Disappearance

by Ryan Wiley

  I’m more interested in how and why I’m here. Just as I feel good enough to carry on a conversation, though, fatigue takes over and I fall asleep.

  When I wake up, three new doctors are whispering amongst themselves beside my bed. One has a clipboard and is writing whatever the other two doctors are telling her. When I listen in, I hear they are discussing my condition. Again, the medical jargon is too much for me to understand, but their enthusiasm makes it sound like I’m some sort of miracle patient. I’m not sure if they know I’m awake or not, but I find it rather annoying they would be in my room talking while I’m supposedly asleep.

  “Excuse me, can I help you?”

  Three heads jerk up at me like deer seeing headlights. They are so startled by my awakening they don’t say anything, so I break the silence.

  “Is there something I can do for you?” A tone of resentment slips in my voice.

  “No sir,” the doctor on the far left says. “Is there something we can do for you?”

  “Can you please bring Nurse Jackie in?”

  “Oh, yes. Right away. I’ll page her now.”

  And with that, the three doctors scurry out of the room.

  While waiting for Nurse Jackie, my heart rate starts to pick up. I was hoping to plan out some questions to ask. It may be better this way, though; I won’t have to drive myself crazy over-analyzing things. It takes ten excruciating minutes, but Nurse Jackie finally walks in. I see in her face that she’s just as scared as I am.

  “Hello Andrew, what can I do for you?”

  I don’t know where to begin and I’m terrified of the answers she’s about to give me, but I tell myself I have to find out sooner or later.

  “I have a lot of questions to ask you.”

  She looks at me hesitantly then finally says, “I figured that. Keep in mind I’m not allowed to answer anything except for specific medical questions.”

  “But I don’t have specific medical questions. I have questions about where I am and how I got here.”

  “Yeah, those are questions that I should let the doctor handle.”

  “Well…” I hesitate. “Can you at least tell me where I am?”

  “You are in the Ohio State Medical Wexner Center.”

  “How did I get here?”

  “I’m not allowed to answer that.”

  “OK, umm how long have I been here?” I know the answer to this, but I’m lousy with interrogating someone and this question buys me some time.

  “You came in last Tuesday. Today is Wednesday the week after, so you’ve been here eight days.”

  “Has anyone been in to see me?”

  “Yes, your parents have been here the entire time,” Nurse Jackie quickly tells me.

  “What about Abby? Has she been here too?”

  Nurse Jackie pauses for a moment before responding, deciding how best to phrase her answer. Then she says, “I’m not allowed to answer that.”

  Her answer infuriates me and before I have a chance to control my anger I blurt out, “And why the hell not?”

  She pauses, “Something has happened Andrew. Something bad. I’ve been ordered not to tell, but something happened to your wife.”

  With this, I sit up for the first time in eight days. I want to stand up and run out the door but I don’t know what’s hooked up to me.

  “What do you mean something has happened?”

  “I’m not allowed to say. Please Andrew, let me go get the doctor and I’ll have him answer any questions you have.” She starts to back up toward the door, but before she moves far, I reach out and grab her.

  “What happened to Abby?” I plead.

  Nurse Jackie looks at me, eyes bulging now. I never realized a scrawny guy who has just come out of a coma could be so intimidating. She looks at me and swallows before speaking.

  “Andrew, your wife was attacked. You’re both being treated here at the hospital.”

  “Attacked? What do you mean attacked?”

  “We don’t know all of the details, but police officers are set up everywhere investigating the situation. I’ll tell you that the attacker didn’t survive, but they didn’t give me any further details on that when I asked.” Nurse Jackie’s voice trails off.

  My first thought was good; that son-of-a-bitch is dead. I don’t know what he did to my Abby, but if he weren’t dead he would be later when I beat him to death.

  “What about Abby? How is she doing?”

  “I’ve said more than enough. But Andrew, we’re hopeful she’s going to be all right.”

  “Well, how bad is she?”

