Free Alex by Adam J Nicolai Page B

think of that.   Please think -"
    "Daddy, where are you?"
    "Alex."   There was nothing he could do.   He was as powerless now as he had been then.   What had he been doing while his son screamed for him?   Had he been sleeping, in bed?   Making love to his wife?   Watching Law & Order?   "Alex... is there a light?"
    Alex's head snapped up, as if he'd heard a sudden noise.
    "There's a light.   Right?   Somewhere, by you, you see a light?   And you have to go into it.   Okay, Alex?   Do you hear me?   Go into that light.   Grandma is there -"
    Alex rolled to the wall, put his back against it, staggered to a stand despite his taped hands and feet.  
    "- and the bad man isn't, the bad man's not there.   The light is safe from him.   Okay?"
    He was staring at the far wall, eyes wide.
    "Alex, god, please listen.   Find the light.   Okay?   Find the light."
    " No! "   he shrieked.   He started hopping toward the hallway.   It was pathetic, gangly.   "No!   No!   Leave me alone!
    " Daddy! "
    He limped out of sight around the corner.   His door slammed.
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    Ian fell like an untied balloon, sent whizzing around the room until it collapses to the floor, empty.   He had nothing left.   He couldn't move.   A boulder had pinned him to the earth.
    He wondered if Alex had found a light.   He wondered if there was such a thing.   He wondered if he would go to hell for telling his tormented son to look for something he himself did not believe in.  
    And he wished there was a heaven.   He wished that harder than he had ever wished anything in his life.
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    He woke a little after 2 am, his face raw from chafing against the carpet, his head throbbing like he had torn it in half.   Groaning, he climbed to all fours and then to a stand.  
    He stumbled to the bathroom, thinking to pee, and ended up collapsing to his knees and spewing his modest dinner into the toilet.  
    When he finished, he held his breath and listened.  
    The furnace kicking on.   The house settling.   An autumn wind tugging at the windows.  
    Nothing else.
    The toilet flushed like thunder in the silence.   His upper lip was crusted with dried snot; he scrubbed it off and rinsed his mouth several times.   In the mirror he saw a haggard, red-eyed madman.
    His son's door was still closed as he stepped out of the bathroom.   He left it that way, and went to bed.
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    The alarm went off at seven, sawing at his ears like a cheese grater.   He hit the snooze button and repeated the process nine minutes later.   Then again.   Then again.   
    At 7:30 he staggered into the living room and called in sick.   He was lucky enough to get Justin's voicemail.   That was good.   He didn't want to talk to him.
    He thought about going back to bed, but knew it wouldn't do any good.   He stayed on the couch instead, staring blankly at the TV as the curtains over the windows slowly started glowing with daylight.  
    Justin would be pissed when he got the voicemail.   Wonder if I'll still have a job on Monday.   Ian remembered Billi telling him to look into FMLA.   Maybe if he qualified for that, Justin wouldn't be able to fire him.   He idly considered Googling it, but that would mean going downstairs.  
    His listless gaze strayed away from the jumble of images on the TV to the hallway, half expecting to find Alex there, but it was empty.   For both of their sakes, he hoped the boy was gone.    
    Some channel was playing an all-day marathon of the Simpsons' Halloween shows, and he realized dully that Halloween was Sunday already.   Gotta get some candy.   He remembered Alex's first Halloween, and how amazed he and Alina had been that the kid seemed to know exactly what to do.   His mastery of the phrase "Trick or Treat" had come faster than "I'm hungry" or "I love you".   After two houses had given him candy, he was running to the next one.
    He shook off the memory, stood up, and went to make breakfast.
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    At Target,