Stick to The Plan
Even If You Don't Know What It is
The baby is crying again. Little sisters are so annoying. I liked it better when it was just me and my parents. Eva ruined our family when she arrived four months ago.
I storm into Mom’s room. “Why won’t she quit crying?” I always thought I had the best parents in the world, but they must suck because they can’t even keep the baby happy. They can’t keep me happy anymore either. But that’s Eva’s fault.
Mom smiles at me. Her eyes look tired but patient. How annoying. “Would you like to play with her? See if you can get a smile out of her.”
Here we go again. I head to my room where I can turn up some music and drown out the baby. Mom seems to think that if I play with Eva, I’ll fall in love with her. Yeah right. I already tried that. I’m freaking 14! Eva just cries when I show her how to do makeup. She cries at every video that makes me laugh. She cries when I talk with my friends and scroll through pictures and memes they post. She doesn’t think anything I like is interesting or funny. Eva hates me and I don’t like her either.
I jam my earbuds in, crank up the music, and carefully outline my left eye with the new eyeliner I’d begged dad to buy last time we were at the store. Between songs I hear loud popping noises. Weird. Sitting up, I yank an earbud from one ear and cock my head to listen. People scream. My breath catches. For a moment, I freeze.
When a woman lets out a long scream followed by more popping, I race to the stairs and slam into Dad as I round the corner. His arms are around me and he drags me into his room where Mom rocks Eva with a bottle in her mouth.
I think she must be crazy, acting as if she hears nothing. But then I see her eyes and my stomach knots. Her voice is strained and low. “Has it finally happened?”
Dad gives one sharp nod. He holds me close with one arm while he wraps the other around Mom and rushes us to the stairs. “Come on. Hurry now.”
What has finally happened? I want to ask but fear has ripped out my voice box, so I just follow Dad as he rushes down the stairs. I can’t keep up with him. Maybe that’s good because when his feet hit the bottom, he holds out a hand for me and Mom to stop. His head swings from side to side and then he waves at us to come quickly.
We follow him to the family room in the back of the house. The noise outside is louder now. He yanks the armchair from the far corner and pushes on one of the mahogany wood floorboards. Click-click. The board pops up just enough for him to wiggle his fingers under and pull up a square of connected boards. This can’t be real. We don’t have a hidden room under the house. But there’s now a gapping, black hole in the floor so we must.
He waves at me and when I don’t move fast enough, he grabs my wrist and pulls me. “Go!” All fatherly tenderness evaporates from his touch and he shoves me down beside the hole. “Get in now!” I didn’t know my father could growl. Apparently, there are a lot of things I don’t know.
I squat beside the hole and then swing my legs in, searching for the ladder. I’m not fast enough and Dad gives a hard shove, making me slide off the floor and drop into the darkness on my butt. My heart pounds and relieved tears prick my eyes when I realize how shallow it is. If I stood, the top half of me would be back in the family room. I scoot back, out of the way for the next person.
Someone bangs our front door and rings the doorbell repeatedly. There’s too much shouting outside to tell what anyone is saying.
Mom jumps in with Eva still sucking her bottle. The banging on the door becomes a steady pounding, as if someone is trying to break it down. Mom holds the baby out to me and this time I take her without argument. But Eva doesn’t like me, and her bottle is empty, so she shoves it away and screams. Mom waves at Dad. “Come on.”
He shakes his head. “They know I’m home. They’ll look for me. I’ll give them somewhere else to look. I love you. Stick with the plan.”
More voices join the shouting outside and for a moment the banging stops. Eva swings chubby little arms at Mom and won’t be ignored. She must be scared too. I almost drop her when she throws her little body forward with another scream. She’s desperate to be in Mom’s arms. We both are.
Dad points to Eva. “Hon, you’ve got to keep her quiet or they’ll find all of you. Make her stop.”
Mom takes Eva but it’s too late. Eva has already worked herself into a baby frenzy, screaming and bouncing in Mom’s arms. I think she wants out of the dark hole too. I don’t blame her. “Eva will give us away. She doesn’t know to be quiet.”
Someone pounds on the door. Dad’s voice never sounded so harsh. “We’re out of time! If they get us all, the plans fail. Make Eva be quiet!”
Suddenly, Mom sets Eva beside her feet and unclasps the heart shaped locket she’d started wearing the year before. As she fastens it around my neck, I feel her warm breath on my ear. “Stay here and be quiet until you’re sure they’re gone. And then find River.” Glass shatters.
She kisses my cheek. “I love you.” She scoops the screaming Eva into her arms and stands.
