There’s no war. Harold, he pretended all these years to be your father, when your real father and mother were searching everywhere for you. Claire stepped closer, cautiously reaching out to touch Joshua’s hand.
The boy flinched initially, but didn’t pull away, allowing the contact. It was as though some deep buried memory was stirring within him, responding to his mother’s touch. The paramedics moved in, wrapping Joshua in a shock blanket and guiding him toward the ambulance.
Claire followed closely, unwilling to let her son out of her sight again. Ethan watched them go, his heart pounding with a mixture of shock, joy and disbelief. One of the officers approached him.
Sir, we need to ask you and your wife some questions, but first let’s get your injuries treated. Ethan nodded numbly, his gaze fixed on the ambulance where his long-lost son was being examined. After eight years of searching, of hoping against hope, Joshua had been just across the street the entire time.
The following hours passed in a blur for Ethan. Paramedics cleaned and bandaged the cut above his eye and examined his bruised ribs, concluding that nothing was broken. Physically, he would recover quickly.
Emotionally, he was still processing the miraculous turn of events. In the back of the ambulance, Joshua sat wrapped in blankets, answering basic questions from both medical personnel and police officers. The boy’s confusion was evident.
His entire worldview had been shattered in a matter of minutes. When Ethan approached, Joshua regarded him with a mixture of wariness and curiosity. Claire sat beside their son, not touching him, but close enough to offer comfort if he wanted it.
How are you feeling? Ethan asked gently, careful not to overwhelm him. Joshua shrugged, his eyes darting between Ethan and the officers nearby. I don’t know, he admitted.
Everything’s different than what Dad, I mean Harold, told me. One of the officers, a kind-faced woman who had introduced herself as Detective Martinez, sat across from Joshua with a notepad. Joshua, I know this is confusing, but can you tell us a little about what it was like living with Harold? Did he ever hurt you? Joshua shook his head.
He was just training me really hard, physical training and recently how to use the gun. He paused, frowning. He said I needed to learn to protect myself for when he wasn’t there anymore.
He said the war would last a long time, told me to hide deep in the bunker because things got worse out there. Do you know what year it is, Joshua? Detective Martinez asked gently. The boy hesitated.
Dad, Harold, said it doesn’t matter down there. Time works differently during wartime. It’s 2007, the detective informed him.
You’ve been missing for eight years. Do you remember anything about where you lived before the bunker? Joshua’s brow furrowed in concentration. I, I don’t know.
I’ve been in the bunker for as long as I can remember. Harold said it was too dangerous outside because of the war. He looked around at the peaceful, if snowy, neighborhood.
But there is no war, is there? No, Ethan confirmed softly. There’s no war. There never was.
From the police car where Harold was being held, they could see him watching them, his expression unreadable. Another officer approached the ambulance. We found something interesting in the bunker, he reported.
It’s fully stocked with supplies, food, water, medical equipment. There’s a generator, air filtration system, even educational materials. And we found several silent firearms, just as the boy mentioned.
Detective Martinez nodded. Sounds like he was prepared for a long stay down there. She turned back to Joshua.
Did Harold ever let you leave the bunker? Joshua shook his head. Never. He said it was too dangerous.
He went out for supplies sometimes and said he was helping other people who were hiding from the war. He told me that when I was old enough, I could help him. Ethan’s mind reeled at the implications.
Harold had kept Joshua imprisoned for eight years, constructing an elaborate lie about a fictional war to keep him compliant and afraid to leave. The dog, Ethan said suddenly, remembering what had started this chain of events. He bought the German Shepherd to guard the entrance to the bunker, didn’t he? And he was building the larger doghouse to better conceal the trapdoor…
Обсуждение закрыто.