For a few seconds, everyone stood perfectly still. Kyle had gotten up and was standing a few feet behind Sam. Sam continued staring at this man whom he'd never seen before.
Clay couldn't blame them for being speechless. It was a leap of faith, traveling to Chicago and arriving unannounced at the apartment of Charlie's long lost brother. In fact, he, too, couldn't help but take a moment to study the face of the young man before him. He was the splitting image of his sister, only with short hair. His clothes, though more representative of city life, were similar as well: black T-shirt and jeans with red tennis shoes. Clay also noticed the five o-clock shadow, which also gave off a reflection of his deceased father, Henry.
Deciding to finally break the silence, Clay cleared his throat. "Don't worry. You boys aren't in trouble for anything. I'm here for...other reasons." His smile faltered slightly when he said this.
Sam's eyes narrowed. "What reasons would those be? And how do you know my mother, exactly?"
Clay sighed. "May I please come in? I promise I'll explain everything as best I can."
Sam shook his head in bewilderment, but before he could say anything, Clay continued.
"Please, it's important. I know this is a little awkward seeing as we've never met, but you and your mother are the only people I can talk to about this and your mother's already shut me out when I called her. Please, it may be a matter of life and death."
Still tempted to decline, Sam studied the man's face. Growing up in Chicago, he'd seen numerous people being taken into custody, both on the news and on the street. While people in this city came in many different shapes and sizes, one thing that was common was that the ones who were doing something wrong could only go so far to hide it. He'd once heard one of his high school teachers say that a person's actions are manifestations of the heart and mind, and if you followed someone around long enough, you'd discover many things about their personality that they would go to great lengths to hide in conversation. A drunk man getting a DUI proved his guilt with his talk and smell, and a stalker could never keep their eyes to themselves for more than five minutes. This man, on the other hand, didn't give off any suspicious signals, at least not yet.
Finally, Sam relented. "Sure."
Clay nodded and stepped slowly into the apartment, removing his shoes near the door and walking past them into the living room. As Sam shut the door, Kyle approached him.
"What are you doing? We don't know him, and you just let him in! How do we even know we can trust him?"
Sam pondered his answer. To be honest, he wasn't exactly sure why he was going along for the ride either, but something about this man seemed innocent enough. Might as well hear him out.
"Relax. Let's just listen to what he has to say."
Kyle still looked wary. "Are you sure? What if he 's not who he says he is and tries to start something? You know as well as I do how much of a chance we'd stand in a fight."
Sam winced, not wanting to think about the memory. "Yeah, I know, but why would someone actually travel across the country like that if it weren't serious, at least to them? Scammers would try to phone, wouldn't they?"
Kyle shrugged. "Yeah, I guess so. Alright, we'll listen to him, but I'm not letting my guard down just yet."
"You don't have to," Sam assured him as the two of them followed Clay into the living room. They found him looking at some of the pictures on the shelves. Sam cleared his throat and Clay turned.
"Sorry," he said, gesturing to the photos. "I just-I was always curious what she looked like, her mother. Your mother."
"Riiight," said Sam. "Um, you said you talked to my mother?"
"Yes, over the phone last week," said Clay. "She seemed a bit on edge to talk to me."
"Why's that?" Kyle asked.
"To be honest, I'm not sure," said Clay, turning to him.
"Oh, yes," said Sam. "Um, Mr.-?"
"Burke. Clay Burke."
"Right. Mr. Burke."
"Please, call me Clay. I'm not on duty."
"Ok. Clay, this is my roommate Kyle Jackson."
"Pleasure," said Clay, extending a hand. Kyle took it and shook it, taking note of the firm grip he had. "I noticed you two are in quite a lot of these pictures. Friends?"
"Yeah," said Sam. "Since grade school."
Clay nodded. "My son had a best friend like that, but-" He trailed off, closing his eyes.
"But what?" Kyle asked.
Clay sighed. "Well, that's part of what I want to talk to you about. Sit down."
