Chapter 6: Runaway

I don’t tell Charlie immediately. I’m much too tired to do so. When I return home, I sneak upstairs and quickly change into my night clothes. Although I want to talk to Charlie, I’m just too tired to do so and it won’t hurt him to wait just a little longer to know the truth, if only just a few hours until morning. Within twenty minutes of lying down comfortably on my bed, I am asleep.
The following morning, just eight o’clock, an early time for a pup in the summer, I rise. Within half an hour, I finish up with my normal morning routine, happy as can be, and begin to dress. I wipe down my wet fur until I no longer have the ‘wet dog smell’, which still plagues most furs since we were primitive, and then wrap the wet towel around the metal bar beside the shower.
I begin to pull my shirt over my body as I hear some talking downstairs. Dad didn’t leave this morning. In fact, when I awoke, he was awake and cooking breakfast. I suppose that today is his day off, since he had to work most of the day before. But, there is something odd. I hear two voices. Two people I hear downstairs speaking. Now who could he be talking . . . to?
Suddenly I hear Jane’s voice. I pull my shirt down hard over my body. I zipper up the fly up on my pair of long jeans and then step to the side, to the cracked door leading into the hallway, and put my eye to the door, looking out. I gently open the door just a little bit more and stick my nose out, lifting my ears as far as I can.
“No, no, it’s not like that, Mr. Miller.” I hear Jane say. “Trust me, it isn’t.”
“Well, I can’t say anything more than that.” Dad replies. “I talked to your father just the other morning. I had suggested to David to visit your place, to make a few friends in this town, because I had feared he’d go to school without a friend. I didn’t think, though, that he worked so fast.”
“Ugh . . . yeah, I understand sir.” Jane replies, with a very embarrassed, yet, calm tone.
I take a few breathes and then step back into the bathroom. I look to my reflection in the mirror and then feel my jaw drop open. I can’t believe that Jane would come here while my father was here. What was she thinking? Did she want to talk to him? I hope to God that she hasn’t told him anything too damned embarrassing.
But worst of all, I can’t believe what he’s saying! By the sound of it, it sounds like he assumed . . . Oh, goddamnit, Dad! I lean forward and put the pads of my hands down onto the marble countertop. I look into the mirror and see my face clench up, my black lips curling distastefully. I then close my eyes, hang my head, and begin to emit a low moaning sound as my stomach curls into a knot.
Suddenly I hear the sound of the feet of a chair rubbing across the floor. As the sound hits my ears, I lift my head and turn my head towards the door, ears perked and wondering what is going on. My eyes look out of the cracked door. I suddenly hear footsteps downstairs and know that somebody must be walking around and the footsteps sound heavy and the stride is very wide. It must be Dad.
“I don’t know what’s taking David so long to get his tail down here . . .” I hear my Dad say.
Suddenly I hear another chair make the same screeching sound against the floor and then I hear another set of footsteps, these quick and light, but, audible nonetheless. This one must be Jane. If the first one was Dad, it has to be Jane. I hear a little giggle, followed by a bit of laughter.
“No, no, it doesn’t matter.” Jane says, her tone making her seem very embarrassed. “Let me go upstairs. I don’t hear the water running anymore, so, he must be out of it and at least dressed by now.”
“Well, if you really want to go upstairs yourself.” I hear Dad say gently. “You’re more than welcome to go see and if he isn’t out yet, you can wait in his room if you please.”
“Yeah, sure, right, thanks.” Jane says, almost stuttering.
I hear some quick footsteps step out of the kitchen and then go into the hallway. But after a few quick steps, they slow and then die off. I hear a loud sigh and then a bit of giggling or laughter.
“It was nice meeting you, Mr. Miller.” Jane says.
“And you too, little miss.” Dad replies.
“Oh, God.” I say to myself. “‘Little miss’?”
