Page 47 of The Sound of Him

“His name was Elliot,” Travis adds. “I can’t remember if I mentioned that.”

I nod, pulling up the first program I want to try and starting to enter the search parameters. “No accent, you said?”

“Yeah.”

I decide to start with the United States first, just to be able to narrow down the net we’re tossing out there.

My hands are shaking.

There are waves crashing inside of me, sloshing around my stomach, slamming against the cage of my chest. The walls I’ve managed to build over the years are cracking with every rising tide. I’m taking on water. I’m going to fucking drown.

How young is he going to end up being? Is he still alive? Is he owned by one or is he communal? Is he still terrified or have they broken him?

Is he being kept in a closet?

Is he all alone in the dark?

Can he hear any music?

“Ace, man, are you - hey, you good?” Travis asks, his voice soft. He puts a hand on my shoulder. I accidentally flinch away. He pulls back immediately, hand in the air to show he’s not a threat. “Alright. I’m not gonna hurt you. You’re okay.”

I force a laugh. I wonder if it sounds as hollow as it feels. I wonder if he can see the way I’m breaking around the edges. “I know you’re not going to hurt me. Just… zoned out, or whatever. Took me by surprise for a second.”

“Yeah?” he asks, his eyebrows pulled tight in concern.

I realize as I look into his stupidly warm eyes that this is the version of Travis that Carter must get. The version that maybe the others got too, whenever he got a chance to turn soft with them.Did Matt ever get this version? Was this how Travis talked to him after the incident? How Travis talked to Bryce the night Keaton made the call to save his life?

“I’m just tired,” I tell him in a cracking voice. I turn away. I can’t look at him. I can’t - fuck, I can’t have him looking at me like that. “I’ll finish this up and get some quick shut eye while you’re traveling and the program starts to run.”

“You sure? If this is asking too much…”

“It’s a kid,” I tell him, my eyes locked on the screen.Why am I still aware? Why am I still feeling this? Why does my office suddenly feel so small?“It’s never asking too much. I’ve got this. You just focus on the mission. I’ll bring you the packet when it finishes printing.”

He doesn’t leave.

The air gets heavier. Thicker.

Don’t. Please don’t. Just leave.

“You think he’s alive?” he asks, his voice haunted and low.

I close my eyes.

I stick to the facts. I know so many facts when it comes to the kids. Keaton’s favorite was always getting to save the kids. “Odds are really good, actually. Hard to get kids. Even harder for little boys. He’ll-” my throat closes up.

He’ll be too valuable. We might find him broken. Find him a shell of a person. Find him with the soul of an adult who’s seen battle. But he’ll likely be alive.

I don’t tell Travis that some days, after your life is like that, being alive isn’t the best outcome.

I don’t tell him that even if we get our hands on this kid, even if we manage to save him, he’s going to spend the rest of his life fighting to survive.

I don’t tell him I’m fighting right here, right now.

I just tell him, “You should go. Pack. I’ve got this.”

“Yeah, okay. Just don’t tell Carter we’re looking for him yet? Not until we at least figure out the kid’s identity. I don’t want to get his hopes up or anything. Not sure he could handle that.”

I don’t let myself think about hopes or broken hearts or little boys and the monsters who like to hurt them.