The Three

by Sarah Lotz

  ‘Po Po wants to go to the bathroom,’ the little kid said, pointing to grandpa. But the old fella hadn’t said a word. I could see there was something not right with him. Had a vacant look in his eyes, like my pa got right at the end.

  The older woman helped the old fella shuffle his way to the bathroom. I greeted her as she passed my table, and she gave me a weary smile. Red hair you could see was dyed, an inch of grey roots. Tammy would have said that there goes a woman who hadn’t found the time to take care of herself in quite a while. I could feel eyes on me; the younger fella was checking me out. I nodded at him, said something about how we could do with some rain, but he didn’t respond.

  They left a few minutes before I did, but they were still helping that old-timer into the SUV when I made my way outside.

  ‘Where you headed?’ I asked, trying to be friendly.

  The younger fella gave me a look. ‘Pennsylvania,’ he said. I could tell he’d just pulled that answer out of his ass.

  ‘Uh-huh. Well, drive safe.’

  The older, red-haired woman gave me a tentative smile.

  ‘Come on, Mom,’ the younger woman said to her, and the redhead jumped as if she’d just been pinched.

  The little kid waved at me and I winked back at him. Cute little guy.

  They took off at a clip, heading in the wrong direction for Pennsylvania. That SUV would’ve been equipped with GPS, and I could see the young fella knew what he was doing. Guess I thought, none of my business.

  I didn’t see it happen. I came around the bend; saw the broken glass. The Chevy was on its roof on the wrong side of the road.

  I pulled over, dug in the back for my first-aid kit. Driving as much as I do, you’re apt to encounter a lot of accidents, and I’d been keeping a kit in the car for years. Even did a course a couple a years ago.

  They’d hit a deer. I figure the young fella musta yanked too hard on the wheel and flipped the car. Could see straight off that the two at the front–the driver, that young fella, and the young woman with the hard eyes–were gone, and it would have been quick. You couldn’t tell which parts was deer, which parts was human.

  The old fella in the back was gone, too. No blood, but his eyes were open. Looked like he was at peace.

  The woman with the red hair was a different story. There wasn’t much blood on her, but I could see her legs were trapped. Her eyes were open, and they were dazed.

  ‘Bobby,’ she whispered.

  I knew she must mean the boy. ‘I’ll look for him, ma’am,’ I said.

  Couldn’t find him anywhere at first. Figured he must have been flung out of the back window. Found his body two hundred yards from the vehicle. He was in the culvert, lying face up, as if he was watching the sky. You can tell when the soul is gone. There’s an emptiness. Looked like there wasn’t a scratch on him.

  There was no way I could get the woman out of there–needed the Jaws of Life to do that–and I was worried she might have spinal injuries. She’d stopped crying by then and I held her hand as she drifted away. I listened to the sound of the engine ticking and waited for the cops.

  I only found out who they were the next day. Tammy couldn’t believe I hadn’t figured it out sooner; that boy’s face was always plastered over the magazines she gets.

  Didn’t seem right. What are the chances of that poor kid being in two fatal accidents? I’d been planning to keep on going right till Tammy forced me to retire, but maybe this whole thing is a sign that it’s time to quit. A sign that enough is enough.

  I thought long and hard about whether or not to include Bobby Small’s autopsy report in this book. I decided to include an extract after various conspiracy sites insisted that his death was faked. It should be noted that according to pathologist Alison Blackburn, the State of Maryland’s Chief Medical Examiner, no anomalies were found when she conducted a thorough internal examination.

  Bobby Small was formally identified by Mona Gladwell, who declined to talk to me again.

