Kidnapped

I couldn’t believe what I heard. I was working on our roof while my four year old son played in the yard below me. A male voice bellowed, “Hey little boy, wanna go swimming?” I tried to get closer to see who it was. My heart almost stopped when I heard my son say, “Yes.” I quickly moved to a better position, only to see him climb into the car. The old green Ford quickly sped away.

“No!” I screamed as I jumped off the roof…no time to use the ladder. I messed up my leg in the process. “Bring him back! God please!” I limped toward my car, trying to get my keys out of my pocket along the way. The engine turned over again and again. “Why had I put off that tune-up?” I thought. Finally it started and I threw it into gear and roared out of the driveway.

Where could they be? I headed in the general direction that the car had gone. Fortunately it was a rural area so there weren’t a lot of side streets. My eyes checked out every driveway I passed, hoping for a glimpse of the Ford. Nothing... I drove on. There was nothing around now except mile after mile of corn fields. Corn, I had always loved it, but I now detested it. Where was he? The sun was beginning to set. My wife should be wondering where we were. Hopefully by nightfall she’ll call the police.

It was the summer of 1962. The newspapers had story after story about a rash of missing kids. Why hadn’t I kept a better eye on him? I pleaded with God to spare him and take my life instead. And I drove…on and on. No sign of that damn Ford.

As I approached the bridge I thought I saw a glimpse of light below it. I let off the gas, slowing to a crawl. No light, I guess I’m starting to see things. I drove on. I glanced into my rearview mirror and there it was again. Something told me that it was them. I continued a few hundred feet and pulled my car into the ditch. Wincing with pain, I got out of the car, popped open the trunk, looking for something I could use as a weapon. The tire tool would have to do.

My leg was so swollen that my sock was beginning to cut into my skin. I could barely walk. I shuffled down the road, back toward the bridge. The flowing river covered much of my noise. I slowly made my way down the trail leading to the riverbank. It was a rocky climb and the pain in my leg was excruciating, but I had to continue.

The shadowy figure stood in front of a small fire. I hadn’t noticed how the temperature had dropped, but now the tire iron felt cold in my hand. I tightened my grip around it and made my move. I hit him from behind…hard. My first blow knocked him to the ground. I quickly fell on him so he couldn’t get away. At six feet and two hundred pounds, I won the struggle.

I turned him over and stared into his face. He reeked of filth and alcohol. “I don’t have any money. Please don’t hurt me,” he said in a pitiful voice. It wasn’t him. My heart sank. I told the old man that I was sorry, that I was looking for someone who had stolen my son. I stumbled back up the trail. When I arrived at my car I collapsed. “I’ll sit here for just a couple minutes,” I said to myself.

I’m not sure what woke me, the morning sun or the sound of birds, but I immediately noticed both. “Damn it…I fell asleep!” Quickly getting to my feet, I instantly felt the pain in my leg. I gingerly removed my shoe and sock. My foot and ankle was a rainbow of colors. I’d have to go without the shoe. The car started on the first try. Maybe things were going to be better today. I eased the car onto the road and began my search again.

A short piece down the road it was obvious that something had driven through the corn. I pulled my car onto the newly made trail and turned off the engine. As painful as it would be, I needed to walk so I’d have the element of surprise on my side. I took off my belt and wrapped it tightly around my foot and ankle. Hopefully it would give me a little support. I picked up my tire iron and headed down the path.

The corn leaves sliced at my skin as I made my way through the field. “At least it’s not rocky,” I thought. But I was moving so slowly I was afraid I’d get there too late. I knew in my heart that I was probably already too late.

The path wound through the field and back toward the river. I’d been walking about twenty minutes when I spotted the car. It brought out a mixture of emotions…excitement because I’d found it, anger for what it represented and fear of what I might find. I slowly moved toward it.

My son was sitting on a rock, his little face streaked with dirt and tears. He slowly rocked back and forth. He was alive! My heart raced. “What do I do now? Where is the kidnapper?” And then I felt a sharp pain in my head and I fell to the dirt.

We wrestled on the ground, rolling, punching and tearing at each other like animals. I fought harder than I’d ever fought before. My son’s life depended upon me winning. He was a large man, muscular and heavy. He eventually pinned me to the ground. For the first time I looked into his eyes. He wasn’t afraid, he was excited. He was evil. This is what he lived for. He reached for my tire iron. With one hand holding me, this was my only chance. I pushed with all of my might and he toppled to the side. We both struggled to get to the tool first. It somehow ended up in my hand. I hit him in the head with all of the strength I could muster. He fell to the ground. I plunged the metal deep into his chest, pulled it out and stabbed him again. His hands fought to pull it out. I obliged, pulled it out and sank it firmly into his throat. The blood poured from his wounds as he gurgled his last few breaths.

I wrapped my arms around my son. He appeared to be okay. We both sobbed and held each other tightly. After a few minutes I sat him back on the rock, limped over to the car and opened the trunk. I slowly dragged the lifeless body to the car. It was a struggle, but I managed to get the body into it. I started the car and put it into reverse, got out and watched as it slowly inched toward the river. There would be no trial…no interrogation of my son. He would eventually forget all about this. I took his hand and started the long walk back through the field.