Oak Ridge

Chapter 3

Arriving at the hospital, Charlie’s parents burst through the front door and approached the receptionist.

“May I help you?” the woman asked.

“Our son, Charlie Brills, has just been admitted. Can you please tell us what room he’s in?”

Typing in the name, the receptionist pulled up the relevant information. Her eyes scanned the screen to confirm the name and age of the patient, then looked at what ward he was on.

“Your son is on the second floor, room 210. The elevators are on your right; stairs are at the end of the hall.”

Overjoyed with happiness, the couple immediately took off towards the elevator. As soon as the elevator doors opened on the second floor of the small hospital, Jerry and Linda sprinted down the hall. Counting down the numbers on the doors, the couple located room 210. When they arrived, they saw their little boy resting in an upright hospital bed. It was the first time they had laid eyes on their boy in a very long time and he looked exactly as they remembered him. He seemed content, sipping from his juice box with a half-eaten sandwich in front of him on a tray. A nurse was in the room accompanied by a doctor. They were at the end of the bed, discussing the boy’s chart.

“Charlie!” Linda screamed out, startling both the nurse and the doctor. Charlie turned his head, but offered no verbal response. Without wasting a moment, Linda and her husband charged toward the boy and wrapped their arms around him. Crying profusely, they thanked God that their boy had returned.

More than a minute passed before the doctor introduced himself. He had been briefed on the situation by the Sheriff and was working on a medical explanation for how someone could come back from the dead without so much as a scratch. The boy had a pulse and was most certainly alive. All his vital signs were fine and perhaps the only damage sustained from his disappearance was psychological.

Pulling away from their son for the first time since they had arrived, they checked him for damage. Their boy was noticeably shaken up, but otherwise appeared to be unscathed.

“According to our preliminary tests, Mr. and Mrs. Brills, Charlie is a perfectly healthy thirteen year old. We’re waiting for his blood results now, but all the scans have come back normal. A week ago I would have said I haven’t seen anything like it, but as you know… I have.”

Charlie was wearing the same clothes he was last seen in, which were still in pristine condition. That alone was puzzling. If somehow he had survived the winter, or if he had been abducted, surely his clothes would have been soiled and tattered. As there had been no evidence of Charlie actually dying, they were left with the logical conclusion that he had been abducted. Following that thought through to conclusion suggested the likely reason a young boy would be abducted — to satisfy a sex offender’s demented thrills.

“Has he been… touched in any way, doctor?” Linda asked with apprehension.

“We have given Charlie a full examination and found no evidence of foul play.”

“How’re you doing, Charlie?” Jerry asked with teary eyes. “You okay, bud?”

Reaching down for his sandwich, Charlie acted as if he hadn’t heard the question. Worried, and still reeling in confusion about the situation, the parents once again turned to the doctor and his support staff.

“Did you perform a CT scan, doc?” Jerry asked. “He hasn’t said a word since we got here.”

“We did,” the doctor confirmed, “and everything appears to be normal. Until his blood work comes back, we won’t know for sure if he’s sustained any lasting damage. But if he’s like the others, I don’t expect to find anything unusual. Perhaps the most unusual part about this whole situation is his unexpected return.”

“Him not speaking,” Linda said, “was that common with the others?”

“I’m not at liberty to discuss the condition of any other patients, but I can assure you that his apparent reluctance to speak will pass with time. I’m not a psychologist, but from what I know, this type of behaviour is common when someone experiences a similar instance of trauma. If you want, I can make a few calls and set up an appointment with a child psychologist in the city.”

“We would appreciate that very much, doctor,” Jerry said. “Thank you.”

“It’s not a problem,” the doctor replied. “I’ll give you guys a call tomorrow, and hopefully we’ll have the results from the blood test as well. As for Charlie, he’s free to go. 

***

After George and his wife Julie finished their dinner and cleaned up, George went upstairs to check on his son.

“Conor?” he announced with a knock. “May I come in?”

Sheriff Jameson tried again, listening intently on the other side. Again, there was no answer. Quietly twisting the door handle, the Sheriff pushed his way in, being careful not to wake his presumed-to-be sleeping son. Upon opening the door, the Sheriff was alarmed to find Conor’s bed empty and the window ajar. Closing the window, he glanced outside at the empty suburban street below. He did not expect his son to have run away, but the thought crossed his mind. Conor was likely in the bathroom so the Sheriff closed the window and exited the room to check. When Conor was not in the bathroom, he became concerned.

“Conor?” he called out. There was no answer. “Julie, have you seen Conor?”

“He’s not down here!” Julie shouted back. “Is everything okay?”

“He’s not in his room or the bathroom. I think he snuck out,” the Sheriff said.

Julie saw her son’s cellphone on the kitchen counter and thought it would be unlike him to leave the house without it. Nevertheless, she thought he was likely texting his girlfriend at dinner and then made an excuse to sneak out and see her.

Just then, her husband came racing down the stairs.

“Honey, is everything, okay?” Julie asked.

Before bolting out the door, the Sheriff informed Julie that Conor was missing and he needed to go find him and bring him back. Still in uniform, the Sheriff left the house with a hurried pace. While the community was safe, the streets late at night were no place for a thirteen year old. The police cruiser backed out of the driveway forcefully and accelerated down the residential street. The siren was off, but the twirling red and blue lights lit up the quiet neighbourhood.

A million thoughts ran through the Sheriff’s mind as he drove around looking for his son. The last thought he had lingered in his mind longer than the rest. As the town Sheriff who had arrested and locked away his fair share of hardened criminals over the years, there was no shortage of people looking to enact revenge. He was always watching his back for the day when someone would get out of jail and attempt to harm him or his family. He wondered if that day had finally arrived.

“Sheriff Jameson, this is dispatch,” the radio squawked. “We’ve got a problem down here at the station, you’d better come quickly.”

“I’ll be right there.”

The powerful engine of the Ford Interceptor police car revved aggressively as the Sheriff slammed his foot on the gas pedal. When he arrived at the police station, a small crowd of people who were clearly distraught were gathered outside, demanding action. Exiting the vehicle, the Sheriff pushed his way through the screaming locals and made his way into the office. Whatever had happened to his son seemed to have happened to others.