I hear Jane giggle a little bit and quickly the footsteps resume. I quickly walk forward and to the door without doing much else to myself. I don’t even brush the fur on top of my head. I simply go forward and open the door. As I step out into the hallway, I begin to hear Jane beginning to ascend the staircase.
Turning around, I flip off the light inside the bathroom and slam shut the door. Afterwards, I turn and slowly, silently as possible in my sneakers, walk towards the end of the hallway. As I near it, I look around the corner and down the stairs. I jerk my head back and stumble out away from the wall as my muzzle comes nose-to-nose with Jane’s.
We both gasp and then take a step back. As I stop moving backwards, I take a deep breath and smile a bit, my mouth hanging open, almost a little too far. Jane smiles and then steps up onto the landing. I look to her and then down past her, to the bottom of the stairs. I don’t see Dad. He must still be in the kitchen. That’s good. I don’t even want him to see me with Jane.
“Come on, let’s go.” I quickly and quietly say.
I step forward and grab Jane’s arm and then turn up the hallway. I don’t pull Jane up the hallway. Instead I let go almost as soon as I touch her and begin to walk. I hear Jane walking behind me as I go up the hallway, her shoes on the wooden floor just behind mine. As I near the end of the hallway, I cannot help but look back, even though I probably didn’t want to.
I see Jane looking to me, but then she quickly looks away. I know that she’s been talking to my Dad. I just don’t know for how long or what about. As I look away, I am almost to my room. As I go inside, I turn around and look to Jane, ceasing walking. Jane steps into my room and goes to my right, towards my closet.
I close the door leading into the hallway and then stand beside the door, looking halfway across my room to where Jane stands before the door leading into my closet. As she twists the knob, she turns towards me. I notice her tail hides between her legs. She sorta smiles, I guess embarrassed.
“What did he talk to you about?” I ask, almost not wanting to know.
Jane’s lips pull back and she relaxes. Then she smiles and her tail wags just a few times. I cannot help but smile in return and wag my tail just once, out of the infectiousness of her happiness.
“He asked us if we were seeing each other.” She says calmly and honestly.
I roll my eyes and very much roll my entire head in the process. I take a step forward and turn my head towards the wall. I put the pads of my hands onto the wall and then playfully bang my head against the paint. I groan in distaste and shake my head, my fur twisting and turning as I hold my head against the paint, my eyes closed, my tail not moving.
As I hear Jane laugh, I open my eyes and twist my head, my forehead still against the paint on my room’s wall. I look up to her and see her standing with her arms crossed, not angrily, but more happily. Her head is cocked to the side and a dumb smile is across her face, her eyes only half open. She looks to me as if I were acting the fool. I lift my forehead from the wall and look to her straight.
“Oh, come on, it’s just your father.” Jane says. “He’s gonna suspect something.”
I roll my eyes.
“I know, but, I don’t think he should know anything. The only thing worse is that he actually interrogated you to find out more.” I say, sarcastically and a little playfully.
Jane chuckles and lets her arms fall to her side. I see her tail begin to make a wide arc, slowly tracing it again and again in the air. I smile and step forward. She knows I’m being overdramatic just because I can. But, deep down inside, I feel a bit worried. I don’t know exactly worried about what. For it hasn’t really made itself prevalent. I guess it’s just Dad snooping. I wish he’d butt out.
“Your Dad’s just curious. It’d be like my Dad demanding you tell him about what you did in school and if you were going to ‘deflower’ his little puppy.” Jane says, saying the word ‘deflower’ in a deep, redneck voice to be funny.
“Oh, God.” I say and roll my eyes.
Jane breaks out laughing at my embarrassment. She knows that I don’t consider this that sort of thing in anyway and now that she knows it embarrasses me to talk about it, I know damn well that she’ll abuse that at anytime she possibly can. I look from the floor up to her and cross my arms indignantly. I can feel a hot feeling in my chest and my stomach begins to twist into a German pretzel. Then my heart can be audibly heard from within my ears. Finally, Jane just shakes her head, smiles and giggles like always.
