“Have you seen your sister?” asked Timothy's mother.
“Not since yesterday,” replied Timothy.
“She didn't come home last night.”
“Maybe she stayed at a friend's house.”
“I've asked around. It was a school night and if she did stay at a friend's house, it would be someone I don't know of.”
The implications disturbed Timothy. “I'm sure she'll show up.”
“She'd better have a good explanation when she does. She missed school today.”
“Maybe you should call the police, just in case.”
“If she doesn't show up by tomorrow I will.”
A gulf opened in Timothy's feelings of security, not knowing the whereabouts of his sister. He thought about the creeps who had been stalking her and feared the worst. His stomach wasn't strong enough to repeat what those intruders had said to anybody, but the threat now loomed larger than ever before over his mind.
Later that evening, Patricia came to the house asking for him. Her interest lifted Jason's disheveled spirits. They went into the back yard, where Timothy stared into her eyes, enjoying the chance to stare at her.
“I know what happened to your sister,” said Patricia.
“What?” asked Timothy.
“She left with one of those guys that followed us home that day.”
“They abducted her?”
“Not really.”
“What do you mean?”
“She started flirting with one of them and then she left with them.”
Extreme ire flared in Timothy's mind over such a bold accusation against his sister. “That's impossible! She hated them!”
“I swear to God. We were walking home together and those two guys asked if they could play laser tag with us. I wanted to leave, but she started flirting with one of them. When he asked her to come over to his place, I tried to talk her out of it, but she ignored me.”
There was a sickness in Timothy's gut, which drained his vitality into utter despair. “Was it a skinhead and a guy with a goatee?”
“Yeah. Those were the guys.”
“Those guys broke into our house. There's no way she'd go with them willingly.”
“They invited me along too. Even gave me an address and some directions in case I change my mind.”
“Where did they take her?”
Patricia pulled out a small piece of paper and said, “Here's the directions.”
“Can I have it?”
Patricia handed him the directions and asked, “What are you going to do with it?”
“I'll tell my mother where she is. Then I'll go there.”
“I'm going with you.”
“Suit yourself.”
The two reentered the house where Timothy's mother was sitting in the living room, quietly weeping with a hateful expression on her face.
Timothy said, “I found out what happened to Sara.”
“I know all about Sara,” said his mother, her voice cracking with disgust. “She just called. She's eighteen now and if she wants to throw her life away that's her choice, but she ain't coming back here again.”
“What did she say?” asked Timothy.
“She says she wants to live with her boyfriends and have fun.”
“Do you have their number?”
“Why would I want that? I don't have a daughter anymore.”
Timothy pitied his mother feeling so distraught, but he refused to give up on his sister. Something sinister had been done to her and she needed his help.
A rush of adrenaline flowed through Timothy's limbs as he followed Tracy toward her car. “Thanks for driving me there.”
“No problem,” replied Patricia. “I'm worried about her too.”
The address was located over ninety miles to the south in rural bayou country. It disturbed Timothy to think that those perverts would come all that way just to stalk him and his sister. The bayou areas had always given him feelings of uneasiness. They made him think of gator attacks and convenient serial killings.
After spending so many nights wishing he could be alone with Patricia, he didn't really have much to say to her. Patricia failing to protect his sister was a source of extreme resentment in him. With sunken shoulders, he sulked in the passenger seat, scanning the morass.
“It wasn't my fault,” said Patricia.
“I didn't say that it was,” sneered Timothy.
“Why are you angry with me then?”
“She wouldn't just go with them like that.”
“She wasn't herself.”
“Why did you just let her go like that?”
“I didn't just let her go! I tried to talk her out of it.”
“You should have taken those perverts seriously.”
“How dare you tell me that!”
“Neither of you took them seriously.” Tears streamed from Timothy's eyes as he recounted, “They came into my mother's house and they called her their Ariadne and one of those perverts said that he was Theseus.”
“What does that mean?”
“Theseus knocked up Ariadne and left her alone to rot on a beach. Then Dionysus came and stole her away to a drunken sacrificial cult. That's who the skinhead was claiming to be.”
“That's weird.”
“I know it's weird. I hate them having her.”
After about an hour of driving, the road turned to gravel, lined with periodic pot holes, which jostled Timothy's body and his nerves. The swampland became more shrouded with trees the further they went, enclosing Timothy's view with a foreboding shade of evil. Eventually the gravel turned to dirt. He hoped there would still be daylight left when they reached their destination.
A light ahead pierced through the dense shade, which had been blocking out the sun's rays for many miles. As the light opened a wider field of vision, they entered a large clearing where over a dozen old vehicles were parked. Old flatbed trucks, station wagons, and a couple vans were parked in makeshift parking spots each marked with a large log.
The clearing looked out on a nondescript building too large to be a house. A crude cross standing in a nearby field to its right, caused a shiver to go down Timothy's spine. It looked as if he and Patricia were the only people in the parking lot.
“This is the end of the road,” said Patricia, aligning her car with one of the logs.
“I've got a bad feeling about this place,” complained Timothy.
“You think they're klansmen?” mused Patricia.
Timothy rolled his eyes in disgust and threw the door open. “She would never go with them willingly!” Glaring anger filled his every movement as he strode toward the meeting hall.
“Wait up, Tim.” Jessica quickened her pace to catch up with him.
The tone of her voice reminded Timothy of his sister and it dug into his gut.
The front door was every bit as plain as the building. Timothy pounded on it.
A corpulent and unkempt man with a beard answered the door. His overalls covered a t-shirt stained with yellow blots and the smell of pastrami and mustard permeated the air in a bad way. The fat hick glowered at them and said, “This is private property.”
“Where is Sara?”
“I don't know who you're talking about.” He gave an appreciative look to Patricia and added, “She can stay, but you need to leave.”
“Pervert!” shouted Patricia.
The hick puffed his lips in distaste and said, “Fine. If you want it that way you both need to leave.”
“Not without Sara!” said Timothy.
“You don't leave I'll get the police to show you off my property.” The fat hick spat at their feet and slammed the door shut.
Timothy pounded at the door. “Let me see my sister, you liars!”
“I think we'd better leave,” advised Patricia.
“Not without Sara.”
The door opened and a gray haired man with dry, wrinkled skin looked down on them like they were insects. “E
ither you leave like the man said or I'm going to have to arrest you.”
The threat infuriated Timothy. “For what?”
“Trespassing and disturbance of the peace.”
“You have no right.”
The dirty old man took out his wallet and flashed a badge, draining Timothy's anger beneath dread. “You want to inconvenience both of us?”
Too terrified to speak another word, Timothy turned around and followed Patricia back to the car. Tears flowed freely from his eyes like a flood drowning his indignation beneath impotence. When he was about half way to the car, he heard the dirty old man call after them, “We aren't ready for you yet.”