The two sat down on the couch. Clay sat across from them in a chair.
This feels like a police interrogation, Sam thought as he watched Clay pull a piece of paper out of a briefcase they hadn't noticed earlier. He put it on the table between them and slid it toward them. It was a missing person report. On it was the face of a teenager their age, with long dark hair, a round face, and a mouth that appeared to be smiling even though she was not.
"Dude, she looks kind of like you," Kyle whispered.
Sam shook his head. Beneath the image was the name CHARLOTTE EMILY. They looked up at Clay, who sat silently watching them.
"What is this?" Sam asked.
"This…" said Clay, pointing down at the mugshot of the girl, "...is your twin sister, Sam."
Sam and Kyle looked at each other, unsure of what to say. Sam wanted to protest, but couldn't find the words. He secretly hoped Kyle would say something for him, help voice his thoughts for him, but Kyle was just as much at a loss for words. Clay continued watching them wordlessly, letting the information sink in.
Finally, Kyle broke the silence.
"You never told me you had a sister, Sam."
Sam stared down at the face, his mind lost in a fog. He'd lived in Chicago as far back as he could remember. Whenever the subject of his earlier childhood came up, he was always at a loss for words. His mother wasn't of any help, either, always telling him that they simply needed to move and that it wasn't a good neighborhood where they came from. He always felt like there was more to the story, but he didn't want to push her too much to avoid a backlash.
"I...didn't know," said Sam. He looked up at Clay, who was still watching him silently, eyes locked on his. "I'm sorry. My memory isn't that great. Are you sure you have the right person?"
Clay sighed again. "I'm positive. Believe me, ever since she's been missing, I've been working tirelessly trying to track down the only family she has left: her mother...and apparently you. Trust me, I had no idea you existed either...until just recently."
"She does look like you," Kyle pointed out.
Sam stared down at the girl again. She certainly did have some similarities in appearance, but there was no way they were related.
"You think so?"
"Dude, look at her," said Kyle, pointing down at the black and white face. "She has the same face as you, only with longer hair. You remember when my parents took us downtown to that magic shop and you tried on that wig?"
He did remember, though vaguely.
"You looked just like she does," said Kyle, turning to Clay. "I remember."
Sam shook his head. "I'm sorry, I just can't remember anything about her. Mom and I never talked about her since we moved here when I was little. We just got so caught up in living here."
Clay nodded, clearly disappointed at the lack of hope.
"When did she disappear?" Kyle asked, looking more anxious than he'd been about anything in a long time.
"A month ago," said Clay. "There was an incident at a pizza place called Circus Baby's Pizza shortly before it burned down. My son almost died in the accident, and your sister has yet to be seen since I began searching for her afterwards."
"Circus Baby's Pizza?" Kyle repeated.
"Yes, one of the newest pizzeria's of our town which didn't last long. Another failed animatronic restaurant on the list."
"Animatronic?" asked Sam.
"Yes, it had animatronics, based off the ones your father had once built, granted these ones weren't his work given that he's dead."
"My father's dead?" said Sam, feeling his heart sink in his chest a little.
Clay nodded. "He's been gone for over ten years, actually. Unfortunately, he committed suicide after one of his pizzeria's closed down due to some child kidnappings."
Kyle shook his head. "That's insane. I'd hate to be in his position after that. Then again, I can't really stand being around animatronics that much anyway. They always kind of creeped me out, the way they act like they're real but aren't. I never wanted to go to any places like that around here when I was young, but luckily I never had to worry too much 'cause Sam's mom wouldn't let him near them either."
Clay raised his eyebrows and turned back to Sam, who was still attempting to make sense of everything he'd heard so far.
"Animatronics," he said again, softly.
"Yes, your father created animatronics and founded a pizzeria called Freddy Fazbear's Pizza," said Clay, hoping to trigger something.
"Animatronics," Sam said again, his eyes transfixed on a spot just above the table.
Clay looked to Kyle, who shrugged. I don't know, he mouthed.