“Oh, come on.” She says happily and playfully. “Let’s get up into the attic. I’m sure we can forget about this as we deliver the news to Charlie.”
I lower my arms and feel my face unclench from its angry look, which I didn’t even notice that I had on. The odd feeling in my chest goes away and my heart stops thumping in my ears. Jane turns and takes a step forward, to the door leading into my closet. She then opens it and steps inside, raising her arms up to begin to ascend the ladder.
“Go up awhile.” I say. “I’ll get that Def Leppard lunchbox while you go up and see him.”
“Alright.” Jane replies. “Just don’t take too long.”
Jane puts one of her paws up onto the first rung of the ladder and grabs a higher rung with her hands. As she begins upwards, I begin towards my bed.
“Right.” I say and look to her.
Stepping forward, I watch Jane climb up the stairs. After only ten or so steps, she disappears out of sight up into the attic. I take a sigh of relief and look to my bed. I step up to it and turn around. I plop down onto the top of my bed and look upwards. I feel a bit odd, that feeling in my heart and stomach still there, simply not as strong. I just don’t understand what that feeling is.
I’ve felt very odd the last couple of days, like I’ve never felt before. I think I’ve got a good idea of what the feeling is, it’s just, I don’t want to actually believe it. I mean, why on earth would I want to believe that? I reach up and rub the back of my neck with the rough pads on my left hand as I look down towards the ground. I feel my body sitting absolutely still, which is odd. I feel numb.
“Are you coming?” Jane calls.
My body tenses up at the surprise and I lower my hand to my lap. I lift my head up and look to the ladder inside my closet. I feel my heart pounding loudly inside my chest as I see her shadow on the ladder. I take a deep breath and then turn towards the nightstand where I put the lunchbox last night. I go to it and then put my pads around it, picking it up and making it produce an audible rattling sound.
“I got it.” I say and look over my shoulder. “I’m coming.”
I turn around and slowly begin to work my way across the room, dragging my heels as long as I can while my eyes drag along the floor. I begin to feel the hot feeling in my chest again and can even hear my heartbeat in my ears. But when I reach the ladder and look upwards, the feeling goes away. I don’t see Jane although I can hear her slowly moving through the attic, with a creak following each paw step.
I hold onto the lunchbox, keeping it on its side, and begin to climb the ladder up into the hidden attic. As I reach the top of the stairs, I stop and look into the attic. I see Jane standing just out of Charlie’s sight. She looks to me, waiting, her eyes both excited and a bit sad. I take a deep breath and climb the rest of the way up into the attic.
As I stand up in the attic, I look to Jane and begin to walk slowly towards her. As I near her, she looks in the other direction and begins to move towards the grandfather clock that marks the line where Charlie will be able to see us. As we approach the clock, Jane stops and then looks over her shoulder and to me. She must be waiting on me, since I’m the one with the lunchbox.
“Charlie?” I ask loudly.
“David?” Charlie responds.
Jane steps forward as soon as Charlie responds and I follow her. I look around the corner of the old clock and to the large crate where Charlie still stands like a tree, unmoving, but still alive in his own way. Charlie’s eyes instantly plant themselves on me and his ears lift and so do his eyebrows. He smiles as large as he can, which, as I said, isn’t very large and then looks back and forth between the two of us.
“I’m so happy to see you, both of you.” Charlie says. “I always fear that nobody will return to see me ever again.”
Jane and I both step forward until we are close to Charlie, neither of us saying anything. We then stop and both look to the large, metal dog. Charlie continues to smile at us and finally, his smile goes away. I glance over at Jane just as she glances at me and then look up to Charlie. I feel my heart sink and begin to hear my heart begin to pound in my ears, but, out of nervousness and sorrow.
“What is wrong?” Charlie asks.
