Duo's Revenge

Chapter 2: The Call

"Yes. Alright. Bye."

My mother started crying as my father hurried to comfort her, caressing her cheek and gently whispering that everything was alright. She had just gotten off the telephone with the local police department, reporting my sister's disappearance to them. It was 8:00 pm, and there was no sign of her at all–she had vanished without a trace. We called each one of her friends, and all told us that she was not at their home. We had called her cell phone over and over again to no answer or avail. All we heard was her voicemail— "Hi! This is Lola. Sorry for not answering. Leave a message and I'll get back to you as soon as possible. Or not. Bye!" Her voicemail usually made us smile, but now it left us in tears. What if she never got back to us? What if she had been murdered? What happened to her?

Where was my sister?

I turned to my parents again. My mother was suppressing another sob as my father held her. She took a breath, nodded, and he let go of her. They then noticed me.

My mother said something. She said it so quietly, however, that it took a few moments for me to realize that she had said my name.

I quickly walked over to her. "Yes?"

"Darling," she said, speaking softly, "I am so sorry that you are experiencing something as terrible as this. No one, and especially not a young girl your age, should have to go through this. It's traumatizing, and I know you feel as much pain, if not more, than your father and I are feeling. You two were so close. You had an incredible bond with her."

"Are," I corrected her, feeling anger coursing through my veins. "We are close. Stop using the past tense, mother, as though she has passed. She is alive."

My father broke eye contact with me and suddenly looked down, as if our hardwood floor was deserving of his utmost attention. My mother hesitated for a moment, then nodded quickly, rushing to correct herself. "Of course, dear. I apologize-I did not mean it like that. It has only been a few hours. She is certainly alive, somewhere. As I was saying, I know this must be incredibly painful for you, and if you need anything...you can tell us. We are mourning and in pain, too, but we are still here for you. Do not be afraid to tell us or ask us for anything. You are our daughter, and you are not a burden. Alright?"

I nodded slowly. There was indeed something else I wished to tell them, something that frightened me just as much as the fact that my sister had disappeared–the notification from Duolingo.

"If you ever want to see your sister again, complete your Portuguese lessons."

After I had received that notification, I had checked my phone many times to make sure that it was real and not just a figment of my imagination, created by my fear and paranoia. It was, in fact, real. Yet I had not told my parents, because I feared that when I turned on my phone to show them, the notifications would be gone. They would be furious, believing that I was making a mockery of my sister's disappearance. My parents being angry at me was the last thing I needed on an awful day like this.

What if this notification helped us, though? It could lead us to her, wherever she was. I simply could not hide something as important–and frightening–as this.

I took a deep breath. "I received a notification when I arrived home from school," I began. "From Duolingo."

My mother frowned, and my father looked at me again. "A notification from Duolingo?" my father asked. "Daphne, I am pleased that you have been consistent with your Portuguese lessons, but please, now is most definitely not the time to–"

"No," I answered, interrupting him. "Now most definitely is the time to tell you this. This has everything to do with Lola's disappearance." I removed my phone from my pocket, turned it on, and gave it to my father. "Scroll to the first Duolingo notification today," I instructed him.

He did so as both he and my mother looked at the screen. I saw the horror on their faces as they scrolled through the notifications. My mother let out a piercing scream and turned away from the phone. "I cannot bear to read these," she cried.

My father gave me my phone back. "This is absolutely disgusting," he said, the fury evident in his voice. "The kidnapper must have hacked into Duolingo's servers. We're calling Duolingo headquarters now to get to the bottom of this." He whipped out his phone and typed 'Duolingo phone number' on Safari, then punched the number in on the Phone app and pressed the call button. He put the phone on speaker so my mother and I could hear.

The phone rang for a few moments, then someone answered. "Hello?" a man, who sounded like he was in his mid-20s, asked. He sounded bored.

"Good evening," my father said. "We're calling because of a very important matter, young man, so I would appreciate it if you could at least pretend to care."

"Your call is very important to us," the man said, still in a bored voice.

"Listen," my father replied angrily, "I do not like this tone of voice you're using with me. I can practically taste the utter disrespect dripping from your voice. I can imagine that working at Duolingo Customer Service must be a miserable job, but it's much better than no job at all, and it must be difficult for someone like you to find a job. So if you'd like for me to not file a complaint about you so you can continue making a decent living, I'd suggest you start showing some respect."

There was silence on the other end.

"That's what I thought," my father said calmly. "Now, as I was saying, we're calling because of a very important matter. Our youngest daughter has disappeared without a trace. We've attempted to locate her, but to no avail. However, my older daughter has just informed me that she received a notification from Duolingo earlier today that said that if she wants to see her sister again, she must complete her Portuguese lessons. We suspect that the kidnapper has hacked into your servers, and–"

"A notification?" the man asked. He did not sound bored this time.

"Yes," my father said. "That's what I just said."

"A notification," he said slowly, as if coming to a realization. "Kidnapping. Completing lessons. Oh no. Oh no. It's him. He has arrived again."

"What?" my father asked, clearly perplexed. "Who is he? Be upfront with me, young man! Who is he?!"

"No," he answered. "I can't help you now. And I can't help myself, either. We're doomed, sir. All we can do now is pray, and it's unlikely even God above has the power to stop this inevitable catastrophe. Our deaths are certain, set in stone. The demons of Hell are rising, and...he commands them."

"Who is he?!" my father screamed.

"I can't tell you!" the man yelled back. "Repent! Repent! For there is the slightest chance that he will show mercy!"

Before my dad could say anything else, the Duolingo Customer Service man let out the most horrific scream I had ever heard. It ended as abruptly as it started, and Duolingo Customer Service hung up.

My mother, father, and I looked at each other in shock. We all attempted to say something, but we couldn't form any words.

After a few minutes of silence, my father called Duolingo Customer Service once again. The phone rang about 6 times, and just when my father was about to give up and hang up the phone, someone finally answered.

"Hello?" my father asked. "Is this the young man I spoke to before? Are you alright?"

There was no reply. I could not even hear anyone breathing on the other end. There was just absolute silence.

"Hello?" he asked again. His hand was visibly shaking as he held the phone. "Is anyone there?"

Again, nothing. Then, Duolingo Customer Service hung up.

We stood in the living room, all staring at the phone and not saying anything. Then, my father looked at me. "Your mother and I are going to attempt to call them a few more times. You can go to bed."

"But–"

"Go to bed."

I nodded at him. "Goodnight," I said to my parents.

I walked toward my bedroom. As soon I exited the living room, I heard them try, in vain, to call Duolingo Customer Service once again.