3:48pm that same day

Rachel woke up to the sound of cacophony in the kitchen.

“No! Work you silly thing!”

She tucked her wolf and mouse plushies under her blanket and slowly scampered to the kitchen. She stared at first, watching as mommy sighed and flipped through the ice cream maker’s instruction manual for the fifty-third time.

“Mommy?” Rachel tugged at her tail. Her mom turned her head suddenly at being jolted from her fight with the cookware.

“Oh Rachel, I’m so sorry-”

“Where’s daddy and Peter and Ben?”

Evelyn gazed at the time on her phone and gasped. She was very late for the picnic! Her family expected her, and now she was coming off as rude. Even worse was that there were five notifications of missed calls from Marcus. Why not Ronald? Phone dead? Preoccupied? And how'd she not hear her phone go off? Was her tunnel vision that exaggerated?

“They’re at the picnic, uh, just lost track of time.” She answered as calmly as she could. “I’mma call 'em and tell ‘em we’ll be there soon.”

She jumped into her Contacts tab to call her husband, but before she could tap his name, she received a call.

From Marcus, again.

“Shoot, he must be really worried about us…” Evelyn shook her head and tapped the green button to accept his call. An apology was poised on the tip of her tongue.

“Marcus, I’m so sor-”

“Evelyn?” Marcus uncharacteristically interrupted her, his voice sounding alarmed. “Thank God I reached you.”

“Is everythin’ alright?” She asked, not expecting that kind of response. In the background, she could hear arguing and crying; not something you’d want to hear at a family picnic. “W-what’s goin’ on?”

“Are you and Rachel still home?”

“Yes…?”

“Come down to the park. Now. Don’t bring the food or drinks, uh…” Marcus groaned. “We…we can detect Ronald, Ben, and Peter’s scents, but…um…they’re not here.”

Evelyn didn’t react at first, returning a few awkward seconds of incredulous silence. “W-what?”

“They’re not here!” Her father-in-law raised his voice, agitation and frayed nerves bubbling over. “His things are still here, but we can’t find him or the kids! Anywhere! Evelyn, you have to come NOW.”

Evelyn’s paws trembled and sweated, making her miss the red ‘End Call’ button a few times. Suddenly the problem with her ice cream maker didn’t exist anymore.

“Rachel, we gotta go.” She urgently collected her daughter before she could ask any questions. She frantically scurried out the front door to the car, carrying Rachel by the nape of her neck. She realized she forgot to grab her keys in her nightmare-driven haste. She set her daughter down.

“Stay here sweetie. Grabbin’ my keys.” She ran back inside, tears forming in her eyes as she darted to her room. Her scrambled mind took several seconds to see the keys plainly laid by the bed. Blood thundered through her brain as though someone was pounding a bass drum inside her skull. She nearly threw Rachel into her booster seat and raced towards Blueberry Grove at almost twice the speed limit.

Evelyn’s paws continued to shake as she handled the steering wheel. Accumulating moisture in her eyes blurred her vision, forcing her to brush it away every few seconds.

“Mommy!” Rachel whined, not enjoying the bumpy ride. “Too fast!”

Her daughter’s words didn’t register in her mind; it was consumed with all the worst-case scenarios she could imagine.

‘Bumpy ride' would end up being an understatement.

By the time Evelyn skidded into Blueberry Grove, she not only saw Marcus and Diane’s car and Claudia’s car, but two police cars. They were parked near the picnic area, and their alternating red-and-blue lights pulsated in constant monotony. Two officers, a badger and a lemur, were questioning Marcus about what he knew and, to the wolf’s credit, he managed to appear only mildly flummoxed. Diane and the triplets sniffed the air and ground for evidence of the squirrels’ whereabouts, but appeared to make no progress. Cecilia couldn’t do much of anything except search around for clues her brother or nephews could’ve left. Calls were made to his phone repeatedly before this until it was discovered in his bag.

Evelyn shot out of the car, almost forgetting Rachel.

“Evelyn!” Cecilia darted over to the distressed wife. “Oh gosh, Evelyn, I-I-”

“Anyone saw ‘em? A-anyone?” Evelyn stammered, her eyes pleading Cecilia for a mere granule of good news.

Cecilia shook her head, visibly fighting back tears. “My siblings and I were the first here. We got here, like, forty minutes ago. Mom and dad got here next…none of us saw them…”

“I-I need to breathe…” Evelyn stepped back and Cecilia respected her space. Marcus spotted his daughter-in-law out of the corner of his eye; she appeared to be suffocating from distress.

“Excuse me.” He interrupted the lemur and ran to her. He gently scooped the frightened squirrel into his arms and tried to calm her down. It didn’t work, but she didn’t turn him away either.

“Are they okay? Please…tell me you have any good news or anythin’…” She didn’t know what to think; were they kidnapped? Did they wander away and get lost?

“Well…” Her father-in-law sighed. “Good news is we don’t see blood anywhere, and while we haven’t been searching for long, we can’t pick up anyone else’s scent. I may be getting old, but my nose would’ve picked up a kidnapper by now.”

“What do the police know?” Evelyn pressed him.

“As much as we all do.” He sighed, not trying to sound dismissive. “But-”

Claudia called over to them, interrupting her father.

“Hey! Found their scent!” Her ears were perked up and tail swished enthusiastically. “I think they went this way!”

This caught everyone’s attention; Evelyn reached her first, darting over like a frantic missile.

“That way?” Evelyn wanted to jump the gun and run alone. She saw a thick grove up ahead; perhaps they were all playing in there and simply got ensnared by an ill-positioned root or twig?

“Looks like it, but we have to keep sniffing.” Claudia warned, guessing her brother and nephews were in the grove, but not saying it so as not to get her hopes up. The others joined up; Cecilia carried Rachel so the police and the wolves could hunt for the rodent members of their family.

Claudia led the group as she followed the squirrels’ scents; her siblings behind her. They expected their path to lead them into the thick trees, but as they neared it, the scented path deviated to the right. It was as though it avoided the grove altogether.

“Weird…” Xavier remarked. “Why’d they change course? No sign of a fourth person at least…”

The group cut a berth around the grove, taking them towards the river. Up ahead was the parking lot the wolves and Cecilia walked from not long ago.

“Ronald told me he’d meet up with us in the lot.” Claudia added. “It makes sense their scent's going this way…”

Then something strange happened. Ronald’s and Ben’s scents continued linearly, but Peter’s cut away at a sharp angle. It was as though something startled the child and sent him running.

“Hold on.” Claudia raised a paw.

“What’s wrong?” Evelyn asked, mentally bracing herself for more terrible news. “What do ya smell?”

“Peter went this way for some reason…” Claudia answered.

“I’ll keep following Ronald and Ben’s smells.” Xavier offered, but couldn’t go much further. Not a hundred feet later did Ronald and Ben’s paths make the same backwards deviation. Their paths went in the general direction Peter’s did and it wasn’t long before he and Claudia bumped noses again.

