Flashes of red and blue were distant memories of the long gone tragedy that was Danny Dormer as the three remaining brothers sat on the porch of there Fort Wayne, Indiana home. There minds caught in distant places as they rest there eyes upon swaying shards of dried grass in the field where they all use to play. Now the thought of every playing seemed wrong, like smiling after the hollow crack of a backside beating — it would be near psychotic to ever risk such a thing. Jack sits on the upper step, the sun warming the left side of his face as the metallic scent of the rusted rail draws the right side of his head to rest against its squared side. The metal was a soft warmth, like a mothers palm, but he knew his mother was not beside him, for she had not left her bedroom in almost a month since Danny had vanished from the Louisiane Motel. He skin was beginning to draw tight to the bone, the cartilage in her neck hollowed the crevices of her neck out at silent dinners as their father begs her to pick up a fork — but she never does, just stares blankly before excusing herself and slugging back upstairs, leaving cold, and miserable eyes to swim in the remains of cold porcelain plates and tasteless dinners. How could one ever possibly eat when your brother, your son is gone. Toby sits on the middle step, Will on the third, perfectly situating the order of there life — though there was no forth step, not anymore anyways. Toby’s stares, eyes caught on the sun reflecting off a bolt, nailing the rope ladder to the small house in the tree — Danny’s house — He could remember it like it was yesterday, the afternoon sun turned to peach, the mountains purple and the air so cold it burnt his nostrils as he chased Danny around the sandpit and shook the ladder as he tried to climb up, laughing at his youngest brothers squeals and giggles. 

 ‘Is Danny coming back?’ Will mumbles, resting his elbows on his knees and resting his right cheek in his right palm. The side door screeches on its hinges preparing to close of three stiff swings as their fathers voice bellows in the distance, sending the door to a stop.

 ‘Thank-you for coming around today Sargent Johnstone.’ ‘You’re welcome Mr Dormer, we won’t stop until we find your son. Take care of your wife. Take care of your boys Mr Dormer.’ A man in a tanned button up tee, black tie and long black pants waisted taught by a leather belt and silver buckle, tilted his tanned sunhat at there father and began the departure back to his white police vehicle. The six point star glistening in the afternoon sun as it reflects into Toby’s eyes and drawing Jacks distant attention, before Will snaps his head to the commotion of the car door slamming shut. One solid blue stripe running horizontal down the middle of the car, beneath it the bold, capital print of POLICE, told the boys there had been no word as the tyres spin a in the dirt driveway, burning out that small island of desert grass and leaving it lying on the ground, as the red eyes of the tail lights take a left at the end of the drive and exists Hummers Court.

 ‘Not today Will.’ Jack finally speaks, voice broken and tears hanging at the ready to skydive down and make more of a mess of this situation. He needed to be strong, for his mum, his dad and his two youngest brothers as he watched the flashes of red and blue disappear into the high pine trees that lined the street on a sudden howl of the siren and driving the memory of the all familiar sound home.

 Morning came and the birds sang, but little did they know it would be the last time they would sing in a place like this for a very long time. Scattered socks, shirts and shorts litter the tainted green carpet in the awakening of a late and careless night of terror. The Tv had silenced itself in an ocean of static whilst the boys lay beneath heavy eyelids, asleep on hard mattresses and oblivious to the madness awaiting them. The alarm clock buzzes as 5:59 turns over to 6am, jerking Jack up in a sudden startle as he rolls around, left arm slapping the bedside draw wedged between his and Toby’s bed, startling his brothers awake in his act of unnecessary violence before the room falls to silence. 

 ‘Get up.’ Jack says, voice deep and gruff with morning roughness as Toby growls and shifts onto his stomach, demonstrating the roughness of motel sheets in a sandpapered shift. ‘Get up.’ He repeats, knowing quite well his brothers were falling into a slumber clearly none of them were going to get. Curse him for pushing them to watch Halloween on a night when there mother wanted to go hiking the next day.

 ‘ugggh.’ Toby frowns as he pushes himself up to slip over the side of the bed, his hair a mess and eyes barely open. Will is already up, pulling on his light blue t-shirt and rubbing the sleep from his eyes in balls rolls of his tiny fists. It’s Jacks turn now to move, he rolls over, sits up on an exaggerated grunt, clear the mucus from his throat and gathers his red tee from the crumbled spare folded bedcover left hung at the base of the mattress before slipping it on, standing and marching over to Danny’s room. It was what he did at six in the morning — he did not walk, but rather marched — the stiffness in his joints obviously lacking fluidity proving clearly he was the oldest and in the long running to inherit arthritis like there Grandfather Pete, just not before his career took flight — at least he hoped. With a curl of his index finger he points his left ear to the door and raps, not once, not twice, but four times. 

 ‘Danny it’s time to go.’ Four words that he was sure his brother would hear and make move for the door. Though he heard nothing. ‘Danny, i’m not playing dude, lets go.’ The oldest bellowed as he crossed the room and slid into the bathroom. The tap whines at the early morning rise as Jack squirts the blue and white toothpaste onto his orange toothbrush, nearly splattering it with the small bubble of air that was trapped between the paste in the tube. The water silences in the drain as he wets the orange plastic, before scrubbing it back and forward in his mouth in an act of morning ritual. With a rinse and a quick sink rub down, the remains of paste and spit wash down the drain in swirling synchronisation before he shuts the tap off and sends it back to sleep, and frankly he believes it was grateful. Jack had waited 10 minutes, had done his hair, wet his face — one could say he was a macho perfectionist — before he spun his shoulders and charged back towards the unopened door. 

 ‘What are you deaf —‘ He grouches, voice edging on the point of pissed off as he twists the brass door knob, cold in his heated grip before throwing the door open, it’s cylindric rubber stopper bouncing off the skirting as he lets go in shock — realising the room is empty. A simple stomach drop was an understatement to his reaction, his heart stopped beating, then it started again, then it stopped as his brain came to the conclusion — His brother was gone. Endless possibilities ran through the dorms of his mind, as if were a long hotel hallway, each possibility knocking on the doors begging for answers — Did he run away, was he taken, was he hiding — oh please tell me he was just playing, ‘Danny?’ Jack’s voice nearly breaks as he walks over to the wardrobe door, left ajar and tears it open, hearing the scream of rusted protest before throwing his head inside to see the shining of a creme, plastic coat hanger hanging on the other side in the darkness of the closed other half. - Nothing. He crouches down on his knees, hand resting on the centre of the mattress as he cranes his head under the bed - nothing but dust bunnies, rusted springs and tumbleweeds of hair — ew. Upon getting up, Jack pushes all his power into his hand on the mattress as his throat begins to pulse painfully as he fights back the tears. His hand slips in the sheets as he gains his feet. A grainy sensation stops him in his investigation as he lifts it to his face and flips his hand to see specs of coloured sand glued and embedded in his hand before he runs his hand through the sheets again as more and more sand gathered in his palm. 

 ‘Jack what’s up?’ Toby and Will crowd in the doorway, both looking around the room, looking for the small boy. 

 ‘Danny’s gone.’ Jack confirms. 

Next Chapter: CHAPTER 3