Mrs Chaudhary
A young Asian woman stepped out of her car and stepped into a silent residential street. She looked helplessly up and down the road for any sign of who she was looking for. The street was quiet, there was no one there, let alone who she was looking for, especially at this time of night. The sun was starting to set and the streetlights were starting to come alive. So, instead she walked up to the house in which she was originally there for and rang the doorbell.
She pulled her simple blue saree back around her shoulder, feeling a little annoyed at herself for having left the house without a jacket and looked up and down the road while she waited for someone inside to answer.
The road was lined with terraced houses with big bay windows. A few cars were parked on the street right outside, as there were no driveways to hold them. Only a small path divided the vehicles from the beginning of the houses' boundaries.
The front of the house she was stood at had a small and simple front garden, a low wall containing the few plants that appeared to be dying thanks to the inevitable approaching winter season. The door she stood at was a simple white plastic thing with an opaque arched window and a golden handle, the gold was wearing down from overuse.
The young woman looked up at the sound of a bird that was calling from a nearby tree, it was just a male blackbird; a black thing but with a glorious bright yellow beak. She wondered if he was calling for his young. Although they had probably flown the nest now that summer was ending and they were all grown up. She wondered if she would ever see her own son again and watch him subsequently fly his own nest, or whether his chance was taken away from him too soon.
Suddenly a young man opened the door, his face slightly unshaven, a thin navy tie hung loosely around his neck and a beer bottle clutched in his hand. He looked in his early thirties, a short light brown mop of hair on his head and a square jaw, his eyes tired from a long day at work.
"Yes?" he asked, looking at the woman suspiciously.
"Mr Cox?" she asked.
"Depends who's asking?" He frowned.
"My name is Mrs Chaudhary, I believe your son is friends with mine; Sam Chaudhary?"
Mrs Chaudhary remembered the day Samuel came home from school with that boy, Danny Cox. He was a white boy, very pale and skinny. He was loud mouthed and slightly obnoxious for such a small child too. He didn't have much respect for her, her family, the family's Indian roots and her home. She now understood where he got his attitude from, if his father was going to answer the door in such a disrespecting manner, it's no wonder Danny grew up like it too. She'd never let Sam do such a thing.
Sam. Her son. He was such a sweet little boy before he met Danny. He would always respect people, respect his mother, his father, even his distant relations in India. Including her annoying sister-in-law Mysha who would come to visit sometimes from India and who had a dislike for anything that wasn't explicitly traditional Indian.
"Oh, Mrs Chaudhary, yes. Have they found Samuel yet?" the man asked, his face softening in sympathy and guilty recognition after realising that she was the mother of his son's best friend; the boy who has gone missing. He opened his door a little wider and changed his posture to look more comforting, although failing miserably and actually looking pained.
She shook her head and fought back the tears. "No, they haven't! They're useless! I was wondering if you could tell me where the boys went last night? When Sam was last seen?"
He gave a weak nod. "Do you want to come in?" he asked.
She shook her head a little angrily at the man, feeling suddenly frustrated that people weren't more helpful. "I can't! I have to find Sam! Please just tell me what you know?"
"Danny's told everything he knows to the police." He frowned, looking a little uncomfortable. He put down his beer onto the small table that was in the hallway.
"And what did he tell them?" she snapped.
"That they went to the old Sanatorium down the road," he said, but realised she was waiting for him to continue. "He said they were with two other boys, who were in the year above them. They all went down there to hang out, but they heard a strange noise which spooked them so they all ran off. The older boys dared Sam and Danny to go into the building, and of course Sam was in the building at the time they heard the noise, they ran off without him. That was the last time they saw him."
"They left him there?" Mrs Chaudhary asked, looking shocked.
"They're kids, they don't know any better," the guy said, shifting his weight slightly in the doorway as if something was hurting him.
"What were they doing there in the first place?" she snapped.
"It was a childish prank. Danny said the older boys dared them to get some brick with some sort of mark on it. Sam was the one who went in."
"So all three boys, including yours, sent my son into a dangerous and unstable building, where he could have been killed?"
Mr Cox looked taken aback. "The police didn't find him there when they checked out the place. In fact, they even sent in a team of specialists and have people on watch. I've been keeping tabs on the report myself."
She shook her head. "He was obviously kidnapped from inside and the boys sent him in to be ultimately kidnapped!" she snapped.
