The Year We Had (MCYT AU)

41: Helpless

The drive between the Watson family home and Montville Academy usually averaged between two and three hours, depending on the time of year, traffic and roadworks. Behind the wheel of Sally's little four cylinder car, it should have taken even longer.

Wilbur shouted the details of the call as he remembered them, more a series of disjointed words than a cohesive story. Techno did his best to keep a level head and piece it all together, but the sharp turns and abrupt stops of the car made it harder to concentrate.

"Drive fucking faster Wil!" Tommy shouted from the back of the car, gripping onto the headrests as his brother slowed to turn a corner.

"I'm trying." Wilbur spat, flooring it as soon as they were around the bend. Tommy was flung into the back seat.

"Tommy, seatbelt." Techno ordered sharply, doing his very best to keep a level head. "I'm calling Scott."

"No!" Wilbur shouted, reaching blindly for his brother's phone.

Techno shoved him away. "Focus on driving you fucking idiot! You're gonna get us all killed. What help will we be to Dad then?"

"Don't call Scott." Wilbur said more than asked, doing his best to keep the panic from clawing up his throat and making its way into his words. "They might hurt Dad!"

"Scott is closer than we are." Techno said firmly. "And the man on the phone never said not to go to the authorities, right?"

"What if he can save Dad before we get there?" Tommy asked, gripping the fabric of his jeans tightly. His hands were shaking. He didn't like not knowing. He didn't like being so far away. They should have never gone to Montville in the first place.

"Call him." Wilbur finally conceded, and Techno hit the call button.

The drive home took an hour and a half, during which time Tommy called Phil twenty three times, all to the same depressing end.

"Hey, this is Phil. I can't get to the phone right now, but leave me a message and I'll get back to you if it's important."

Tommy wanted to cry.

When the car reached their house, they couldn't park in the driveway. The entire house was surrounded with police tape, and there was a small squad of police and important looking officials standing inside it. Wilbur slammed on the breaks and threw himself out of the car.

He stared at their usually warm, lively family home with utter dismay. The front door was wide open, and he could see people in suits and uniforms inside. There was a bloodstain on the carpet that he knew wasn't there last time he was home. His heart clenched in his chest, and he blinked back his helpless tears. He didn't even notice his brothers standing next to him.

"No." Tommy gasped, gripping tightly onto Wilbur's sleeve as he stared out at what used to be his home. "No, no not Dad." He looked up at his big brother with pleading, begging eyes. "Do something Wil. Please, please you've got to do something."

"What can I do?" Wilbur asked horsley. "He's gone, Tommy. I--I don't--"

Tommy's eyes clouded with tears. He blinked them back harshly. He didn't want to cry. He had to be better than that. He didn't even know that Phil was missing. Maybe he was just out for a walk, and forgot his phone, and someone stole it and made a prank call. There were a thousand answers that he wanted to believe, but as he looked at the reporters and the police, he knew that to tell himself anything else would be a lie.

His father was missing.

Tommy looked at the scene before him and remembered another place from another time. He remembered the day so clearly, he could still smell the smoke in the air and taste the bitter ash on his tongue.