Near the tree where it all happened…and near the river that claimed two of them.

Xavier was about to remark that he detected Ben’s scent continuing past the tree, as though following the river, but Evelyn interrupted his thoughts.

“Ron! Ben!” She cried out. “You hidin’ up there? Come out! This ain’t funny!”

There was no answer, and it was then the lemur had a terrifying realization.

“Everyone stay put; I’ll investigate the tree.”

He wasted no time scurrying up the trunk; his olfactory senses weren’t as keen as the wolves’, but he picked up on the squirrels’ pheromones enough to be able to follow them. His ascent didn’t go very far, stopping at a branch suspended about thirteen feet above the ground. Just six feet out onto the branch would put him directly over the river.

“Please, tell me they didn’t do this…” He thought as he traversed the branch with utmost caution. Ben’s scent wasn’t up here, but Ronald’s and Peter’s were. He stopped short of putting himself directly above the river, and that’s when he noticed the twig. It wasn’t terribly incongruous against the others, but it was snapped and twisted in an unnatural way. It was nothing one would notice under normal circumstances, but this wasn’t normal.

“Careful!” Diane’s motherly instinct kicked in, seeing the gray mammal crawl slowly across the branch, though the badger assured her he knew what he was doing.

The lemur stopped at the twig, now only picking up Peter’s scent. Ronald’s stopped a few feet before this spot and he figured he had enough to put a possible story together.

And it about made his limbs go numb.

He skillfully maneuvered his way back down the tree; his expression pallid.

“It’s…it’s what I feared.” He shook his head.

Evelyn began to tremble and her stomach tied in a suffocating knot. She knew what he was about to say, but she’d rather hear anything else.

“Something made them run to this tree, and…I think Ronald and Peter fell into the river.”

Evelyn put her paws to her face in disbelief, and it was at that moment that the river sounded particularly wrathful and hungry. She let out a pained scream, as though her heart wanted to leap out.

“No! No! This can’t-”

“Evelyn, stay calm.” Marcus took hold of one of her paws in a gentle, paternal manner. “They could still be alive; worst thing we can do right now is panic.”

Marcus knew what it was like to think someone he loved was dead, and he didn’t want Evelyn to give up hope either. However…he and everyone else suspected the worst.

And didn’t want to admit it.

Evelyn keeled over and clutched her stomach. “The river…you can’t survive that…” She started hyperventilating again, but her father-in-law wasn’t about to let her repeat this episode. He squeezed her paw firmly enough to make her stop, not wanting her to lose her mind.

“What of Ben’s scent?” The badger asked, cool and collected.

“It appears it’s following the river.” Xavier replied, his snout to the ground as he walked in the smell’s direction. He appeared collected and in control of himself, but his mind spun with all the worst possibilities. One look at the river’s ruthless rush told him not even a grizzly bear could survive that.

“We’ll follow it and I’ll radio the Evergreen police to help us.”

The black-and-white striped mammal wasted no time nor words. He brought the portable clipped walkie to his mouth and immediately called for help.

“Evergreen, copy?”

“Go ahead.” Spoke another male voice over the radio, but was slightly muddled by static.

“We have an 11-30 in Blueberry Grove. Two brown squirrels; one adult, mid-thirties, one child, six, both males. Fell into river presumably and can’t be located.”

“Copy that. How long ago?”

“Estimated forty to fifty minutes ago according to family.”

“Copy that. We’ll send units to search the banks. We currently have part of our force investigating an explosion in the area, so I’ll tell them to keep an eye out for them too.”

“10-4.”

Dark clouds enveloped Evelyn’s soul; even the warm rays of light from Marcus’ assurance couldn’t dissipate them. She may as well have been alone. Her husband could be dead. Two of her babies could be dead.

And no amount of warmth from her family would fix that.

A quick discussion about what they should do followed. The two officers were going to continue following Ben’s path, and Xavier and Janet were going to help lead them with their reliable noses. Cecilia and Claudia meanwhile took Rachel back home. The child was confused and kept asking where her father and brothers were, and all they could say was that “they got lost and mommy is going to find them.” Marcus, Diane, and Evelyn were going to drive further down the river and start looking. She wasn’t optimistic her husband and children would be found alive, but at least she drew a modicum of comfort from her in-laws’ stalwart hope. That was the main reason she wanted to go with them in particular.

In the car, Evelyn was still on edge and couldn’t stop trembling.

“My heart…I feel like there’s bugs eatin’ it up…” The distressed mother restrained herself as much as possible to keep from sobbing again. “God, please no…have mercy…I wanna see my babies and my Ronny again…”

She clutched her tail and started to cry again, drenching the fluffy appendage with hot tears. Diane reached back to her while Marcus drove. She wanted to tell her she’d see them again and that they were safe…but knew those were empty platitudes. She wanted to cry too; losing your son and grandsons the same day was a thought too miserable for words.

“We just wanted a picnic…a simple picnic…” Evelyn moaned. Diane reached and touched her in a faintly optimistic way.

“I-I wish I could promise everything will turn out okay…” Diane started. “But…I don’t know, Evelyn. God’s merciful, even now, and all I can say is that…whatever happens, you know Ronald is in the Lord, and you raised your boys in the truth as much as you two could. He cares for you in all your troubles…He’ll neither leave you nor forsake you…”

Diane said that to herself as much as to her daughter-in-law. The Bible taught one was to rest in the Lord in times of peace and times of tribulation.

Now was the time for tribulation.

Evelyn simply nodded and closed her eyes. She continued to hold her tail against herself, imagining she was cradling her babies, safe and snug in her arms.

-

After Ronald and Peter plunged into the river

Ben’s short limbs never moved so quickly; the small rodent darted along the river as though fleeing from a beast nipping at his heels.

“DAD! PETER!” Moisture from the roaring river and his own eyes clouded his vision. He kept his attention on the river, hoping to see at least one of them swimming to safety.

Only white foam and rocks jutted out from its turbulent surface. There was no dad or Peter. Every second that passed without their presence was another knife plunged into the child’s heart. He tripped and stumbled over rocks and roots several times, but no matter how many times he tumbled, he never stopped.

Two hours, which seemed like two eternities, passed by the time Evergreen came into view. There was still daylight, but building lights began to flicker on, suggesting a busy night life ahead. The river sloped gently downhill and, as it widened, became less ferocious.

Now the only thing louder than the river was Ben’s thudding heartbeats. His entire body ached with burning pain, but he couldn’t afford to stop. He would gladly let his limbs fall off from wear if it meant finding his dad and brother alive. The repetitive prayer, “Please, God!” ricocheted about in his brain; phrases longer than two words were rare.

Except for one phrase that pinged his frenzied mind every so often.

“You STUPID little shit! This is all YOUR fault!”

