The Greatest Fears Come From Beneath

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   I woke up the next morning at 7:47. I rolled out of the bed and stood up. My loaned pants fell down.

   Wonderful start to the morning.

   I pulled them back up and saw my real clothes neatly folded on the table across from me. Gratefully I snatched them and put them on in the bathroom and came out with a relaxed sigh, these clothes have never felt so soft before. I opened the front door and went outside, staring out at this new area I've never seen until today, it was beautiful.

   Since my school and job were on the far outskirts of the city, everything farther than a mile west of my town  was open country. I heard nothing. No cars, no kids, no groans from my sleeping dad. That last thought  brought me back to reality. I went inside, sat at the table in the kitchen, and tried to figure out what to do. Jesus came in, hair sticking out everywhere except where it should be.

   "Que pasa?" He moaned.

   "Yo pienso que you hacer buscar mi padre."

   He paused, decoding my bad Spanish, "What I do?"

   "Nada"

   "Pero quiero ayudar."

   "I don't even know what to do Jesus! I can't find my dad and there's no way that I can even think of where he'd be by now! I don't know where he is, or how he was even found, I-"

   I stopped, not because Jesus didn't know what the hell I was saying, but I remembered the Instagram posts. I pulled out my phone, no connection. I tried to ask Jesus.

   "Wifi?" I waved my phone which I had put on settings and pointed to the WiFi icon.

   He nodded and went into one of the rooms and came out two minutes later with something written on paper. He seemed to think it was funny, I don't know why.

   I put in the password where it was needed, and got connected. I opened Instagram successfully this time and looked at my two posts. My dad's car was in the shot of Jack-in-the-Box, and the next post had my dad in it. This was all my fault. I fell onto the couch and stared forward, feeling terrible.

   Jesus, not even knowing what I was upset about, flopped next to me and said, "It good?"

   I looked at him, "Nosotros comprender Ingles o Español."

   He blinked then said hopefully, "Español?"

   I was hoping he'd be the one learning English, but he'd helped out a lot the past several hours, so I conceded. We would deal with that later.

   By 8:30 I expected Jesus to be going to school, but he motioned for me to come with him in the car. I sat in the passenger seat and he got in the driver's seat.

   "Tú madre manejar-ing?"  I guessed."

   He rolled his eyes and showed his license, "Tenemos solo uno carro, y mi madre no trabaja cada otro dia. Dija que puedo uso el carro hoy." I didn't know what he said at first, so eventually I figured out he said, "We only have one car, and my mom works every other day. She said I could use the car today."

   That was very confusing. From here on out you only hear the translation, I'm too lazy to do that ever again.

   I replied, "That's fine then, thanks." He nodded and we pulled out of the driveway.

   "Which way, Regé?"

   I pointed the opposite direction we came from. "Let's see if my dad went down here."

   For an hour and a half we went down the road. I saw nothing. "We're there any side roads that turn off the road?"

   "Yes, but only before the turn before our house. The next one is actually ten miles away, though."

   That's was when I saw skids in the road. They could belong to any car, but I got excited anyway. "Follow the skids, Jesus!"

   He seemed to understand and pulled up to where the skids left the road. I jumped out and followed the torn grass. At this point I saw two trails of torn grass, meaning one car went after the first. I went further and saw nothing.   No more tread. The torn grass turned sharply and stopped.

   I looked back at Jesus, following from a safe distance.

   "You see anything I dont, Jesus?"

   He had stopped and looked like he might giggle, then stopped, realizing something. He pointed past me. "There."

   I should have seen it, that's why he was giggling. The trails end, but that doesn't mean the cars did. The White SUV was about thirty feet away, smashed against a tree.

   I ran towards the SUV, hoping to find anything of use. The SUV was overturned, so I got on my stomach and looked inside.

   The guy in the driver's seat was stiff, bloody and dead, but didn't look scary, not like the drowned guy in the little boat in JAWS. The other guy next to him was: wait for it- dead too! Amazing! He looked kinda the same, but he had a knife in his stomach. Someone must have come to make sure they were dead.

   I moved sideways and looked in the back seat. There was a case, dented on the side, but intact. There was also a pistol, binoculars, and a smashed walkie talkie. I pulled those out as Jesus walked up, apparently he had summed up enough courage to see what was inside.

   "We're these the bad guys?"

   "I think so," I replied, not looking back. "Can you check these guys pockets?"

   "Aaaauuuh..." I heard him shuffle his feet. "Is it really important that I do?"

   "I'm checking the backseat. Please, Jesus?"

   I heard him gulp, get down to the ground, and almost throw up. He reached in and, hands shaking, put his hands into the guy's pockets. I was halfway in the car watching this. All of a sudden I had this immature little idea pop into my head. I quietly grabbed the dead driver's arm and flapped it around, "Mooaaaaaaah!"

   He shrieked and hit his head against the door. "F*** you!"

   I immediately regretted it and apologized. He grudgingly went back to searching. I found a file, papers scattered, behind the backseat headrests, and Jesus found a barely working phone. This was a great week for phone findings. Jesus and I pulled out of the car and went over to the trunk. I tried kicking in the glass while Jesus tried to find any water puddles to wash off a bit of blood on his hands. "Jesus, can you find a branch while I try to kick the window in? If I can't we can smash it."

   He processed what I said and went back to his business. Right when he came back, thick branch in hand, I broke the window. Flustered, he sighed and threw the branch back in the woods. We looked inside: another case, and a very durable computer bag. It was not very damaged at all. We collected our findings and went back to our car and dumped it in the back seat.

   "What are we going to do with this shit Regé?"

   "We'll take it back to the house and figure out what is in the phone, computer, and the cases."

   He agreed and he hopped in the driver's seat. I closed that back door and opened the passenger door.

   Through the door window I saw skids leaving the road. Entry skids and exit skids. My dad made it out alive. With a grin I got in the car and we headed back to Jesus' house.