Free Stranded by Alice Sharpe

of blankets and a comic book lay abandoned on the “bed.”
    “Is he in there?” Lynda called.
    Alex retraced his steps. “No.”
    “Aren’t you worried about him?” Jessica asked. “It’s very foggy outside and he was on a bike.”
    “You don’t have any kids do you?” Lynda snapped.
    “Not yet,” Jessica said, as her hand seemed to automatically cradle her abdomen.
    “Do yourself a favor and skip it. You got yourself a good-looking guy here. Kind of scrawny for my taste, but a hunk anyway. Why mess up a good thing with a bunch of little brats running around? And try getting rid of them when they finally grow up. Look at Billy. He’s a full-grown man no matter what people think and I’m still supposed to provide a roof over his head.”
    Alex saw anger flash in Jessica’s eyes, but she held her tongue.
    “Anyway, maybe he got tired and stopped at a friend’s house.”
    “What friend?” Alex asked. “Can you give us a name?”
    “That mechanic at the airfield. Tony something.”
    “Tony Machi?”
    “I guess. Billy thinks he can learn by osmosis. That’ll be the day. Or maybe those look-alike kids.”
    “What are their names?” Alex asked.
    “I don’t know. Who cares?”
    “Did you call around or go look for him?” Jessica asked.
    “How would I do that?” Lynda said. “I don’t have a single car that runs. You’d think that worthless son of mine could get one of them to start, but no, he just tinkers and tinkers and nothing ever gets fixed. He better get home soon. There’s nothing in this dump to eat.”
    “Maybe you aren’t worried, but I am,” Jessica said calmly. “Do either of you know where this Tony lives?”
    “I can find out,” Alex said.
    Lynda shrugged again. “I don’t go into town anymore.” When she abruptly threw up her hands, one grazed a box to her side. The others jiggled and swayed in a rippling effect that seemed to spread across the top layer from one side of the room to the other like a small tsunami. “Billy will be fine. Stop your bellyaching,” she said as she ignored the threatening box over her head.
    And that wavering tower was just one of dozens, crowding around the room like soldiers on the warpath, determined to take over the house. It was a miracle she could survive in this environment. Maybe he needed to talk to social services Monday morning because if ever a house was a fire and health risk, this place was it. For now, he hitched his hands on his waist. “If you aren’t worried about Billy, why did you call Chief Smyth?”
    Her answer came in a begrudging voice. “Because I heard a noise out back. It woke me up.”
    “What kind of noise?” What he really wanted to know was why she felt free to call Chief Smyth in the middle of the night about something that should have gone through the dispatch desk.
    “Someone was out there, probably trying to steal something. I turned on a light and the noise stopped. As long as you’re here, you might as well go take a look. But don’t touch anything.”
    “Okay,” he said, determined not to roll his eyes, which was what he wanted to do. The house smelled—how did Jessica keep from heaving? She must not have morning sickness. Still, he touched her arm. “Maybe you should come outside while I look around,” he said figuring she was safer out there with a potential burglar than in here.
    “I’ll be fine,” she said, sidling away from the teetering stack of boxes.
    “You can’t get outside through the kitchen door,” Lynda said. “It’s blocked. You’ll have to go out the front way and walk around.”
    With a last glance at Jessica, he stepped outside where a deep breath of fresh, damp air reinvigorated him. He dug a small but intense flashlight out of his pocket to help thread his way through the yard, which was almost as cluttered as the inside of the house. Evidence of Billy’s automotive endeavors littered the path as three cars that looked as if they hadn’t moved in a decade stood