The voice insisted his father and brother fell into the river because of him. He didn’t keep a closer eye on Peter like he should’ve, and he didn’t go up there to help his dad either. Instead, he was a spineless paramecium who valued his own life over theirs; a selfish monster no more valuable than the scum in hell’s deepest sewers. This was entirely his fault.

As he neared Evergreen, more and more people came into view. A few looked at him, curious as to why the squirrel was running so fast, but not curious enough to ask. He could sense the weight of their gazes; their accusing stares and gestures condemning the child to infernal incarceration. They knew he was guilty and, at this moment, must have been calling for God to obliterate him with consuming fire.

Ben eventually wound up at a hiking trail on the city’s outskirts. It was getting darker and cooler, but Ben could still see his surroundings well enough. The trail wasn’t crowded, as the hour was late and most people were home eating dinner. The few hikers enjoying the outdoors eyed Ben’s mad dash with a mix of curiosity and concern. One rabbit asked him if he was okay, but the squirrel didn’t stop to answer.

He darted into a small grove of pine trees on the river bank, a little ways past the trail’s boundary. The river became so calm it was more ambience than noise.

“D-dad…Peter…” He gasped through labored breaths. “Where…where are-”

There. Just twenty feet ahead of the depleted rodent.

Peter.

Not moving.

“PETER!” He cried, running to his drenched sibling. Peter was still; body supine, but that didn’t automatically mean he was dead, right? Then again, if he was alive, Ben had no time to waste.

“HELP!” He screamed, hoping to attract any medically-adept hikers and nature-walkers. Peter's head was turned from Ben. His body was riddled with scrapes. bruises, and dirt, and his foot was contorted from the twig hours before. The older brother immediately guessed water was in Peter's lungs due to his being in the river. Without hesitation, he commenced the chest-presses.

The fact was he knew nothing about saving anyone from drowning, but hoped his intuition and sincere motives would save the day. If he applied enough force against Peter’s chest, the water in his lungs should jettison straight out and he would regain consciousness. He saw it in a cartoon once; it wasn’t the best reference, but it was all he knew.

Ben gave one push with both paws. A soft gurgling sound emitted from Peter’s throat, but his body remained limp. Was it progress? Ben only hoped. He cried for help again.

“Coming!” Came a distant voice. Meanwhile, Ben persisted.

He pushed a few more times, getting more gurgles, but his body refused to stir. Ben started to sob, but he couldn’t stop now. He decided to apply the mouth-to-mouth procedure, as he recalled seeing that on TV once. Would it work? If so, he wanted it to right now.

More mouth-to-mouth…more pushing…more crying for help. Peter's head slipped to its original position when Ben wasn't holding it.

“WAKE UP!” He wailed against a sore throat, but Peter remained motionless as a stone.

Then his desperation increased.

Believing more force was needed to get the stubborn water out of Peter’s lungs, Ben placed his paws over his chest and pressed as hard as he could. He pounded repeatedly with all the muscle his tiny limbs could afford.

A narrow beam of light pierced the waxing darkness. Help was here!

“Wh-what’s going on here?!” A frightened female hare gripped her tiny flashlight, watching in stunned confusion and disbelief. She arrived in time to see Ben hitting his little brother repeatedly on the chest. He didn’t look up at her, consumed with his own frantic efforts.

And then,

CRACK!

Something in Peter’s chest gave way, and Ben felt his paws sink deeper than they should’ve. Startled by the violent snap, Ben turned Peter’s head towards him to see if that woke him up. He saw pale, weak eyes, and a mouth partially ajar and limp.

Still. Lifeless.

Dead.

The flashlight was transfixed upon the corpse, and it was all Ben needed to realize that Peter’s empty, unblinking eyes were staring directly into his own. Ben gasped and stared back for several seconds in gripping terror.

The image seared itself permanently into his conscience.

His little brother was gone.

Ben's airway tightened and his brain’s neurons froze. No thought or word came forth as he beheld what used to be Peter. Every fiber of his being refused to accept this reality.

The hare screamed, dropped her flashlight and fumbled for her phone. She punched in 9-1-1 as quickly as her digits would allow.

“Police! Murder!” She cried.

Her call was panicked and brief, but it was all the time Ben needed to disappear from the scene undetected into the darkness.

-

About forty minutes after Ben fled the scene

Ronald’s eyes were closed, but his ears picked up the gentle hum of some electronic machine nearby. He slowly opened his eyes, having to close them a few times as the bright lights in this room were too much to take in.

“Where…what…”

Ronald groaned, finally succeeding in opening his eyes just enough to make out colors and forms. There was a lot of white and there were rectangles above him outlined with light-gray framing. The hum continued its persistent monotone and Ronald slowly turned his head to see the source.

It was an IV pump that held his attention for only a second; the narrow tube attached to it piercing his right arm was much more alarming.

“Huh? Wh-what’s…going on?” He muttered in his half-conscious state. “Am I in the hospital?”

He slowly tilted his head upward and swiveled it this way and that to gain a sense of his surroundings. He realized he was lying in a bed, and a blue curtain encompassed it, giving him a little bit of privacy. There was something tied around his right foot.

“A cast…? Why…I don’t understand…”

With every ounce of mental energy he had, Ronald attempted to recall his most recent memory.

“Explosion…Peter fell…then I fell…the river was strong, and I…I couldn’t find him…I swam…and then…and then…”

For a minute, his memories seemed like a dream. The room was his only reality, but his consciousness slowly returned as seconds elapsed.

“Peter fell…I’m here…but where’s Peter?”

More details inundated his mind. There was supposed to be a picnic, but Peter ran up that tree. They both fell into the river, and Ronald remembered frantically trying to find his son submerged under the river’s merciless scourge.

Then he remembered no more.

“Peter?” He called for his son, expecting him to be on the bed adjacent to his own, on the other side of the curtain.

“Shaddup! I’m tryin’ to sleep!” An irate voice snapped at him from the other bed.

Ronald’s heart began to race; this was reflected in the increased tempo of the heart monitor, but that was of no concern to him.

“P-peter?” He bolted up, ears perked and tail bristled in alarm. “Are you here?”

No answer, only increased heart rate.

“Nurse! Doctor! Anyone!” He called out, his voice nearly cracking. “Where’s my son?!”

His eyes darted here and there for anything else he could use to get someone’s attention. He found the red “nurse call” button located to his right on the sturdy bed frame and spammed it repeatedly. He hated being an annoyance, but this wasn’t the time for manners.

“Coming!” Only seconds elapsed before a haggard-looking nurse flung the curtains open. She was a black rat with glasses and about Ronald’s size. However, she was about twenty years older, donned blue medical scrubs, and her eyes suggested she was nearing the end of a twelve-hour shift.

