Daddy's Little Girl

by William Malmborg

  She followed his finger, which pointed to an area between a large field and the school building.

  A parking lot was there as well, tucked up behind the entrance area.

  Beyond that were more fields.

  The rumble of a large vehicle echoed.

  Bitsy turned and saw a yellow school bus approaching along the road, one that eventually turned into the school entrance area.

  “I bet those are people they’ve picked up from the storm areas,” Andrew said.

  The school bus pulled up outside of the entrance they themselves would be using.

  People began to get out.

  “Wow, hard to believe so many people lost houses,” he said.

  “Yeah,” Bitsy said, trying to see if Misty and the Daddy-man were among them.

  “And these are in addition to all the people that are already inside.”

  She didn’t see them, but maybe they had arrived earlier.

  What would they say when she appeared?

  What would others say?

  Would everyone around them wonder about her and Misty?

  Misty always explained that people would not understand them and would ask too many questions if they all went out together. Would that be the case here? Would they ask questions?

  “He’s probably just tied up with helping people,” Gloria said, her eyes scanning the people as they entered the school. Some had items in their hands, things they had grabbed from their wrecked homes; others had nothing. One kid had a gerbil in a yellow plastic cage.

  “He would still answer his phone or at least send me a text,” Lindsey said. “I haven’t heard anything since just after the storm.”

  Even Judy had been left in the dark, the woman having texted Lindsey several times asking if she had heard from him. At first Lindsey had planned to ignore the texts, but then, fearing Judy might think something had happened to her and decide to head to the house to try to act like a parent, had texted her back.

  “Well, I’m sure he’s fine,” Gloria said. And then, as if spotting something that would win her a prize, loudly proclaimed, “There she is!”

  Lindsey followed her pointing finger, as did a few other curious people.

  Sure enough, Liz and her family had just entered the school and were moving toward the processing table that had been set up, one that had originally been so close to the doors themselves that people had started to stack up outside, in the cold, until an officer had finally suggested they pull the table farther back into the hallway so that people could at least get out of the elements while awaiting their instructions.

  “Is that Gizmo?” Gloria asked, spotting an orange cat in Liz’s arms.

  Lindsey focused on Liz and the orange object she held, and shook her head. “I think that’s a stuffed animal.”

  “A stuffed animal?” Gloria said.

  “Looks like Tigger.”

  “Oh, Jesus Christ.” Gloria sighed. “I thought she burned that thing.”

  “She said she did, but…” Lindsey shrugged.

  Tigger was a stuffed animal that had been won at a carnival by Alex, aka He Who Can’t Be Named. The two had been a thing from seventh grade through the homecoming dance last fall. The perfect couple. And then he fucked the Macy girl. Literally fucked her since she was now expecting a child that would be born sometime in May. It was a huge scandal, one that Gloria and Lindsey had minor parts in. Gloria enjoyed her time in the spotlight and often could be relied upon for the latest updates in the Smallwood High School saga. Lindsey, however, just told people to fuck off when they tried to get information.

  Will the tornado tragedy finally usurp the pregnancy scandal?

  Fingers crossed.

  Gloria bounced up and down as Liz and her family were processed, her excitement odd and feeling a bit misplaced given that all these families were here because they no longer had homes they could go to. Making it even more awkward, she and Gloria hadn’t lost their homes, and while most of these families wouldn’t know that, Lindsey did, which only fueled her shame.

  And then Liz and her family were approaching, Gloria waving to her and calling her name.

  Liz’s eyes went wide as she saw them but then changed, an indescribable look spreading across her face. And then she walked by them without a word.

  “Liz?” Gloria said.

  Liz continued walking toward the gymnasium while her mother turned to see who had called her daughter’s name, as did her little brother Danny. Her father for some reason had stayed behind at the table talking with someone.

  “Hi, Mrs. Haldeman,” Lindsey said. “I’m sorry about your house.”

  “Thank you,” Mrs. Haldeman said. She shifted her gaze toward her daughter, who had stopped by the doorway, arms crossed, Tigger trapped against her chest. “Liz, honey, you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” Liz called.

  “Your friends are here.”

  “Where? I don’t see any friends.” With that, she turned and headed into the gymnasium.

  Gloria looked at Lindsey and then back at the doorway Liz had disappeared through.

  “She’s pretty distraught,” Mrs. Haldeman said.

  “She can’t find her stupid cat,” Danny said.

  “Daniel!” Mrs. Haldeman snapped.

  “What? It’s true!”

  Mrs. Haldeman shook her head and then shifted her gaze as Mr. Haldeman approached. “Everything okay?” he asked.

  Mrs. Haldeman nodded and then turned back to Gloria and Lindsey. “I’ll talk to her. Maybe come on by in a little while. I know she could use the company.”

  “We will,” Lindsey said.

  Gloria, however, simply crossed her arms and then, once the Haldeman family was beyond earshot, said, “What’s up her ass?”

  “She just lost her house, and then we promised we would come help her find Gizmo but never showed up.”

  “How’s that our fault? We kept getting turned around from debris.”

  “Yeah, well, she probably isn’t thinking clearly right now.”

