The Rampart Guards

Chapter One

The Disappearance 

Jason stopped at the kitchen doorway and watched mom stare out the window, her lips moving like she was counting the snowflakes. 

He took a deep breath. "G'morning." 

She didn't respond.

"So, I'll see you and Dad at the basketball game this afternoon?" Jason ducked into the mudroom. He grabbed his uniform and sniffed it. Clean enough. He stuffed it in his backpack.

Dad refilled his coffee. "We wouldn't miss it for the world." He smiled and blew on the steam rising from his cup. 

Jason could always count on Dad. Mom, not so much anymore. 

"Right, Adrienne?"

She didn't answer. 

"Adrienne?"

Mom jerked like someone had snuck up behind her. "Oh. No. No, I won't be there. I need to be here."

Jason huffed. "Why?" He snatched up an orange and shoved it in his pack. "What's so important here? Will the house fall down without you or something?"

Dad stepped close to Mom and leaned his head toward hers. "Honey, please don't miss another game. The coach is really impressed with Jason. I have to admit, he's got skills." Dad winked at Jason. "Come tonight. Show your support."

"No. I can't." She shuffled away from Dad. "You understand. Don't you, Jason?"

He shook his head. "Sure. Whatever." Jason moved toward the doorway. After weeks of her weirdness, he was over it.

"Wait. Do you have your lunch?" Mom reached for the refrigerator door. The handle zapped her and she yanked her arm back. "Damn static electricity." She stuck her finger in her mouth.

Jason rolled his eyes. "Okay. Well, I already have my lunch." He walked out of the kitchen and yelled upstairs. "Della—let's go."

Jason's younger sister bounded down, her blonde curls springing on her shoulders. She ran toward the front door.

"Kinda hard to walk you to school if you don't wait for me." Jason quick-stepped to catch her. "And I don't remember fourth grade being so great that I'd hurry to get there."

"My fourth grade is better than your fourth grade." Della put on her coat and scooted out the door, her pink and black backpack rolling behind her.

***

After the game, Jason bolted into the house, Dad, Della, and older brother Kyle close behind.

"Mom, we won." Jason rushed into the living room, the kitchen. No Mom. The office. No Mom. The back patio. No Mom. He looked at Dad. "I thought she had to stay home tonight?"

Dad picked up a note lying on the entryway table. He read it aloud. "On a walk. Be back later. Love, Mom." He crumpled it and walked into the kitchen. Jason, Della and Kyle followed. 

"She goes for walks, like, every day. By herself. She never used to do that." Jason wiped his neck with the towel draped over his shoulder.

Dad tossed the note in the recycling bin.

"Yeah, why doesn't she take us on walks anymore?" Della asked.

"Because she doesn't like us anymore." Kyle talked like he knew the answer to everything. Apparently starting high school did that to you.

"Kyle, that is not true." Dad turned to Della. "She loves you all very much. There are just things . . . she's had a lot on her mind lately."

"Like what?" Jason chugged from his water bottle. The chill iced his throat. 

"Grown-up things. Nothing for you guys to worry about." Dad took a pan out of the cupboard. "Who wants tacos?"

They all raised their hands, but Jason didn't stop wondering about grown-up things.

***

She didn't come home before bedtime. Jason wrestled with his sheets more than he slept. He awoke to hear Dad talking downstairs. Mom must be back. Jason pulled his covers closer, buried his head under his pillow. But the talking kept him awake.

Jason eased out of bed and opened his door, stepping into the hallway. A dull glow from the room below climbed the stairs and dissolved into black where he stood.

Dad's voice rose. "I'm telling you, something is wrong."

No one answered.

"I already said she left about seven PM." Dad was on the phone. "Yes. We've lived in Colorado for eighteen years, we know about the damn mountain lions." 

Goosebumps prickled Jason's skin.

"She knows how to take care of herself. She's not an idiot."

Another pause.

"As soon as you can, please get someone here." Dad's voice morphed from muscled to mouse. The recliner creaked. "Oh, Adrienne . . . “

Jason padded down the stairs. Dad sat hunched in his chair, the Throne for the King of Comfort as Mom had dubbed it. He held his head in his hands. 

"Dad?"

He jolted up. "What are you doing out of bed?" Dad glanced at his wrist where a watch should be.

