Chapter 2 - The Map Inside the Attic
I drove through the heavy mountain fog.
My hands gripped the steering wheel till my knuckles turned white.
The wooden bird rested on the passenger seat.
The silver name tag sat inside my shirt pocket.
It pressed against my chest like hot iron.
Four years of grief burned inside my lungs.
I pulled off the highway onto a dirt road.
Tall pine trees leaned over the gravel path.
At the end of the lane stood Harlan’s barn.
It was a giant structure with faded blue paint.
A blue roof covered the weathered wooden walls.
Maya’s words echoed inside my mind.
Under the blue roof.
I parked my truck behind a clump of bushes.
I turned off the headlights and waited in darkness.
Harlan’s black SUV was nowhere to be seen.
I stepped out into the freezing fog.
My boots crunched softly against the wet gravel.
I approached the side door of the barn.
The heavy wooden door was locked tight.
I pulled a crowbar from my truck bed.
I jammed the steel wedge into the frame.
With one hard shove, the lock snapped open.
The door swung inward with a low groan.
Inside, the air smelled of old hay and damp earth.
Dust motes danced in the pale moonlight outside.
I clicked on my flashlight and swept the beam.
Empty wooden crates stacked up to the rafters.
An old tractor sat rusted in the corner.
Nothing looked out of the ordinary.
Then I saw the floor in the center.
A large square woven rug covered the dirt.
It was completely clean, free of mountain dust.
I walked over and kicked the rug aside.
Underneath lay a heavy wooden trapdoor.
A new steel padlock held the latch shut.
I raised the crowbar high over my shoulder.
I smashed the steel bar down onto the padlock.
Metal sparked brightly in the dark space.
On the third strike, the lock shattered open.
I lifted the heavy wooden trapdoor upward.
A flight of concrete stairs led downward into darkness.
Warm air drifted up from the underground room.
It smelled like pine cleaner and fresh soup.
My knees trembled as I took the first step.
I descended into the subterranean space.
At the bottom sat a small, clean bedroom.
A single twin bed stood against the wall.
A bright yellow lamp lit the small desk.
On the desk sat a stack of drawing paper.
A box of red crayons lay open beside it.
I walked slowly toward the small bed.
A blue fleece blanket was folded on top.
Beside the pillow lay a pair of red rain boots.
They were worn, muddy, and size seven.
My tears finally broke through my sight.
These were Leo’s red boots from four years ago.
He had been living in this room.
I rushed to the desk and grabbed the paper.
The top drawing showed a tall man holding a hammer.
Beside him was a small boy holding a toy bird.
At the bottom, in child handwriting, was a name.
Daddy.
The date stamped on the paper was yesterday.
My son was alive twenty-four hours ago.
A sudden sound creaked on the stairs behind me.
I spun around, holding the crowbar tight.
Clara stood at the bottom of the concrete steps.
Her hands were raised high in the air.
“Don't hit me, Marcus,” Clara pleaded softly.
“Where is my son?” I screamed at her.
My voice echoed violently off the concrete walls.
“Harlan moved him two hours ago,” Clara whispered.
“Why?” I demanded, taking a step toward her.
“Because Maya escaped and spoke to you,” Clara said.
“How are you involved in this?” I asked.
Clara lowered her hands slowly to her sides.
“Harlan bought my shelter four years ago,” she said.
“He paid off my medical debts,” she explained.
“In return, I had to stay silent,” she said.
“Silent about what?” I demanded.
“Your wife didn't die of illness, Marcus,” Clara said.
The subterranean room went dead silent.
“Claire is alive?” I whispered in disbelief.
“She was kept in a facility in Canada,” Clara said.
“Harlan used Leo to force Claire’s silence,” Clara added.
“Claire owned sixty percent of the family company,” Clara said.
“Harlan needed her signature to sell the land,” Clara explained.
“She refused to sign until he showed her Leo was safe,” Clara said.
My whole reality cracked open into pieces.
My wife was alive in another country.
My son had been raised in a secret basement.
All so Harlan could control a real estate fortune.
“Where did Harlan take Leo today?” I asked.
Clara pulled an envelope from her coat pocket.
“He is taking him to the private airstrip,” she said.
“A flight leaves for Costa Rica at midnight,” she added.
I looked at my watch on my wrist.
It was already eleven fifteen at night.
“Why are you telling me this now, Clara?” I asked.
Clara’s eyes filled with heavy tear drops.
“Because Maya is my biological niece,” Clara admitted.
“Harlan threatened to take Maya away from me,” she said.
“Maya found Leo’s room through a maintenance duct,” she said.
“Leo gave her that carved bird three days ago,” Clara said.
“He asked Maya to find his daddy,” Clara whispered.
Clara handed me the thick white envelope.
“This contains Harlan’s flight itinerary,” Clara said.
“It also contains the deed to your house,” she added.
“He forged your signature to sell your land,” Clara said.
I snatched the envelope from her hands.
“Call the county sheriff right now,” I told Clara.
“The sheriff works for Harlan, Marcus,” Clara warned.
“He gets a cut of every land deal,” she said.
“Then who can I trust?” I asked.
“State Police,” Clara replied firmly.
“I already dropped Maya off at their station,” Clara said.
“She is giving her statement to an investigator now,” Clara said.
A loud metallic slam echoed from above us.
The heavy wooden trapdoor slammed shut overhead.
The sound of a heavy bolt sliding into place followed.
Total darkness fell over the subterranean room.
Harlan’s voice echoed down through the floorboards.
“You always were too sentimental, Marcus,” Harlan called out.
“I saw Clara’s car parked down the road,” Harlan said.
“Now both of you can wait down here,” Harlan added.
“The air vent closes automatically from above,” Harlan sneered.
Footsteps walked away across the wooden barn floor.
The heavy outer barn door slammed shut.
Silence returned to the dark concrete room.
I clicked on my flashlight and pointed it up.
The wooden trapdoor was reinforced with steel plates.
We were sealed inside a windowless underground box.
Clara began to panic, her breathing coming fast.
“We’re going to suffocate in here!” Clara cried out.
“Stay calm,” I said, shining light on the desk.
I remembered the drawing on the desk.
The boy in the drawing held a toy bird.
Behind the boy was a picture of a small door.
I rushed over to the corner behind the bed.
I pushed the heavy wooden bed frame aside.
Behind the bed was a low wooden panel.
It was held in place by four small rusty screws.
I jammed the tip of the crowbar behind the panel.
I pulled back with all my physical strength.
The wooden board snapped open with a loud crack.
A narrow brick tunnel opened behind the wall.
It was an old drainage duct leading outside.
“Follow me,” I told Clara, crawling into the duct.
The damp brick space was narrow and freezing.
Rough stones scraped against my coat shoulders.
We crawled through fifty yards of pitch darkness.
Finally, pale moonlight appeared at the far end.
We burst out into a muddy ditch near the forest.
I stood up and wiped the mud from my face.
The midnight hour was approaching rapidly.
The sound of an airplane engine roared in the distance.
The private airstrip was two miles up the road.
I ran toward my truck parked in the bushes.
I threw the crowbar into the truck bed.
I slammed the truck door shut and turned the key.
The engine roared to life with power.
I pushed the gas pedal straight to the floor.
Tires spun violently in the thick gray mud.
May you like
The truck shot out onto the dark highway.
I had ten minutes to save my son.
