Travis ran without trouble in the dark. He, like his father, could see in the dark. They weren’t like normal humans; his father had told him, but his father had also told him it was a secret and he could never tell anyone or they’d lock them away or maybe even kill them. He wondered if the cops were going to kill his daddy and tears came to his eyes at the thought. Travis’ father was abusive, but he was all he had and like any small child he loved his father unconditionally, and he knew his father loved him too. He had just told him so.
While Wolf was loaded into a police cruiser next to Buford who was looking pitiful, the agents began searching in earnest for the boy, while one of then leaned into the window of the cruiser. “What’s your kid’s name Lyle?”
Lyle remained staring ahead without answering.
The agent looked at Buford. “What’s the boy’s name?”
Buford looked nervously over at Lyle, knowing that the man wasn’t one to mess with. If he didn’t want the agents to know his kid’s name, he wasn’t going to be the one to tell them. So, he looked back at the agent and lied, “I don’t know the kid’s name.”
The agent growled in frustration. “Come on! We’re here to help the boy. He’s out there in the swamp somewhere. He’ll get eaten by a gator or bitten by a snake or something.”
Wolf made a scoffing sound. “My boy knows how to survive. Leave him be.”
The agent shouted at Lyle. “He’s four years old; if that! Don’t you have any concern for him at all?” The agent scowled at Lyle and added in a disgusted tone. “Though from the condition we saw the boy in and the conditions of his home environment, I’d say the answer is no. But why not for once in your life, do the right thing? Tell us the boy’s name for God’s sake, so we can call to him.”
Lyle finally shrugged, figuring it didn’t matter anyway. He knew Travis would run for the hideaway. “Travis. His name is Travis.”
The agent nodded and grumbled a “thanks.” He then turned and shouted to the others. “The kid’s name is Travis!” He then turned back to Lyle again. “Where would he go?”
Lyle smiled. “To safety. I ain’t answering no more questions.”
The agent sighed, and shaking his head he went to help continue searching. Social services had just arrived, but there was still no sign of Travis.
By morning they got search dogs on the case, but with so many bogs and waterways, the dogs quickly lost Travis’ scent. He went into the water at some point; they were assuming drowned. Still, they continued throughout the day and the next evening, and again for three more days before giving up and concluding the boy had succumbed to nature. No way a four-year-old could survive in an environment that was known to swallow up grown men.