Seventeenth Dawn

1) Search Party

Casey

I rub crusty sleep from red-rimmed eyes and open the door with pale, nimble fingers. It is either very early in the morning or very late at night, and the entire ambiance around me feels off-kilter. Everything began to spiral downhill when the clear sound of the doorbell struck through the house not twenty seconds ago. I yawn to the torrential downpour tormenting the land beyond the comfort of my home, and peer down at the couple standing one step below on the porch, clutching each other with tears in their eyes. "Oh, Casey, it's awful!" Mrs. Duran exclaims, throwing her small, browned hands in the air with a flourish of her stocky fingers. She chokes on tears and the taller, more reserved Mr. Duran, who speaks little English, clutches his wife tenderly.

"Please," I say, stepping back and pulling the door wide open for them, "come in. What happened?"

"Our Benjamin missing!" Mrs. Duran weeps.

"Take a seat in the living room. I'll go wake Uncle Victor. Please, try to calm down and gather all the details you can," I say. On my way up the stairs, passing the small, diamond-shaped window resting oddly in the wall next to the staircase about halfway up, I can't help but wonder if the sky is grieving for the Durans' loss as well. They certainly are both shedding a similar number of tears. "Uncle Victor! Benny's missing!" Normally I would knock, but this sort of urgency makes simple courtesies seem much less important. The large man rolls over in his bed, up on his feet in a second as if he hadn't been sleeping at all. He follows me back down the carpeted stairs, his broad shoulders rubbing either wall and his great feet clomping noisily along.

Many who see Uncle Vic for the first time are frightened, but those who know him value his kindness and generosity, for he is simply a big sweetheart. His personality constantly strikes me as unique because not many men serve as a U.S. Marine and still maintain great gentleness and altruism. With massive muscles and an even bigger heart, Uncle Vic is the person anyone in this town comes to in a crisis.

"You can go back to bed, if you want, Casey."

"I'll make tea first," I reply, wide awake now.

Uncle Vic sits down with the Durans as I hustle into the kitchen and start the tea kettle. "He was out late with friends last night. We told him it was okay, long as he be back by three this morning. We have tradition of singing to Benjamin at three twenty-two. He born at this time, you see. We went in there, but no Benjamin! We trust Benjamin very much. He no run away."

I turn off the kettle when steam begins to billow out, smothering the whistle before its shrill screech disturbs the solemn mood, and I think about how Rick Mayern, another classmate of mine, went missing just a month ago. Nobody thought much of it, as he's known to disappear from time to time and return with glassy eyes and carefree mannerisms--but never for more than a few days.

I pour the tea and continue thinking the worst as Uncle Vic tries to comfort the distraught couple.

"Here you go," I say, setting steaming mugs on the coffee table in front of them. "He'll be home safe," I assure them, not mentioning my suspicions, and bid them good night. Back in bed, I call my best friend Daniel Oswald.

His groggy, "Hello? Casey?" comes after several rings. "What's so important you had to call in the middle of the night?"

"Benny Duran is missing. And I think it might be connected to Rick's disappearance."

"Wait, Benny is missing? When did this happen?"

"Sometime last night. Drive over here. I'll fill you in on everything when you get here. But first, what do you know about Rick Mayern's disappearance?"