The Rescue
by
Justin Webster
Published by:
Copyright 2010 Justin Webster
This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real in any manner. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
The Rescue
Monday morning at Toddler Time Daycare began like every other morning, with lots and lots of coffee. The little ones started trickling in not long after six leaving barely enough time to drain a couple of start-me-ups before the race was on. The sun was breaking the horizon without threat of clouds. But that was the way things had been all last week though every day turned out murky and grey and pissed rain from ten o’clock on.
But today, all the troops were accounted for, a dozen diapers had been changed, four fights had occurred over various toys, two unnecessary Band-Aids had been applied, and snack-time was going relatively smoothly.
Because of this calm, Amy went to grab another coffee. She deserved it. After all, she didn’t get to her second like the others had. She’d been there when Holly got dropped off at quarter past six crying up a storm over a diaper that was impossibly full. Being the newest staff member, the other daycare attendants only had to look in Amy’s direction. The fact that Holly’s mom, Brianne, and Amy were best friends in high school and still remained close didn’t help Amy’s situation. Brianne apologized for what was to come and then ran out the door with a puckish smile on her face running late, a skill she’d been perfecting for as long as Amy had known her.
Holly was a good deal more content after about eight minutes of attention but by then, the coffee window had closed. Amy realized this before the final clean-up by the sounds coming from the lobby and activity rooms. From Holly’s clean-up until snack-time, Amy had no time to think and—in a couple of cases - barely enough time to react.
Yeah, she deserved a break. Someone, likely Leah, had brewed the coffee fresh and its aroma had been teasing Amy until Faith told her to take her break first. She’d just perfected the colour of her coffee with the cream wishing it was Bailey’s when the phone rang. It rang four times before no one picked up. What little guilt Amy felt was easily washed down by the first sip of coffee. Warmth followed with slowed breathing and a fresh perspective. What’s for supper? What’s the order of running the errands before I pick up my own kids? When can I squeeze in a trip to the salon? What am I forgetting?
And then the phone rang again.
Amy got to her feet and was hightailing it toward the phone when the last ring was cut short. Someone else got it and she was automatically on the way back to her reward and thoughts when Faith came to the door of the office and called her name.
“Quick.”
That single word had the opposite effect on Amy. Up until that point she’d been moving toward her employer, who by nature was likely the most laidback of the entire staff. The word and the way it was said didn’t exactly make her stop but, if it’d been possible to watch the replay, you’d see a break in Amy’s rhythm.
“Grab all of the kids and take them to the back of the property. Do it quickly. Lie down in the ditch, be quiet and treat it like a game. Someone just made a bomb threat. Go.”
Mechanically and just as they’d practiced, Amy entered the three rooms where the children were and quietly said Code Blue to the supervisors. They lined up all the children and were already on their way out when Amy went to check the kitchen and kids’ washroom that had no walls. Faith gave her a nod as she herself went out. Businesslike, Amy said she was just about done and then went back to the office. She grabbed the phone and made the one call she had to make: to Brianne.
Brianne didn’t pick up her cell but Amy left a message anyway. Trying to reassure while giving all the facts, Amy spoke of the bomb threat, that all of the kids were out of the building and safe, and that she’d call when the matter was resolved. She wanted to tell Brianne where they were and the steps they’d take once everyone was together, but this would have contradicted procedure. Calling Brianne was questionable, but the human thing to do. She said that it’d be best if Brianne waited where she was and that she had only called her because they were friends, not because Brianne should do anything. She would watch out for Holly.
With the phone call made, Amy joined the others at the back of the property. Faith, clipboard in hand, was doing role call while on the phone with Constable Bakelaar keeping the lines of communication open. Melissa was using her cell to phone Miller’s Garage up the street so they could move the kids there. Leah was in charge of keeping the children quiet and calm and together. Once at Miller’s, it would be Amy’s job to call the parents to make arrangements to pick up their children. Until then, she was doing her own role call.
And she was coming up short each time.
She couldn’t tell which one of the sixty-three kids that were there that day were missing, but it didn’t really matter. Without a word, catching Faith’s attention long enough to have her stop talking into her phone and remove it from her ear, Amy ran back to the building. The door handle stopped her in her tracks when she realized she didn’t know the specifics of the threat. When was it supposed to go off? Was it even the daycare building? Was there a reason given for the threat? Was it already in the building?
She pulled at the handle trying to push those questions out of her mind. They didn’t really matter. Faith knew the specifics. Faith had instructed the children be taken to the back of the property. There was one child unaccounted for; that was what mattered.
