The Kidnap
Chapter 7: The Sunday Lie
Mark cried. The bullet narrowly missed. He shot. He actually shot. Mark's eyes widened with fear as he looked to his left. There was a small crater in the wooden floor. He stuttered while answering, "871 2471."
"Are you sure?" Habbleman demanded. "If I find out that this is the wrong one, I will kill you for real." He left the room, slamming the door behind him, leaving a terrified little boy behind him.
Mark had wondered if this was over. Probably he was going to call for a ransom, and Tim and Jill would come and rescue him. Oh, if only things were that easy for Mark.
Even by the next morning, Habbleman hadn't called Tim or Jill yet. As it was Sunday, it only figured that Habbleman wouldn't call. Not when the Taylor's had to go to church. But that was what Mark thought. He knew that his parents would be going to church, but Habbleman didn't care. He left the house for a phone booth, and dialed.
Mark waited in the room for the small loaf of bread he was to have for breakfast. Sadly, we went hungry for most of the morning until Habbleman came back with the bread, and his whip. "Ok, I called your parents," he said calmly.
"They're at church," Mark answered, nibbling on the loaf Habbleman gave him.
Habbleman eyed Mark, and decided to ignore the last comment. "They didn't answer the phone. Makes me think they're avoiding me. Do you have any idea why?"
"They're at church!"
"Who'd go to church when they're boy is missing?" Habbleman tested. "What fits is that I remember seeing you the day before yesterday. You were up in your room. You were spying on me."
Mark's eyes widened with fear again. "No. I swear I- I wasn't spying. I was just looking out the window, casual like- like"-
"And you told me OUT!"
"I didn't, I swe"- Mark felt the leather strap slap his back. Habbleman lunged forward, and took the bread away. He slapped Mark on the face very hard, inflicting more pain on Mark. Mark fell back in pain, and Habbleman left the room, slamming the door behind him.
Mark was right but so was Habbleman. The house was in depression. Even Brad was a bit down and worried, but he didn't know as much as Randy knew. Not even Tim and Jill knew, and Randy thought Wilson will have told them. Tim wasn't really in the mood to go anywhere. Jill had to talk him into it.
"What kind of father leaves anywhere with his boy missing?" Tim asked her.
"Someone who'd pray for his safe return," Jill suggested. "Tim, we can't go alone."
"Take Brad with"-
"Dad," Randy interrupted. He just came in to the dining room holding his forehead. "Just go. I wanna spend time at home alone." Jill opened her mouth to argue, and then Randy added, "I'm not feeling well. Just go and leave me alone."
Randy was unopposed. He was thankful for that as he was now home alone. When he was younger, he and Brad used to get up to all kinds of mischief when their parents were out. They would go from stealing snacks and cookies to even trying a cigar. Now, all Randy cared about was making it up to Mark for what he did.
Brad was very worried. As the older brother, he had decided not to show any sorrow or remorse, but now he felt really guilty that the very last thing he had done with his youngest brother was beat him up, and argued with Randy about what much of a dork Mark was.
Both felt very down and guilty, but only Randy felt more guilty and down and sorrowful than anybody else in the house, or neighborhood for that matter if Wilson was to be counted. Randy had locked Mark out. Not only did he do what Brad had done, the blame for the kidnap rested with Randy, and him alone.
Randy already made up his mind. He spent a few hours thinking about it, and could think of nothing else. As a kid, he didn't think that the police would do anything, so he decided to do it himself. He retreated down to his room, and seized a bag. He put his water bottle in it first. After, he opened his wardrobe, and put a few clothes in it, and a snow hat. He took the open bag upstairs to the kitchen, and took food from the fridge. It was about the only kind of misdeed he was willing to do in this situation. He was stealing food. He actually felt good stealing the food, and actually doing it for a good cause. Plus, was he stealing? It was his home after all. He then went upstairs to his parent's room, and took the camping tent from the upper closet. He folded it up and stuffed it in too.
Randy didn't leave yet though. He sat at the kitchen table to have one last meal at home before setting out. He got out his favorite lunch food, and it tasted better since he was making it himself. He got out the celery and cheese, and ser them down. That was when he remembered. He ran upstairs hoping he parents didn't remove it.
He brightened up when he saw it. It was Mark's picture by their bedside table. He seized it, and put that in the bag too. He went back downstairs to have the meal he wanted. For fifteen minutes, he sat there, eating quietly and alone. When he was finished, he reached into his bag, and put his snow cap on.
Randy opened the front door. He knew it wasn't good to leave it unlocked, because someone else might decide to do a robbery. But if he locked it from the outside, Tim and Jill wouldn't be able to get in. If he locked it, and left the keys where they'd find it, anyone could come in. So, without looking back, without regrets, without thinking about it just a bit longer, Randy had left the house to find his brother, careless of the dangerous and threatening cold he was walking into.