  (Sensitive readers may wish to skip over this. It can, however, be found in its entirety at http://pathologicallyfamous.com/)

  OFFICE OF THE CHIEF MEDICAL EXAMINER STATE OF MARYLAND

  Decedent: Bobby Reuben Small

  Age: 6 years

  Sex: Male

  Autopsy number: SM 2012–001346

  Date: 11/06/2012

  Time: 9.30 a.m

  Examination and summary analysis performed by: Alison Blackburn, MD, Chief Medical Examiner

  Initial examination: Gary Lee Swartz, MD, Deputy Chief Medical Examiner

  Osteological examination: Pauline May Swanson, Ph.D., ABFA

  Toxicology examination: Michael Greenberg, Ph.D., DABFT

  ANATOMIC FINDINGS

  Young, male boy with superficial abrasions of forehead, nose and chin. Complete dislocation between C6, C7 and C7, T1. Severing of inter-vertebral disc and anterior ligament C6, C7. Fractured spinal process C6. Partial tearing of posterior root filaments and multiple bleeding points observed.

  CAUSE OF DEATH

  Traumatic disruption of cervical cord.

  MANNER OF DEATH

  Accidental death consistent with ejection from a motor vehicle.

  CIRCUMSTANTIAL SUMMARY

  Bobby Small, a 6-year-old male, was the sole survivor of a plane crash 6 months ago, in which his mother was killed. He suffered minor injuries in the crash from which he made a full recovery. He was being targeted by a religious group and a decision was made to move him to a place of safety with his grandparents. All three were being transported in a Chevrolet Suburban SUV by two FBI agents. Bobby was seated between his grandparents in the rear of the vehicle where he was secured by a lap seat belt. At approximately 5 p.m. they stopped at Duke’s Roadside Diner in Maryland. The group were observed there by Mr Joseph DeLesseps, a travelling salesman. They stirred his interest as he thought them a strange group. The adults had coffee and Bobby had a strawberry milkshake and a plate of fries. The group left around 5.30 p.m. followed soon after by Mr DeLesseps, who saw the Suburban drive off at speed. At approximately 5.50 p.m. Mr DeLesseps rounded a bend in a wooded section of the road and spotted the Suburban crashed at the side of the road. He found the vehicle against a large tree with a dead deer partially on the hood of the car and partially through the shattered windshield. In the vehicle were two dead people in the front seats and a dead elderly man in a rear seat. There was a severely injured elderly woman in the other rear seat. There was no sign of the little boy he had seen in the diner, so Mr DeLesseps searched around the vehicle. He found the body of the boy in a small culvert two hundred metres from the SUV. There was no sign of life. He called 911 immediately.

  DOCUMENTS AND EVIDENCE EXAMINED

  1. Report from vehicle examination centre re Chevrolet Suburban. Evidence of damage to hood and front windshield consistent with impact from a deer. Crumpling of rear of vehicle consistent with impact with a tree trunk. Shattered rear window and damaged central lap belt. No evidence of any pre-accident damage or faults to the vehicle.

  2. Report from RTA examination team. Skid marks indicate likelihood of sudden braking secondary to impacting with deer at moderate to high speed with resultant spinning off the road of vehicle and rear off-side impact with tree. Adult seat belts remained in place, but central, rear lap belt open and partially damaged, resulting in the ejection of the male child casualty through the shattered rear window.

  IDENTIFICATION

  On 11/06/2012 at 9.45 a.m. a complete post mortem examination was performed on the body of Bobby Small, who was identified by the Norfolk County Chief Medical Examiner’s Office. David Michaels was present as autopsy assistant.

  CLOTHING AND VALUABLES

  Bobby Small was wearing a bright red baseball cap (retrieved at the scene), blue jeans, a red Night at the Museum T-shirt, a pale grey hooded sweatshirt, and a pair of red Converse sneakers.

  EXTERNAL EXAMINATION

  The body is that of a well-nourished white young male consistent
with a stated age of 6 years.

  Body length 45 inches Weight 46lbs.

  Light blonde, medium length slightly curly scalp hair. No nevi or tattoos. A small scar on the forehead. Superficial abrasions to forehead, nose and chin. Pupils equal and regular. Light blue irides. Healthy milk teeth with absent two upper front incisors.

  Although Paul Craddock attempted to destroy his computer’s hard drive, several documents and some email correspondence were recovered, including the following, which was leaked to the press.

