Later that day, the boy returned home from school. Like every other day, he took the shortcut through the woods between the bus stop and his house. He loved to wind his way through the wild area of scattered palmettos, live oaks and odd yuccas. The sandy soil revealed so much life with different tracks and sign left by the local animals. He avoided venturing through the woods after dark, however. The trees with their beards of Spanish moss looked magical during the daytime, but the boy imagined the dark of night turned them into something more sinister looking.
Walking along the familiar path, the boy eventually emerged onto his cul-de-sac, where his house sat alone at the end. The circle was a single track of asphalt that enclosed a small island of wildness, like the wildness he had just walked through. He always felt attracted to that little island and sometimes crossed the pavement and disappeared inside its stand of trees. Today, he felt the call to cross and enter it before walking into his house. His mother was still at work, anyway, so there was no need to rush. It was a typical day, sunny and humid, and the coolness inside the trees felt right.
He threw his small backpack on the ground by a large oak in the middle of the island. There was an open area around the base of the tree, and the sand was sugar-white and cool. He sat, leaned against the tree, and lazily looked at his surroundings. He loved the trees and bushes in this place. They were familiar and comfortable. It was not long before his eyes closed and he dozed.
A noise.
The boy awoke, startled. A car entered the cul-de-sac. He dug his cell phone from a side pocket of the pack and tapped the button to check the time. It seemed early for his mom to be getting home. He was right. She would not be home for another hour. He looked out in the direction of the car's sound, curious. A black suburban, newer model, slowly drove around the circle. The boy followed it with his eyes. He was uneasy and did not know why. The car rolled to the front of his house, then stopped. The motor idled.
He was up now, crouching behind a small palmetto and looking between the green, sword-like leaves. Why had the suburban stopped? And in front of his house? He strained to see inside the vehicle, but the glass was tinted dark. The suburban looked like the ones in movies that secret service people or government officials used. He felt light headed. For some reason, he always thought those vehicles existed only in the movies. Yet here was one in front of his house.
The suburban moved again. Slowly continuing around the circle, it picked up speed as it left the cul-de-sac. No one emerged from the strange vehicle the whole time. Yet it stopped in front of his house and stayed there longer than someone might who was lost. To the boy's thinking, it stopped in front of his house for a reason. But what was the reason? He felt afraid and, again, did not know why. Confused, he decided to remain in the island of trees and bushes, hidden in safety.
Fifteen minutes before his mom was due home, the boy grabbed his pack and walked across the asphalt to his house. He glanced around before closing the door. No black suburban. Another ten minutes, and he heard the garage door open and close. His mom was home.
"Hey honey," she said, entering through the laundry room and into the kitchen. She looked tired but glad to be home. "How did the test go today?"
"In biology?" he asked. "Fine. I won't know my score 'til tomorrow, but I think I aced it."
"Oh, surprise," she said and laughed. Crossing the floor to where he stood, she hugged him. "I'm proud of you, you know."
The boy smiled and hugged her back, then went to the refrigerator to look for a cold soda. He never mentioned the black suburban.