"Mrs Chaudhary, I know you're upset and you just want—"
"You have no idea!" she said, and stormed off to her car before Mr Cox was even allowed to finish his sentence.
***
Fifteen minutes later Mrs Chaudhary found herself outside an old derelict building. She sat in her car for a few minutes just looking up at the building, not having the courage right away to get out.
She knew the road was originally cordoned off, the police moving people away from the area due to a gas leak—although Mrs Chaudhary wasn't convinced. She had come originally to look for her son before she knew he was officially missing, but couldn't get near the building. She decided to go back when it was quiet. She knew her son and that damn friend of his liked hanging around the place, no matter how many times she'd ask Sam not to go, she knew he wouldn't listen.
She felt like the police weren't treating the incident serious enough either. Her son was missing and possibly hurt and they acted like they didn't care, like they had bigger things to worry about. They told her that the gas leak incident had nothing to do with her son, but she knew in her heart that it was somehow connected. She told them that too. She voiced her anger and disappointment and told them that Sam and his friend liked hanging out there, but they only seemed mildly interested. Apparently the missing child wasn't important enough to them? And then they just cordoned it off for a little while, half a day at best, and then leave it...?
She balled her fists, her nails dug into her palms, feeling angry at the police's incompetence and let out a long and slow breath.
She feared that the building in front of her may have been the last place that her son saw—although she tried to convince herself that her son was fine, alive and just lost maybe, but she couldn't help but fear the worse. Especially after all these strange things were happening in London right now and no explanation from anyone on what was going on.
Wiping away a tear that escaped and rolled down her cheek, she took in a deep breath and committed herself to getting out of the car, maybe she could find something the police had overlooked.
Making sure her car was locked behind her and ignoring the strange black car that was parked down the road which looked completely out of place, she walked to the front door and looked up at the sign stretched across the top of the building; Rose Garden Sanatorium. She ignored the tape on the door that the police had clearly put up to warn people it was a crime scene and pulled on the door, but it was clearly impenetrable.
So she began to walk the length of the front instead to see if there was another way in. She noticed a hole in the fence and wondered if this was the way her Sam had gone through to get into the building. She pushed away any thoughts in her head of her helpless and sweet baby being the last to crawl through the fence and pulled open the wire a bit more so that she could slip through herself.
Behind the fence was a large overgrown garden, which must have been the garden used by the staff and residents of the old Sanatorium back in the day. She noticed a wooden bench which was rotten and falling apart, the metal legs dotted red and brown with rust and weeds were consuming it. The pathways were hardly noticeable from behind the overgrown bushes and weeds. There was an old statue in the centre which looked like part of an old water feature, mouldy with age and hardly visible behind a large holly bush which had grown and engulf it.
She moved towards the holly bush to where she saw the back of the building and walked following the cement path alongside the old hedge, avoiding getting scratched by the branches which outstretched as if deliberately trying to grab unfortunate passers-by. When she came to the end of the hedge, she saw the back door of the Sanatorium only a few meters away, the door clearly wide open. But what caught her interest was not the door just hanging wide open to the outside world, but a small figure standing and apparently staring at the door, shrouded in the shadow of the building.
She stepped forwards to get a better look, doing so quietly yet cautiously. The figure just stood there, with its back to her. Its head was slightly crooked as if it was watching the building and its arms were hanging down swaying lifelessly by its sides.
When she got closer to see, she noticed the figure was a young boy. But what made her squeak in shock was that the jacket that hung on the boy's back was clearly that of her son's. The same jacket that she had bought him for his twelfth birthday; the dark red bomber jacket with black cuffs and a black collar.
But before Mrs Chaudhary had chance to speak out, the boy heard her squeak and turned around slowly and carefully to look at her. His head still crooked to the side and his arms hanging limply.
"Sam?" she whispered, but as soon as the boy turned to face his mother, she screamed in shock to see the boy's eyes staring back at her. The figure was certainly her son, but there was something about his face that made her think that he was no longer her son inside. His eyes looked lifeless.
As soon as she screamed, the figure also screamed back inhumanely and rushed towards her, Mrs Chaudhary lost her footing and fell back into the holly bush, cutting herself all over her hands and face, just before she got a glimpse of the back of something that looked a lot like her son, running awkwardly away and two men in strange black outfits with too many pockets and big guns rushed towards her.
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