  “I’ll say.” She turned toward the exit. “Come on, let’s go.”

  “What? No. Let’s go talk to her.”

  “Did you hear what she said? We’re no longer friends. She made that very clear.” She started walking toward the exit.

  “Gloria!” Lindsey hissed.

  Her friend did not stop.

  “Gloria!” she snapped, heads turning.

  “What?”

  “Don’t be a tard. Let’s go.” She nodded toward the gymnasium.

  Gloria stayed right where she was, arms crossed.

  Lindsey shook her head and said, “Fine.” With that, she headed toward the gymnasium, the sound of families getting settled echoing within.

  Once through the doorway, it took a while for her to find Liz and her family. They had four cots all the way in the far end by the doors that led to the locker rooms. Everyone but Liz was getting the sheets and pillows ready. Liz simply sat on her cot, holding Tigger in her lap, staring at the folded-up bleachers.

  Lindsey walked over, eyes going from Liz to the other families whose homes had been destroyed, recognition hitting several times as she saw fellow students with their parents getting cots ready. All seemed to have the same stunned expression, one that had elements of horror and thankfulness mixed together. Many were crying.

  Guilt that she still had a house, one that she would be returning to later that evening, began to appear but then was knocked away when she realized it was foolish to feel guilty for something like that. After all, she couldn’t control the weather.

  “Lindsey?” a voice called, halting her as she approached Liz. “Over here,” it added when she failed to pinpoint who had spoken her name.

  Oscar!

  No, not Oscar.

  It was his older brother, the two sharing an uncanny resemblance despite being several years apart.

  “Gordy,” she said, looking around.

  “He’s not here,” Gordy said.
/>   Lindsey didn’t know how to reply to that.

  “I was kind of hoping maybe he was with you, but…” He didn’t finish.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, unsure what else to say.

  An awkward silence settled between them, one that was bombarded on all sides by the sounds of the gymnasium.

  And then Lindsey spotted Gloria looking around.

  “If you hear from him…” Gordy started, but once again did not finish.

  “I will,” Lindsey said and then watched as Gordy headed back to the cot area his family had staked out. They did not have a cot waiting for Oscar. Seeing this was like a kick to the stomach. She wasn’t sure why, but it nearly toppled her.

  They know he’s dead.

  “Hey,” Gloria said as she neared.

  “Hey,” Lindsey replied.

  “Sorry.”

  Lindsey nodded and then nudged her shoulder toward where Liz’s family was. “Be cool.”

  “I will.”

  Lindsey nodded again and then turned, leading the way over to Liz.

  “Ramsey,” Tess said. “Look!”

  Ramsey was about to win an Angry Birds level that he had been struggling with all evening, a win that was riding on his launching of a final egg that he knew was positioned perfectly to take out the last pig outpost.

  “Look!” Tess said again, nudging him.

  Goddammit! he silently snapped, but then saw that the egg still hit the tower as planned.

  Relief spun through his system.

  “What?” he asked.

  “And now they’re gone.”

  “Who’s gone?”

  “You don’t care.”

  “Who’s gone?”

  Tess hesitated for effect and then said, “The girl that we picked up after the storm and brought to the police station.”

  “What?”

  “She was walking around with a young man.”

  Ramsey struggled to understand the significance of this. “So what?”

  “Why would the police let her wander around in here?”

  “I don’t know,” Ramsey said. “Are you sure it was her?”

  “Of course I am.”

  Ramsey knew she probably was, her mind noting and storing things that would barely leave an impression on others like himself. He also knew she was correct. Given the marks that had been on the girl, and the obvious mistreatment she had suffered at the hands of some unknown person, bringing her to the school and letting her go off on her own didn’t make any sense—unless they had established that the marks were from a game like she said

  “Maybe the police are here with her but let her wander in with the young man as cover,” Ramsey said. He didn’t really believe this, but knew he had to say something that would appease her concern.

  “Why?”

  “Because they think the person that abused her is here, and they want her to point them out.”

  “And without them knowing the police are here looking for them,” Tess said with a nod.

  “Exactly.” He clicked the Continue button on his phone screen and watched as the next level opened.

  “Do you think it worked?” Tess asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Hmm.”

  A rickety yet daunting tower with pig lookouts appeared on screen, one that he could tell was going to be a pain in the ass to take down due to a rocky outcrop that stood in the middle of the screen and offered a support base for the center of the structure and a shield for the rear part.

  “Maybe we should—”

  “Not get involved,” Ramsey said, cutting her off.

  “But—”

  “No, Tess, it’s a police situation, one that they’re handling.”

  “But maybe we should just make sure.”

  “No. We could screw it up for them.”

  “How?”

  “By interfering.”

  “But we would just be making sure she really is with the police still.”

  “That is not our responsibility.”

  “But what if she escaped?”

  “Escaped?”

  “From the police.”

  “Why would she do that?”

  “Stockholm syndrome.”

  “Stockholm syndrome?”

  “Yes, it’s a condition that develops when a captive begins to bond with their captor.”

  “I know what Stockholm syndrome is.”

  “You didn’t seem so sure.”

  “I wasn’t asking—never mind. You think that girl has Stockholm syndrome, and what, fled the safety of the police to head back to whoever it was that had kidnapped her?”

