The ten second sprint felt like an hour out there in the open with no cover. I was exposed, vulnerable, your basic duck in a barrel. And yet, despite the impending sense of doom that sent a tickling sensation racing up and down my spine, I reached Jake’s side without incident.
I turned and scanned the immediate area to find nothing behind me. No ax-wielding maniacs in pursuit. No angry mob rising from the ground with pitchforks and torches. No danger whatsoever. I didn’t like it. In fact, the quiet stillness of it all soured my belly something fierce.
That’s when it hit me. Not a bullet, or an arrow, or even a rock. No, I was hit square in the jaw by the raw force of cold, hard, truth. It was the swift and sudden realization that this empty field surrounding me, Jake, and the tree, had quickly turned into an old cliché, because frankly, it was a bit too quiet out there.
I mean, there was no sound at all. No crickets chirping, no owls hooting, no cicadas doing whatever it is they do. Nothing but the still void of emptiness. Even if nature had collectively gotten together and chose to keep it down for once, I should have been able to hear the occasional car from the highway. I could see the headlights out there in the distance, but all my ears could pick up was me. It weren’t at all natural. Not in the least. But then, I wouldn’t be here if it was.
My name is Norman Oklahoma. I’m a private investigator that specializes in the supernatural, the unexplained, and the just plain weird. I’m the guy people call when their son, out playing in the backyard, is suddenly surrounded by hundreds of tiny lights and then disappears.
Sure, they go to the cops first. Why wouldn’t they? But for the police, this is a little out of their league. So eventually, my name comes up and I’m given a call.
This is my area of expertise. I know what took the boy. I mean, hundreds of tiny lights abducting a child can only mean one thing.
To be continued ...