The Children of the Lost Read online

“How so?” asked Frank.

  “For example,” Chloe spoke up, glancing first at Dr. Carrini as though seeking his permission to explain this part. After he nodded, she went on. “Justin tells Edie, ‘I remember a party.’ A party is a very common occurrence in a child’s life, so he might have been remembering his own party, or he might have been remembering one he saw on TV.”

  I nodded. “Okay. And?”

  “Edie becomes excited,” Chloe went on, “and gives Justin some nonverbal cues that he’s on the right track. Smiling, nodding, that sort of thing. Then she says something along the lines of, ‘What color balloons were there?’ That tells him there were balloons, so he chooses a color. Perhaps he’s right, or perhaps he chooses the wrong color but Edie corrects him—incorrectly interpreting that at least he remembered there were balloons.”

  I nodded. “Okay. But—”

  Dr. Carrini held up his hand. “Then,” he added, “the boy begins to focus on this false memory of a party with purple balloons. The more he thinks about it, the more he believes it really happened and that he was there. You boys might have experienced something similar at some time. Can you tell me about your first birthday party, for example?”

  “Sure,” I replied. “There were red balloons and a fire-engine cake. My aunt Trudy ate too much and got sick.”

  Dr. Carrini smiled. “Well, it might interest you to know that there’s no way you could truly remember that. It’s extremely rare for people to remember anything before the age of three—it’s unheard of before the age of two. They call it infant amnesia.”

  I frowned. “Then why do I know the details?”

  Chloe spoke up again. “You’ve probably seen pictures of the party your whole life, and your family has told you enough stories about what happened that you believe you remember,” she explained. “But you don’t really remember. You’re just parroting what you’ve been told.”

  Frank was nodding slowly. “Interesting,” he said. “And you think this is happening with Justin?”

  Dr. Carrini sighed. “Look at what he’s recalled so far. A birthday party with balloons. A camping trip with hot dogs. All very common scenes. Perhaps he’s really recalling them, or perhaps—”

  “He’s just saying what people seem to want him to say,” I finished.

  It was a disappointing thought, but I had to admit, when Dr. Carrini explained it, it sounded possible. Although, the details Justin had produced for the Barney party—had Edie really planted those? Or was the memory real?

  As I was pondering this, Jacob walked out of Justin’s room and approached us with a sigh. We looked at him in surprise, and he simply said, “He don’t remember me. Not much point in me being there. I’m gonna run into town for a coffee, cool off a bit.”

  Frank nodded, looking at me. “We should go too.”

  “You boys need a ride?” Jacob offered. I looked at my brother. Jacob had been a little unpredictable before, but he seemed to have calmed down now. Besides . . . there was no denying the emotional difficulty of what he was going through.

  “Sure,” Frank agreed. “That would be really nice of you.”

  We followed Jacob down to the main floor, chatting casually about the weather and how we’d been faring at the campsite.

  “It’s been . . . interesting,” I said, not wanting to get into details about the mystery man or the events of the last couple nights. “You know. It’s beautiful out there.”

  Jacob nodded, leading us out of the building and toward the parking lot. “It was beautiful,” he said quietly. “To me . . . I can’t really see it that way anymore.”

  Of course. All at once, I remembered that Jacob had lost his son near our campsite, and I felt like a dope for calling it beautiful. What could you say to a parent who’d lost their child?

  I didn’t get much time to ponder that, though, because Jacob had stopped—in front of a huge black SUV.

  “You boys can fight over who wants the front seat,” he said, clicking open the doors and grabbing the driver side, “but I control the radio, okay?”

  I grabbed Frank’s arm right before he climbed into the passenger side.

  “We can’t get in this car!”

  Slashed

  “Oh, that’s okay, actually, you know what, I think Frank and I are just going to walk around town,” my brother started spouting as Jacob climbed into his SUV.

  “What?” Jacob asked, climbing out and fixing Joe with an “are you crazy?” look. “I thought you boys were headed back to camp. Anyhow, I’m going into town for a coffee, so I can drop you there.”