“Ma’am,” Ronald cut to the chase, rising up as though he wanted to jump out of his bed. His eyes burrowed into hers with paternal desperation. His hand was on the IV as though he wanted to rip it out and tear the hospital apart to find his son, “what’s going on; where’s my son? Please, help me-”

“Mr. Avery, please calm down, I can help you better that way.” She put a paw to her mouth to stifle a yawn. She gently removed his hand from the IV. “Don’t touch that.”

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

“How can I be calm? My son, and…” something interrupted his thoughts. “How do you know my name?”

“I’ll get to that,” she performed her routine check of his vitals and other numbers and digital displays Ronald couldn’t decipher. “Seems stable so far…are you in any physical pain at the moment?”

“My right foot hurts, but I guess that’s a given…” He replied, noting the cast.

“You’re sore from the surgery. I’m glad they got to you when they did; your foot was fractured and needed immediate attention.” She suppressed another yawn. “I’m glad you’re awake too; I was nervous and praying for you all day.”

There was no enthusiasm or passion in her voice, but Ronald assumed it was because she was exhausted. “Well…thanks. Wait, so, where’d you find me? Last thing I remember was falling into the river…and I couldn’t find Peter…he fell in before me, and…I don’t know where he is now…”

The tired rat saw Ronald’s crestfallen expression countless times before; patients realizing the predicament they were in. Some were involved in accidents where they survived, but loved ones didn’t. She performed this role for over twenty years of her life, but dealing with it did not get any easier.

“They found you by the river all beaten and drenched. As for your son…I…I want to give you good news. We didn’t see another squirrel, but…he could still be out there…he could be okay…”

That was the most optimism she could bring out of herself and give this downtrodden dad. He groaned and his eyes widened in response.

If Peter was dead, he wouldn’t know what to do with himself.

“As for identifying you, we matched your DNA sample up in the system. You’re Ronald Avery, and your wife is Evelyn, who gave birth to all three of your kids here.” The weary-eyed rodent suddenly blushed. “I’m sorry, I never told you who I was. I’m Marsha and I’ve been taking care of you since you came out of surgery.” She kept another yawn forced down.

“Is your shift over?” He eyed her with concern. “You look like you could sleep for a few days. I appreciate the help, but you don’t need to be burdened-”

She shook her head in disagreement. “It’s my job to take care of you, just like anyone else under my watch, and better yet, I enjoy it. Don’t worry about me.”

“Hey lady!” The cordial and patient patient in the adjacent bed demanded. “More jello and lemon ice! Stat!”

She gave Ronald a sideways glance and rolled her eyes as she left to help him. “Some days, at least. You have some next to you too; you should eat it.”

The squirrel looked to his left and beheld the food that somehow escaped his notice earlier. He couldn’t help but smile, albeit wistfully.

“Some things never change.”

He recalled that time a couple years after his triplet siblings were born where he accidentally broke his left foreleg after misjudging the height of a step. He was running from Cecilia during one of their games, and came down on that foreleg with such force it sent him yelling in excruciating agony. His mother rushed him to the hospital where the doctors and nurses treated him. He remembered eating jello and lemon ice a lot after the operation. It got boring after a while, but did keep him in good spirits and health.

Twenty-four years later, he was here again. However, no amount of sweet and calorie-dense food would make him feel any better. He starved as he lay in his bed, but couldn’t even consider touching the food, much less consuming it. The fact that his precious son might be dead pulverized his soul; how could he enjoy so much as a crumb of ice while his lost child suffered? Tears lubricated his eyes, and he broke down in seconds. Nothing around him was real anymore.

Marsha returned with a tray of jello entirely for the other patient. Ronald heard him greedily and noisily inhaling the contents.

“Not so fast!” The rat admonished him. “You need to give your stomach time to digest that…and don’t eat the cups…oh nevermind. The gastroenterologist will love dealing with this again.”

The rat restrained a disheartened sigh at the bobcat’s poor eating habits, as well as his habit of ignoring everything she said. She passed through the curtain to check on Ronald.

“I’m sorry about him-” she started, but stopped when she beheld him with his hands on his face, sobbing into them.

“I just want to hold my little boy again…”

Marsha’s heart sank, but what could she do? She could help patients on a medical level, but she couldn’t bring their children back. She wiped a few tears away herself; she knew it was more than likely that his son didn’t make it. She could check hospital records again to see if he’d been admitted here today, or contact other hospitals in the city, but it was a long shot.

“Ronald…” She resumed, wiping away the moisture from her eyes and forcing down other tears that wanted to flow out. Her mind suddenly went blank. What could she possibly tell him that would make anything better? What could she tell a man who didn’t know if his six-year old son was alive or not?

There was prayer. There was no promise it would change the situation…but at least she could use it to give the ailing father a tiny shred of comfort. Remind him that God in the flesh also wept and dealt with pain too much for His flesh to bear. With head bowed, she offered up supplication to the Lord audibly enough for Ronald to hear. He momentarily stopped crying and listened to the rodent speak on his behalf.

He then remembered something he told Ben earlier that day, when he wanted the pastor to pray for him.

“You’ve been feeling bad and I want you to feel better. Don’t you want that?”

He didn’t know he would be saying those words to himself now. The prayer didn’t remove the dark, dead shadows and grave contemplations burrowed in his heart like a malignant pestilence, but it helped him remember the unending light of God’s words. It shone ablaze in contrast to the pitch black fog that reeked only of the devilish and macabre.

“O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?”

The brightness of those words didn’t dispel the crippling, horrific possibility of never seeing his child again, nor silence his tears, but at least it reminded him that death wouldn’t have the final say.

The empty sepulchre on that one Sunday morning long, long ago was all the proof he needed.

Just before her shift ended, Marsha remembered she had one more thing to tell Ronald. She informed him that after finding him by the river, the police were called, and that they managed to get a hold of his wife and parents. They were assuredly on their way right now. A wave of warmth overtook him, but it was fleeting.

“How long ago?” He asked.

“About two and-a-half hours.”

“But…Blueberry Grove isn’t far from here…shouldn’t they be here by now?”

It was a rhetorical question of course. No one had the answer to that and it sprouted worry that wasn’t there earlier. He thought about using the bedside phone to call his wife.

But was deathly afraid of what he might find out.

-

“Bzzt! Bzzt! Bzzt!”

The buzz of Rodney’s cell phone startled the beige and cream-colored bat from his meager five-minute nap. It was all he was able to squeeze in between now and cleaning up the peas and carrots his one-year old son chucked in disgust against a wall his wife cleaned earlier that day. It didn’t help that his five-year old daughter loudly and obnoxiously berated her brother for being a slob. She thought she was helping her parents, but only helped in contributing to the clamor. Rodney knew he would start his new career tonight; he just wished this call would’ve come eight hours later, after a restful slumber.

He groggily slammed his hand against the phone and answered it. Sliding the green button across the screen was a monumental task when disoriented.

“Rodney here.” He yawned loudly and didn’t bother to muffle it. “Sorry.”