"Fredbear," Sam said.
"Freddy Fazbear," said Clay. "He was the leader of the group of singing animatronics."
"No, I remember the name Fredbear," said Sam. "And I remember a dancing and singing yellow bear and rabbit."
Clay said nothing, and Kyle was staring at his friend in shock. He never told me any of this!
"I'm unsure of what exactly you're remembering," said Clay, "but yes, there were singing bears and rabbits."
Sam closed his eyes tightly, envisioning once more his memory from earlier. A yellow bear with a microphone dancing and singing to an audience of cheering children, parents laughing along tapping their feet. He suddenly saw himself there, singing along with them, not a care in the world. Next to him, a little girl with brown hair and brown eyes. He looked at her, and she looked back at him and smiled. His sister.
"Charlie," he said.
Clay's eyes lit up. "Yes, that's what everyone called her."
"So you remember?" Kyle asked, intrigued.
Slowly, Sam nodded, looking back and forth between them. "Yes, I remember her. I don't a whole lot, but I remember her now."
"What was she like?" Kyle asked, but Sam shook his head again.
"I can't remember exactly. I just remember her being there, at the restaurant."
Clay nodded. Sam turned his attention back to the picture.
"So she's missing?"
"Yes."
"Who was she living with?"
"Your Aunt Jennifer, for a while, although recently she's been living all over the place, with one of her friends at St. George, and then somewhere else for a good six months."
"How do you know she's really missing, then?"
"Because she returned recently, and...well, it's a long story, and I promise I'll explain everything on the way."
"On the way where?" Kyle asked.
"Well, that's what I'm getting at," said Clay simply, looking at Sam. "Next to your mother, who has firmly decided not to get involved when I called her, you are the only person who might be able to help me find your sister. And fortunately, given that you are an adult in no need of parental permission, I'm asking that you come with me back to Hurricane to aid in the investigation."
Sam said nothing, taken aback by the offer. "Excuse me?"
"I know it's a bit of a leap," said Clay, "having a man you just met ask you to travel across the country to help in a search party, but we' re having no luck whatsoever."
"And you think I can help you?" Sam asked.
Clay sighed. "Such is my hope."
"I don't know," said Sam. "It seems a bit of a stretch."
"I understand," said Clay. "Are you busy here?"
"Sort of. We both have daytime jobs."
"Until your music career takes off?" Clay guessed, gesturing toward the packed instruments still sitting beside them on the floor.
Sam was impressed at his observation. He was a police chief after all. "Yeah, pretty much."
Clay nodded. "I understand," he said again. "Listen, I'm staying the night here. I'm not due to fly back until tomorrow afternoon. Why don't you sleep on it? Please understand, I'm just a concerned father of a friend of your sister's, and as a police chief who's become quite close to her as well over the last couple of years, it burdens me that we cannot seem to locate her no matter how hard we try. I'm not forcing you anywhere, son, it's entirely your call, but it would mean the world to me, to all of us back in Hurricane, if you helped us in any way you could." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pen. "Do you have paper?" Kyle handed him a pad. "Thank you. Here is the phone number of the motel I'm staying at. If you could let me know tomorrow what your decision is, that would be great."
He wrote down the number and slid it across the table to Sam, who took it. They all got up and Clay began walking to the door, with both young men following close behind.
"Well," said Clay grabbing his shoes, "in any case, it's a pleasure to meet you, Sam. You too, Kyle."
He shook their hands and, with a goodnight, walked outside.
Sam shut the door behind him and turned to face Kyle, who matched his look.
"Well," said Kyle. "This is certainly not how I was expecting this night to go. Here I thought we were just gonna have another long talk about our music and loneliness."
Sam snickered at the humor slightly, but his face never changed as he glanced down at the number written on the paper.
"What are you thinking?" asked Kyle. "Utah? That's quite a ways away. You think it's worth it? I mean, you think you can actually help him? You said you don't remember much."
Sam continued staring down at the piece of paper as if the numbers were a code that would give him the answer the longer he stared at it.