  With this, Nurse Jackie starts crying. This surprises me because I’ve always assumed nurses were emotionless by nature. Not saying that’s a bad thing; when you have patients die every day, I understand you probably develop a thick skin. Nurse Jackie does look very young, like she’s still in college. Maybe she’s still in the beginning stages of controlling her emotions.

  “I’m really sorry about the situation you’re in, Andrew. I haven’t worked directly with her but I hear she’s been having a difficult recovery. The doctors can’t seem to figure out what’s going on with her. I’m sure they’re doing their best.” And with that, she walks out of the room.

  Chapter 22

  For the next three days, I never see Nurse Jackie but I do have a constant stream of attendants. Nurses come in like clockwork every hour to check the monitor and jot things down on their clipboards. Every time they come in, I tell them I want to see Abby or my parents. Whenever I say anything, though, they pretend I’m not even there.

  I’m far from one hundred percent both mentally and physically. I still can’t remember what happened on the day of my coma. Memories start to come in from the days before, but just subtle ones. I remember the weekend before Tuesday’s events; Abby and I went to dinner and a movie. A lousy comedy accompanied by a pretty good Mexican dinner. Everything was just so normal. How could someone possibly have attacked Abby that Tuesday? Abby is such a sweet girl — that’s why I married her. She didn’t have an enemy in the world — at least, none that I knew of. Somebody attacking her must be a random occurrence. That’s the only possible explanation. What doesn’t add up in my mind, though, is why I’m lying here in a hospital bed too. Nurse Jackie said that Abby was attacked, but she didn’t say anything about me. Was my reason for being in here related to Abby? I would think so. It’s far-fetched odds to have two unrelated causes for having serious injuries at the same time. My head swells with thoughts of an elaborate car chase with the attacker; shots are fired and I do everything I can to save my beloved Abby. Then, in some unforeseen event, we both crash and end up where we are now. That’s how I would like to think things went, but knowing myself it was probably far less adventurous.

  My heroic adventure is cut short with a very welcome surprise — my parents walk into my room. The first person I see is my mother, who has already begun to cry. My father is right behind her, a big grin on his face.

  “Oh Andrew, it’s so great to see you. This damn hospital has gotten on my last nerve.” She gives me a big hug and kiss, and then continues. “They wouldn’t let us come in, not even for a moment. They said you were in a fragile state and couldn’t handle any unnecessary excitement. Evidently, you’re OK now. Do you feel OK?”

  “Yeah, mom. I’m all right,” I reassure her. The truth is, I’m far from all right. “What happened mom? They won’t tell me anything.”

  Just like that, the excitement of seeing me fades and things take a more serious tone.

  “They haven’t told you anything? Well, that doesn’t surprise me. The authorities have been coming in and out like crazy. They ask us all these questions but I never have any answers. I tell them my boy and Abby are good kids and they would never do anyone any harm. They said the man who did this was some guy around your age. He went to the same high school as Abby. Zach Jones, have you ever heard of him?”

  Zach Jones? I feel like I’ve heard the name before. Not for a long, lo
ng time, though. “Zach Jones. Zach Jones.” I keep saying it out loud, hoping something clicks. Did Abby ever mention a Zach Jones before? My mind stirs around on it for a few minutes, and then it hits me. “Abby did mention a Zach Jones. It was a long time ago, before we were even married. She said they dated for a few weeks during her senior year of high school, but she broke up with him. Abby said he didn’t take it well and kind of stalked her until college. Then he tried calling her a few times freshmen year. One time, after we had started dating, he called one night while I was there. She usually just let it ring, but this time she picked up the phone and yelled at him, telling him to never call her again. Ever since then she never mentioned him, and for all I know he never called again. That’s so crazy. Why would he attack her after all these years? Just out of the blue?”

  “I don’t know, sweetheart. I don’t know.”

  “How is Abby? Have you heard anything?”

  “Do you not remember anything, Andrew?”

  “No mom, the last thing I remember is the Saturday before, when Abby and I went out to dinner. Everything from then on is a complete blur. I don’t remember any of it.”