  (The spelling errors have been left uncorrected to illustrate his frame of mind)

  List of Weird Shit Jess said today (8 June)

  (more on the new obsession with boredom). Uncle Paul, do you get bored being you? I’m bored being me. (goes back to watching her new favourite show, fucking TOWIE). These people are bored being them. (I ask her wtf that means). Being bored is like being a cup that can’t be filled (v fucking zen, where’d she hear that?????? Certainly not on Celeb Big Brother).

  (10 June)

  I hand her her supper she says, Uncle Paul, does Stephen smell as bad as these fish fingers now? (I scream, she laughs). I leave she turns channel to the news. I hear her laughing at something else. Almost throw up when I see it’s a report that Bobby Small has been killed in a car accident. I ask whats funny she says, he’s not dead he’s just playing silly-billy. Like mummy and daddy and polly.

  (I’m in the kitchen, thinking about the pills again ie how many would it take to be sure). She glides in without me seeing her. Moves too close to my face. She says, am I special paul? They say I am at school. It’s so easy.

  (14 June)

  It finds me crying. Do you want to come play my little pony with me? You can be princess luna again and stephen can be princess celestia (laughs).

  1) POSESSION: FOR: she alwaqsy seems to know what I’m thinking, knows things she couldn’t know like about sexual ortienattion, knows aboput the stephen dreams ssays she sent them

  2) POSSESSION AGAINST: NOT RATIONAL I KNOW THIS WHAT AM I THINKING and she doesn’t have fits or anything like on the checklist on the inetrnet or speak in funny voices and that prick gerhard said it was unlikely although i don;t trust his opinion

  3) HORSEMAN THEORY FOR: colours of the planes, signs lots of no way thwy could have survived, other children acting weird too there’s Bobby’s seniles granddad talking and Hiro talking through a fucking robot and how can so many be wrong because so many believe this is the truth and nw they have found the fourth child altho that could all be more bullshit

  4) HORSEMAN THEORY AGAINST: batshit crazy, even archbishop of canturbury and that top iman say it is utter bullshit and they also believe in sky fairies and if there is a horseman inside her wehere is the real jess and why does she look like hersefl. Signs they have put on the website could have happend anyway and the foot and mouth thing blown over now anyway and aniomals bite people all the time anyway same as floods etc etc

  5) CAPGRAS SYNDROME FOR: my history of mental illness although that was stress related only and would be nice as is a medical cpondition that woould explain why i don’t think shes jess evben though she looks just like jess amnd sometimes talks like her. I wish it is this

  6) CAPGRAS SYNDROME AGAINST: never had it before, no head injury (unless I was drunk and hit my head and didn’t realise it) its very very very fcking rare

  7) ALIENS FOR: same as possession and would explain how some-tiems she seems to be watching me like i’m an expriment

  8) ALKIENS AGAINST: because it s not rationla altho the eveidence can be persuasive and this is the only one I haVen’t discounted yet needto look into moerew okay paul

  To: actorpc99@gmail.com

  From openyreyes.com

  Subject: RE: Advice in confidence

  Date: 14/06/2012

  Paul, thanks for your email, happy to help in any way I can.

  As I said when we spoke telephonically, the commonest way in which they work is by implanting a MICROCHIP inside the subject. I believe that at the moment of the crashes, the children were put into stasis, which is why they were not injured. Then they were implanted. Through ‘voice to skull’ manipulation, the Others (ALIENS) are able to control and influence those they have chosen. This is a new type of technology that is LIGHT YEARS away from what we can yet do in our realm.

  You say you have checked out all the options and have proved this is NOT a case of demonic possession. I applaud you for being so thorough.

  I’m not at all surprised that Jess is showing disturbing symptoms, or out of character behaviour–this is to be expected. Remember, a change in PERSONALITY is NOT actually a symptom of PTSD. As you say, look at what’s happening with the boy in Japan (talking through a mechanism, a ROBOT) and the boy in America, who was no doubt experimenting with his grandfather’s cognative [sic] functioning. It is very unlikely he is dead. This is a government ruse as they are in cahoots with the OTHERS. They receive immunity from experimentation and have made a treaty with the aliens so that they can have free rein to feed off our energies.