Amy hollered heading straight for the first of the three activity rooms. She called out the entire time she searched the rooms wishing she knew who it was that was unaccounted for so that it didn’t feel quite as much like she was calling for the family cat. There was no response from one room to the next. She was just about to leave the last of the activity rooms when she looked at the play kitchen in the corner. The fridge was tiny and a long shot but it beat looking in places she’d already checked two and three times.
The long shot contained Holly looking back at her eyes full of tears, face ripe with those that’d already fallen. She extended her arms to Amy and held on so tight Amy took time to savour it. Amy’s sense of stupidity over not realizing Holly had been the one missing washed away by the hug and relief.
And then she ran. Holding Holly’s head against her chest she made it to the edge of the room and immediately looked toward the back door. Her pulse was racing. The feeling that time was running out would not leave her mind even though she was moving faster than she had since Faith first gave her the news. She closed the door to the activity room behind her as procedure stated and began to run to the back door before even turning around.
“When she did, she was nearly on top of the person who was standing in the middle of the lobby.
Still sheltering Holly’s head with her hand, the only option had been to turn slightly and shoulder the person standing between her and the door. She closed her eyes, still not registering who was standing in her way, let alone seeing the startled, panic-stricken look on Brianne’s face. Amy attempted to stop before she could send Brianne toward sprawling, but it was too late. Her momentum sent Brianne flying and falling into the stack of cubbies that held the children’s belongings. With time slowing and her descent stretched, Amy recognized Brianne. Her arms fluidly flailed and her purse did a slow arch through the air, its contents spilling out and initiating their own arches. The entire scene would have been comic under different circumstances. Brianne’s head struck the corner of the stack just above the temple at the hairl
ine and the blood immediately started to flow. Amy yelled her name but there was no response.
Doing her best to assess the situation, she continued with Holly to the meeting area before returning to the daycare despite the protests of Faith and the others.
She didn’t pause at the handle this time, but went right to her friend who was beginning to stir and call for Holly.
Amy said her daughter was safe at the meeting spot.
“I’m taking her with me.”
“You’d be better to join us at the back.”
“I need to take her home.”
“You’d both be safer if we just went to the back. We’ve planned for this sort of thing.”
Amy grabbed a random hoodie from the coat rack and held it hard into Brianne’s forehead dividing her attention between the rather serious gash and the front door of the daycare wondering if it’d been her job to lock it.
“Hold this. Let’s go.”
“My purse.”
Without picking up the items that had fallen from the purse, Amy snatched up the fake Prada that matched the one they’d got on their girls’ weekend and gave it to Brianne, who did not protest about what was missing. She took the hoodie from her head revealing crimson stained skin, untouched trails of blood, and a fresh leak from the split at her hairline. She collected herself as quickly as possible.
“Will I scare my daughter?”
“She’ll be happy to see you.”
Amy pushed the hoodie up to Brianne’s head again and opened the door, holding the door for her friend. She looked toward the back ditch and gave Faith an I’m done smile as Brianne reached into the knock-off bag for the length of pipe she’d constructed that would take the lives of her daughter and sixteen of the other kids, Faith, Leah before the day was done.
###
About the Author
Justin was born in Florence, Ontario in 1972, the only child of Wayne and Joan Webster. Justin lived his entire childhood in Florence and that hamlet plays a part in nearly every story in Lore. Justin attended Dawn Township Central School and dated Tammy Robinson briefly in 1986. They never officially broke up so they may still be an item in spite of his marriage. He then went on to graduate from Lambton Kent Composite School in Dresden in 1991. He went out with other girls there whom he made a point to clearly define relationship beginnings and endings.
From there, he attended Wilfrid Laurier University in Waterloo. It was there where he met his future wife and they are still an item as far as he knows. After Waterloo, he flew to New York City to become a trained actor at the American Musical and Dramatic Academy, equipping himself to wait on tables. Realizing that he wasn't cut out for poverty and struggle, Justin attended teachers' college at the University of Western, Ontario. His wife did the same (though she's much better at it than him) and now they both teach in their hometown of Listowel, Ontario.
It was during this time that both he and his wife renewed their passion for acting and purchased a small church in Listowel, transforming it into a small stage theatre to be called, Theatre Three-Eleven. It's at Theatre Three-Eleven that Justin acts, directs and produces many plays that have been enjoyed by the community.
Justin Webster’s short stories and writing have appeared nowhere. The last prize--let alone literary prize--he received for anything didn’t involve writing and preceded his first kiss by at least two years. He is a lucky man, spending his time teaching elementary students and learning from his wife, two daughters, and dog. Lore is his first book.
Connect With Me Online
Learn more about Justin Webster: https://www.justinwebster.ca
Friend Justin Webster on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/justinwwebster
Follow Justin Webster on Twitter: https://www.twitter.com/justinwwebster