I am silent at first and I am not going to wait for Jane to speak. I know and can tell, from another glance at her after the question is raised, that she feels just as nervous about this whole thing as I am. I doubt she wants to tell him anything and I know that I am going to have to, even though I know that I don’t want to. Finally, I look up to Charlie and then glance down to the lunchbox.
“We went up to that manor on the north side of town.” I say. “We searched the place from ground to roof and . . . found this hidden up in the attic.”
I present the lunchbox and then turn it to the side and take a hold of the little clasps holding it shut. I undo them and then look up to Charlie as they fall limp to the side of the little metal box.
“It was hidden under a floorboard and marked with a broken piece of a vinyl album. It was a shattered piece of that Queen album over there in the corner.” I continue.
“What?” Charlie asks.
He looks down to the metal box that I hold in my hands and then waits, his eyes flicking up and down from the box and then to my face and then back. I bite my lip for a second as I feel my tail hide itself between my legs. A chill goes up my spine and I begin to feel my paws begin to go numb.
“We think it’s a time capsule, from the family that lived up there.” I say. “The Kingsfields. Do you know them?”
Charlie looks up to me and then waits. I think he’s trying to compile his thoughts. I’m sure that the question seems a little odd to him.
“N-no.” He says. “I don’t. I don’t remember.”
“We found some things inside the box.” Jane adds. “Show him, Dave.”
I look down to the box and then gently begin to open it. As soon as the box is open, I reach in and feel around for the photograph. Once I have the torn piece of paper between the pads on my forefingers, I gently grasp it and begin to lift it from the box, glancing up at Charlie as I do so.
The photograph is lifted from the time capsule and I turn it so that Charlie is able to see it. I then look upwards and look to Charlie’s face. Charlie stares long and hard at the photograph, his metal eyebrows held down and his jaw hanging slightly open. After nearly twenty seconds, he pulls his head back and lifts his eyes up and looks to me, as if silently asking what this means.
“It says ‘and Charlie Kingsfield’ on the back of the photograph.” I say gently.
Charlie looks to me, his head cocked to the side and his head held still.
“That’s . . . that’s my name?” Charlie asks, the sternness dissipating. “And that means that the dog in the picture is me.”
“Yeah.” Jane says. “That’s you.”
“That’s . . . that’s me. I . . . I was living . . . once.” Charlie says, stuttering.
Charlie’s eyes swing back and forth, eyeing over the two of us and then going to the photograph, as if to discern some more information, another piece to the puzzle. I’m sure that if he were living, he would be gasping and stuttering incoherently in confusion. But, even in his current state, he still seems confused, his mind must be rushing as fast as it possibly can.
“What . . . what happened?” He asks me, a sad undertone touching his voice. “Why am I like this?”
“We still don’t exactly know yet.” Jane says. “But we found these inside the lunchbox.”
Jane steps to forward and then reaches over the open top of the lunchbox and then down into the collection of knickknacks. Jane pushes the things in the box around until she finds the two rings and then hides them within a clenched fist. She then lifts her hand up and holds her clenched fist before Charlie.
Charlie looks to me and then downwards, to Jane. Jane raises her hand up and then puts her fingers facing upwards. Seconds later she opens her fist and reveals the two priceless rings. Charlie’s head recoils as he sees the rings. I can see his blue eyes moving around and around, jumping from one to the other.
“They’re . . . they’re wedding rings.” Charlie says quietly, as if to himself.
“Yes.” Jane says. “They must be yours.”
“But . . . but who?” Charlie asks.
He lifts his eyes up and looks to both me and Jane, as if demanding it from us but without any anger to his words. He then looks down to the rings and the look on his face tells me that he wants to hold the rings so badly that it must be painful to not be able to lift his arms.
“Who was I going to . . . to marry?” He asks. “Where are they? Why am I like this? Why?”