"I need some time to think," he said, and Kyle nodded.
"Alright, man. I think I'm gonna grab a quick snack and hit the sack. See you in the morning."
April 12, 1999
Well, today was an interesting day, to say the least. Getting out of work late is one thing, and having to restring my guitar didn't help, but I'm still curious as to what happened in rehearsal. Why did I keep imagining our sixth-grade band director wearing a yellow suit? He never wore suits like that, and he never danced or even smiled! And that voice in the hall. What was that? It sounded so real, but it couldn't have been. It sounded familiar, too, like I should know it from somewhere. But where? It knew Mom's nickname for me as a kid. No one here ever called me Sammy, except Kyle until I threatened to tell everyone his nickname (I'm still holding him to that).
This is the first time that this has ever happened to me. I don't think I've ever had any mental problems. Mom never said. But I could've sworn I heard my name. I don't know. Maybe I've been working too hard lately, all those extra hours at work and talking with Kyle about the band.
And then there's Clay. As if things weren't getting unusual enough, here comes a police officer all the way from Hurricane, Utah, traveling all the way across the country to find me and tell me that my sister is missing. I haven't seen Charlie in fifteen years, maybe more! Doesn't she have friends there who might know what happened to her? Why is it so important for me, someone who hasn't even seen her or been to that part of the country in years, to go offer my services? If they haven't found her already, what am I going to do? They must be desperate.
Clay asked for an answer tomorrow. I'm still not sure. I'll have to sleep on it.
Sam stared at the ceiling above him, the revelations of hours ago still echoing in his mind. Charlie's missing, he kept thinking. He had completely forgotten about his sister over the years. He vaguely remembered the move, but after that, he knew it only took a matter of months for his three-year-old self to accept city life as the norm. Between that and his mother's fierce determination to kill any discussion about their past, all he ever thought about was life here in Chicago, his dreams, desires, friends. As time went on, he found his curiosity about his early childhood slowly dying, and the memories of it began fading into the wind.
So why is everything coming back now? he thought. Why, after so many years?
He rolled onto his side and glanced at the clock. It was after midnight now. He groaned. He hated nights when he couldn't sleep. At home, he would get up and walk around for a little bit to help calm himself and hopefully tire himself out at some point while his mind mulled things over, but he didn't want to do that now because Kyle had the tendency to sleepwalk sometimes. He'll never forget the day he got up to use the bathroom and walked out to find his friend staring mindlessly at him. He certainly didn't need coffee that morning.
Sam stared out his bedroom window. The rain had begun falling harder the last few hours and there were flashes of lightning and rolls of thunder out on Lake Michigan. He remembered he used to be scared of thunderstorms as a kid, clinging tightly to his mother at every crash of thunder, but now he had grown to enjoy them. They were a great force of nature, and it always amazed him how they rolled in and out like a guest who knew when it was showtime. He tried writing a few songs about the weather, but like all others so far, they hadn't gone anywhere yet. That inexplicable void still made its presence known. Is this really my future? If things don't work out, then what's the point?
What's even the point of anything? a voice inside him asked. What's the point of living? What's the point of going through life constantly looking for whatever distractions can ease our minds? What's the point of even going with this man to Hurricane?
That brought his attention back to his primary focus on this sleepless night. He had the following day off work, so it didn't matter if he stayed up. Still, he hated it when his thoughts prevented his mind from easing into a peaceful slumber.
Charlie. How had he forgotten about her? Although he still didn't remember much about her, it seemed like her presence in his life years ago was suddenly so crystal clear. Of course, he had a sister. How could he ever have forgotten? Maybe it was all those years of lack of acknowledgment, mainly on his mother's part.