“We have a case for you at the lab; get here within thirty minutes.”

“Yeah, mhm.” He put an effort into sounding awake.

“Rough day?”

“No no. Uh, yeah, I’ll be down there. Don’t worry about it.”

He hung up and hurriedly crammed as much freshening as he could into the time allotted. One quick shower and six-ounce “Beast” energy drink later, he was perked up and ready to go. He left just enough time to kiss his family goodbye before darting out into the night.

And it was for a job hardly anyone would want in the first place, much less associate with a family man.

Coroner.

This was his first night on the job and he was oddly excited to get started on his inaugural case. Many saw him as a morbid soul obsessed with death, but those who knew him better saw otherwise. He knew it was a job that had to be done. He wanted to help bring closure to friends and family of the deceased’s loved ones, as well as play a part in helping lessen their causes of death in the future. He loved life and hated death, and studying its causes helped him tackle it and be less afraid of it himself. He continually reminded himself that death was an unavoidable fact in a broken, sinful world, yet it was necessary for those in the Lord to undergo its fleeting horror. As it is written, “this corruption must put on incorruption.”

That’s what he chose to focus on. Aside from that, he had no way of knowing whether the departed soul went up or down (always a sobering thought) upon its body’s demise, but rested in the knowledge that God did for them what was right and just.

As he flapped his wings through the damp and rainy night sky, he said a small prayer that, whoever he was going to perform this autopsy on, was safely in the Lord’s heavenly realm. Below laid a sea of scintillating lights sprinkled against the darkened landscape of Evergreen, showing that life went on for most, even when it stopped for others.

The lab in which he was to commence his work was beside the police station. He touched down before the locked, metallic door and fumbled about in his bag in the most discreet possible way for his badge. He was glad no one else was out now (too cold and wet), as the jostling of items in his bag spawned inordinate clatter. He didn’t arrive particularly organized.

“Don’t mind me. Just invite the whole town to come over and give me a good mugging.”

He eventually found his plastic white badge and stood right against the wall as he scanned it under the RF device. The tiny red light on top turned green, and he opened the door and entered as quickly as he could. It would lock again automatically after being closed, or if the doorknob wasn’t manipulated within two seconds of scanning. He closed it as soon as he was completely inside, and a single “click” affirmed it was locked again.

Dimmed hallway lights automatically brightened when the bat’s motion was detected. They illuminated a tiled and spotless white hallway of which other rooms were connected (he already had excellent vision in the dark, but it didn’t bother him). Most of the rooms were labs, though not all of them were intended for performing autopsies. Some served the purpose of performing routine analyses of chemicals and other objects relevant to solving cases. A green digital display before the hallway entrance listed who was working in what lab at what time. The bat found his own name, room, and time he was expected to be there.

“Laboratory 17A…I have three minutes. Perfect.”

This was the building where he conducted most of his work when he shadowed other coroners and medical examiners, so he knew where to go. That didn’t eradicate the butterflies in his stomach; this was going to be his first time flying solo, and some family somewhere would have to depend on him for answers.

He badged in to unlatch the door to Lab 17A and walked inside. Not to his surprise, the lights were on, as someone else was already here. Another law enforcement authority, a white mink, awaited Rodney by the operation table. Beside him was something that caught most of the bat’s attention.

A small yellow body bag, a sight that always made his heart sink.

Before Rodney could speculate what occupied this plastic coffin, the mink began debriefing him on what the authorities knew so far.

“He’s a brown squirrel, likely six or seven years old. Found by the river just off Pine Creek Trail by a hare. The hare reported the body just over an hour ago and claimed she witnessed another squirrel kill him. She said that-”

Rodney quickly shook his head. “I don’t need to know what the witness thinks; the evidence will speak for itself.”

“Hey,” the mink, stone-faced, interjected, “just trying to give you a possible lead. She reported that she saw him pounding and pressing on the victim’s body repeatedly, and that she heard the victim cry for help before his life ended.”

“Huh…so, where’s the other squirrel?”

“The witness says he must’ve fled the scene while she was calling police. It makes sense, given it was dark and she was preoccupied.”

Rodney nodded. This indeed sounded incriminating, but he did his best to push her testimony out of his head for the time-being.

The body would speak volumes more than the hare ever could.

After the mink left, Rodney got to work. The hardest part wasn’t going to be all the studying and examining, nor would it be the blood and other bodily fluids oozing and leaking about.

It would be the part where he identifies the body and notifies the child’s family.

Placing the call would be about as horrifying as death itself.

He carefully unzipped the body bag, a container not even a foot in length, and the child's body slowly came into view. First his ears, then his pallid eyes, then his muzzle, then his mouth which was faintly ajar, and so on. The little boy looked as one who wanted to speak, to plead for life, but his words would be forever sealed in this mortal coil.

Rodney couldn’t help but grab a tissue before finishing opening the bag. He wasn’t expecting to deal with a small child like this. The victim was hardly older than his own daughter.

“Okay, little buddy…You’ll never know who I am, but I’m going to do everything to make sure your family gets answers. First…I’m gonna need to find out your name, and I’m sure it’s not ‘little buddy.’”

Along with all of the other operating equipment in the lab, there was a computer that gave him access to a government database that listed every documented citizen living in this country. Also listed was their contact information and all other associated documents related to that person. Once he positively identified the body, he could find out who his family was and proceed to call them.

And subsequently destroy any shred of hope they may have still been holding onto.

Rodney took the body's right-front paw with a gloved hand and held it briefly against a print-scanning device hooked up to the computer. A window popped up on the monitor, indicating his print was being picked up. The rectangular field was dark blue, and a lightly-pulsating green bar inched slowly right-ward as Peter’s print loaded into the system. The name “ScanTech” was superimposed against the blue gradient in bold white font. It was generic, but got the job done.

Nearly three minutes later, the program emitted a chime, and the monitor’s entire display lit up with additional windows containing names and statistics.

Name: Peter Avery

Animal: Squirrel

Age: 6

Date of Birth: June 8, 2005

Place of Birth: Evergreen Community Hospital, Evergreen, AC

Residence: Pine Trails, Inland Valley District

Parents: Ronald Avery, Evelyn Avery

Siblings: Benjamin Avery, Rachel Avery

Other statistics about the deceased child took up most of the screen, and this program allowed Rodney to click on and visit other links associated with Peter. He could view his dental records, hospital records, and most other kinds of documentation ever uploaded into the federal system. He could click on any of the names of his family and view all their information as well. Since Ronald and Evelyn had phones, their numbers were listed. Needless to say, abusing this system to harass or hunt down individuals was a major felony. This access wasn’t granted to Rodney lightly. It could only be accessed via monitored government computers to mitigate the threat of abuse. More information than the bat could imagine lay at his fingertips, but he was only interested in the parents’ phone numbers.

