Trembling With Fear 05/26/2019

Scruples

The highway had flooded, forcing Sam to detour onto an old back road; but at least the rain had stopped. She’d driven through gloom for hours, adding to the depressing atmosphere of the desiccated scenery. There wasn’t much to see except overgrown fields and an occasional dilapidated farmhouse.

 

“Why won’t this detour just end?” Sam griped, flicking the radio off as the signal fizzled with static.

 

Movement further up the road caught her eye. There, on the right near the edge of a field, dirty and ragged, something strange was coming out of the grass. It looked like a kid.

 

Slowing as she drove by, Sam turned in her seat to get a better look. Sure enough, there was a child under a mess of tangles and grime, carrying a baby. She watched the child make an aborted move towards the car, only to shrink back.

 

What were they even doing out here? Driving at a crawl, Sam looked for some sign of other people. A sick feeling slithered up from her stomach, burning her throat. There was nothing.

 

“Hell,” she sighed, pulling off the road. She watched the kids in the rear-view mirror, torn between a creeping feeling of unease and a nauseating guilt. It wasn’t safe to pick up hitchhikers; but those were kids. Grabbing her phone, Sam told herself, “Okay. Okay, first thing.”

 

A quick call to 911 had an operator promise a patrol car would be sent. Sam was told to stay in her vehicle and wait until they arrived.

 

 

 

Half-turned in her seat, knee against the center console, Sam alternated between watching the kids and scanning the area. Thirty minutes had passed since she’d called and it was starting to get dark.

 

The children hadn’t moved from their spot near the road. Occasionally, the older one would stare at the car before slowly looking away. The kid seemed to be wilting, struggling under the weight of the baby. Sam watched, stomach twisting, as the kid used a knee to try pushing the baby higher. From what she could see, they looked half-starved and desperately in need of care.

 

“God, this is a bad idea,” she grumbled, biting her lip as she eyed a bag of snacks on the passenger seat. A bottle of water and half a box of granola bars. It wasn’t much, but the kids probably needed it. Leg bouncing with nerves, she closed her eyes. The cops had to be there soon.

 

Glancing out the back window, she watched the older child wobble, almost drop, and said, “Screw it.”

 

Keys clutched in one hand, bag in the other, Sam stepped out of the car, looked around, and slowly headed towards the kids. She made it to the back bumper before the older kid noticed her, head snapping up so hard Sam winced in sympathy.

 

“It’s okay,” she said, trying to be soothing. She hoped they didn’t notice the slightly panicked edge in her voice. “Help is coming, but I have some food if you guys are hungry.”

 

She waited a beat. Two. Three. The kids did nothing as Sam opened the bag, angling it to show them the food.

 

“I’m going to come a little closer and put the bag down, okay? Then, I’m going to get back in my car. The food is for you.”

 

Slowly, watching in case they startled, she took a few steps and put the bag on the ground. The baby’s face was hidden, but the older child watched, eyes fixed on Sam, unblinking.

 

“It’s okay,” she assured, as the children edged towards her,“you can eat.”

 

 

 

Hours later, a police cruiser pulled up behind Sam’s car.

 

“Dispatch, this is Kyle. Quinn and I have found the car described in the 911 report. No immediate sign of anyone. We’re going to have a look.”

 

“Empty,” Kyle said, as they came around her car, flashlights shining through the windows. Turning toward the dark field behind him, he called, “Hello? This is the State Police. Can anyone hear me?”

 

“HELLO?” Quinn hollered, walking down the road. “We received a 911 call. If you need assistance but aren’t able to respond, try to make some kind of noise.”

 

“Think we should look around?” Kyle asked after a few minutes.

 

“I guess,” Quinn agreed. He stopped, staring the edge of the field just behind his partner. “What’s that?”

 

Flashlights shifted, landing on the kids huddled low to the ground, practically invisible in the long grass.

 

“Hey, kids” Kyle called softly, as he crouched down, “we’re Police Officers. Could you come out?”

 

Slowly, the kids crept onto the road; wet, muddy, and splattered in blood. The officers shared a look. A silent conversation passed between them. Quinn turned, closely scanning the area, hand resting on his gun.

 

“It’s okay,” Kyle assured the kids, holding out his hand. “It’s okay.”

 

 

 

“Kyle. Quinn. What’s your APB?”

 

The soft crackle of the radio joined the wet, crunchy, smacking that filled the air as the children feasted. They hadn’t eaten so well in years.