Sam rubbed his head, racking his brains. Had he ever asked about his sister before he forgot? Had he ever asked his mother that question and gotten a serious answer before she began shooting down his curiosity? He thought back to beginning kindergarten when his mother hugged him with watery eyes as she watched him join his classmates, excited to be starting something new. He thought of moving into their apartment, and he ran around excitedly to scope out the place. Everything was new, and his mother smiled at him as he told her about everything he saw out the window. As he ran back to look again, he tripped over a box. She picked him up and kissed him, telling him to be more careful. He helped her pick up some of the toys that had fallen, some of which were his favorites that he used to share with…
Sam shot up in his bed, the memory suddenly clear.
...Charlie.
And then it hit him. He remembered the big move across the country. His mother had taken the money that she could afford and bought two plane tickets to Chicago, and she and her son flew ahead while the moving van followed. All throughout the flight, Sam kept asking his mother where they were going and what was going on. She told him to shush and be quiet as to not disturb the passengers nearby.
"Isn't Daddy coming with us?" he asked her, and she shook her head.
"No sweetheart, Daddy needs some time by himself. We might come back to see him again."
That, of course, never happened.
"What about Charlie?"
His mother's face tightened immediately, and tears began to fall from her eyes. He didn't mean to make her cry. He hated doing that, but he wanted to know where his companion and playmate was. She sat in silence for a few long moments, as if pondering what to say. Finally, she turned to look at him in the eyes.
"Charlie's...staying with Daddy, honey."
Sam's head plopped back down onto the pillow. So it was completely true. Charlie stayed with his father, while he went with his mother. A classic dividing of the assets, including children. Still, it amazed him how long years since had completely fogged over this part of his memory.
And now she's missing, he thought. What help could I be, though? I don't remember much. Would my contributions really make that big of a difference?
It still seemed a bit of a leap. The name Hurricane really didn't ring any bells. He was almost certain he'd never lived there. Maybe that was where his father and sister moved to afterward. His father had opened a restaurant, a pizzeria, where children were later kidnapped. And his father...dead by suicide for years. Part of Sam felt like he should feel sad, and perhaps he would later, but the lapse in memory had also fogged over his father as well. He didn't remember much about him at all, so the news being broken to him only hours earlier hadn't really sunk in.
Sam shook his head as another roll of thunder cracked outside. Sam yawned, thinking back to the decision he would have to make sometime in the morning. Part of him was interested in visiting his childhood home as he was always curious about it, but another part of him reminded him that there was likely no help he would be. What would he do, answer a few questions about the very little he remembered of his sister and have them go off to someplace they hadn't looked only to come up empty handed?
What if they didn't? You could see your sister again.
But what if she's not found? I'd be killing hope and wasting everyone's time by going out there. If she hasn't been found yet, chances are slim she ever will.
How can you say that? She's your sister!
I know, but chances are I won't help do anything. It's not worth it.
Are you sure? Or is there something else? Something you're afraid of?
I'm not afraid. I'm just being realistic.
No, there's something going on within you. Something dark.
Shut up. I need to rest.
The rain continued to fall rhythmically as Sam's eyes finally closed.
He stood inside an empty room, dark and dusty. Yuck. He hated the dust, it made him cough. He looked around. It was a dining room, complete with a bar and cash register, and tables and chairs all facing an empty stage. He walked over to the stage, hoping to see something there, but nothing was. It was completely empty. He tried to climb onto the stage, but he couldn't lift his legs up high enough. It was then that he realized that he didn't even reach two feet tall. He was a child.
The lights suddenly turned on. His eyes shot up and he saw an animatronic rabbit standing on the stage, his bright yellow fur glistening in the lights. He gave a cry of delight as the rabbit turned its robotic eyes toward him and began moving, his head bobbing back and forth in time with the tune that began playing out of nowhere. Sam began clapping and dancing along. He loved the animals and their way of bringing such comfort and joy to him. He loved the way they danced like people. You never saw real animals in the zoo do that. It gave him such great delight.
There was only one thing missing. Charlie. Where was his sister? She loved to sing and dance as much as he did. Where was she? He looked around the restaurant for her, but there was nobody else. He walked over to a window, expecting to see his parents' car parked outside like it always was, but there was nothing. There was only a tree, with giant branches that looked like they wanted to grab him.