  “Oh, Andrew. Really? I can’t believe that! She’s not good, sweetie. The doctors don’t know what’s wrong with her but, I don’t know, we haven’t seen her,” she stops herself and starts crying. Once she gains some composure she continues, “Apparently, this Zach person came into her work with a gun and ordered her to leave and get in his car. He drove off with her and nobody could find them. They got in touch with you right away and you drove down to see if you could help find her. Apparently you did, Andrew! It wasn’t until much later in the day but you were the one to find her.”

  My mother doesn’t have to tell me the rest of the story, because the memories all start coming back. A moment ago I couldn’t remember anything and now it all comes in crystal clear. I remember getting the phone call right as I got to work. Normally, I would never answer the phone from an anonymous number but something in me felt compelled to answer it this time. It was the police telling me what had happened. I quickly told one of my bosses and ran out of the office.

  I’d never driven so fast in my life. For the first time in history, I drove forty-five minutes on an Ohio highway without seeing a police officer. It’s a good thing too, because I’m not sure I would have stopped if I did. I went straight to Abby’s work where I could see the door was broken into. The area was mobbed with police cars. I didn’t count, but there had to have been fifteen to twenty, all with their lights on.

  I’ve had enough run-ins with the police to know that it’s nothing like the movies. Police officers generally don’t give a shit, or they have other priorities more important than your situation.

  The officer I spoke with assured me everything was going to be fine — that they would find Abby as soon as possible. I asked him if they knew who the person was and he said they didn’t. They only knew that he has black hair and he took her in an unidentified car. No license plate or brand name of the car was given. The only description was that it was black.

  I remember leaving there as soon as I could. I was actually a bit surprised they let me go. Deputies in the movies always have a sneaking suspicion of the boyfriend/husband. He must have been able to tell I’m not a good actor and I clearly wasn’t faking it.

  I drove everywhere I could, covering every back road and shady street corner looking for anything suspicious. What I was doing seemed pretty pointless because I was going on almost no information. I didn’t see one black car, only a couple black SUV’s and black mini-vans. I almost stopped them but my better judgment told me that it wasn’t a car so there’s no way it could be Abby’s kidnapper.

  That’s when I got the call. It was in the afternoon around two o’clock. It wasn’t from the deputy, but from Abby’s phone. I pulled the car to the side of the road and picked up. It was her, my sweet and dearest Abby. She only had time to say two words.

  “Re…ser…voir. A…lone.”

  It was a struggle for her to say anything. I shouted back her name but she didn’t answer. I looked down at my phone, “Call Ended.”

  The reservoir is near where Abby grew up. It’s a beautiful area about thirty minutes south from our current home. During the summer we go there sometimes to picnic and spend the day. There’s one spot in particular she takes me to that’s quite beautiful. It’s hard to get to because it’s deep in the wilderness and there isn’t a road taking you all the way there. Abby has rocks and other notable objects to keep from getting lost.

  The memories keep coming like I’m re-living what happened…

  I try calling her back but she doesn’t answer. Hearing her voice has given me a shot of adrenaline; she’s alive. It makes sense for me to go to the reservoir but what does alone mean? Does that mean she’s alone, or does it mean I need to come alone? I try calling her again. “Come on Abby, pick up!” She doesn’t answer, though. I have to assume this means to come alone, so I start driving as fast as I can. I drive around ninety miles per hour on the highway and, fortunately again, I don’t pass any police cars. It’s the most intense hour of driving I’ve ever done.

  When I make it to the reservoir, I drive by a small bait and tackle shop. Time is critical but I need some kind of protection. When I enter the store, I see it’s mostly various fishing equipment. Tiny fishhooks are not my idea of protection. Right when I give up and am about to leave the store, I see an ax beside the door. At first I think it isn’t for sale, but then I pick it up and see a price tag of $19.99, so I run to the front desk to buy it. I pay with cash because I don’t want the police knowing I just bought an ax, especially since I didn’t tell them about my phone call from Abby.