"I heard you talking. Where's Mom?"

Dad flinched. "I don't know."

"Wait, what? How can you not know?" Jason's voice scaled higher making him sound more like his nine-year-old sister than his thirteen-year-old self.

"Keep your voice down." Dad patted the air in front of him and stood. "It'll be okay. She'll be home soon. I called the police, just to be safe." He put his arm around Jason's shoulders. 

"That's who you were talking to?" Jason shrugged out from under Dad's arm. "We don't need them. Let's go find her. Right now."

"Jason, it's dark. It's snowing. We can't do anything right now."

"We've got flashlights. Kyle and Della can help, too." Jason pushed his hair back. "We can't just sit here."

"She could be anywhere. Besides, she always comes home. Always."

"Effing stupid, but whatever." Jason fell onto the couch facing the picture window and the woods beyond. "Then I'm waiting for her right here." He crossed his arms and squinted, trying to X-ray the darkness and spot his mom.

"Do not say 'effing' anything, and go back to bed. It's a school night . . . almost day."

"No. Can't sleep." He tucked his fingertips in his armpits and stared at the night.

Dad breathed deep and blew it out. "Okay. Fine." He sat next to Jason. 

Jason started counting backward from one hundred in his head. She'd be home before he got to zero. 

. . . three, two, one . . .  No Mom.

He gave her another hundred. One hundred . . . ninety-nine . . . ninety-eight—wait—what was that? Something moved outside the window. "I saw something. Something moving." He popped off the couch.

Dad leaned forward. "Your mom?"

"Maybe?" He slid a side window open and shivery air shot through. There were things, lots of things, flying through the air, swooping close then away, left and right, swift, smooth, agile. One swooshed at Jason and he jerked his head back.

"Jeez." Jason thudded the window closed. "Bats." 

"Bats? In January?"

Jason pulled a blanket out of a trunk behind the couch. It sputtered with static. "Guess so." He wrapped it around himself and returned to the couch.

A few minutes passed and Jason started counting down again. One hundred . . . ninety-nine . . . ninety-eight . . . ninety-seven . . . 

***

"Jason." Dad squeezed his shoulders. "Wake up, son." 

Jason half-opened his eyelids and swiped at something winging past his face. "Aaaah—are there bats in the house?" 

"No. You must have been dreaming."

"Mom?" Jason rubbed his sleep-glued eyes. The orange glow of the morning sun reflected off the glass coffee table. "Is she home?"

"Not yet." Dad stood and massaged his forehead. He took a deep breath. "Go upstairs and get ready for school. Make sure your brother and sister are up, too."

"But Dad—"

"I said go." His gaze zeroed in on Jason. "Now." 

It was the voice you didn't question. 

Jason stomped up the stairs and pounded on his brother's door. "Get out of bed," he yelled. He repeated the command at his sister's room then went into his own room and slammed the door.

He took a quick shower, threw on jeans and a sweatshirt, and flew back down the stairs to the kitchen. Kyle, Della and Dad were all in their usual spots at the round wooden table. 

Mom's spot was empty.

Jason rushed past them. He grabbed a box of cereal, a spoon, and a carton of milk and thunked it all on the table.

"Dude, what is your problem?" Kyle glared.

Jason ignored him. 

"Did you remember your homework?" Dad asked.

"Don't need it." Jason yanked his chair out from the table. He didn't sit. "I'm not going anywhere until Mom gets home."

Dad's eyelids flicked and his lips puckered.

"Mom's not here?" Kyle asked. 

Dad rubbed both hands down his face.

"Dad?" Kyle's brows rose.

Della stopped eating her toast mid-bite.

"Everybody, relax. Your mom knows these woods. She's probably gotten too far away to risk heading home in the dark."

Jason heard the words but they sounded empty.

"She's been gone all night?" Kyle asked. "What's her problem?"

Jason's stomach winched into his chest. 

"Kyle . . . " Dad's eyes narrowed.

"Something's wrong with her and you know it." Kyle skidded his chair back from the table. "And now she's, what, lost in the woods?"

"There's nothing wrong with your mom—"

"No. I'm with Jason," Kyle said. "I'm not going anywhere until she gets home."