  “That’s okay!” Joe insisted, shooting me an urgent look. “We, uh, we need to . . .”

  “We could use the walk,” I filled in. “You know, we uh . . . we had a big lunch. And we need to run some errands in town, so we shouldn’t hold you up.”

  Jacob was still looking at us like we were nuts, but he nodded slowly. “Well . . . all right.” He nodded at us again and climbed back into his car.

  A few minutes later, Joe and I were walking alone down the street toward town. “What was that about?” I asked.

  Joe sighed. “Remember last night?” he asked. “The guy I chased through the woods to the road?”

  That’s when it clicked. “Oh, man—he was driving a black SUV, right?”

  Joe nodded.

  I frowned. “Do you think—you think it really could be Jacob who’s trying to scare us? What would his motive be?”

  Joe shrugged. “I don’t know anything for sure. But if it were Jacob, he definitely knows we’re there and looking into Justin’s disappearance. Maybe he has something to hide. Maybe he wants to stop us from researching Justin’s disappearance—no matter what he has to do to make us stop.”

  I thought this over. “Of course, he thinks we’re only writing a paper. He doesn’t know we’re working with Rich.”

  Joe nodded. “But if he wanted to hide something badly enough, he’d want to stop anyone from learning about it—not just the police.”

  I sighed. “I don’t know what to think anymore. Even if Jacob were involved in Justin’s disappearance, would that tie him to the other kids?”

  Joe shook his head. “I can’t imagine he was involved in all the missing kids’ cases. But maybe being involved in Justin’s case would be enough for him to want us gone.”

  We were quiet for a while, silently trudging toward the town center.

  “One thing’s for sure,” Joe said after a few minutes. “We’ve got to put a call in to ATAC and get some surveillance equipment.”

  “Surveillance equipment?” I asked. “For what?”

  “If our mystery man follows form, tonight’s the night we get L-O-S,” Joe replied.

  “And?” I prompted.

  “Just one more night before we’re L-O-S-T, and then who knows what happens.” Joe stopped in his tracks, giving me a meaningful look. “Tonight’s our last night to figure this out,” he said, “if we don’t want to get hurt.”

  • • •

  A few hours later, Joe and I were back at our campsite with bags of ATAC-supplied surveillance cameras and sound recorders. We got right to work setting them up according to the ATAC-supplied audio instructions that we’d uploaded to our MP3 players. The instructions were pretty simple, actually, and once we had all of our electrical equipment plugged into the two outlets that serviced our campsite, we got so absorbed in the setup process that we were both startled by a familiar voice an hour or so later.

  “What in tarnation is goin’ on here?”

  I turned around from the tree where I was setting up a video camera. “I . . . well.” Farley was watching us with a bemused expression, and I glanced questioningly at my brother. I hadn’t wanted to let on to anyone besides Rich the fact that we were having trouble at our campsite. We really weren’t sure who the mystery man might be, so we didn’t want to reveal that his scare tactics were working.

  Joe gave me a defeated look, though. No use hiding it now. “We’ve had s
ome . . . disturbances in the middle of the night,” he admitted with a shrug. “We thought this equipment might tell us what we’re dealing with.”

  Farley laughed. “Oh, that’s rich, that really is,” he said, smiling a not-entirely-unfriendly smile. “You think a bear is gonna be scared away by a video camera?”

  “Maybe not scared away,” I admitted. “But we can look at the footage in the morning and see who was here. It’s that easy.”

  Farley nodded in an exaggerated way, still clearly amused by us. “In case it’s that Nathan ghost, right?” he asked. “Come to eat your brains?”

  When neither my brother nor I responded, Farley smiled again and held up his hands in a conciliatory gesture. “Never mind. It don’t matter. That camera you’re tryin’ to put up, though, boy—you gotta move it. That tree’s not going to support the weight of that thing.”

  Before I could reply, Farley had taken the camera from me and was looking around for a better spot. “Here, on top of this rock. You can fasten it to the tree trunk right next to it. Let me.”