Dad helps her out of the hole. “Are you sure?”
Mom’s voice is calm and unbroken. “She can do this. Let’s find another place to hide.”
I’m alone with the lingering fragrance of her shampoo. I’m too scared to move so I just watch as the piece of floor closes over me. The chair slides back in place and their footsteps rush away.
They leave me.
My heart races and I can’t sit still. I want to run. I want to scream. I need to get out of this hole! I crawl to where the opening had been. I lift my hands and place palms against the cool wood to lift it and run to my parents. People are in the house. Running, shouting, throwing things. Mom said to stay here and be quiet until they were gone.
I lower my arms and take shallow breaths as I slide backward until my back finds the furthest wall from the opening. The floor is cool through my jeans. As I listen to people tear my home apart, I take a deep breath, searching for the scent of Mom. All I smell now is dust.
The noise leaves my house, but I still hear faint popping outside, screams, shouting, and an unfamiliar rumbling. How long should I stay down here? Mom said stay here until they’re gone. Did she mean gone from the house or until they were gone from our neighborhood? How will I know? How long should I wait? What plans was Dad talking about? What river does Mom want me to find? Why did she give me her locket? It weighs heavy around my neck and I keep touching it, stroking it, fiddling with it.
The hole gets cold and I’m tired. How long has it been? I haven’t heard anything in forever but I’m too scared to climb out of my hole. I lay down and let myself cry quietly.
I wake up and everything hurts. It even hurts to move, so I ease myself to sitting and listen. It’s still quiet. I push against my ceiling, trying to find the spot that opens but nothing moves. I push harder and crawl on my knees, trying different spots. It doesn’t budge. I’m trapped! I’ll die down here all alone! What if no one comes for me? How will I get out? I push harder.
I stand, bent over, and press my back against my low ceiling but nothing moves. I walk, bent over with my back sliding against the wood, pressing here and there as I go, trying to find the spot that opens. Ouch! There’s a handle close to the wall. Then I remember. Dad had pushed down and there was a click-click before it popped up a tiny bit. I pull on the handle and hear a click. When I let go, it clicks again and moves. I press and easily pop the square of wood out. I squint against the bright light pouring in from the family room windows.
I climb out slowly but there is no one home. I search the entire house. The longer I look, the harder it is to keep back tears. I stop trying when I get to Eva’s room. It’s all Eva’s fault that I’m alone. She wouldn’t shut up! I pick up a pink elephant with a worn-out trunk. Eva won’t go to sleep without her fist wrapped tight around that trunk. This elephant should be with Eva. How will she sleep? Eva needs her elephant! My chest is tight and tears race from my eyes like a flood. I can’t stop crying and I can’t even do it quietly.
I curl up beside Eva’s crib and hug her elephant as I sob. Where is my baby sister?
I sleep. I wake up and take the elephant to the kitchen. I need to put something in my stomach to stop the growling. When I’m done eating the tasteless cereal, I go lay on Mom and Dad’s bed, hugging the elephant. I sleep. I cry. I sleep. It’s dark again. I cry in the dark and get under the covers.
In the morning I wonder if it was a dream but I’m in Mom’s bed and I can hardly open my swollen eyes. It was real.
They’re gone.
What’s the point of forcing myself out of bed? Will I see anything different than what I saw yesterday?
They’re all gone.
Why do my heavy lungs keep dragging air in and out of my body? I must choose to sit, to stand, to walk, so why can’t I simply tell my heart to stop beating?
I let my mind replay the events and try to make sense of it all. There was a plan. Mom and Dad knew this would happen. They had a place to hide. Dad said something about the plan. Mom gave me her locket, kissed me, told me she loved me. I roll to my back and lift the locket. I don’t want to take it off, but I want to get a better look.
It’s gold with flowers on the front and a tiny clasp on one side of the heart. I unclasp it and swing the miniature door open. I expect to see a picture of me and Eva or Dad or… someone important. But it just looks like paper, folded tight and stuffed inside. Weird. I don’t want to rip it so I’m careful as I unfold it.
It says “River” at the top with an address underneath. Mom had said to “find river” but I thought she was talking about a river, not a person. I sit up. There's a plan. I need to find River. Now I know where to look. I put the locket back on and race to my room for a backpack. I fill it with food, a jacket, a flashlight, and one pink elephant.
About the Creator
S.R. Luviek
S.R. Luviek lives on the West Coast. She served in the U.S. Army as an Air Traffic Controller before continuing her education in the fields of psychology, creative writing, and teaching.
Learn more at www.DauntedNoMore.com
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