And what about Andy?
How often did he get to see the sky? Did he ever see the stars anymore? How much could a person grow inside a concrete cell?
I went to sleep that night hating that stupid woman, hating koi, hating myself for being free.
“Wait.”
It was still pouring on us, but we had made it all the way to the edge of the woods that led back into the neighborhood. Both of us took turns checking over our shoulders, but now that we were nearly back into civilization, my heartbeat had started to return to normal. Andy, on the other hand, was as squirrely as ever, and he eyed the dark horizon behind us as I talked.
“We need to talk about our story,” I said.
“Story?”
“Yes,” I said, frustrated. “Dad’s lost his mind since you left.”
“I know,” he said, still looking over my shoulder, seeming to barely listen. “I figured he would be after all that time.”
“It wasn’t that long,” I said.
He finally turned and looked at me, that fresh panic rising in his eyes. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, Dad freaked out, but it was only a few hours so—”
“Hours?” he said, his whole body shivering. “No. It was… days. Maybe even a week.”
“No,” I said. “It wasn’t.”
“It… it had to be…”
I shook his shoulder, trying to shake him out of it.
“It’s the truth,” I replied with finality.
“In… in that place… I couldn’t tell what was going on. It was constant. Just, pain. Confusion. And that voice.”
A chill ran up my spine, because I knew exactly what he was talking about. I ignored it, for now at least.
“We can talk about that later, tonight, once everything’s calmed down. Dad called the cops and everything. We have to get back.”
He turned away from me, staring behind us, his head darting left and right.
“It won’t follow us,” I said with confidence, even if I wasn’t sure of the fact. I believed he wouldn’t follow us out here, but there was no way to know for sure. The Toy Thief didn’t strike me as the kind of creature that would fight unless he had no other choice. The night in my bedroom had proved that. But it had passed beyond what was normal for such a monster. It was mad. What Andy had done had thrown it into a fury of utter insanity. So all bets were off now. I thought we’d be okay, until the sun fell at least, but I also wouldn’t have been overly surprised if it sprang around the corner and tore into both of us on the spot.
“We have to get home. Everything will be safe once we get home.” Another lie, but one I desperately wanted to believe.
“Yeah,” he said, his eyes lost between me and the field behind us. “Home.”
In that single moment, what I had already known about Andy’s kidnapping came into stark focus. He was changed. Altered. Maybe even broken. I knew, even then, that something so awful would have changed anyone, made them as gun-shy as a wild dog. But this was something else entirely. One person went into that cave, and another came out. I glanced down at the handprints on his leg, and wondered to myself if he would ever be the same.
We talked through our story, how Andy had been picked on by some older kids around the neighborhood the day before. We never said who, not specifically, but if pressed, I’m sure we would have said the same name. He’d left the house the night before, intending to get some payback by vandalizing the bully’s house. The only problem was, Andy got caught in the act and had to run. He evaded them, but by then, he was miles away from home. He hunkered down in an alley and waited for morning, dozing off for a few hours.
It wasn’t a good story, but we both knew it didn’t really matter. He was home, and that would be enough. Once all the questions were asked, it would have to be enough. Satisfied and ready for dry clothes, we left the woods behind and made our way toward our house. There was no one in sight. No one ran out and scooped us up. No cops appeared, lights ablaze, to escort us home. It was just two kids with questionable decision-making skills taking a stroll in the rain.
I stopped Andy next to the backyard and pulled him over to the shed, out of sight of any windows. “You good?”
He nodded, seeming to barely hear a word I said as he scanned the path we walked up on.
“Knock that off,” I said sharply.
“What?”
“That. Staring. Looking around like a bird or something. Dad won’t buy a word of it if you keep acting like that.”
He was breathing hard all of a sudden, and I realized he was swinging again, his mood shifting from one pole to the other like a human pendulum.
“Fuck you,” he said abruptly. “Quit acting like you’re my mom. You always do that. You’re not. So fuck you.”
I tried not to show how deep his words had bitten into me, and I choked back my natural reaction to slap him.
“I don’t know why you’re doing this,” I said slowly, “but I’m the only reason you’re out of there. You said so yourself.”
His eyes darted left, right, left again, all in the span of less than a second. “Right. Good. Fine. It’s fine.”
I didn’t dare press him any further.
“Then let’s get this over with.”
As we walked those last few feet up to the house, I felt as if I were walking next to a bear or a mountain lion. He was my brother, and I loved him, but all at once, I didn’t trust him. He felt like a walking, talking, loaded gun, the sort of thing that had to be respected, handled carefully, but never truly trusted. I could see it as clear as the rain clouds overhead, but the question that pounded away inside my head was whether or not Dad would see it as well.
We opened the sliding glass door, and I stepped in first. Only silence. The house breathing. The rain falling. Thunder crashing in the distance. For a moment, I feared the worst, feared that somehow the Thief had found his way here, had already taken something much more precious than any toy. Then I heard the footsteps, heavy, leaden, the unmistakable trundle of my dad.
“Jack,” he said from down the hallway, and I stuck out my hand to hold Andy in place for a moment. I felt him push at me, trying to swat my hand away, but I didn’t back down.
“I’m here,” I said as I pushed my brother further back into the rain.
“Where the hell did you go?” he asked, storming into the kitchen. “I told you not to leave the—”
“Dad,” I said in a quiet tone, forcing him to drop his voice and listen.
“You’re all wet. What have you been into?”
“I found Andy,” I said as I stepped aside and let him in. I’m not sure why I did it that way, but I wanted to be the one to let him back in, to be the one between the two of them if things went bad. Andy stepped in, his clothes and face dripping onto the linoleum floor. I never looked back at my brother, because I was too busy staring at Dad, watching him, figuring out what he would do.
“Andy,” he whispered, and I knew it was all going to be fine. He crossed the room in two long strides and wrapped his son up in a bear hug, squeezing the water out of him as he clutched Andy’s head onto his massive shoulder.
“Oh God, Andy,” he pleaded as his voice died down to a near whisper. “Thank you, thank you, thank you…”
“I’m okay, Dad,” Andy said when he had finally had enough. “I’m fine.”
Something in his voice snapped Dad back to reality, and he took a step back, grabbing the collar of Andy’s shirt. “Where the hell were you!?” he demanded. “I called the cops. I was worried to death. Why the fuck did you do that?”