I can hear the tone of his voice becoming more and more sorrowful, demanding answers from us that we ourselves cannot answer just yet. Jane pulls the rings back and then places them back into the lunchbox. I gently place the photograph back as well and then shut the top.
I kneel down and place the lunchbox onto the floor before I stand up. I look to Charlie and see him staring down at the floor, to where I just placed the lunchbox containing his wedding rings. He stares at it, his eyes telling me that he wants them desperately. I look to Jane as she looks at me, not moving at all, waiting for me to say something. I turn and look back to Charlie.
“We’re going to find out soon.” I say. “We have some people to speak to, and we’re going to check up on Mr. Baylor. But we’ll be back. Don’t worry. We’ll find out as much as possible.”

As we stand outside, both of us looking down towards our paws silently. I lift my eyes up and look to Jane, only to see her looking back at me, her lips pulled into a frown, her eyes half open. I see that she has about as many answers as I do, meaning: none. Finally I sigh and hold my head up, taking command for the first time.
“You go visit Mr. Baylor.” I say to Jane. “I’ll check up on the police chief.”
Jane lifts her head, showing a sign of her sadness ending. She shows her brown eyes to me and then gives me a gentle smile, telling me that she has a bit of hope on her mind. I smile as well and then clear my throat. She rubs the back of her neck and then looks gently downwards.
“The police station is beyond the square, about a block. It’s hard to miss.” She says. “Since the record shop is on the square, meet me back at Baylor’s place for any news on his progress.”
I smile a bit more, letting my sadness fade away with hers.
“Alright.” I say. “I’ll see you there.”

Jane and I walk together until she and I part at the front doorstep of Baylor’s Records. From there, I continue to cross town to the police station. With traffic next to nil, I cross the square without even having to use the signal. I then keep my eyes open for the police station, but, effortlessly find the large, two-story, white edifice sticking out as a pristine beacon between rows of unoccupied storefronts.
I pass the lighted sign at the end of the walkway and gently step up the few steps that lead up to the front door. Lifting a hand from within my jeans pocket, I pull open the front door and step inside. A blast of cold air hits me as I enter the air conditioned building. As the door shuts behind me, I look around the small waiting room before me.
An old cat sits behind a desk in a large, her boney, venerable old face looking downwards towards an old computer as arthritic-stricken fingers type like lightning over the keyboard. Her fur is tinged with the grey of age and her eyes are milky white, most likely from age as well, though, blindness may be the case. As the door shuts behind me, the old cat looks up to me and pulls down pink fifties-stylized glasses onto the bridge of her nose.
As I walk forward, she does not wait for me to begin a conversation.
“How can I help you?” She asks, her voice shaky but still strong.
“I’m looking for the police chief.” I say softly, being a bit nervous since I’m alone. “I won’t be long, I just need to ask some questions . . . ugh, for school.”
The old cat smiles, “That fat, old hound is sitting back in his office, as usual, probably biting into a piece of pizza, if I know him . . . and I do.”
“Thank you.” I say gratefully.
I step to the side of the desk, walking around another counter, as the receptionist goes back to typing whatever it is she is typing, the striking of the keys sounding like machine gun fire. I walk back a short hallway that goes by a door on either side, moving confidently towards a large, wooden door with a bronze placard on the door with Kramer’s name upon it.
As I near it, I slow my pace and perk my ears up, listening to the sounds coming through the cracked-open door. I hear the soft playing of a radio from inside, playing something that reminds me of elevator music. I also hear a creaking of an old metal chair. It must be Kramer shifting his weight in his computer chair. Finally I hear him clear his throat.
I step up to the door and then lift both of my hands from my pocket, but, let my left hand dangle at my waist. I raise the other hand up and knock on the door three times. I hear Kramer cough and choke on the inside. Then I hear him spit something up and then the pounding of his boots upon the carpeted floor.
“Come in, come in.” I hear him say, his voice straining as he clears his throat.
