A Father’s Love

We crept around back, weapons drawn. I pressed my body against the cool rusted metal, and waited for a sound. A cough came from behind me. I turned to glare at my younger sister and her best friend. Although they were undoubtedly scared shitless, they looked ready. I couldn't believe I'd let them get dragged into this. Ursula should be in college with a backpack slung over her shoulders talking about Voltaire and Beccaria, not in the wilderness with a gun in her hand. This was my job.

I heard stirring within the house. A sob, undoubtedly my son's, was muffled by the rummaging. I started forward, but someone forced me back. I turned. "What the hell are you doing?" I hissed over my shoulder.

"Stop," Paxlyn's voice was soft. "If you go in, she's going to kill you."

"That's my son! I have to!" I growled.

"Take it from someone who has seen their parents killed in front of them. That's not a memory you want him to live with."

I wanted to kick her, but I knew she was right. She and my sister had been with me since my son was born. It would be pointless to turn on them now. My sister's friend stepped around me, her purple hair flying in my face. She pressed her slender body around the edge. I could hear the woman barking orders at her daughter now. "Put him in that cage right there and hang him outside."

"Yes ma'am," the girl responded.

From where I crouched, I could peer into one of the broken windows. The woman's daughter was leading my son into a cage. She was no more than eleven. Her orange hair flew everywhere and she obviously hadn't eaten in a while.

"Come on," she murmured softly to my son. "Everything will be okay if you get in here."

My son obliged complacently. My eyes teared at the sight of him. He was still wearing the grey shirt with the firetruck he was wearing when my wife dropped him off at daycare. He was relatively unscathed besides a few cuts, probably from the broken glass on the floor. He had a red sucker in one hand and a yellow model car in the other. He had managed to get mud in his hair and smear it on his jeans. From the looks of the girl's tattered jeans, she was probably playing with him. My throat began to close from my sobs.

My sister placed her hand on my back. "It's going to be okay, Malcolm. You'll get him back."

I nodded. "Just wish Gloria could've come too."

Ursula stifled a chuckle. "That would not end well."

I smiled but in the corner of my eye, I caught sight of the bitch who'd taken my son. She was a redhead like her daughter. I had seen her many times, but I'd never forget this time. She wasn't facing me, but I could see every detail of her from the number of wrinkles on her forehead down to the last mole on her hairy chin chin. I clutched my gun tighter. That bitch was dead.

"Chelsea! What did I tell you!" she screamed, landing three hard strikes on her daughter's back. The girl writhed in pain. "Put him out now or so help me-"

I shot her in he leg, cutting her tirade short. Both kids screamed but I couldn't wait any longer. No one should go through that. Paxlyn entered through the front door and calmed the kids down. Chelsea, though not as hysterical as my son was, sobbed into her. "Mommy didn't mean it! It was my fault."

"No it isn't," Paxlyn assured her. "You didn't do anything wrong."

Ursula and I came in behind her. I had put my gun away, but Ursula still clutched hers. At the sight of me, my son sprinted to me and thrust himself in my arms. "Daddy, daddy! I wanna go home! I promise I won't be bad anymore!"

"You aren't bad."

"She said I am!" he pointed to his captor, who was struggling to get to her weapon, which was on a table on the other side of the building. 

"You aren't bad, Curtis. You're very good," I assured him again.

"Promise?" he said, holding out his little pinky finger.

I smiled and wrapped mine around it. "I promise."

"Daddy, I broke Mommy's thingie. The one with grandma in it."

"It's okay. We got most of her off the floor."

He was beginning to cry. "Will Mommy be mad?"

"No, Mommy won't be mad."

He yawned and put his sucker back in his mouth. "Okay. Can we go home now?"

 "Yes, we can go home now."

"Wait, what will happen to Chelsea?"

I turned back to look at them. Paxlyn had calmed Chelsea down and was holding her in her arms. My sister had pinned her mother, who had developed a few bruises along the way. Her weapon was in her back pocket. Blood was still slowly squirting out of her leg, but it didn't seem serious.

"I don't know, Curtis."

"Can she stay with us?" he asked with a grin."

"I don't know. We'll just ask the police when they get here, okay?"

As if on cue, the sirens from the cars began to grow from a faint background noise to a loud roar. They screeched to a stop and teams came out of the woodwork to make sense of the scene. My son and I stood outside watching as the officers ran in and did their work. From among the chaos, I heard my wife scream, "My baby!"

Next thing I knew, my son was yanked from my arms and smothered in his mother's kisses. She fussed as she inspected him, patting his head and griping about his clothes, all while swearing to never let him go. Some of the police officers watched her with slight smile. We were two of the lucky ones, and they all knew it.