by John Kess
Chapter 1
I walked into my bedroom and slung my backpack into the closet. “Yes!” I yelled, throwing both arms high in celebration. The last day of ninth grade was finally over. I’d survived the most miserable year of homework and tests I’d ever experienced, and now a whole summer of exploring the woods of central New Hampshire was waiting for me. I spent the rest of my glorious afternoon removing my camping equipment from storage and inspecting it.
I was sitting on the couch after supper in our basement watching TV when Hannah returned from putting Amy, our six-year-old sister, to bed. Our parents were out celebrating their nineteenth wedding anniversary.
Hannah wore her bright yellow girls’ varsity swim-team shirt and gray sweatpants as she walked into the basement.
“Hey Dylan, if I show you something, will you promise to keep it a secret?” Hannah asked as she tied her long black hair into a ponytail.
“Sure.”
She swung her foot onto the couch next to me and pulled down her sock revealing an orange sun tattoo on her ankle. It was the size of a quarter and had a smiley face in the middle.
“Nice,” I said. “When did you get that?”
“Last week. Alyssa’s older brother did it. He’s learning how to be a tattoo artist. The three of you are the only ones who know.”
“The first time you walk around without your socks on, everyone is going to know,” I said.
Hannah pulled up her sock. “Dad won’t care, but I’m worried Mom will freak out.”
Our dad had an army tattoo on his shoulder from his days as a soldier in Desert Storm, so she was probably right about him. Hannah was also right about Mom. She would explode.
Hannah bent her six-foot-tall frame at the waist and stretched her long arms, easily touching her palms flat on the carpet. Her slender body, along with her hard work in the pool, allowed her to move through the water fast enough to carve up several of our high school’s girls’ swimming records.
Hannah and I had the same black hair, and brown eyes, but I had finally surpassed Hannah in height a few months ago, and I enjoyed reminding her often that she was shorter than her younger brother.
We were in such a good mood at the idea of a summer free of school that we shared a bowl of popcorn without even the slightest hint of an argument. It wasn’t that we argued all the time, but occasionally we wanted each other to drop dead.
“So,” Hannah said. “Do you have any plans for summer?”
“I was thinking about hiking some of the trail.” I looked through the window at the rolling green forest. The Appalachian Trail was a half mile down the highway from my front door. “Maybe I’ll hike from our front yard all the way to the end of the trail in Maine.”
“That’s insane,” Hannah said. “That would be like 300 miles.”
“It’s more like 400,” I said. “Someday I’ll hike the whole trail from Maine to Georgia.”
“You’re crazy. You’ll fit in with all the other crazy people on the trail.”
I just grinned at her and asked, “What about you? Any summer plans?”
Hannah inspected her bright purple fingernail polish. “I’ll lifeguard a couple days a week like last summer. Of course, my biggest summer plan is my birthday. I’m so excited!” Hannah did a little victory dance as she sat on the couch. “Yeah, that’s right. Destination: driver’s license, population: me. Only two weeks away.”
“I’m so jealous.”
“Don’t worry. Just think: your sixteenth birthday is only about 340 days away,” Hannah said, smiling brightly.
I gave her a look that made it obvious I wanted her to drop dead. Being fifteen sucked! “You can forget about a birthday present from me.”
Hannah leaned back and closed her eyes. “I know what you could get me. How about a date with Blake Weldon? Mmmm.”
“Oh, please, you still like him?”
Blake Weldon was a year older than Hannah, and she’d been drooling over him for the past three years. Since he became the starting quarterback, it had only gotten worse.
“You could get me a little red convertible for my birthday,” Hannah said. “That would go great with my driver’s license.”
“Keep dreaming.”
“I’d let you drive it, but … you know, that would be illegal.”
Now I really wanted her to drop dead.
Hannah stood up and headed to the stairs. “Mom and Dad should be home around midnight. I’m going to bed so I can dream about picking up Blake Weldon in my new shiny red convertible.”
