Missing.

(A short story.)

“John, Megan’s not here!”

John lowered his cell phone to the table next to his steaming cup of coffee and looked at his wife as she burst into the kitchen.

“What?” He asked groggily. It was barely 6:30 am, and much too early for conversation. He hadn’t even gotten a sip of his coffee yet.

“She’s not here.”

John frowned as the desperation behind her words began to register. He sat forward tensely.
“Are you sure Em?” He asked. “She’s not hiding somewhere? A closet maybe?”

Emily shook her head.

“Her room is empty. The closet was open.”

John jumped to his feet, now fully awake and alive with fear.

“She’s gone. I’m sure of it.”

“Megan…” whispered John as he sprinted around the kitchen table and raced over to the front door and the line of shoes that stood beside it. Her boots were missing.

“No!” He shouted as Emily came up beside him.

He turned frantically towards the old white door. The deadbolt was open, and the door still open a tiny crack and suddenly hated himself for not noticing it before.

“She’s wandering again!”

Emily grabbed her boots from the line of shoes. “C’mon…maybe we can still catch her.”

John snatched his hiking shoes, slipped them on, and grabbed his jacket, hat and gloves.

“Looks like she dressed for the cold too…her gloves are gone.”

Emily pulled her gloves on after zipping up her coat. “Let’s go.”

They burst outside together and John turned to slam the door shut heavily. Locked it, and pocketed the key.

“She can’t be far!” he shouted after Emily who was already sprinting across the browned frosted remnant of the lawn, the semi frozen ground crunching under their feet.

“MEGAN!!!” Shouted Emily as she raced out onto the road that ran beside their home. The early morning black answered with utter silence, save for the crunching of their feet.

“MEGAN!!” John joined in now, catching up to his wife as they reached the top of a small hill.

On either side of them, the other houses on their street still sat in black sleepy silence, except for the first house on the street. It had a warm yellow light glowing from behind a drawn curtain.

They raced down the rest of the quiet road until they reached the main street and stopped as a car raced by, its head and tail lights a blur.

John looked down the road following the direction the car had just come from. The street lights glowed a dull orange trail along the side of the road, and showed the empty sidewalk. Nobody was there.

Emily was already racing to the sidewalk in the opposite direction.

“She went this way, C’mon!” she called, glancing backward.

John turned, and yelled after her. “How do you know?”

Emily pointed frantically. “The school! Her school is this way!”

John tore after her, almost slipping on a small patch of black ice.

“MEGAN!!!” Emily was shouting again as she ran under a patch of sidewalk illuminated in orange by a nearby street light.

“MEGAN!!!” Echoed John as he caught up, pumping hard. “MEAGAN!!!” He shouted again.

They rounded a small bend in the road where they could see down the entire street. It too was empty.

Suddenly Emily slowed, looking down at the side of the road.

John moved next to her.
“What? What is it?” He asked.

They were approaching another street light.

“Look! Tracks.” she pointed to some mud along the edge of the side walk.

John looked carefully. Sure enough, a fresh boot print was there, deep in the semi frozen mud.

“But that’s not hers….it’s too big.”

Emily was moving again, following the trail as it left the edge of the sidewalk and angled out onto the road – a single faint muddy print.

“It just stops there!” said John as he came up behind her.

“No.” She said sharply, and pointed. “Look.”

She pointed ahead towards the base of the street lamp. More boot prints.

Emily raced forward and reached the light post, and bent down to look closely. “It’s the same boot print as before…” she said pointing, unable to keep the rising panic from her voice.

“But it isn’t hers! It’s too big!” answered John as he caught up to her again. He kept walking, following the trail. Another set of prints appeared in the mud. They were smaller.

He felt his breath catch in his throat. These tracks…looked exactly like Meagan’s boot size.

He followed them carefully, and called for Emily to follow.

“Look! Em! Look!” He shouted, bending down to follow the sudden confusion that seemed to erupt in the muddy tracks.

A large booted print, like the one they were following before, seemed to fall directly behind Megan’s.

He took a few more steps forward, his eyes locked onto the muddy prints as they trailed along.

It looked like Megan had been playing in the mud as she walked along, just like she always did. She loved the way her booted feet squished when they walked through it, but the other boot prints….no…they were not playing. They were following. They were now stepping into hers, destroying their tiny trail.

John looked ahead, following the messy trail with his eyes, and suddenly froze unable to move.

Emily bumped into him.

“What is it?” She asked. “Why did you stop?”

John couldn’t breath. Couldn’t move.

“John?” She asked again. “What is i-”

She looked ahead now, following his gaze.

Screamed. “MEGAN!”

She raced forward and stopped beside a covered manhole.

A knitted glove lay limply on top of it.

It was Megan’s.