Gone
By Mitchell Yin
The car was full, jam-packed with suitcases, bags, duffle bags and
just about everything between that. We were moving and I stepped outside to
take a last look at our house. Being a fairly fat kid, it took me some time to
get out.
The sky was beginning to turn orange as the sun set.
We’d been driving for three hours, and had to pull over at a rest stop
cause’ my brother Jake was feeling car sick. “I don’t feel so good, I gotta
puke.” He mumbled.
He stepped outside and ran in the bathroom. My mom and I both
turned away so we couldn’t see Jake unload one. We’d been sitting there for
about 25 minutes now. “Where’s Jake? He should be done by now.”
“Look mom, just cool it, I got this.” I got out and walked into the bathroom. “Hey
Jake, you okay in there?” There was no answer. I looked around, taking a quick
glance under the stalls. In the back of the bathroom, a door was flung open. Oh shoot. I walked outside; a blue Lexus
was the first thing I saw. It was skidding out of the lot. “Mom, Jake’s not in
the bathroom. Where could he be, I mean he could have gone out the back, the
door’s open. I’ll go check.” I ran back out to the back. I was in an open
field, it had just been mowed. My head was spinning, I couldn’t think. I felt
like disappearing.
“Mom, I can’t find him.”
“Honey, I think he’s been kidnapped. I think he was in the blue
car.”
A stream of tears ran down her face. I was worried, so I did what
I do best, I went to sleep. My mom called the police while I was asleep. The
police’s name was Chief Lorengo. He asked a few questions like “What was the
kidnapper driving? What color car? How tall? What color skin? How big was he?”
And so on. The only info we had was that he was driving a blue Lexus, the
license plate was “WTRSKIR” and that he was rather tall. I felt bad for Jake, I
mean, I’m eleven, he’s only eight. He’s so, so, so stupid.
Where have I seen a blue Lexus before? The same old question echoed in my head.
We were walking in a old town. I saw a flyer that caught my attention. It said
“STOLEN CAR, BLUE LEXUS. INFO CALL 206-549-2910” Hmm, interesting.
We walked into a diner, it was old-fashioned, and there were short
workers, tall workers, big workers and small workers. We sat down to eat. I
ordered a country platter. It had chicken, mashed potatoes, eggs and milk.
Anyway, my mom and I talked. She seemed rather calm in this situation. I think
she thinks the police are going to find him. But you hear about those kids that
were kidnapped and didn’t come back in four years. The thought of that is just
disturbing. No birthday parties, no presents, no family no nothing.
“Honey, you know how I got divorced from Bill? Well I promised
myself that you guys wouldn’t have to go through that again. But now Jake’s
gone. And it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have pulled into the rest stop; I should have
just had him barf on the side of the road.”
I stayed silent though. It seemed as if she wasn’t saying
anything. I was too busy thinking about were I had seen a blue Lexus.
We walked to a motel on a lonesome stretch of road. The wind blew,
and the tall grass blew. The sky began to tarnish like an old picture. Perfect
for a depressing song. The motel looked like an old western bar. One of those
bars where cowboys get in a fight and get kicked out. Like one of those movies
begging for you to laugh. We went up to the front desk to rent a room. The room
was small. Smaller than a music studio. It was very run down, the wall peeled
like dry skin on a foot. The beds where soft and sank in when you sat on them.
There was a crooked picture and an old dresser. The bathroom (if it counted as
one) had curtains that were starting to turn brown. This was all crammed in a
108 sq ft. room.
I grabbed the room’s phone and dialed the number for the stolen
car. 206-549 -2910. “Hello?
“Yah, hi. Hey, I was just wandering, was the license plate on your
stolen car WTRSKIR?”
“Look, that car was found three years ago.”
“Oh, thanks.”
Now I didn’t know what to think, I guess I would have to leave it
to the police. I was big on detective work. I’ve read nine-teen detective
books, watched 3 detective shows and I even know how to do the finger print
system. Yeah I guess you could say that I’m “super-nerd”, but it’s great in a
case like this.
Three days had passed now, and the police had just called.
“Why didn’t you call us earlier?! My son has been kidnapped and
God knows where he is! For all I know, he could be tied up right now!”
“Look, ma’am where very sorry, but we think we might have some pleasing info. A car with the license
plate WTRSKIR belongs to a Dan Waite.”
“Who’s that?”
“We can’t find his address, but he was born in 1969.”
“Just find his address, so I could give this Dan, a little visit.”
We where hanging at the police station, waiting for an
appointment. We met with a big man, who had a low voice.
“So we found out that the address of Dan Waite is
“That would be great. Thank you guys so much.”
My mom was so happy; you should’ve seen her face. Anyways, on the
way down there, I was looking at some pictures of Jake, dad and me. We were all
water skiing. Jake never looked happier.
We drove up to a small little house. It was painted white and was
just like any other house. A basketball hoop, some trees, a nice green lawn,
and some small bushes. Actually it looked like any other house, except for the
yellow caution tape circling the perimeter; which we weren’t allowed to pass.
One police officer came out to tell us to come in. When we went in, we saw a
stair case, some couches, a TV, a kitchen and your normal stuff. The police
were circling a door which you could see right through because it leads to the
back. There a man in a plaid jacket with a long pony tail stood holding Jake. My
mom opened her mouth to talk.
“Bill?”
Bill is, or ‘was’ my dad. He divorced mom. I used to call him dad,
but you know, I’m eleven, so I call him Bill. Since he’s my step dad. Jake is
my step brother.
“You monster! How could you kidnap your own son?” My mom fell to
he knees as she said that.
“He’s my son. You have no right to
call him yours.”
“The judge sent you to jail because
you were too abusive. Jake’s mine.”
“That’s a lie. There’s no record of me
being in jail.”
“Look sir, we’re going to have to take
the boy. Your records say the boy is the ladies.”
“I won’t give him up, no, he’s mine.”
He ran out the back yard fence. A
circle of police was waiting for him. They spoke into a mike.
“Put your hands up. You are completely
surrounded.”
Bill dropped to his knees. He released
Jake. Just like that. He gave up. The police put hand cuffs around his wrist.
One police took his wallet to have a look.
“So, your name isn’t Dan Waite. It’s
really Bill Edgemoore. Well, we’ll see what the judge has to say about that.”
Bill’s court appearance was scheduled
to be held at
We left