He let out a pained exhale. Clicking on Ronald’s number would trigger the computer’s voice module and confirm that he wanted to call him. Once he said yes, the computer’s phone would initiate the call.

Ronald Avery: (055) 7506-741

After a few seconds of hesitation, he tapped the number, highlighting it in light-blue.

“Call Ronald Avery?” The mechanized voice asked.

“...Yes.”

Another second passed. “Calling Ronald Avery.”

A black window popped up on screen with volume options and a red “end call” button. There was an additional GPS-tracking button, but it was grayed-out and locked behind a warrant code. Unless Ronald was a convicted felon on the lam, Rodney had no use for it.

Seconds of uncomfortable silence ticked by as the ringing persisted. He heard his own heart beat increase in tempo during the gaps of silence. He looked back at Peter’s body as he waited, a fantasized expectation forming in his brain that the child would jump back up and Rodney would simply tell Ronald that his son was okay all along. It was all just a big misunderstanding, and the Averys would resume their lives as though nothing happened.

But Peter remained lifeless.

A sudden voice from the computer’s speakers interrupted his thoughts.

“Hello…Marcus speaking.” Rodney saw that name earlier; he was Peter’s grandfather. The voice sounded tired and somber.

Rodney knew that soon it would be accompanied with tears.

-

Hours earlier:

In an effort to cover more ground, Marcus posited the suggestion that he, Diane, and Evelyn take the other side of the river from the police. More were promised to join the search, but having two extra wolf noses on the hunt didn’t hurt. Xavier and Janet worked in tandem with the badger and lemur, their olfactory senses informing them that Ben remained on their side.

Somewhere between Blueberry Grove and Evergreen, Marcus decided to pull over. Their side of the river was lined with thick forest, and in the event Ronald or Peter washed ashore here, locating them on foot was the only feasible option. He pulled offroad, nestling his car within a flat and somewhat-ensconced nook.

“Let’s start here.” Marcus said. “I’ll take Ronald’s things.”

Diane handed him the bag with their son’s phone, key, and wallet, loosening the leather strap so her husband could easily carry it about his neck. He lowered his head so she could fit it around him. Evelyn carried her own phone and keys.

“Where should we head?” Evelyn asked, pain present in her voice.

“We’ll follow the river. It should calm as we approach the city, so it’s more likely Ronald and Peter would’ve escaped there than back the other way.”

Evelyn nodded but said nothing. Her father-in-law’s use of ‘escaped’ denoted his usual optimism, but she couldn’t ignore the sinking feeling in her gut that the river claimed their lives.

She’d fork over her own life if it truly meant they escaped.

The trio began their hunt. They stuck together while keeping their senses peeled for any movement. With so much thick brush closing in on them, it was easy for two unconscious squirrels to remain unnoticed here. The late afternoon sun provided light to aid their search, but it was sinking quickly. They called Ronald’s and Peter’s names to strike their attention. It wouldn’t matter if they were unconscious (or worse).

But it was better than nothing.

They entered a clearing after thirty minutes of combing the river bank, and the city of Evergreen came into view. Its outskirts began at the bottom of a gentle gradient overrun with tall grass and wildflowers. Marcus and Diane had no problem standing above it, but Evelyn had to stand on her toes just to see above the grass. She climbed onto Diane’s back to get a better view.

“It’d be better for you to stay on the ground.” She advised. “You’ll have a better chance of seeing them if they’re in there.”

“I know; just wanted to see what was ahead.”

Before she could climb down, her phone suddenly started playing Beethoven’s “Für Elise.” It was her ringtone, but she was so on-edge that it made her jump.

“Oh dear, sorry ‘bout that!”

“Who is it?” Marcus asked, stopping his search.

Evelyn read the name on the screen. “Evergreen Community Hospital.”

Her heart jumped as she accepted the call. This must have been Ronald calling to tell her that he and Peter were hurt, but in good hands. He was going to tell her that there was nothing to worry about. Peter had only minor boo-boos and wanted to see mommy so she could swarm him with hugs and kisses, and tell him she was never going to lose him again. Ben was probably there too; he must have followed them to the hospital and wanted to be home again, safe and sound.

“Ronald?” She answered, expecting to hear his voice on the other end of the line.

“Hi, is this Evelyn Avery?” replied a voice that sounded male, but nothing like Ronald. “This is Lieutenant Sykes of the Evergreen Police Department-”

“Did you find Ronald? Peter? Ben?” She interrupted him.

“Ronald is here; we found him unconscious and with a fractured foot by the river. He is being taken to Evergreen Community Hospital to have his injury taken care of. I don’t have any information on Ben's or Peter’s whereabouts, but your husband is in good hands.”

It was a mixed blessing; Evelyn wasn’t sure whether she should be relieved or terrified out of her mind. Where were her sons?

And were they still alive?

The fractured foot was horrible, but it could’ve been much worse. At least he was alive.

“Thank ya…that takes a little off my mind…How long’s the surgery take?”

“A few hours, but you can go down there now to wait for him if you want.”

“We will…” she sighed, “tryin’ to find my boys…no luck yet…”

“Keep looking; they’re still out there.” Sykes wanted to be encouraging, but it was difficult feigning optimism. “I assure you we have our best looking for them too. Jones called in the 11-30 earlier; said he was working with others in your family to find your sons.”

“Yeah…” Evelyn didn’t feel much better though she knew he was trying to help. “I appreciate all the help…thank ya…”

The call ended after a quick bye, and Evelyn related to her in-laws what Sykes told her. A discordant amalgamation of relief and stress filled them too, resulting in cautious hope. They agreed to keep looking for the boys; at least they knew where Ronald was and that he was being taken care of.

The three of them didn’t stop calling out the children’s names, and they asked every person they bumped into if they’d seen them. Every query yielded a ‘no,” each occurrence little by little snuffing out Evelyn’s hope. A mere ember remained.

The early-spring sun eventually relinquished its daytime rule to the oncoming night. Light from downtown Evergreen and surrounding suburbs helped, but the three still needed to resort to their flashlight apps.

Still no squirrels in sight.

“Marcus…” Evelyn moaned. “I’m…I’m comin’ at the end of my rope…no one’s seen ‘em. I’m so scared…what if th-they’re…”

“We’ll look all night if we have to.” Her father-in-law answered, making eye contact with her. His expression was tired, but she could see he wasn’t defeated. “I know you’re hurting, but you have to keep your head held high; Diane and I know what it’s like to lose children; those days they went missing were the longest days of our lives. We didn’t give up though, and neither should you. I won’t let you.”

“Exactly,” Diane also looked at her with tired eyes and spoke with a voice bordering on raspy. “Your children would like nothing more than to see their mother and father again. You have to keep fighting for them.”