I pointed at the TV. “I’ll check the weather for you, because you never know when hell might freeze over.”
Hannah held the railing to keep her balance as she laughed.
“Good night, Dylan.”
“Good night, Hannah.”
I walked to the sliding-glass door. The forest in the valley below was lit by the orange hue of the setting sun. I felt ecstatic knowing I wasn’t going back to a classroom for the next three months.
I had the whole basement to myself and took over the couch as a movie began. I soon drifted out of the zone of consciousness and hovered between being awake and asleep. It was wonderful.
* * *
“Dylan … Dylan!”
My eyes cracked open and I wondered if I’d just heard my name. I had. It was Amy. She grabbed my sweatpants with her little hands and shook me.
“Dylan,” Amy whispered.
“Whaaaaat?” I glanced at the clock. It was 11:03 p.m. and I was still on the couch. “Amy, you should be in bed.” I started a big stretch.
“Dylan,” Amy looked over her shoulder, “there’s someone in the house.”
My stretch ended abruptly. “What did you say?”
“There’s a man in our house.” She was still whispering. Amy’s big brown eyes met mine and I knew she wasn’t messing around.
I stood and looked toward the top of the stairs and listened for any noise that didn’t belong. Amy’s room was upstairs across the hall from Hannah’s. “Where?” I whispered. “Where is he?”
“I don’t know.” Tears began streaming down Amy’s face.
“Shhh, shhh, don’t cry. I’ve got you. Come with me.” I picked her up while glancing at the stairs. My heart thumped loudly in my chest.
“Dylan—.”
“Shhh.”
My bedroom was next to our basement family room, and I carried Amy to my closet. “Be quiet as a mouse, Amy. Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”
“Dylan—.”
“Shhh. Don’t move.” I closed the closet door.
I grabbed my baseball bat and walked to my doorway, listening for any movement above me. I moved silently to the bottom of the stairs and paused to listen, and heard nothing. There were no lights on upstairs, and I was sure Hannah would be asleep.
The carpeted steps were quiet under my feet. I gripped the bat with both hands as I made it to the top of the steps. Enough moonlight was coming in the front picture window that I could tell no one was in the living room or the kitchen. The only noise was the hum of the refrigerator. I slowly looked around the corner down the hallway, which led to Hannah’s bedroom. All the lights were off and Hannah’s door was open.
The hardwood floor squeaked below my feet and I stopped. I stood in silence holding my breath and waited for any movement. I heard nothing, so I moved to Hannah’s door and peered around the corner with the bat, ready to start swinging. Hannah’s covers were pushed aside and no one was in the room.
“Oh, no,” I whispered.
I frantically searched the bedrooms and found them all empty. “No, no, no.” I ran through the kitchen into the living room. The storm door was shut, but the front door was left open.
“Oh, no. Hannah!”
; I ran to the picture window and didn’t see anyone in our yard or driveway. I stepped outside onto the porch. “Hannah!” With my bat ready I moved out onto the driveway and looked around, seeing only a dark forest and an empty highway.
I ran inside and flew down the stairs to my room.
“Amy!” I threw the closet door open. “How long ago did you see him?”
“I don’t know.” She hiccupped, her face wet with tears.
“Did he take Hannah with him?”
“He was in her room. He had a gun.”
“Oh, God! You have to think. How long ago was it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Two minutes? Ten minutes? An hour? How long?” I was beginning to shout.
“I … I don’t know.” Tears ran down Amy’s face.
“How long did you wait to wake me up after they left?”
Amy broke down crying.
“Did you see them leave? Did you see or hear a car?”
“No.”
“Think, Amy, think!” I shouted. “I need to know. How long ago did you see him?”
Amy let out a wail. “Where’s Hannah?”
I grabbed the cordless phone and dialed 911. The operator answered immediately.