Della's spoon clanked in her bowl. "Me too." She wiped her milk mustache on her sleeve.

"Correction. You're all going to school."

"Dad, no." Jason gripped the back of the chair. We can find her. We can help her. We can make her better.

Dad shook his head. "I will handle this. You will go to school."

Before Jason had a chance to argue, the doorbell rang.

"It's Mom." Jason raced out of the kitchen.

"She wouldn't ring the doorbell, jerkwad." Kyle called after him.

"Maybe she lost her keys." Jason was almost to the front door, the rest of the family not far behind.

Jason pulled the door open. Two police officers in dark blue uniforms stood on the porch. A third man stood with them. He wore a dark blue windbreaker over a white shirt and a red tie. His stare traveled past Jason like he wasn't there. He looked at Jason's dad.

"I'm Nate Hughes from the sheriff's office. Are you Zachary Lex?"

"Yes, that's me. You're here to help us search?"

"Search, sir?" The man removed his sunglasses.

"For my wife. I called a few hours ago. She went for a walk last night and—"

The man raised his hand. "No, Mr. Lex, we're not here about your call. But we are here about your wife. Adrienne Lex?" 

Dad didn't answer.

"Sir, is there someplace we could talk? In private?"

"Yes, of course. Please come in." His voice sighed through the air. "Kids, go upstairs. Please."

Jason wanted to stay, wanted to listen, but he trudged up the stairs behind Kyle and Della. 

"I don't want to go to my room." Della twisted the hem of her shirt. 

"C'mon, you can hang out with me." Kyle half-nodded at Jason, signaling him to get the scoop. 

Della followed Kyle down the hall. Jason ducked into his room then sped back out, tucking into the spot where he could peek through the rails unseen. He'd used it many times before, successfully spying out Christmas gift placement and hiding spots for cash-filled Easter eggs, and eavesdropping on his parents' grown-up parties. 

Dad and the three men stood in the family room. The two officers stayed a few steps behind the man in the windbreaker. 

He spoke. "You reported your wife missing?"

"Yes, a few hours ago. I . . . I called it in a few hours ago."

"Why don't you take a seat, sir?" 

Dad settled on the couch and Mr. Hughes sat next to him.

"Mr. Lex, early this morning, a runner out on the East-West Trail, the one through these woods out here, found a small day pack. Based on the contents, we believe it was your wife's day pack."

Dad straightened. "She probably dropped it. I was telling the kids I thought she walked too far and it was too dark for her to get home safely so she waited it out somewhere and now she's probably retracing her steps trying to find her pack so that's why she's not back yet—"

"Sir. Mr. Lex, please."

Dad shrunk a little.

"The runner also found a blood-stained jacket." 

Dad tilted his head like he couldn't understand the words being spoken. 

"Our officers searched the area. Not far from where the pack and jacket were found, we discovered blood, and signs of a struggle." 

Jason didn't blink. Didn't breathe. 

"There was no body, but—"

Dad leaped up. "Then she's alive. She's hurt and she needs help but she's alive." He looked from Mr. Hughes to the policemen then back again. "We need to find her. We need to hurry."

There was a different answer in Mr. Hughes' face. Jason's stomach pulled like it was lined with glue, the sides puckering and pasting themselves together. 

"Mr. Lex, the amount of blood," Mr. Hughes said, his voice heavy, his hands upturned, "well, if it is your wife's blood, it's not good. It's tough for someone to survive with that amount of blood loss."

Two quick gasps forced their way into Jason's lungs. They shuddered out. 

Dad tipped his head and teetered backward.

"It appears a body was dragged away from the scene. All signs point to a mountain lion attack."

Mountain lions? Mom? Jason clutched the railing, a post in each hand. The corners of the wood squares cut into his palms. His hands burned and he jerked them away. They were smoky and blue. Smoke wisped off the wood.

What? 

Crackling filled his ears. He shook his head hard, wiped his hands on his pants.

They were wrong. Mom would be fine. She was fine. She'd be home any minute.

Their voices rumbled through his head, fighting with the crackling. He couldn't make sense of the words. He didn't want to make sense of the words. He wanted them to leave. He wanted the words to stop.

Dad crumpled. Mr. Hughes turned and grabbed Dad's arm. 

Jason needed his mom.

But she wasn't there.