I push open the door gently, not letting it swing, and then poke my head into the office. Kramer sits behind his deck, rubbing the back of his neck as his eyes keep watch on whoever thinks they can disturb him during lunch. He wears his uniform as always and his hair still looks like it was lopped and cut by an army barber. His eyes seem excited, as if he’s been doing nothing but sitting and twittling his thumbs for the last couple of hours.
“Oh, kid, it’s you. Have you still some more questions?” He asks when he sees me.
The excitement that once danced in his eyes seems to diminish as I step into his office. I continue all the way inside and then stand before the door, trying to keep from being intimidated by this fur.
“Just a couple of questions more.” I say.
He nods his head and then motions his hand towards a chair that is positioned facing his large, oak desk. I step forward, not bothering to shut the door as I don’t believe it needs to be shut, and take a seat in the old, leather chair. Kramer sits back in his chair, making it creak and moan as if it were about to buckle under his weight.
“Well, what do you need to ask me about?” Kramer asks me, not seeming interested but not angry either. “I’m not sure what else I can tell you, but, take a shot.”
“It’s about the Kingsfields, sir.” I say. “About their pup.”
Kramer’s lips purse and he laces his fingers together over his stomach and sits back, his eyes wandering up to the ceiling. I see he isn’t very much interested in that topic, but, he isn’t protesting answering my questions.
“Charlie Kingsfield . . . he . . . he didn’t hang himself, did he?” I ask, a bit nervous at angering Chief Kramer.
Kramer sighs and then sits up in his chair, shifting his weight until he’s comfortable. He then puts his arms down onto the top of his desk and looks to me with a relaxed appearance. After taking a deep breath, the American Bulldog begins to speak.
“I was only on the force for about a year or two when the Kingsfield case opened up. That was in 1988, I believe. When we went up there, there was this huge mess about there being a hanging. There were cruisers from several different counties and there were even MPs from the nearby army base. Because I was really just a recruit, they didn’t allow me much leash and didn’t tell me much of anything about what was going on.
“I did see the two parents there, crying and embracing each other. An MP was trying to console them, but, they didn’t buy into it. There was another girl there, I remember, a fox whose name . . . . her name was Anne . . . Anne Goodling, I believe. She was crying her eyes out, but, I didn’t understand why. Anyways, I never saw a body come out of that mansion and soon, the parents moved away. They owned a shoe factory, a big one, and it died and they left. Their pup was named Charlie, I remember that.
“I don’t believe he hung himself, no. I remember seeing the case file several years later. There was this huge investigation by the government, as I remember seeing big black Lincolns and Cadillac’s going around town and up into the hills on several occasions, which the army was trying to keep hush-hush. Maybe that’s why I wasn’t allowed inside the house. The story broke a couple of days after the investigation by the police saying that the pup had hung himself. And that’s all there was to it. The MPs and the federal investigators who were on the case told us that the pup hung himself. And that’s what they told the public. Whether that’s true or not, I don’t remember anymore.
“If you want to find out, I’d ask around. See the morgue or the hospital. I’d even say go and visit that bunker, to see for yourself exactly what they were hiding up there. I don’t understand why they wouldn’t let us in on the case. Even today, I still don’t know why. I’ll be turning fifty here soon and I still don’t know why. I’m sorry I can’t tell you much more.”
I rub my chin and look down towards the ground. I gaze at the carpeting right between my paws and knit my eyebrows together. I catalog everything the old dog has told me, trying to fit it together like pieces to a puzzle. Finally, I lower my hand and lift myself slowly up onto my paws. I look to Kramer, who looks back with his eyes tired, but showing signs of interest.
“Thank you.” I say with a smile and bit of enthusiasm. “You’ve been a big help.”
I turn and then begin to leave Chief Kramer’s office. I hear Chief Kramer clear his throat and then sit back in his chair. Then I hear him chuckle as I near his door. I look back and see him looking up at me with renewed life and a large smile stretched across his muzzle.