  Why haven’t I called the police yet? I’m really not sure, but something inside me feels like if I don’t come alone he’ll kill her.

  When I get to the reservoir, there’s nobody around. In the summer there’s always lots of people out, but it’s the middle of a weekday in late fall. I go through back roads for about fifteen minutes; I have the route memorized.

  The entrance to Abby’s place is hard to spot, but after you find it it’s easier to navigate once inside. Despite not being an official road, you can drive part of the way. Even my little Cavalier can handle this off-road path, although on a normal day I probably wouldn’t go out here if it were raining.

  Once I find the entrance, I don’t look back because I know there aren’t any cars or humans for at least a mile. The path is just as I remember. Trees on each side, the leaves are starting to turn colors with the fall season. The path gets darker and darker the farther you go in. After a few minutes, I reach the end of the trail section where you can travel by car. There’s a little area where you can make a U-turn out, which always made me wonder if this trail was somehow human built at some point. The trail looks natural, but it seems odd that it perfectly fits a car.

  I stop and turn the car off, then reach for my ax. I take the $19.99 price tag off, which is my way of procrastinating for what’s about to come. I’m not even sure if Abby is here, but something deep inside me believes she is.

  I take a deep breath and think for one last minute if I should call the police. I look at my cell phone, which still has one bar signal. I think about how long it would take them to get out here and if I would be able to describe where to find me. I’m no hero and would love for the police to be here. The location, I think, is ultimately what makes me not call. I’m lousy with directions, and even worse at giving them. By the time I explain how to get here, Abby could very well be dead. No, I won’t call, but I’ll keep my phone in my pocket in case I get in a pinch. Maybe the police can find me through the GPS on my phone, not that it will do me any good if I’m dead when they get here.

  I get out of the car, not shutting the door all the way because I want to remain as inconspicuous as possible. Abby’s place is a pretty far walk, but it’s a beautiful little area carved out in the woods. It’s near a creek where you can li
sten to the sounds of the water flowing over the rocks. It’s shaded, but has a little opening where you can get some sun if you want. If you were the type of person interested in living in the middle of the woods, this would be the spot.

  After twenty minutes of following the trail, I finally get there. As soon as I do, I know something isn’t right. Abby’s place no longer looks anything related to the place that I know. In the center, where we usually lay a blanket down and have a picnic, there appears to be a huge hole. The ground around it has mounds and mounds of dirt.

  All of a sudden I’m terrified. I get my ax and hold it with my best baseball grip. I look around but don’t see anyone. I feel like at any moment someone is going to come up behind me and club me when my back is turned. I do a 360-degree turn to see if they’re behind me, and when I don’t see anyone I run to the hole and look down.

  What I see are my most terrified thoughts coming true; Abby is lying at the bottom. The hole is around twenty feet deep. It must have taken weeks, if not months to dig up — a real lunatic did this.

  “Abby!” I shout. She’s curled up in the fetal position. It’s hard to see, but I think I see her move.

  “Abby, can you hear me? It’s Andrew.”

  Still no response, then I remember our brief phone conversation where I could barely understand her… “Re..ser…voir. A…lone.”

  She doesn’t speak, but what she does next, I find quite peculiar. Slowly, she moves her arm up and points a finger at me. Why is she pointing at me?

  By the time I make the connection that she isn’t pointing at me but at what’s behind me, it’s too late. I feel a hand against my back, pushing me into the hole. In that split second, as I’m falling forward, instinct takes over and I turn my body around. With my left hand I make a desperate attempt at grabbing hold of whatever I can. By sheer luck, I grab the shirt of the kidnapper — the kidnapper who I now know to be Zach Jones. He’s dressed in all black, and the snarl on his face fills me with rage. As soon as I get a firm grasp of his shirt, I pull him down with me. His snarl turns to shock. He does everything he can to keep his balance, but his size and strength aren’t enough. It’s too late for both of us. We both go tumbling down into the hole, and the next thing I remember is being in a hospital bed hearing Nurse Jackie’s footsteps.