Diane’s motherly instinct wanted to assume Evelyn’s pain upon herself. That night Ronald fled from Jack, and those nights her triplets suffered at Kiam’s whims, despite being so long ago, were still painful to think about. Evelyn was crushed beneath the same kind of pain, and Diane was going to fight to make sure her daughter-in-law saw her children again.

No mother should ever have to deal with this horror.

A light drizzle greeted the trio, but the trifle bit of water didn’t stop them. Evening gave way to night, and there was just enough light from the city to make out general forms around them. They watched for any that resembled a small squirrel; Evelyn’s desire to see her children created illusions that made certain rocks look like Ben or Peter. There was one instance where she excitedly called out Peter’s name, thinking she saw him. She scurried over to the form to scoop her child up into her embrace and never let him go, only to discover it was a particularly-shaped plant. Her heart sank when she gripped only damp leaves and twigs.

“I’m such a fool…” She wiped moisture from her eyes and sniffled.

“No you’re not.” Marcus intervened. “I…I thought for a moment it was him as well…”

Suddenly the tune of Bach’s “Air on the G String” erupted from Ronald’s bag. It was his ringtone, but still made Evelyn jump. It was unnerving hearing that lovely, familiar piece while her family dangled precariously over possible doom. She prayed whoever was calling had good news for them. It must’ve been Peter or Ben calling from someone else’s phone.

“I’ll get it.” Marcus walked to the shelter of a nearby pine and set the bag on the dry ground. He took the phone out and looked at the screen…and his body and mind froze.

Evergreen Coroner Lab.

“No no no no no…” Marcus stared blankly at the screen; his mouth held agape and color drained from his face. This couldn’t be real; it had to be some malicious prank.

“Marcus…?” Diane noticed his stunned expression. Whatever it was, it was bad. Evelyn observed him too. Something told her this was going to be the most unwelcome call of their lives. She gripped a clump of Diane’s fur with unrelenting anxiety.

The poor mother wanted nothing more than to be wrong. She simply wanted her sons back and put this day behind her.

Marcus didn’t answer them as his mind was elsewhere. With a shaking paw, he swiped the green button to the right and answered.

“Hello…Marcus speaking.”

A couple seconds passed before someone answered. “Hello, this is Rodney Beltran, coroner for the city of Evergreen…before I continue, are you the father of Ronald Avery?”

“Yes…” His voice was low and lacked energy. “He’s…at the hospital…they’re taking care of him…”

“Is there other family with you right now?”

“My wife and daughter-in-law. Please tell me you’re calling with good news…we’re looking for my two grandsons…I…we just want to know they’re safe…”

Marcus fought back some water forming in his eyes. Of course a coroner’s lab wasn’t going to call with good news, but he wanted to believe this would be an exception.

“I…” Marcus heard a pained sigh on the other end. “I don’t have good news about that, Mr. Avery. I am deeply sorry to inform you that…Peter was found by the river earlier this evening,..I-I'm so sorry..I know this was the last thing you wanted to hear…”

A sledge hammer pounded into Marcus' gut and knocked the wind out of him. He felt hollow; eviscerated by a sickle that left his insides strewn about in a devil-may-care, gory heap.

“…H-he was six…” Marcus sniffled and tried to restrain the tears poised to leak out and roll down his tired face. Diane and Evelyn couldn’t make out his words, as his back was turned to them, but they could hear him about to cry.

Evelyn thought she was going to collapse.

“Mr. Avery,..” Rodney wanted to cry too, but he had to convey he was someone who wouldn’t let his emotions cloud his judgment. “Please…tell Evelyn how sorry I am about this, and…I promise that I’ll do everything I can to give all of you closure. Call me if you need anything…I will let you all know as soon as I have answers…”

Marcus didn't answer as words escaped him. What was there to say?

Rodney knew he should wrap up his call; this conversation was a painful experience for the wolf more than it was for him. “Stay strong for your family…”

The hellish call ended. Marcus’ sniffles became agonized yipps. He dropped Ronald’s phone as his limbs shook.

“M-Marcus?!” Diane ran to him with wide strides, tears forming in her eyes. Evelyn was frozen.

He slowly faced them; his crumpled composure weighed down by the ghastly news. Neither female ever saw him so pallid and forlorn. With strained effort, he parted his lips and spoke; his eyes squarely upon Evelyn.

“...Peter…” He gulped and looked down. “was found by the river...H-he's...gone.”

An ear-piercing shriek rattled the wolves’ bones as the bereaved mother keeled over.

“MY BABY! MY BABY!” She screamed into the clouded sky before crumbling and burying her face into the wet dirt.

“Evelyn!” Diane scooped the small squirrel into her arms, letting her wail and sob into her fur. Diane cried too, and Marcus held her close to himself, trying to remain as their anchor, weeping with them. No words were uttered or exchanged among them, only wails and agonized squeals of agony. Evelyn let out intermittent screams amidst her sobs; her small hands clutched Diane’s fur so tightly it pinched some of her nerves, but she didn’t mind. The pain of her departed grandson hurt more.

Flashes of Peter’s life reeled through her mind. She remembered bringing him into this world. She remembered that blind, helpless baby grabbing at her paw the first time. She remembered different birthdays he had, few as they were. She remembered how he buried his face into her homemade acorn cake on his second birthday and laughed gleefully as chunks of icing wound up all over his face, and how he smeared the frosting all over his dad’s snout. She remembered the time he cut his foot on a protruding stick, and how he ran to her crying so she could take care of his owie. She remembered all those nights daddy would read him a bedtime story, and how he asked him every night to say a prayer for him. Every mannerism and quirk, every giggle and boo-boo, every silly word and little joke…

It was all over.

Nothing in Evelyn’s life was real. The rain wasn’t real. The trees weren’t real. Marcus and Diane weren’t real...Only darkness. Black, all-consuming misery. No light amidst the void, only suffering and horror. The goodness and levity she once enjoyed wrested from her grasp and destroyed by the endless, cold abyss.

“We just…we just wanted a little picnic…somethin’ fun...'appy…” Evelyn rasped after what seemed like an hour. She didn’t scream anymore, but the tears didn’t stop. “And no one knows where Ben is…I don’t know if he’s okay…I-I don’t wanna lose ‘im too…”

Marcus ended his silence. “We should visit Ronald and start looking for Ben tomorrow. God still cares for us…though it’s easy to forget when this happens….Let’s be strong for each other..." A subtle air of confidence in his voice returned. "When one member of the body suffers…we all do. We weep, but remember that we’re not forsaken…Darkness will not win…”

His gaze was focused upon Evelyn, still in Diane’s arms. She looked at him and found solace and stalwart resolve in his eyes. There was agony and exhaustion in his face, but defeat was nowhere to be found. He was the anchor that held the ship afloat, even when it was on the brink of becoming flotsam. She saw why her husband and his siblings spoke so well of him as a father.

The three made the long journey back to Marcus’ car; Diane carried the afflicted squirrel the whole way. The rodent still felt gutted and ground into a pulp, but at least her in-laws were strong and cared about her.