  Your questions about the Pamelist theory are very interesting. I believe that there are a LOT of similarities with the truth. Very close to what WE believe. They are wrong, but MORE RIGHT THAN THEY KNOW.

  And what you are feeling mustn’t be confused with Capgras syndrome. That is a psychological anomoly [sic].

  How to proceed? I would be cautious around Jess, it’s unlikely she will do anything to harm you. The dreams and visions you are having are probably interference from the chip. I would advise you to watch her carefully, and be careful what you let on to her.

  Let me know if there’s anything else I can help you with.

  Best,

  Si

  Noriko Inada (not her real name) resides on the fifth floor of the apartment block opposite Chiyoko Kamamoto’s house. This account was collated by Tokyo Herald journalist Daniel Mimura, who interviewed her two days after Hiro Yanagida’s murder. (Translation by Eric Kushan.)

  I usually wake very early, at around five, and as I wait for daylight to come, I often watch the clock next to my bed. This is how I knew the exact time of the first gunshot. Although my block is situated only two hundred metres from the busy Hatsudai expressway, it’s well insulated from noise, but that sound made its way into my room. A muffled bang, which made me flinch, then another, then two more. I had never heard a gunshot before, except on television, so I did not know what to think. Perhaps that it was fireworks? And I couldn’t be sure where it was coming from.

  It took me several minutes to climb into my wheelchair, but gradually I made it over to the window where I spend most of each day. I don’t go out very often. There is a lift in the apartment building, but it’s hard to get through the door without help, and my sister can only find the time to visit me once a week, when she brings me groceries. I lived here for many years with my husband, and when he died I decided I would stay. This is my home.

  It was not yet light, the sun was still struggling into the sky, but because of the streetlights I could see from my position that the Kamamoto family’s front door was open. It was too early for Kamamoto-san to leave for work; he left every day at six, so that did give me some cause for concern. No one else in the neighbourhood had stirred. When I was questioned by the police later that day, they said that my neighbours who’d heard the gunshots assumed they were hearing a car back-firing.

  I opened my window to let in some fresh air, then waited to see if the sound would come again or if anyone would emerge from the house. Then, I saw two figures walking towards the house from the direction of the Hatsudai. When they passed beneath my window, I recognised the girl as Chiyoko Kamamoto and I could tell by his long hair that her companion was the boy I’d seen hanging around in the children’s playground many times before. Once, I’d seen him spray-painting a message on the pavement, but he’d cleaned it off, so I did not complain. Those two were very different types of people. Chiyoko walked upright as if she owned the streets;
he would hunch over as if he was trying to appear smaller than he was. I had seen Chiyoko slipping out of the house many times at night to meet him, but this was the first time I had seen her returning. They were talking quietly, so I could not hear the details of their conversation. Chiyoko laughed and nudged the boy with her elbow and he bent down to kiss her. Then she playfully pushed him away and turned to walk into her house.

  She hesitated when she saw the door was open and turned back to say something to her companion. She went inside and thirty seconds later I heard a scream. Not just a scream, a howl. The anguish in that sound was terrible to hear.

  The man, who was still waiting outside, jerked as if he had been slapped, then ran into the house.

  Several neighbours started emerging from their doorways, disturbed by the screams, which sounded as if they would never stop.

  Chiyoko staggered out into the street, the boy in her arms. I thought at first she was covered in black paint, but as she stumbled into the light beneath my window, it became red. The little boy, Hiro, was limp in her arms, and… and… I couldn’t see his face. Just blood and bone where it should be. The tall boy tried to help her, as did the neighbours, but she screamed at them to leave her alone. She was yelling at Hiro to wake up, to stop pretending.

  He was such a dear little boy. Whenever he left the apartment, he would always look up at me and wave. My sister didn’t believe me at first when I told her that the miracle child was living in the house across the street from me. The whole of Japan took that boy into their hearts. Sometimes there were photographers waiting in the street; once, one knocked on the door and asked if he could film the house from my apartment, but I refused.