the grim-faced men filing in and out.
Finally, after
several endless hours with no clue as to her son’s whereabouts, the search and
rescue leader had prevailed upon her to go home. “We’re going to find him,” the
man had said—Julie was so stressed and upset she never even asked him his
name—“and when we find him, you’re going to have to be able to take care of
him. You won’t be able to do that if you’re exhausted. Go get some rest; we’ll
call you the minute we know anything.”
And Julie had
allowed Matt to walk her to the Jeep and drive away from the old Tonopah Mine
without her son. She wanted to scream at them all, to tell them there was no
way in holy hell she was going to be able to rest until Tim was back home where
he belonged. She wouldn’t be able to sleep, she wouldn’t be able to rest, she
wouldn’t be able to eat. She just simply would not be able to do it.
But she didn’t
scream at them, didn’t do much of anything, in fact. Matt strapped her into the
passenger’s seat and drove home, the Jeep bouncing and jolting along the old
rutted path just as it had done on the way in.
She walked into
the house, her insides simultaneously empty and filled with fear. What if the
searchers never found Tim? What if her son simply disappeared, just as those
miners supposedly had a hundred years ago, lost forever without a trace? What
if that happened?
***
The moment she entered the house,
Julie crossed the living room and walked straight down the short hallway to
Tim’s room. She had to sit on his bed, to smell his pillow, hold one of his
T-shirts in her hands. She had to. It was a visceral need. She needed to
feel her son’s presence and convince herself of his existence and that she really
was going to see him again.
She opened his
bedroom door and her breath caught in her throat.
Lying unmoving on
the bed, staring up at her with unblinking eyes, was Tim McKenna.
***
He was filthy. Dirt and dust
covered his clothing. It was smeared through his hair and on every inch of
exposed skin. His sneakers, formerly white, were now a dull brown. The pillow
behind his head had morphed from white to brown as well, and so had the bed
covers under Tim’s prone body.
Julie crossed the
room to his bed, sobbing without realizing she was doing so, and leaned down to
hug her son. He stiffened slightly but otherwise did not move. He didn’t cry or
laugh or return her hug. He lay on the bed, staring at nothing.
Julie leaned back,
her eyes wet with tears, and gazed into the face of her son. “Thank God you’re
okay,” she said. “What were you thinking going out to that awful mine,
especially all by yourself?”
He didn’t respond.
Julie turned and
saw Matt standing in the doorway. He was watching with a look on his face that
Julie could not decipher. “We need to let the searchers know he’s okay . . .”
He nodded. “I’ll
make the call,” he said, and retreated down the hallway toward the phone in the
kitchen.
“Look at you,” she
fretted. “Are you all right? Do you need a doctor?”
“I’m fine,” Tim
answered, and his voice sounded somehow . . . muted. Unlike his normal voice. Almost
inhuman, she thought, and quickly pushed the notion away. Where had that
come from?
Julie realized
with a start that those were the first words her normally gregarious son had
spoken since she walked into his room. Well, of course he’s a little off.
He’s been through a terrible ordeal. He’ll be okay. He just needs some rest and
then he’ll be himself again.
4
Matt watched as Tim McKenna sat in
the stuffed chair in front of the big-screen TV in the living room, answering
questions from Tonopah Police detectives while his mother hovered protectively
a few feet away. The chair was normally reserved for Matt, but this afternoon
Julie had commandeered it for Tim to use during the police interview. The boy
was small and the chair was large; it looked as though he was in the process
Finally, after
several endless hours with no clue as to her son’s whereabouts, the search and
rescue leader had prevailed upon her to go home. “We’re going to find him,” the
man had said—Julie was so stressed and upset she never even asked him his
name—“and when we find him, you’re going to have to be able to take care of
him. You won’t be able to do that if you’re exhausted. Go get some rest; we’ll
call you the minute we know anything.”
And Julie had
allowed Matt to walk her to the Jeep and drive away from the old Tonopah Mine
without her son. She wanted to scream at them all, to tell them there was no
way in holy hell she was going to be able to rest until Tim was back home where
he belonged. She wouldn’t be able to sleep, she wouldn’t be able to rest, she
wouldn’t be able to eat. She just simply would not be able to do it.
But she didn’t
scream at them, didn’t do much of anything, in fact. Matt strapped her into the
passenger’s seat and drove home, the Jeep bouncing and jolting along the old
rutted path just as it had done on the way in.
She walked into
the house, her insides simultaneously empty and filled with fear. What if the
searchers never found Tim? What if her son simply disappeared, just as those
miners supposedly had a hundred years ago, lost forever without a trace? What
if that happened?
***
The moment she entered the house,
Julie crossed the living room and walked straight down the short hallway to
Tim’s room. She had to sit on his bed, to smell his pillow, hold one of his
T-shirts in her hands. She had to. It was a visceral need. She needed to
feel her son’s presence and convince herself of his existence and that she really
was going to see him again.
She opened his
bedroom door and her breath caught in her throat.
Lying unmoving on
the bed, staring up at her with unblinking eyes, was Tim McKenna.
***
He was filthy. Dirt and dust
covered his clothing. It was smeared through his hair and on every inch of
exposed skin. His sneakers, formerly white, were now a dull brown. The pillow
behind his head had morphed from white to brown as well, and so had the bed
covers under Tim’s prone body.
Julie crossed the
room to his bed, sobbing without realizing she was doing so, and leaned down to
hug her son. He stiffened slightly but otherwise did not move. He didn’t cry or
laugh or return her hug. He lay on the bed, staring at nothing.
Julie leaned back,
her eyes wet with tears, and gazed into the face of her son. “Thank God you’re
okay,” she said. “What were you thinking going out to that awful mine,
especially all by yourself?”
He didn’t respond.
Julie turned and
saw Matt standing in the doorway. He was watching with a look on his face that
Julie could not decipher. “We need to let the searchers know he’s okay . . .”
He nodded. “I’ll
make the call,” he said, and retreated down the hallway toward the phone in the
kitchen.
“Look at you,” she
fretted. “Are you all right? Do you need a doctor?”
“I’m fine,” Tim
answered, and his voice sounded somehow . . . muted. Unlike his normal voice. Almost
inhuman, she thought, and quickly pushed the notion away. Where had that
come from?
Julie realized
with a start that those were the first words her normally gregarious son had
spoken since she walked into his room. Well, of course he’s a little off.
He’s been through a terrible ordeal. He’ll be okay. He just needs some rest and
then he’ll be himself again.
4
Matt watched as Tim McKenna sat in
the stuffed chair in front of the big-screen TV in the living room, answering
questions from Tonopah Police detectives while his mother hovered protectively
a few feet away. The chair was normally reserved for Matt, but this afternoon
Julie had commandeered it for Tim to use during the police interview. The boy
was small and the chair was large; it looked as though he was in the process
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