A knocking sound suddenly rang out from behind him. He turned around, focusing his attention to the back corner of the room. The knocking continued, echoing through the building above the noise of the music.
"Sammy?"
It was a little girl's voice, shrill and panicked. He'd heard that before.
"Sammy?" it said again. "Sammy, help!"
On stage, the rabbit immediately stopped moving. The music that had been playing stopped and the rabbit's head swung robotically toward the door. It stared at it for a few seconds, and then twisted itself and began walking slowly toward the door.
"Sammy?" the voice said again, sounding even more panicked this time.
"It's ok," he told her. "He only wants to say hi."
The rabbit moved robotically toward the door, but as it got closer, its movements changed. It looked more agile, almost like it was trying to sneak up on the inhabitant inside, like a surprise. When t finally got close to the door, its movements looked almost human. It reached for the door, its large matted hand growing closer and closer.
A scream from inside rang through the silence. Sam covered his ears. It was absolutely deafening. When he looked up, he saw the rabbit had turned to look right at him. Only the eyes weren't the same. They were human-like and absolutely dead. Within the gap between the teeth, he saw a twisted smile.
Without warning, the rabbit began sprinting straight towards him at full speed. Sam fell back toward the wall and hid his face in his hands, waiting for the impact to come.
It hit him like ice. But wait, he was expecting a harder, bigger, and maybe even a fuzzy blow, not a cold one.
"Dude, wake up!"
His eyes shot open. Staring down at him was Kyle.
"Are you ok?"
Sam looked around. Sunlight was pouring into his bedroom. He glanced at the block. Eight-thirty AM. He noticed Kyle had an empty glass in his hand.
"Did you splash me with water?"
"I had to," said Kyle. "You forgot to deactivate your alarm again last night so it was going off but you weren't turning it off. I came in and saw you tossing and turning like crazy."
Sam shook his head. "Really?"
"Yeah! I was shouting your name and poking you and everything and you weren't waking up. This was all I could think of!" He gestured to the glass in his hand. "You alright?"
"Yeah, I'm fine," Sam said, rubbing his hands on his face, realizing that he was sweating. "I just had a nightmare."
Kyle looked unconvinced. "You sure? Ever since yesterday, you've really been acting weird."
Sam sighed. "Ok, I don't know what exactly is going on, but to be honest, I think I'm having flashbacks."
Kyle's head shot back in confusion. "Of what?"
"Of my childhood," said Sam, sitting up in bed. "Yesterday during rehearsal, when you were playing that march, I thought back to sixth grade when the band played it, remember?"
Kyle nodded. "Vaguely. I didn't really stick around for that stuff, you know?"
"Well, I suddenly had this vision of our band director wearing a yellow suit and dancing around and singing."
Kyle's eyebrows narrowed.
"And then I heard my mom calling me like she was looking for me. And then just now, I had a dream that I was standing in a restaurant or something, and there was an animatronic rabbit dancing, and I was having fun, but then…"
He cut off, his shoulders tensing. Kyle took notice.
"What, you think it may have something to do with what Clay told us?"
Sam shook his head again. "Maybe, I don't know. You remember what we learned in psychology about the subconscious?"
"You know I never paid any attention in that class. Mr. Bernswick always put me to sleep."
Sam chuckled. "Well, I think my mind is trying to tell me something...something about my past."
"Ok, Mr. Philosophical," said Kyle, holding up his hands in slow-down-there gesture. "Let's not get carried away. You're probably just tired. We had a busy week last week, with all those gigs we had booked. And the weird stuff we heard last night didn't help."
"No, I think it's something else. I can feel it. It's hard to explain, but I think I may remember more about my childhood than I thought."
Kyle stared at him silently for a few moments, unsure of what to say.
"There was something else," Sam continued. "In my dream, there was a girl screaming my name. It sounded like…"
"Like your sister?" Kyle guessed.
