Chapter 6
Jack sat on the living room floor watching Tom and Jerry on the television. His simple, innocent eyes were fixated on his favorite cartoon and he was oblivious to the deserted home that he had been left caged up in. His mom had told him to stay upstairs, but he had forgotten all about that now.
As the cartoon ended, Jack uncrossed his little legs and walked into the kitchen for some cereals. Helping himself, he walked slowly back into the living room, holding the bowl of Lucky Charms in both hands, making sure not to spill any milk over their new carpet.
As he entered the room he saw a figure, a man lurking in their front garden. The figure’s eyes wandered this way and that, finally pin-pointing Jack. He leapt up to the window that gave a comprehensive view of the ground floor of the house.
“Hey, little boy… come out, come on out,” he urged, in a strange, whispery voice, his piggy eyes darting from one corner of the room to another. Jack, terrified, but outwardly calm, made his way to the front door. It was locked, so he wouldn’t be able to get in. Not unless he could pick both locks, anyway. Who was he, and what did he want with this house?
Jack felt terror linger in his very bones; he didn’t know what to do, he had no number for calling his mom and no way of gaining his neighbors’ attention. However, when he heard this man, this weirdo, creeping in through the porch, he froze. He had to think fast, it was now or never. What this man wanted was beyond him, but he had no intention of sticking around to find out.
He remembered that his mother always kept the back door unlocked, it was always open for some strange reason. He ran for the back door, twisted its handle and opened up to a swirling wind and a covering of hailstones. He was wearing only pyjamas; he would freeze to death if he were to stay outside without a coat on. Something else he had not thought about in the middle of this horrible nightmare was a key… a key to lock this door, so that the man wouldn’t be able to get out if he were to come looking for him.
Without a second thought, he ran up to his room, grabbed his thick coat which lay hanging over the side of the bed and ran back downstairs to find that the man was now skulking around the living room. It seemed to Jack that he was looking for something, he seemed to have a priority… the reason for being here in the first place.
Jack tip-toed ever so quietly down the last few steps, then watched as the man stopped in the middle of the living room. He knelt down and picked up a photo that had fallen to the floor. The man gazed through the shattered glass at Rachel and Marc on their wedding day.
Jack instinctively felt it best not to hang around any longer and made a run for the back door, picking up the key on the way.
The man gripped the frame so tightly that his knuckles stood out like white marbles and the broken glass cut his fingers. His face contorted with hatred as he threw the photograph across the room and it clattered against the far wall.
‘The guy looked obscenely happy to be the husband of such a beautiful bride… the bride who should have been mine… my true love…’
He suddenly heard a door slam, breaking him out of his trance. He ran to where he thought the sound had come from, reached the back door and found it locked.
Jack had managed to escape from the reach of this person; he crept onto the hail-covered ground outside, the howling wind drowning out any sounds he made.
“Oh, Jack…”
The little boy’s head turned. This man knew his name… how? He didn’t respond; why would he? He listened; the man was hammering on the door now. Keeping silent, he shivered violently, partly from fear, partly from the hostile weather, but he felt a hell of a lot safer out here, than in there. He pulled his coat round him tightly and stayed as still as he could.
The hammering ceased, unnerving the boy even more. Had the man forced the lock… was he about to come and get him? Had he left through the front door? The keys were in the lock. Maybe Mom or Dad had come home and the guy had legged it?
But no, Jack didn’t have such luck. A fresh sound came to his ears, it was close… he could hear footsteps trudging across the gravel-like hail. The man had left through the front door and was now making his way round the side, to the back garden where Jack crouched.
The heavy feet crept closer and closer, until Jack realised they were merely around the corner. He jumped up quickly; he had to get away again, to escape him. He lost his footing on the hailstones and fell face first, narrowly missing a potted bay tree. Scrambling desperately to his feet, he took the key from his coat pocket and unlocked the door.
But the man was upon him and as Jack unlocked the door, he lunged forward after him.
“Get back here!” Almost reaching the back door he made a quick grab for the handle.
Jack had almost managed to lock the door, but the man was too quick for him. He quickly let go and ran up the stairs to his room.
The deranged man followed, breathing heavily.
“Listen, kid, I just wanna talk…I wanna know where your mommy is, that’s all…”
Jack didn’t respond. After reaching the top of the stairs, he ran across the landing.
‘Don’t look back, don’t look back, don’t be stupid and look back…’ Without realising, he looked back. The man stood at the bottom, looking up at him; for a moment his eyes flickered to the front door, his head inclining slightly as if he heard a noise. Could it be Marc… or, even better, Rachel? What would they think if they saw him standing there? The cops would be called; he would go to jail.
He laughed to himself. No-one was there, although he would have loved Rachel to walk through the door right that minute. He hadn’t seen her since… he shook himself back to reality. The kid had disappeared now, probably ran into his room.
‘Oh, please go away, please…’ Jack was sitting with his back against the bedroom door. He had locked it from within, making him feel a little safer. He listened to the insistent tapping on the door. Then it stopped. Jack pressed his ear to the door, listening for any sound. The man tried the door handle a few times, but he would not get through unless he used force and kicked it down.
That, though, would be a grave mistake. He had to be untraceable. If Marc and Rachel were to come home and find a door smashed in… no, he would have to clear up all the mess before anyone came home. He tapped again, his nails scratching roughly against the wood.
“I just wanna talk about your mom…” he kept repeating in an oily, whining voice.
Jack still didn’t respond; he wouldn’t talk to strangers, especially scary ones like the one beyond the door.
The man became angry. “Just answer me… answer me, will you!”
His deep, threatening voice sent Jack into a shiver so violent, it made him jump from his hiding place. Tucking his legs up to his chest, he buried his head in his knees, covering his ears with his hands.
“You know something, son,” the whiny voice was back, “me and your ma, we had a little thing going, didn’t you know? Hm, well maybe you wouldn’t know that… say, just tell me something would you…”
Jack uncovered his ears, wanting to hear whatever this man was about to say.
A door latch clicked in the distance, and Jack felt a sense of relief.
But the man began to panic and sweat with fear.
‘Shit… shit!’