  I glanced at Joe. We weren’t really sure of Farley’s intentions—so I wasn’t entirely comfortable with him handling our equipment. He seemed to know what he was doing, though, so I kept a close eye on him, helping him where I could.

  Within another ten minutes, we were all set up.

  “There you go,” Farley announced, admiring his handiwork. “All ready for America’s Funniest Middle of the Night Wildlife Home Videos.”

  “Ha-ha,” Joe replied dryly, but he wore a reluctant smile. “What brought you to our campsite today, Farley? Just feeling social?”

  Farley shook his head. “As it happens, I was checkin’ on you boys.” His face turned serious and he went on. “Because a bear’s been spotted just a mile or so upriver. Big grizzly bear—a male. I wanted to make sure you two were okay and warn you to be ’specially careful tonight.” He glanced at the cameras. “I guess you boys were way ahead of me.”

  “A bear?” I asked. “Do you think he might head up here?”

  Farley shrugged. “It’s possible,” he replied. “Just make sure you put up all your food tonight. And if you hear”—he scowled—“noises tonight, you just be cautious, okay? Don’t go chargin’ out there with your Proton Packs or whatever, ready to capture a ghost. Because you might just be angerin’ a hungry bear.”

  Joe looked at me, confused. “Proton Packs?”

  “I think it’s something from the movie Ghost-busters,” I stage-whispered back to him.

  Farley nodded. “You’ll have to forgive me,” he said with a wry smile. “I’m a little behind on my movie references. Now if you’ll excuse me, boys, I got a camp full of campers to warn.” He walked a few steps away, then turned and nodded at the two of us. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll come back and check on you two in the morning.”

  With that, he turned and slowly disappeared into the woods, leaving Joe and me alone—or so we hoped.

  • • •

  That night was the worst yet. While Joe was on the first watch, a huge thunderstorm broke out. He didn’t even have to wake me for my shift—an earsplitting crash of lightning did it for him. We huddled in the tent for a moment, listening to the woods gone wild around us.

  “Anything weird?” I asked, a little afraid of how my brother might reply.

  He sighed. “I can’t be sure,” he said finally. “I heard moaning—I could’ve sworn it was a human being. But more likely, it was just the wind through the trees.”

  I nodded. “Any footsteps?”

  Joe shook his head. “Nothing like that—yet.”

  Joe crawled into his sleeping bag, and I picked up my flashlight and magazine, though I doubted I was going to be able to focus for long. I was sure Joe would be up tossing and turning, but after a few minutes, his breath turned even and slow, and I knew he was asleep. We were both probably still exhausted from the night before.

  For a while there were just the sounds of the storm—thunder crashing, wind howling, and rain pounding down. I tried to hear the noises just for what they were, the sounds of nature, but it was hard not to hear voices in the wind or shouts in the crashes of thunder.

  After about half an hour, a new sound started up that made my heart pound even harder. Sobbing—it sounded like a woman sobbing. First it came from the direction of the river, then it disappeared for a few minutes, then it started up behind me from the direction of the woods.

  I struggled to hear the wind in the noise or something natural—the tail end of the thunder or a sound from the river. But I couldn’t hear anything but the sounds of a woman crying.

  I stood and, as quietly as I could, scooted over to the tent’s door. As soon as I started unzipping the entrance, I heard another sound—our pots and pans, which we’d secured in the aluminum cooler. Someone was banging them together, trying to make noise!

  I quickly unzipped the tent and, scared as I was, peered out into the slicing rain. But immediately, the noises stopped—all except for the wind and rain. I looked around our campsite, which was damp and windswept, but beyond that, nothing was out of place. Our fire pit was undisturbed. Our cooler was still closed, and nothing appeared to be out of place.

  Getting wet, I zipped our tent back up and ran a hand through my damp hair. Breathing hard, waiting for my heartbeat to calm down, I picked up my magazine and flashlight. Within ten minutes, I heard the sobbing sound again, and the banging sound soon after. Each time I opened the tent to check outside, though, I saw nothing—and our campsite was just as we’d left it hours before.