Minuscule glints of light against the void.

-

Pitter-patter, pitter-patter…

Ben’s tiny feet scurried blindly through Evergreen's partially-deserted streets. The drizzle moistened the cement sidewalks, but stumbling wasn’t on his mind. In fact, he didn’t know exactly what was on his mind anymore. Thoughts coursed through his neurons in a disorienting haze. His little brother wasn’t going to wake up again...nothing made sense anymore.

The little squirrel raced past homes and businesses. He didn’t turn his gaze to them, but knew everyone was staring. Families and friends shot accusatory gestures and scorching, searing glares at him.

Murderer.

Killer.

Devil.

Fingers rapidly dialed 9-1-1. Police cars and helicopters launched from their dens to track down this vile little monster and bring justice upon him. Righteous vengeance surged through his pursuers as they brandished blood-hungry pitchforks. Destroy that child of wickedness. Let his discarded entrails festoon the streets and feral beasts of the field consume them till nothing remained. Let the citizens of Evergreen celebrate in the streets with drunken dancing and joyous shouting as Ben’s decapitated head adorned the iron spire's tip.

His father would join the festivities. So would his mother, sister, Carla, everyone. Her family was right to move; her parents obviously perceived a bloodthirsty killer in him.

The angels in heaven as well; they must know eliminating this putrid rodent would finally bring peace to the world.

Ben knew he deserved the unquenchable, sulfurous fires of the lowest hell…but was too scared to stay behind. He wanted death…but dared not to stare into its slitted, yellow eyes. The familiar sight of blue and red lights, and doppler wails of screeching sirens caused the squirrel to turn and dart into the cold embrace of a darkened alley. His tail disappeared beneath a dumpster as three police cars zipped by.

They knew.

He resumed his escape to nowhere. He didn’t know what laid beyond the city, but was assured there’d be nothing that could restore reality. The only thing he would ever know from now on was his brother’s death-cold stare into nothing.

And it was all his fault.

Everything was.

By midnight, the drizzle was a moderate downpour. Ben absconded beyond the city’s eastern border into a vast prairie. Atmospheric light gave the distant mountains a faint, ethereal outline; their seemingly diminutive height suggesting a staggering distance between them and him. Before him stretched an infinite expanse of grass, flowers, and other elements of nature awaiting spring’s nurturing touch.

Ben darted up the slippery trunk of a secluded pine and ensconced himself from the world’s pointing fingers. He finally let out the despairing shriek kept caged in his lungs the past few hours.

He curled into a tiny ball of misery and bawled against the distant thunder without restraint. No one was around to hear his screams and comfort his pulverized soul. Cold, alone, drenched. It was a fate he richly deserved. The accusations played without end through his mind, and Peter’s ghostly expression peered directly into his own. His whole being wanted to deny what happened. Peter was his little brother; never meant to die. There were years and years ahead of them intended for bonding, teasing, japes, encouragement, doing things together.

Life.

Before now, death was just an abstraction. Ben's young mind was not prepared to confront it. No child was ever supposed to perish. Mommy and daddy were never supposed to outlive their little ones. Mommy and daddy were never intended to witness their baby’s cold, lifeless body descending into the ground.

But it happened.

Ben sobbed all night. The distant city lights flicked off as the insufferable night gave way to dawn, and the inclement weather ceased. Meanwhile, his frail mind presented an uncomfortable dichotomy, a conundrum he didn’t know how to solve.

He could go back to Evergreen and face the music. Those wanting his death would be there…but maybe his family would too? Would his parents forgive him? Would grandma and grandpa welcome him back with open arms of mercy? Would his aunts and uncle still accept him as their nephew? Perhaps. He knew they loved him…but would they love him after this? Even if they did…how could he face them now? How could he look up at his mother’s face, knowing he slaughtered one of her children?

Then his mind went to the other option…death. Just die. The horrid reality of Peter’s untimely departure brought about by his own hands, was far too grave for the child to live with. His own death would be a welcome escape from the endless horror his life now was. It was also what he deserved, so it would serve two justified purposes.

If only he wasn’t terrified of going through with it. Once dead…he couldn’t go back.

He was stuck between a lifelong sentence of misery and shame, and a death sentence he was too scared to go through. Ben was paralyzed in a limbo of unrelenting suffering. Nowhere to turn for solace. Nowhere to turn for forgiveness. Nowhere to turn for understanding.

Perhaps…nowhere to turn for God’s love.

The weary squirrel gazed weakly into the sky from his branch. He wanted answers, but was too fragile to ask.

“God…” His tormented mind started, but couldn’t add another word. As if a perfect and righteous God cared about this monster. Killer who shed innocent blood.

His thoughts turned briefly to yesterday. The pastor was insistent on God’s forgiveness and grace, and so was his dad. Were they right? A soft caress of sunlight bathed the child’s backside as he waded through his stream of consciousness, intruding in his thoughts. The warmth was unexpected, given last night’s storm, but it felt nice. Ben instinctively swished his tail in reaction and turned to face the sun. It peeked from behind a slit between remnant storm clouds. He squinted as his eyes became filled with the sun’s radiant glow. After his pupils became acclimated to the light, he climbed down the tree. The grass was still wet and the ground was muddy.

Moist dirt always felt good under his feet; he’d often run outside the house after a good rain just to play in it. He’d scrunch it between his toes and hands, and no matter how many times his mother warned him to wash it off before coming back in, he usually forgot. He'd end up leaving muddy pawprints on the floors she just cleaned. Peter always laughed like a maniac as he chased his older brother with the same muddy feet. Feeling it again brought back happy memories, and the faintest smile appeared on his face.

But it disappeared as quickly as it came. His life couldn’t allow another second of levity. He didn’t know if God was really how his father or the pastor described, and whether he should live on and slog through interminable pain, or look for a way to end his misery.

A contrasting juxtaposition filled the sky’s canvas. The eastern sun illuminated the sky with brilliant blues, pinks, and yellows. There was warmth and life as birds flitted about to start their day, songs and praises creating a sonorous morning symphony. The western sky resembled the previous night. Dark, dense clouds that stubbornly held their place, refusing to release the land beneath from its drab prison of shadows.

Ben stood directly under the two halves.

One side presented light and forgiveness; people who were perhaps forgiving and willing to give him another chance, even if it meant living with unending pain. The other side presented gloom and destruction…but an easy way out.

He didn’t know which way to go.

Beleaguered with hunger, sadness, and exhaustion, the tiny critter couldn’t keep his eyes open much longer. A small, abandoned burrow nestled by an inconspicuous rock provided a resting spot. It appeared to belong to a family of mice originally, given it was a tad snug, but was just enough to accommodate his small frame. With no energy left to wallow in his suffering, and no one around to bother him, he finally curled up and fell asleep.

His decision could wait.