Two Against Two

Chapter 2

December 22, 1990-8:15 A.M.

(Thomas Marley POV:)

I stood next to the driveway, putting down some salt on the sidewalk, as I watched the McCallisters quickly load themselves into the airport minivans parked in front of their house.

'I wonder why I didn't see Kevin get into the van...' I thought to myself. 'I hope that the McCallisters didn't forget about him and leave him behind.

Worried, I decided to cross the yard and mention it to Mrs. McCallister before they leave, but it was too late; the vans already sped off and I can only watch in stunned silence, cursing my arthritis.

I could call the McCallisters to check and see if Kevin is there, but the phones are still out of service from last night's windstorm, which also knocked out the power.

As I stared at the vans as they disappeared around the corner, I wondered what I should do. My first impulse was to knock on the door to confirm my suspicions, but I quickly dismissed the idea. I had the feeling the young McCallister was afraid of me.

Someone must've told him those ridiculous stories about my son's mysterious disappearance. If Kevin had truly been left alone, I didn't want to frighten him away. Better leave him alone for now. He was safe in his house; the last thing anyone needed was to have the boy running around blindly all over the neighborhood

As for calling at the McCallisters, it was out of the question. With the phones out of order, I didn't think anyone could get a hold on the line. I was faced with a serious problem; how was I to help Kevin when his instincts told him to run whenever he saw me?

I had always been on friendly terms with the McCallisters. I couldn't let anything happen to their boy in their absence. Thinking of the McCallister boy, reminded me of an incident that happened around 7 years ago, involving the oldest McCallister sister, Christine.

As much as it pained me to admit it, I had not always been a good neighbor to the McCallisters. I kept secrets from them, secrets that, if revealed, would destroy our good standings. For years not, I've known where Christine has been hiding.

I remember the night she ran away. It well past midnight; I couldn't sleep due to my arthritis flaring up, a side effect of being stabbed in the leg during the Battle of Iwo Jima back in 1945.

I had stepped onto the porch for some fresh air and had watched in astonishment as Christine marched down the street carrying a suitcase.

I knew right away that there was something wrong; Christine didn't get along with her parents, much like my own son and me. As I watched her, I was overwhelmed with the need to do something.

I had tried to get her attention, to stop her from making the same mistake my son and I made all those years ago, but she had ignored me and kept on walking, which concerned me, as she would usually speak to me.

It wasn't until the next day that my suspicions were proven correct. I was heartbroken to find a distraught Mrs. McCallister searching the neighborhood for her daughter. Crying, she had told me what had transpired between her husband, herself and Christine. It was like listening to history repeating itself.

Three weeks later, I was relieved to receive a letter from Christine. In her letter, she had shared her new address and contact information, but at a price; I was to keep her updated on her family, without ever letting her parents know where she was.

How many times had I called her and tried to talk some sense into her? She had always refused to listen. I had been tempted to leak her whereabouts to her parents, but feared she would disappear for good if I ever betrayed her trust. She even warned me that she would leave Chicago forever.

I felt conflicted over what to but eventually agreed to keep her secret. Christine was such a hothead; I feared she would get herself in trouble. I therefore made it my duty to call her every week and send her some money.

It broke my heart to hear her enquire about every minute of her family's life; she clearly deeply cared about them, but she was too stubborn to admit it. I had hoped that over time, Christine would calm down and come home, but she hadn't.

Keeping all of this from the McCallisters was wrong, and I knew it. I would often speak to them and found myself on the verge of telling them the truth, only to hold my tongue. The passage of the time had only made it harder and harder for me to come clean, until it became impossible.

Every day, they carried the pain and fear of having lost their daughter for good. I was so riddled with guilt I had difficulty looking at them in the eyes.

A knock at the door suddenly jolted me out of my thoughts. I walked over and opened the door to find it was the utility man I had seen fixing the phone and electric lines.

"Sir, I just want to inform you that your power has been restored, but it will take a few more days to restore telephone service," he explained.

"Are there any payphones in service close by?" I asked.

"Yes, at the Corner Store, about three blocks South," he replies back. "Well, I have to get back to work. I hope you have a Merry Christmas, sir."

"Merry Christmas to you, as well," I replied, nodding, as I grabbed my overcoat and hat.

I locked up the house, climbed inside my four-door Ford LTD Crown Victoria, and drove to the corner store. I noticed a rusty blue Dodge van with "Oh-Kay Plumbing and Heating" painted on the side at the Vernon Residence.

How strange, I could've sworn the Vernon's were out west visiting their children. 'They must have hired them to do some plumbing work around the house, while they're away,' I thought.

The corner store was owned by old friends of mine, Sue and Tim. Kids love to hang around the store during the summertime, buying frozen slushees and cheap candy bags.

I look up at the price of gas on the sign hanging above the gas pumps and notice it's currently at $1.33 a gallon. It's been spiking since August, all thanks to the war in the Middle East, as I head inside the store.

"Morning Thomas, you here for your usual cup of coffee and glazed pastry?" I heard Sue speak from behind the counter.

"Not today, Sue. I'm just here to use the payphone. Damn storm knocked the phone lines down." I replied.

I walked over to the phone past the Ms. Pac-Man arcade machine and dialed Christine's number. The phone rings four times, before someone picks up:

"Russell's Auto Repair, Christine speaking. How may I help you?"

"Christine, this is Thomas. Your parents just left for Paris. I think they might've forgotten your brother Kevin..."

END

(A/N: Iraq invaded Kuwait in August, 1990.)