  As scientific and logical as I usually am, my mind wandered to the supposed Misty Falls ghost, Nathan. What else could make those noises but leave no signs? I knew there had to be another explanation, though. I knew it. Thank goodness we’d rigged up the surveillance equipment that afternoon—I couldn’t wait to see what it showed.

  Though I was sure there had to be some logical explanation, I was too tense and uncomfortable to relax during my whole shift. Sometimes the noises would come very close to the tent, like they were just feet away. I always stiffened, sure we were about to be invaded by some otherworldly being. Then the sounds would shift and move to the other side of the camp, yards from the tent. For hours, I tried in vain to get even a page read in my magazine.

  When Joe’s shift came around, I woke him eagerly. The storm had died down a bit, and the noises were less frequent. I was even beginning to wonder if I was imagining them now. Still, it was a huge relief to crawl back into my sleeping bag with Joe on the case. I didn’t think there was any way I’d relax enough to fall asleep, but the next thing I knew, the sun woke me up.

  Literally. I was woken by the sun shining right in my eyes. I squinted, trying to block the light with my hand, then turning onto my side. It was only after a few minutes that I realized the sun wasn’t supposed to shine in our tent. I jumped up, turning toward the source of the light—and all the breath left my lungs.

  Joe’s sleeping bag lay there, empty.

  And the sunlight was coming in through a hole someone had slashed in the tent right above his sleeping bag.

  “JOE!!!!”

  Good-byes

  My brother came tearing out of the tent before I could even respond to his scream. “Joe?” he was shouting. “Joe! JOE!”

  “I’m right here, Frank,” I said, raising a hand from where I stood next to a fallen video camera. “Calm down. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you by leaving the tent.”

  Frank looked at me, and all the tension in his face drained away. He sighed deeply, then shook his head. “What’s going on?” he asked.

  I gestured around to the cameras and recording equipment we’d so carefully set up the night before. “I guess the real question is, what happened last night?” I asked. “And the answer is, we’ll never know.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Frank, coming closer.

  “I mean we didn’t get a single second of footage,” I replied. “All of these
cameras failed. The audio recording equipment, too. After that crazy night, we have nothing.” I gestured to the ground in front of the tent. “Except that.”

  Scrawled in the dirt in front of the tent opening were the familiar letters: LOS.

  Frank sighed again. “They were definitely here,” he murmured. Suddenly seeming to remember something, he turned to face me. “What about the hole in the tent?” he asked. “Were you awake when that happened?”

  I nodded. “That’s what brought me back to the tent,” I explained. “I was outside at the time, investigating a noise, when I heard a knife slashing through the tent fabric. I came running back.”

  Frank’s eyes widened. “Did you see the guy?”

  “No,” I admitted with a sigh, “but I must have startled him enough to make him drop this.”

  I picked up a knife from the ground and held it out to Frank. It was a large hunting knife with a bone handle.

  “I’m sure we can pass it on to Rich,” I said, “and he can test it for fingerprints or DNA or whatever . . .”

  But Frank was shaking his head. “No,” he said slowly, staring at the knife. Finally he looked up at me. “This looks familiar.”

  I was quiet for a minute, waiting for Frank to remember how he recognized the knife. He frowned, thinking hard, when suddenly I remembered . . .

  “Farley!” I cried.

  Frank nodded. “When he took us on the tour, the second site . . .”

  I nodded, too. “He took out a knife and started cutting through the brush! It was a big hunting knife, just like this. And it had—”

  Frank smiled. “A white handle. Just like this one.”

  I took a deep breath. “Wow. Do you really think . . . ?”

  “And Farley helped us set up some of these last night,” Frank pointed out, gesturing around to the cameras and recording devices. “Coincidentally, we didn’t get any footage. Maybe . . .”

  “Maybe he sabotaged them in some way?” I finished, thinking that over. “It’s definitely possible. I tried to keep an eye on Farley yesterday, but if he knew what he was doing, he definitely could have done something to mess up the whole system.”