Boden Gammill, “Where Is He?”

Where Is He?

It was a gloomy humid summer day. It was our first day back since we got home from Hawaii. My bag was still half unpacked, and I didn’t know when I was going to finish it. Dirty clothes were splattered under my bed, my toothbrush was nowhere to be found, and I’m pretty sure I lost my computer charger on the plane. I told my brother I’d go on a run with him when we got back home. We hadn’t worked out in a little while so we thought a light jog would get us back in the routine. There are multiple trails we like to go on behind our house, but I thought we could switch it up a little and make it kind of a race. My 13-year-old brother Paul and I both got new sneakers from the mall while on vacation and wanted to test them out. I got blue and black Nikes that were slightly big, but they were too cool to pass up even though they didn’t quite fit me. Paul wasn’t a Nike guy and got gray adidas. We changed into running clothes and planned where we were going to run. “Why don’t I go through Waverly Park, and you could go on the main road and meet up at the end.” I asked “Oh, so you don’t want to be seen while you run like a penguin,” Paul said with a subtle chirp. “Save the trash talk for when I beat you in the end,” I chimed in. I made my way to the park in my black Lulu shorts and blue Adidas shirt. I popped my air pods in and blasted some of my favorite EDM songs. I only saw a couple people through my journey, but I didn’t stop to say hi to anybody as I was trying my best to beat Paul. I felt like I was flying and in reality, I was because when I got to the meet up spot, Paul wasn’t even there and I couldn’t see him anywhere close. I knew I was fast, but not this fast. I waited a couple more minutes for him to catch up, I mean he probably got distracted or got a cramp like he usually does. I gave it about 10 minutes and was annoyed he wasn’t here. He knows where to meet up and I had plans to meet up with my friends after, so the clock was ticking. I shot him a text that read, “Dude where are you, I told Griffin I’d go to his house after this, so I’m headed home.”

I walked home still blasting music giving a couple head checks to see if Paul would pop up, but still nothing. When I got home, there was no response and I tried to ring him up. “Hey how was it?” my mom asked. “It was great, I think I smoked Paul because he still isn’t back,” I proudly replied. “WHAT, you mean you guys weren’t running together? Have you seen the news recently, there was a kidnapping earlier this week.” she frantically said.

“Calm down, mom, you overthink everything, he will be home shortly,” I said hesitantly. I tried to act all tough around my mom and didn’t even question to think he went missing but as each minute went by with no response, I worried a little. My dad got home from work shortly after and I had to explain my situation with him. “Dad, you know how Paul gets right, if he sees somebody, he knows he always stops to talk to them.” I said. “Mom told me it’s been 30 minutes and he hasn’t been on his phone, let’s be realistic here son. I think you should go back and look for him on the trail,” my dad said. “Ugh, fine,” I mumbled. I had to tell Griffin I’d be late to his house because my dumb younger brother couldn’t keep up with me. I put my running shoes back on and ran down the road at a much slower pace as I was still gassed from my initial run. I probably ran for two miles and still no trace from him. His snap maps said he was on his phone an hour ago, which isn’t a good sign. But, as I ran a little further, I saw something in the distance. It was a beat-up pair of shoes and shirt. I got closer and on the side of a private suspicious road was a pair of gray Adidas, a t-shirt, and an iPhone. Maybe his feet hurt? He got really hot and took off his shirt? What was this kid thinking? “Paul hellooooo, time’s up let’s go home I have your phone.” I yelled. Still no response. I took his stuff home, but once I got home the dreadful police car was in my driveway. At that point it got real. I walked in the door and my dad was comforting my mom in tears. They were with the policeman, but I wasn’t allowed to be in the room. I stayed in the kitchen and could only hear certain things. “Mam, he is going to be ok,” the buff cop said. What does that even mean? I started to try to put the puzzle together, but I couldn’t figure out what happened. It turns out our family friend saw Paul running and got in a scuffle with what looked like two guys that were about thirty. It sounded like Paul tried to escape but couldn’t and they threw him in the car. “We have the license plate of the car, and our team will get your son back.” the policeman confidently said to my parents. I felt useless and didn’t know how to help. I went to my room and cried feeling guilty. The thoughts of this being my fault kept circling my head and I couldn’t get rid of them. What if they killed him? Why couldn’t they get me? All these questions were flowing but I had no answers.

It had been a whole day without my younger brother and my parents, and I couldn’t sleep knowing my brother was in danger. But that’s when we heard a knock on our door at four o’clock in the afternoon. It was the same policeman with Paul, but still with no shoes or shirt. He looked lost and worn out, like he didn’t remember us. “Paul oh my gosh it’s me, thank god you’re safe.” I said. But still he looked confused like I wasn’t his brother. “Hey man it’s me what’s going on can you hear me?” I asked frantically. “I can hear you but where I am, who lives here?” he said. At this point I didn’t know what to do and was freaking out. Did these men drug him? Did they screw up his brain? He’s acting like a robot right now. After all of this went down, Paul looked at me and said “Who even is Paul?” That was the end of it for me. I felt like I lost my brother, yet he was standing right in front of me. They must have hit his head which resulted in all memory loss. The journey to get my real brother back had just begun.

Boden Gammill ’22