“I guess talk can do you some good.” He says happily with a chuckle. “I’m glad I could help.”
I return the smile to him and then step out of his office, pulling gently shut his door as I walk. I stride up the hallway towards the front of the police station, not able to wipe the smile from my muzzle. I bet I’ve found several pieces to this puzzle, all I have to do is go and see what clues Jane has collected from that lion.

The bell above the doorway in Baylor’s front door jingles as I push the door open and step inside. The shop is lighted for once though I see a brighter light coming from the back room as I enter the showroom. As the door clicks shut behind me, I lightheartedly stroll down an aisle lined with LP’s and towards the back room where I know Baylor must be.
I step around the counter that Baylor usually operates and slow my pace to a crawl as I step towards the brightly lighted door leading into the back room. I see two shadows, those of both Jane and Mr. Baylor, move across the wall on the far side of the back room.
“What do you mean you haven’t found it yet?” I hear Jane yell angrily.
Her shadow stalks across the back wall, arms held high up into the air. I see the shadow of Mr. Baylor sitting in the corner, his arms pulling things up from within a filing cabinet that sits there. I slowly move forward, my head cocked to the side as my ears stay rigid as bones, listening to what is going on within the other room.
“I told you that I have to find the next clue.” Mr. Baylor says defensively. “Once I find the next clue, maybe it’ll lead me to wherever I hid that damned code, alright?”
I step into the doorway and stop walking. I poke my muzzle around the corner and look towards the far corner of the room. Mr. Baylor is on his knees before a metal filing cabinet, his head hidden behind his shoulders, with his arms tossing papers into the air like a lawnmower throwing clipped grass. Jane stands right behind him with her hands on her hips. Unlike normally, her tail hangs lifelessly at her backside.
“Hello?” I say gently.
Jane suddenly swings her head around and looks to me with a smile on her face. I step into the room fully and look around, taking note of everything that has changed. Papers sit everywhere, scattered about like woodchips on the floor of a horse’s barn. A couple of things are overturned, the television is missing and several paintings that once hung on the wall now sit on the floor like garbage.
Suddenly Jane embraces me. Shocked, I turn and look to her. She immediately lets go of me and then puts her hands behind her back, twiddling with her fingers. She looks away, trying to seem as if she were regretting what she just did, but her thrashing tail tells me differently. Finally I clear my throat and she looks up to me.
“What did you find?” I ask her.
Jane smiles and then turns her body away from me. Standing sideways, she motions her left arm towards Mr. Baylor. Baylor continues his relentless search for exactly whatever it is he is looking for.
“Baylor hid the code extremely well. I mean, extremely.” Jane says. “He made sure that no simple moron would be able to find the code and reverse what they did to Charlie and have him give them away. Instead he made a series of clues that would lead him back towards the location in which he hid the actual code.”
“So he doesn’t have it?” I ask.
Jane turns her face towards me and shrugs.
“No.” She says with a slight smile and knitted eyebrows.
“Great.” I say and sigh. “Well, I found out a little more from Kramer, so, at least we have something. I found out that there was no body recovered from the Kingsfield home, so, no, Charlie didn’t hang himself. He said that the military and the government did their own private search and refused to allow the local police in on anything. Finally they just said that he hanged himself and left it at that. The parents moved away and everything died down.”
“Great.” Jane says. “So, at least we know Charlie didn’t commit suicide.”
“But then exactly what happened?” I ask, perplexed as she is.
“That boy wasn’t dead when I got there.” Mr. Baylor says.
I turn my head and look towards Mr. Baylor as quickly as Jane does. We both stare at the lion who continues to dig through the filing cabinet in hopes of finding the next clue.
“Wait, what?” Jane says. “You . . . he wasn’t dead? Exactly what do you remember?”