“My name is Dylan Beachley. A man has broken into our house and taken my sister Hannah. He did it very recently. I need the police here now.”
I rattled off my address and told them Dad was a police officer. “My little sister, Amy, is with me and she’s going to tell you everything you want to know.” I looked at Amy. “Talk to her, Amy, and don’t move until the police get here.”
Amy bawled as I forced the phone into her hand.
I flew up the steps still holding my bat, slipped my shoes on, and ran out the front door. “Hannah!”
A half moon was surrounded by a sky full of stars. The trees around me were still and silent. The highway in front of our house was empty. I ran to the end of our driveway and spun in a circle, looking and listening for anything that didn’t belong.
“Hannah!” I screamed her name as loud as I could. I heard my voice echo across the valley. I screamed her name again.
I heard what sounded like a hawk screeching. The screech had come from a distance in the vast stretch of woods across the highway near the entrance to the trail. I couldn’t determine whether it was a person or an animal when I heard it again. A long high-pitched scream came from deep in the forest, the scream of someone in serious pain. I’d heard Hannah scream like that when she broke her arm three years ago. The scream came to an abrupt stop.
“Hannah!” I shouted.
There was no response. Fear exploded into anger. I sprinted toward the sound, taking the woods head-on like a running back. I ran like a madman, not caring about the branches scratching my arms and legs. I ran into the night, still holding my bat.
“Hannah!”
I kept running and heard nothing but my own heavy breathing. My heart pounded. Prickly bushes tore at my legs, drawing blood, as I kept running toward where I’d heard the scream. My eyes adjusted to the moonlight as I wove through the trees.
“Hannah!”
My right foot slipped and I stumbled, hitting my forehead on a small branch. I landed on my side. My knee and my forehead were bleeding, but I barely noticed. I got up, found my bat, and kept running.
The break in the trees came quickly and I knew I was on the Appalachian Trail, which continued into the darkness away from the highway. I ran up a large hill and stopped at the top.
“Hannah!”
I listened again and heard nothing.
“Hannah!”
I kept running. I didn’t know how long I’d been running. My legs were burning and I didn’t care. I ran as if she was just ahead of me. I searched for any movement in the darkness in front of me, but the trail was empty.
I stopped at the top of another hill. My hands were on my knees as I tried to control my breathing so I could listen. I looked in every direction.
“Hannah!”
I begged for anything, any sound at all, a car door slamming, a scream, anything … anything but the silence that followed.
* * *
I don’t know how long I searched before following the trail back to the highway. A sea of flashing red and blue lights at our house was visible in the distance as I held my bat and limped toward them. My legs were bleeding, my body shook, and my throat was raw from shouting. I coughed over and over, trying to clear my lungs.
“Freeze!”
Four policemen had drawn their guns and were shouting at me. “Drop the bat! Do it now!”
I let the bat fall.
“It’s Dylan!” one of the officers shouted. The officers lowered their weapons and escorted me across the highway to my front yard.
“Oh, my God!” Mom shouted as she ran to hug me. “Dylan, are you all right? Are you okay?” She held me at arm’s length. “Oh, my God, what happened to you? You’re bleeding!”
Dad was right behind her, holding Amy. “Son, where is your sister? Where is Hannah?”
The look on Dad’s face was both stern and scared in a way I’d never seen before.
“Amy told me she saw a man in Hannah’s room. She said he had a gun and she didn’t hear a car drive away. I came outside and heard Hannah scream. I think he took her up the trail.” I pointed into the woods. “I tried … I couldn’t catch them.”
“No! No!” Mom shouted and then moaned as she held her fists over her mouth. Tears formed in her eyes.
I pointed in the direction I had run. “I heard Hannah scream, and then nothing.”
“Are you sure it was Hannah?” a policeman asked.
“It was Hannah’s scream. I’m sure of it. I’ve heard it before.”
They kept asking questions, but I didn’t have any answers. I knew now what Amy must have felt like when I yelled at her. It didn’t matter. Nothing about me mattered.
