Author's notes: So here I am again with more reading pleasure. I'm currently only concentrating on this story because I don't have the inspiration to write for the other multi-chaps I have going.

Reviews:

Short-pants: Thanks for the review! Enjoy this chapter.

Black Seconds 6

A big group of volunteers had assembled at the school. A whole night had passed and the seriousness could be read of off everyone's face. It was still raining, but not as hard as before. The group consisted of people from the Red Cross, teachers and students from the school, people from the gym and other organisations. Some were just people from the neighbourhood, who had answered the call for help. They had left their houses and had ventured in the clammy outside world, hoping to be of any help. There were a lot of youngsters and surprisingly many boys and men. A couple of small kids also announced to help, but they were sent home. Number Sixteen had seen the big tumult of people, watching from a safe distance on his green three wheeler that he had parked underneath the overhang. Nobody asked him if he was also there to help searching. He didn't want to be asked either way. He looked at the dogs that some had brought with them. If one of those beasts ripped itself loose, he would jump on his three wheeler and race out of there. He didn't like dogs.

The volunteers studied maps and listened to the instructions of the police, who explained how they had to move across the terrain. How close to each other they had to walk, what they should search for. That it was important to stay focused the whole time. Don't talk too much. One group would be send to the waterfall, another would search aside the riverbanks. A couple of groups were send out onto the fields, others went in the forest and some to the hill above the city.

Yamcha Westwood gave them some last clues.

'Remember, Marron is very small, she doesn't need a lot of space.'

They nodded seriously. Yamcha stared at them and kept his opinion to himself. He kind of knew what went through their heads. There were many and often conflicting things. Some people had come out of despair, because they had kids of their own and couldn't sit in front of the television so passively. Some had come solely for the sensation and hoped to be the ones that found Marron. They tried to imagine how it would be to find her dead, or how it would be to stand in the spotlight, and they dreamed that they would find her healthy and well. To be able to give a shout in order to bring the good news across to the others. To, maybe, lift her up and walk to the others with her in their arms. They were scared, because less than a handfull had only ever seen a dead body and almost everybody thought that Marron was dead for sure. They were having trouble with their thoughts and scuffed the asphalt impatiently with their feet. Some carried a backpack with a thermos inside. But all of them had the vision of a hawk, or so they thought. They reminded Yamcha about many other searches, where a lot of people had walked passed the missing person time and again.
Krillin Chestnut was present. Because he had lived in West City eight years ago, there weren't many that recognised him and that was a relief to him. His brothers, Kuri and Kran, were also there, as well as Bulma's son Trunks. It was a relief when the sign was given. Hundred and fifty people left the school yard in small groups. Soft murmurs were heard all around. For many of them this was a strange expirience. To always look toward the ground, to see all the straws, all the roots and branches, all the irregularities in the asphalt, all the garbage in the ditches, there were so many things. The group that had to search the riverbanks kept throwing glances at the rapid stream of water. Small bushes and other vegetation with low branches were elevated. Trenches were investigated. And off course they found things. A broken pushcart. A rotten boot. On the riverbanks there was a abundance of empty beer bottles. Now and then they took a short break.
One of the groups encountered a little shed that had collapsed almost completely. A wonderful hinding place, they thought, while they stood in front of the humble building. Moreover, it lay close to the road, not far from where she lived. Involuntarily they sniffed the air. A man crouched and crept into the opening, a small crack in the rotten wooden beams. He asked for a lamp, that was given to him. The beam searched the dusky space. His heart pounded so wildly that he could feel it in his temple. The rest of the group waited. A couple of long seconds not a sound came out of the shed. Then his feet reappeared, while he crawled outside backwards.

'Only a bunch of junk,' he reported.

'You have lifted things, right?' someone asked. 'She could lie underneath something. Boards or something.'

'She isn't there,' the man answered, who tiredly wiped his face.

'But they said that you can easily overlook things. Shall we look again?' He didn't give up.

The man who had stuck his head into the clammy dusk in order to find a dead girl's body and hand't found it, just looked at him.

'You think I haven't searched good enough?' he asked.

'No, no. Don't get this wrong. It's only to be sure. We don't want to be people who have walked past it just like that, we want to do this right. Right?'

He nodded. The other crawled through the crack inside and looked around very carefully. He had put his hope on this very much. That you can hope so much, he thought, while he lay on the clammy floor and felt the cold creep into his pants. Hoping that she lay here. Because if she lay here, she would be dead for sure. But we don't hope for her to be dead, right? We are only realistic. We help. He crawled back outside.

'Empty,' he said. 'Thank Dende.'

He let the air escape his lungs. The group walked on.

Author's notes: They are finally searching! Will they find her?

Review