. I had to run, run, run. Call 911, get to the cops. Dad was going to get into that house, and Soldier had said Mom was going to be okay, but Soldier didn't have a gun. Dad had one though and—
They need me.
They need me to save them.
I took off running, bolting through the raindrops and keeping to the back of the houses, all lined up in a row along Daffodil Lane.
My sneakers slipped on sodden grass, my ankles twisted in uneven dips of land hidden in the darkness, but I didn't fall.
I pumped my arms, fought against the burn in my lungs, and ran until I reached the next row of little houses on Tulip Boulevard.
Soldier had told me to keep running. He never told me to stop. Yet I had to duck behind a mailbox and quickly dial 911, not sure I could do it while running, blinded by the heavy rainfall. I hoped Soldier wouldn't be mad at me for it.
Once the phone was ringing, I stood again and kept moving, now on the sidewalk.
“Nine-one-one. Please state your emergency.”
“My dad has a gun, and I think he wants to kill me and my mom!” I cried, running down the rain-slicked sidewalk, splashing through puddles until I came to the entrance of the community we lived in.
“Okay, honey, can you tell me your name?”
“Noah!”
“All right, Noah. How old are you?”
“I-I'm thirteen,” I answered, although I didn't know why it mattered.
“Where are you? Are you at home with your mom and dad?”
“N-no,” I stammered, running along the highway, eerily quiet but well lit with streetlamps. “My … my mom's … boyfriend … Soldier Mason … he gave me his phone a-a-a-and told me to … he told me to run. He told me to go to the police.”
“Okay. Take a deep breath, sweetheart. Where is your mom? Is she with your dad?”
I did as she’d said and filled my lungs, even as I ran. Then, as I exhaled, I tried to explain as clearly as possible. “We were at Soldier's house. Dad came with a gun. Soldier got me outside and told me to run. Dad is at the house with Mom and Soldier. He's going to kill them!”
Soldier had told me Mom would be okay.
But what if he can't save her? What if he can’t save himself?
“What is the address, Noah? Do you know the address?”
“Y-yes—1111 Daffodil Lane i-in River Canyon.”
“Okay, honey. What is your dad's name?”
“Seth.”
“And your mom's?”
“Ray, um … Rain.”
“And, I’m sorry, what did you say the soldier’s name was?”
I shook my head frantically. “H-he's not a soldier. His name is Soldier.”
“Okay, honey. We're sending someone over now, okay? Where are you? You said you were going to the police?”
I nodded, my lower lip starting to tremble again, realizing now how alone I was. It was so late, so dark, and I was alone.
Is Mom dead? Is Soldier?
What is happening?
“Y-yeah,” I choked out. “Soldier told me to go get help.”
“Are you away from the house?”
I nodded again as tears slipped over my cheeks. “Yeah,” I whispered.
“Do you know where you're going?”
“Uh-huh.”
“All right, Noah, sweetheart. Stay on the line with me, honey. Stay with me until you're at the police station. Okay? You're going to be okay.”
“What about my mom?” I asked with a gasp, turning toward town.
Not much farther.
Keep going.
“They're coming, honey. They're already on the way.”
“What if they're too late?”
“Let's not think about that, okay?”
I sniffled. “W-what's your name?”
“My name is Meg,” she replied kindly. “Meghan.”
I sucked in a deep breath, running down the street, past River Canyon Town Hall, and turning the corner to see the River Canyon Police Department. Relief swept over me.
“I-I see it,” I said to Meg with a sob. “The police department. I'm … I'm almost there. I'm almost there.”
“Keep running, Noah. Keep going.”
“I am, I am, I am,” I said with every pant, running up the driveway and through the parking lot. “I did it,” I said to her, as if I were speaking to Mom. To Soldier. “I made it. Oh God, I did it.”
“You're doing so great, sweetheart,” she praised me.
I pushed through the door, out of the rain, and into the brightly lit police station, where I collapsed, gasping for air and sobbing. My face, soaked with both rain and tears. My clothes, clinging to my trembling body.
“Meg,” I cried.
“Are you inside, honey? Are you with the police?”
I opened my eyes and looked around in time to see a couple of officers standing from their desks, aware of my presence. Expressions of concern blanketed their faces.
“Quick,” one of them said to the other. “Get him a blanket.”
“Yes,” I said to Meg, gasping and panting for breath. “I-I'm with the cops. I'm with the cops. Oh my God.”
“You did it, Noah,” she said, seeming to be as relieved as I was. “You did it. I'm so proud of you, honey. You're going to be okay, all right? You're going to be okay.”
“O-okay,” I sobbed, suddenly breathless as I looked up at the two cops as they hurried over. “Thank you, Meg. Th-thank you, thank y-you.”
“You're welcome, sweetheart. Stay with them now, okay? They'll take care of you.”
She hung up then, but I clutched Soldier's phone to my ear, as if her gentle, soothing voice might come back somehow.
The police collected me from the floor, wrapped me in towels and blankets, and found dry clothes for me to put on as they asked questions, and all the while, I realized Meg had only said I was going to be okay.
What about Mom?
And what about Soldier?
Were they going to be okay? And if they weren't …
Oh my God, if they aren’t okay …
How was I ever going to be?