I sat in silence and watched the chaos around me as police swarmed our house searching for evidence. Teams were sent into the woods. Mom was sobbing and Dad was still holding Amy while talking to his boss and longtime friend Police Chief Delgado.
More flashing lights announced additional officers arriving. People continued to ask questions, but I couldn’t hear myself answer them. I couldn’t look at them. A bloodhound led another team of officers into the woods.
Everything slowed and I shut down, as if I were an empty house with the porch light on to make you think someone was home. Hours passed. I didn’t even notice the EMT who cleaned my cuts until he finished. The world blurred into an incomprehensible daydream gone horribly wrong. People kept asking me questions, but I couldn’t speak. All my senses receded into the background to make room for a helplessness that closed in around my neck and tried to choke the life out of me.
Chapter 2
We lived in the dead center of New Hampshire, a few miles from the nearest town, which meant my house was surrounded by one huge endless forest. If Hannah was in the middle of it without food or shelter, we had to find her fast.
The bloodhound brought in to sniff Hannah’s comforter had taken police down the same path I had run, all the way to the trail. From there the dog had run for about a mile and then lost the scent.
At dawn, Dad and I joined a crowd of volunteers consisting of family, locals, and law enforcement at a nearby park. The gray sky covered everything in a light mist and we could see our breath. Everyone looked cold, but I was so numb I didn’t even notice.
I hadn’t slept since Amy woke me up and the nightmare began, and I hadn’t spoken to anyone since I stopped answering questions last night. It wasn’t a conscious choice not to speak. I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. Any attempt to speak was smothered by the guilt of having slept through the worst moments in my family’s history. It was as if the man who took Hannah had stolen my voice as well.
I knew most of the police officers standing with us in the crowd because Dad served as a sergeant on the force. My Aunt Jackie
and Uncle Harold were there with Shawn, my cousin, who was back from college for the summer. Father Whitmore, from our church, had also come.
I spotted my best friend, Wiz, who said “Hey.” All I could do was nod back at him. He seemed to understand.
Hannah’s best friend, Alyssa, came over to me and gave me a hug. She wiped away tears and looked like she was trying to find the right words to say, but then she put her hand over her mouth and walked away. Several of my sister’s friends put their arms around Alyssa. They walked away and joined a large crowd of my sister’s classmates who had come to help. Blake Weldon even came. I didn’t talk to any of them and they didn’t try to talk to me.
A news crew from Concord had made the trip and extended its van’s antenna high into the air as the camera crew got ready. An officer distributed granola bars and water bottles to the volunteers. Chief Delgado handed out flyers that made me want to cry. They had a description of Hannah’s sweatpants and the yellow swim-team shirt I had last seen her wearing, along with all of my sister’s statistics: age, eye color, skin color, hair color, height, and weight. There was no mention of her tattoo. In the middle of the page was a picture of Hannah smiling, just like she had the last time I saw her. The rough description of the kidnapper, provided by Amy, matched the description of what I figured to be millions of people: white male, in his thirties or forties, average height with broad shoulders and light blond hair. He’d been wearing jeans and a dark hooded sweatshirt and was armed with a shiny handgun.
“We’ll break into four teams,” Chief Delgado said. “Two teams will go south from the highway, one on each side of the trail. The other two teams will go north.”
“Come on, Son.” Dad guided me to our starting point along the highway near our house.
We reached our entry point and walked through the forest, keeping the person on each side of us within view. I forded small streams and walked through mud and marsh. My feet were cold and wet, but I didn’t care. Occasionally, we came across a home or an abandoned building. For the most part, it was just a huge empty forest.
“Hannah!” someone shouted.
Every time I heard my sister’s name, I listened for the scream I’d heard while standing in the middle of the empty highway. All I got was silence. A state highway patrol helicopter buzzed over the volunteers about once an hour.