The Wisherman (5 page)

They drove for some time
, he didn’t know how long. Oliver felt his eyes drifting shut as the days of fitful sleep caught up with him, but every time his lids drooped too far an uneasy feeling rose up inside of him and jolted him back awake. The suffocating desert heat of Memphis soon gave way to the cooler hills of West Virginia. When twilight approached, the van took a sharp left into a rest stop. A blinking, neon sign read "1-81 N Stop N' Sleep". Oliver peered out of the window as the van pulled into the drive. The police officer put the car in park, and hopped out, walking towards the blinking mini mart in the parking lot.

The parking lot was almost completely empty
, save for the mini mart. It looked brand new, and it stood out, with its blazing neon lights against the dark night. Behind the stand, rows of sleeping trucks grazed with their lights off. The door shook and the police officer stuck his head in and looked through the partition. He still wore his black shades, and the steel frames glinted. Oliver never liked it when he couldn't see a person's eyes. This meant, he reasoned, that it was impossible to tell what they were thinking.

"We're stopping for the night. Let's get a snack here, and then you'll need to tuck in.
" The police officer spoke for the first time in several hours. His voice was softer this time, understanding almost. He walked around the van, and swung the door open on Oliver's side. Oliver jumped when the cool night air hit his face. He shuffled awkwardly out of the van, cuffs jangling as he did.

The mini-mart was astutely named. Oliver had to wait until the police officer walked in before he was able to shuffle in, as the doorway was not wide enough for the both of them. At the counter, a scruffy man puffed heavily on a cigarette. He sat back, eyes obscured by a ratty bas
eball cap. A Maxim magazine sat folded down on his lap and he peered down at it occasionally, lips curled into a gross smile. As Oliver stepped inside, the metal detectors on either side of him began to ring.

The man at the counter jumped up and his magazine crashed to the floor.

"It's alrighhhhhhht, Jeb. There's nothing to see here."

The officer's voice came out clear and commanding once more. The man, Jeb
, looked around frantically for a moment before his eyes settled on Oliver.

He narrowed them and snorted. "Oh.
It’s been a while, Lox."

He bent down to pick up his magazine and flipped through a few pages before setting it on the counter in front of him.
He leaned forward against the glass box that he sat in and spoke in a “whisper” that was clearly meant for Oliver to hear.

"Where'd you get hi
m?" His eyes lingered on Oliver, and he sneered as he looked Oliver up and down.

"Aww, c'mon Jeb. Oliver, get yourself a snack." Almost as soon as the words had come out of the
officer’s mouth, Oliver darted over to the snack and drink area and away from Jeb's penetrating gaze. As soon as he was far enough away, he lowered his head, eyes firmly locked on the rotating corndogs in front of him, but ears zeroed in on the conversation behind him.

"Ya'll are headed…" Jeb paused abruptly.

"Yeah, we are." The officer said quickly.

"A bad one, huh?"

"Not the worst we've ever had."

“Where you coming from?”

“Tennesse
e.”

“Roads are bad around here. Couple of truckers, again.” The officer nodded and laughed. “Ruining it for everybody.”

“You got another run, after this?” Jeb lowered his voice to a genuine whisper. The officer shook his head.

“Last one.”

Oliver's heart thudded loudly in his ears.
He stared at the corndogs as an involuntary shiver crept slowly through his arms and legs. They rotated on their poles. Fat and oil bubbled and popped, coating the container with a thick grease.

"Your boy can't even get his food, got his hands all tied up."

"You know the rules, Jeb. Keep them tied up, especially this one." Oliver looked up sharply at this remark, his sudden movement garnering the attention of the officer and Jeb. The officer regarded him silently for a moment before walking over. His footsteps echoed on the grimy, tile floor of the convenience store as he approached.

"The corndogs?"

Oliver nodded, mum. The officer grabbed a plastic bag and cranked open the corn dog container. He speared two and walked back up to the counter. Oliver followed awkwardly behind him, wondering how he was going to eat the corn dog with no hands.

“Boy.”

Oliver stared at the gossip magazines near the front counter.

“I said,
boy
.” He turned to see the officer gesturing for him. The officer bent down and looked him right in the eye. Oliver could see his own reflection in his sunglasses, and he looked terrified.

“Now, I’m going to take these off so you can eat your dinner. Don’t make this more difficult than it needs to be.” Oliver looked sideways at Jeb, who eyed him suspiciously over the top of his Maxim.
             

When he felt the handcuffs unlock, Oliver rolled his wrists and sighed. The officer handed him his corndog and turned back to Jeb.

“Now, magazine isn’t as good as it used to be. I’ll tell you that.”

Oliver bit into the corndog, and despite the rubbery texture and burnt batter, it felt like a meal fit for the most precocious of kings. It wasn’t long before he felt the wooden stick beneath his tongue.

“You want to get your boy a magazine there, so he can have something to do? Idle hands are the devil’s playthings.” Jeb took a drag of his cigarette.

“A box for you?” The officer shook his head.

“I quit, but thanks. He’ll be at school soon enough.”

Oliver perked up.
Was that it, then?
He thought, heart speeding up quicker than what was probably healthy for a boy of his age. He was burning with questions, questions the officer knew the answers to.

What seemed like an hour later, the officer finally bid Jeb a goodnight, reattached Oliver’s cuffs and led him back to the van.

“Where will I sleep?” Oliver blurted out, increasingly aware of the deteriorating cushion beneath him. The officer said nothing, but turned around in his seat and smiled. Oliver lay down and curled up as much as he could. The cushion crackled beneath him. He clasped his hands together and closed his eyes, dreading the next day’s drive.