  “Remember what the police said? That she had said there were others, but then wouldn’t talk about them. And they think she wanted us to help the others, rather than just her.”

  Ramsey thought back and nodded. “Yeah, sort of.”

  “Well, maybe it wasn’t that she wanted the police to help someone escape, but to help someone that was hurt, and once she realized that they weren’t going to do that, she left.”

  “But what about the marks on her wrists? Someone obviously had her tied up.”

  “I know, but if she is suffering from Stockholm syndrome and her captors were hurt, she might feel the need to try and help them rather than escape from them.”

  “Okay, maybe,” Ramsey said with a nod.

  “Come on,” Tess said, standing. “Let’s go make sure everything is on the up and up.”

  Ramsey sighed and stood up.

  Getting involved with the mystery girl and whatever situation she was a part of was the last thing he wanted to do, but if meeting up with her in the hallways of the school would appease Tess and get her to leave him alone, then he was game. Plus, he needed to move around. Sitting on the cot wasn’t all that comfortable, especially since he had no back support. Sleeping on it would be fine, but being hunched over while staring at his phone just wasn’t ideal.

  A pop echoed from his joints as he took the first steps.

  Tess gave him a look.

  “What?” he asked.

  “I heard that.”

  “Don’t start.”

  “Mom’s right. You sit around too much. You need to start walking like we do.”

  He gave a simple nod and then let Tess lead the way, her steps becoming slow as they neared the doors that would lead them out into the main hallway.

  “Sorry,” Andrew said. “I thought for sure they’d be here.”

  Bitsy didn’t reply, a sense of hopelessness once again creeping in. She was never going to find Misty.

  “Do you want a soda or anything? They have machines around the corner.”

  Bitsy nodded but did not get up from the cushioned seat she was on.

  “What kind?” he asked. “They have Coke, root beer, Mountain Dew, Sprite.”

  “Coke,” Bitsy said, voice hinting at her exhaustion.

  “You know, they may still be on the way. You could check in and get a cot, and then when they get here they’ll join you.” He waited for a response, but when none arrived, he added, “Might be the best option at this point.”

  Bitsy looked up at him and smiled.

  “Let me go get that soda.”

  “Thanks.”

  He nodded and started away from the bench, eventually disappearing around a corner where some kids were playing a game of tag. It was three boys and a girl, all of whom seemed to be enjoying themselves, the girl being the tagger, the boys running from her.

  She thought about Misty and wondered what type of games they would have played if she had been here. Would the Daddy-man have let them play, or would he have made them stay on the cots in the gym area? And what about the game of tag? If the Daddy-man let them go off and play, would the kids let them join in their game?

  “I got you!” the girl shouted.

  “No!” one of the boys replied.

  “Yes!”

  “No.”

  “She got you.”

  “
No she didn’t!”

  Bitsy hadn’t been able to see if the girl had really tagged the boy, the action having moved beyond her line of view, but given how adamant the girl was, and the fact that one of the other boys agreed, she had a feeling a tag had occurred.

  Someone approached.

  Bitsy shifted her gaze from the kids on her right to the sound on her left, eyes blinking in recognition as a young woman neared. Is that…?

  “It is you!” the girl said.

  The girl from the red car!

  And the boy.

  He was behind the girl.

  “We picked you up after the storm,” the girl added. “My name’s Tess, remember?”

  “Yes,” Bitsy said. “I remember.”

  “And this is my brother Ramsey,” Tess said.

  “Hi,” Ramsey said.

  Bitsy nodded a greeting.

  “What are you doing here?” Tess asked.

  “Trying to find my family, but they’re not here,” Bitsy said.

  “Oh, did the police bring you here?” Tess asked.

  “Andrew did,” Bitsy said.

  “Andrew? Who’s that?”

  “He’s getting me a soda. He has a dog named Sparky. We had to leave him outside.”

  Tess looked at Ramsey, who shrugged.

  “What happened with the police?” Tess asked.

  “They couldn’t help me,” Bitsy said, concern starting to build. At first she had been thinking maybe these two could help her find her way back to where they had picked her up, but now she was starting to think they would probably just bring her back to the police. To Katie. And this time Katie probably wouldn’t be so nice.

  At that moment, Andrew returned, a can of Coke in each hand.

  Bitsy took the one he offered and quickly opened it so she could take a sip.

  “Are you Andrew?” Tess asked.

  “Yes,” Andrew said, opening his own Coke. “Bitsy, is this your—”

  “No,” Bitsy said, anticipating his question. “They tried to help me earlier.”

  “Oh?”

  “We brought her to the police station after the storm,” Tess said.

  “The police?” Andrew asked, looking down at Bitsy.

  “They couldn’t help me,” Bitsy said. She took another sip of the Coke.

  This is going to get bad, she told herself. They are going to call Katie.

  As if on cue, a police officer appeared in the hallway up ahead. It wasn’t Katie, and at the moment he didn’t seem interested in Bitsy, his focus being on the young lady that was sitting behind the check-in table, but once he noticed her sitting on the bench at the end of the hallway, he would probably call Katie.