Baylor continues to dig around in the filing cabinet. Jane quickly steps forward and grabs his shoulder, gently pulling him back from the metal box. Baylor sits back on his knees and then looks towards Jane.
“Stop digging for a moment.” Jane says. “Tell us what you remember?”
Mr. Baylor looks down and then sighs.
“I was called in near the end of their project, see?” Mr. Baylor begins. “When I graduated from MIT in 1983, I specialized in neuroscience as well as nanorobotics. The government saw my work in those fields and paid me to work on this special, top-secret project of theirs. I came in and immediately was caught up to speed on exactly what they had done and what they needed me to finish. They needed me to finish a couple of equations and then produce this serum which contained nanobots in the billions. When it was all complete, they brought this kid in and laid him down onto a table.
“The other three stood out of room as I was given a syringe of the nanobots. The kid, he . . . he seemed so happy. He said he was really glad to be here and couldn’t wait to get out. He said he was going to go see this girl, once he got paid, and all. They promised to pay him around $50,000 to do this experiment, as I remember him saying. He said how proud he was, how happy he was, how proud his parents would be . . . I felt bad, but, injected him with the serum and watched in both interest and horror as he . . . as he flailed about like a flounder on dry land as the serum took effect. Twenty minutes later, the nanobots had converted his living flesh into metal, rubber, plastic and circuitry.”
Mr. Baylor sighs and then leans forward, returning to digging through the cabinet once more. Baylor seems to have calmed down a bit. He no longer seems like the harebrained idiot that I thought he was when I first met him. He seems to be very down-to-earth now, for whatever reason.
“What?” I say barely above a whisper. “I . . . I don’t even know what to say.”
“I do.” Jane hollers. “Why the hell didn’t you tell us earlier?”
“I didn’t think it was very important.” Mr. Baylor says. “I just thought I should focus on trying to find this code so that I can free him.”
There is silence for a minute, save for the shuffling of the paper as Mr. Baylor continues to search. I look downwards and think as Baylor’s words seem to match up with Kramer’s words. ‘How proud his parents would be’, ‘$50,000’, ‘They owned a shoe factory, but, it began to die as everything moved to China’, ‘The parents left without even knowing where their pup was’, ‘He was going to get married’, ‘There was fox . . . Anne Goodling, bawling her eyes out,’ ‘Said he was going to go see this girl, once he got paid and all,’.
“Ha-ha!” Mr. Baylor suddenly cries out. “I have it!”
Jane swings her head around and looks to Baylor. I lift my head up as well, pulling myself out of my deep thought for just a few moments to see what is happening. Mr. Baylor lifts out a handful of papers and then drops them on the floor. He then sticks his muzzle down into the metal box and laughs.
“There it is!” He says happily. “It’s the code! 33 right, 44 left, 15 . . . right? Wait, this isn’t a code, it’s a combination to a lock.”
“Aw, dammit.” Jane says. “So what’s the combination to?”
“I don’t know.” Mr. Baylor says. “I’ll have to think. You guys should get moving, maybe go look for another piece to this puzzle.”
Jane sighs and then turns around and looks back towards me. She rolls her eyes and begins to mosey towards the door, swinging her arms and sighing as her hopes are dashed. As she nears the door, she grabs my shirt and drags me out of the door and into the front room. She leads me around the counter and up the aisle and towards the front door.
“Well, that was a waste of time.” Jane says. “But at least we got something out of Kramer. It seems like all the pieces are beginning to come together. Too bad I was always kinda bad at putting together puzzles.”
I put my hands into my jeans pockets and lower my eyes to the floor. But as we near the front door, I lift my eyes up and then look towards Jane. I stop walking and turn towards her, with Jane stopping and turning towards me as well. Her eyes meet mine and finally I clear my throat after a bit of thought and deliberation.
“I . . . I think I understand.” I say earnestly. “But . . . I’m not sure. I’m not exactly sure where we’re going to find our next answer, but, I think I know the next best place to go.”