"Yeah," said Sam hesitantly. "I know it sounds crazy, but I think my subconscious is trying to tell me something. I just feel like I need to do something. Like I need to…" he paused, mulling over his words in his mind before letting them slip through his lips, "...go to Hurricane."
"Hurricane?" said Kyle, eyebrows raised. "Wait, so you want to go? Dude, that's a bit of a stretch. I mean, it's been, what, fifteen years since you've lived there. You think you can actually help find your sister?"
"I don't know," said Sam honestly, "but even if I don't, something tells me I need to go back and see for myself, just for closure."
Kyle opened his mouth but then shut it again. Sam wasn't sure how he would take this. In fact, he himself was still somewhat surprised that he came to this conclusion as quickly as he did. But something deep inside of him told him that he had to do this. Something was calling him.
Finally, Kyle nodded. "Okay. I get it. You gotta do what you gotta do. It's your life, your family. I understand that. Just promise me you'll be careful."
"Kyle," said Sam. "I want you to come with me."
Kyle looked taken aback by the gesture. "What? Me? Going to Hurricane? Why?"
"Because…" Sam said, gazing out the window into the clouds.
"Because why?"
"Because Clay might need an expert pilot to-"
Kyle lowered his head and eyebrows in a way that spoke volumes. Dude, don't lie to me.
"Ok, ok!" said Sam. "It's because I...well, I don't feel like going alone," he finished solemnly, his voice low and slightly embarrassed.
"What do you mean?" asked Kyle.
"It's been so long since I've been to my home," said Sam, turning back to look at Kyle. "I don't know anybody over there. It might be a bit overwhelming, the search for my sister. It's hard to explain, but for some reason, I feel this odd sense of isolation about going home. Like, I should be with someone if I'm there, someone I'm close to, but I won't be. I would really feel better if I had some familiar company."
Kyle said nothing, his face unchanged.
"Besides, I wasn't kidding," Sam added. "You are a pilot. Clay might be able to use your help getting eyes in the air." He glanced at his friend anxiously, fearing that he wouldn't bite.
"Need I remind you that I'm not a pilot by profession," said Kyle, scowling slightly. "I'm just a guy with a piloting license and rich, flying parents."
"That's all we need," said Sam, desperately hoping he was getting through.
Kyle shook his head. "I don't know, Sam. This isn't like you to make such a bold decision on such short notice. You always take your time on deciding important stuff, and it's always your own decision without any input from me. It's a bit of a stretch for me, too. Normally, I'd jump at the chance for an adventure with you, but this is kind of pushing it. Besides, I'd have to call my parents to let them know I need some time off so they don't schedule me to help them. Plus, I gotta-"
"Alright, then I'm calling it in."
Kyle's face dropped. "Calling what in?" he said nervously.
"That IOU," said Sam. "Need I remind you-"
Kyle's face tensed up immediately. "Dude, don't."
"-about that night-"
"Dude, seriously, I get it!"
"-when I saved your sorry butt from being kicked to the curb by Johnny Wilhelm?"
"Ok. Why are you now bringing this up? I still have my own nightmares about that."
"And do you remember..." Sam went on, ignoring his friend's protests "...when you told me that if I ever needed a favor, you'd be there for me? Well, I'm calling in that favor."
Kyle huffed. "So...you want me to drop everything and go with you and a cop we just met across the country to look for your long-lost sister you completely forgot that you had just because you want 'familiar company'?"
Sam nodded. The look in his eyes told Kyle that he was being completely serious. That was it. Kyle threw up his arms, resting his head in his hand.
"Ok," he said. "You win. I'll come along...but only because I really do owe you. I don't know how much help I'll be, though. After all, this isn't my trip down memory lane."
"Don't worry," said Sam, reaching for the paper Clay gave him the night before and getting up. "It'll be alright."
He walked past Kyle and over to the phone in the living room. He dialed the number. It rang twice before being picked up.
"Clay Burke."
"Clay? It's Sam. I'm in."