Chapter
4

All around him, green mountains rose to the sky.
The van sped along, whipping the scene outside into a blurred, visual salad, but Oliver was able to catch the end of a sign that read:
Welcome to Wynton, Massachusetts
. The highway had long turned into a two lane road, and the cascading foothills into flat farm land. Tiny houses dotted the landscape before him, sitting far back from the road surrounded by an ocean of green land. The scene was peaceful, more peaceful than anything Oliver had ever encountered before in his life. He could imagine spending hours lying back on the grass, with his eyes trained towards the stars. This was a land of possibilities, far away from the strange realities that he had come to know. Oliver wasn't sure what he preferred, the fantasy of normalcy or the horror that was his reality.

The police officer had been quiet for some time, though occasionally Oliver thought he saw his head tilt ever so slightly towards the rear view mirror as if he were looking at him through his dark glasses.
He drove on, his arms in the same 9-6 position they had been for the entire journey. Oliver wondered if the man was not a police officer at all, but rather an android of sorts charged with transporting children. But, to where? The calm green had hypnotized him, and Oliver realized that he forgot the most important thing of all---he had no idea where he was going. Panic flooded his senses in a sudden tidal wave, leaving Oliver confused.

"I want to call my mother." The words fell from his open mouth, as
soon as he’d thought them up. The grass outside had taken on a sickly green tint, its presence causing near nausea for Oliver. The police officer tilted his head towards the rearview mirror, at which point Oliver was nearly certain that he was looking directly at him.

"That won't be possible."
The officer's response was sharp and deliberate. Oliver felt his will power wilting under it.

"My mom put out an amber alert
for me, I bet." His lip wobbled, and Oliver put his head down so the cop wouldn't see it.

The police officer made a noise that sounded strangely like a
stifled laugh. "Boy, Amber alerts only go out when someone has been taken. You, you were given up willingly."

"My mother would never do that."

The officer whistled in response. "You know, that's the hardest part about this job. People never want to believe what's right there in front of them.
The parents and the kids."

"I don't believe you."
Oliver said.

"That's fine. You'll see for yourself soon enough."
The officer's last word ended on such a tone that Oliver knew the conversation was over. He flexed his hands, which were throbbing from the handcuffs.

The van made a sharp turn and slowed down. Oliver pressed his face against the window in time enough to see the grass change from wild weeds to that of a carefully manicured lawn.
A prim white sign sat in the middle of the lawn, surrounded by a bed of flowers. The Delafontaine School, it read. The van stalled for a minute before starting up a long driveway. At the edge of the driveway sat a large, brownstone building. The van pulled into the roundabout in the driveway, and as it shuddered to a halt, Oliver stared listlessly out of the window. The police officer hopped out of the van and disappeared into the building, leaving Oliver shaking. He wasn't sure whether or not he was shaking with rage, or fear. His eyes found the sign once more and noticed in small italics at the bottom that read
Lux ex Tenebris
.

Everything was so well manicured. If Oliver didn't know better, he might have suspected the place was a pleasant assisted living facility, but a dark whisper in his head reminded him that he knew better.

Several tense minutes later, a woman came strolling out of the front door. She wore a fresh suit, and her hair was tied back in a top knot. She reached the van and waited for the police officer to open the door. When he did, Oliver found himself face to face with her outstretched hand.

"Hello, Oliver. I'm
Dean Tenbrook. Welcome to Delafontaine." Oliver stared at her hands for a moment, panic rising within him. Her smile, bright and practiced faltered and her eyes shifted down to Oliver's hands.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Yo
u're cuffed. We'll shake later. Let's show you around first. How was the drive? You know, I've always thought that was one of the most striking things about Delafontaine. Those green pastures…The only thing we need now are cows, I think. Delafontaine is very interested in starting environmentally friendly initiatives…." Dean Tenbrook spoke a mile a minute, and it was clear to Oliver that she wasn't looking for anything from him but listening.

Oliver stepped numbly from the van and followed
Dean Tenbrook into the building. The front doors were grand and of cast iron. "These doors have been in the Delafontaine family for years!" Dean Tenbrook added as they swept through them. The doors banged shut behind him, echoing and final.

They stepped into the atrium, a high-ceilinged introduction to the building.
A white diamond chandelier hung over Oliver's head, square in the center of the atrium. "Also been in the family for years." Dean Tenbrook remarked, her voice nearly gaining an octave.

The atrium floor of the entrance hall
bore a smooth, glossy wood finish. The walls were a faint yellow and covered in portraits of past Deans.

“Feel free to look around. I need to speak with someone for a moment.”
Dean Tenbrook smiled brightly before disappearing behind a door labeled
Admissions Office
. Oliver walked slowly down the Hall of Deans, studying each portrait. He wondered how old each painting was, given that the style of clothing hadn’t seemed to change at all over the years. If Oliver didn't know any better, he would have thought they were all the same person. He peered closer at the litany of top knots and pressed suits.

“Oliver! Oliver!”
Dean Tenbrook’s voice came ringing down the hallway, as breezy and light as the day outside. “Let’s continue with the tour. You’re going to love it here. Before we go, however, I’m going to have to ask you to give up any electronic devices you may have. Phones, game systems. Our students have access to a phone within the dorms, and this should be more than enough. If you have a watch, I’ll take that too. Guards, we can release this young man. There’s no need for that in his new home.”

A guard rushed forward, seemingly out of nowhere and undid Oliver’s handcuffs.
Dean Tenbrook smiled and held out her hand. Oliver reached into his pocket and withdrew his phone. It had long since died, but having it had provided some comfort. He didn’t know exactly who he planned to call with it, but the option was there. He handed the phone to Dean Tenbrook at a glacial pace. Oliver then looked down at his wrist and to his own surprise, it was bare. He had forgotten that he’d slid it off in the cell, and he suddenly felt weirdly relieved.