The Runaway Plan

by Sebastian Ordonez

Art by Marco Cortes

It was shaping up to be the most boring summer any of us had ever remembered. Somehow or another, all of our vacation plans had fallen through. We were stuck in this old town while all of our other classmates were out seeing the world. Before long, school had started again, and I know I’m not the only one who felt like we’d wasted the whole summer. 

It was Josh who initially suggested the Runaway Plan, as he called it. It was his idea of having some fun before school got too serious. The way he pitched it to us was that we’d be injecting some excitement into our quiet little town’s existence. It’d been years since anything interesting had happened in Willsborough anyway, he said. The people around here would appreciate something new to gossip about, and we weren’t doing any lasting harm. 

Claire had objected. She thought we might be taking it too far, although she did admit it sounded fun. She suggested shortening it to a half-week long excursion, but Josh was adamant. 

Jess had been nervous; she had never been the adventurous type. She just really liked to hang out with us, I guess, so she was willing to go along with our harebrained schemes if it meant making memories with her best friends. She was more hesitant this time than usual, but I said what needed to be said and convinced her. 

As for me? I thought it was brilliant. I had always hated Willsborough, but my parents never wanted to move. This little stunt would finally give everyone something to talk about; life is just too short to live without exciting risks, if you ask me. 

We disappeared on Friday the twenty-fourth. We’d arranged to do it after school. We had packed all the things we’d need in our school bags the night before and—once school was out—we made our way to the house on Willow’s Hill. I remember seeing the leafless trees waving in the wind, their branches looking like sharp jaws opening and closing. The rotting mansion had been haunted for generations, or so the legend said; we didn’t believe in all that, naturally. 

We explored the place that day, although there was one door—the basement door—which we couldn’t get open. We laid our sleeping bags out on the floor next to each other in an old bedroom, and talked late into the night about how exciting this next week was going to be; the old mansion’s creaking and groaning was unnerving, often frightening us into silence, but that was part of the fun. 

We spent Saturday and Sunday doing our homework together, exploring the woods (while being careful not to get too close to the road), and playing board games to pass the time. 

By Monday we were starting to get bored, but Josh kept us in high spirits by talking about how everyone would react when we suddenly reappeared that Friday on Halloween night. 

Jess was getting nervous because we kept hearing loud cracks and creaking floorboards from empty parts of the house. Sometimes they sounded oddly like footsteps, but nothing was ever there. Given that it was an old wooden house, though, the rest of us tried not to think about it. 

It was Claire’s idea to steal the newspaper. We knew there was a chance she would be seen, and then the Runaway Plan would be ruined; but she managed to avoid detection. We’d all left our phones at home since there’d be the risk our location would be tracked, so the newspaper gave us a glimpse of happenings back home. The large bold letters read: 

THE MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE OF THE WILLSBOROUGH FOUR

We knew then that even if we were found before Friday, the Runaway Plan was a success. We’d created a legend that would likely be talked about for years. 

Wednesday morning, in the middle of the night, I awoke with a start. A violent snapping and cracking echoed through the house for a moment, like footsteps in the dark; then there was silence. 

“Are you guys awake?” I asked tentatively in the dark. 

“Yeah,” Claire said worriedly, “What was that?” 

“Probably just the house,” I volunteered. 

“Okay,” came Claire’s voice quietly. 

“Don’t worry about it Claire,” said Josh’s voice. “Go back to sleep.” 

“I’m not scared.” 

“Sure.”

“I’m not.” 

We failed to notice until morning that Jess was gone. 

In the morning, we found no evidence she’d ever been there. Her sleeping and school bags had disappeared with her. We figured she had lost her nerve and gone back home, so we cursed her and prayed she wouldn’t give us away. By evening, Claire decided to steal another newspaper to see if Jess had indeed returned home. 

WILLSBOROUGH FOUR STILL MISSING,

read the title. Jess hadn’t returned home, or else the newspaper would have reported it. After all, we were the biggest story they’d had in years. By nightfall, we fell asleep wondering where Jess had gone. 

That night, I awoke to the same creaking as before. This time, I just tried to ignore it. I should’ve gotten up and tried to do something; but now, it’s too late. 

Claire was gone in the morning. 

It was Thursday, the day before we were supposed to reappear. However, when once again, no one came to retrieve us, we became worried that Claire hadn’t gone back home either. 

That evening, Josh and I lost our nerve. We packed up our things and headed back early, lacking the courage to sleep in the house after two of us had disappeared without a word. Hanging our heads in shame and filled with restless worry, we trudged towards the road that would take us back to town. 

Before we reached it, however, there came a sudden crashing in the woods to our right. We were already somewhat on edge, so this sudden sound—like a mix between a galloping horse and a large man crashing through the undergrowth—scared us half to death. Even now, I swear I saw nothing at the edge of my vision, but at that moment, I was convinced there was something enormous bearing down on us. Without thinking, I dropped my things and bolted back to the house without catching a glimpse of what the thing was. It was only when I was inside and had locked the door that I realized Josh was no longer by my side. 

I didn’t have much time to dwell on that, however. There was a sudden banging at the door; something large was trying to break in. I ran to the nearest open door and slammed it closed behind me. It was only once it was locked that I realized: I was in the basement, the door that was locked before. 

Dark concrete steps led down into darkness. I cautiously climbed down, terrified out of my mind. The old ghost stories about the house on Willow’s Hill kept playing out in my head. Reaching the bottom, I felt around blindly for a light switch, trying to ignore the overpowering stench of mold and rust that assaulted my nose. I found it and flicked it on.

I was standing in a small concrete room that was completely empty except for four rusted metal bed frames. On each bed frame was a stainless, white mattress, and three of the mattresses were occupied. 

Jess, Claire, and Josh were sleeping soundly. I could tell they were sleeping, and not dead, because I could hear them breathing and saw their chests rise and fall; but somehow, I knew that they would never wake up. 

At the foot of the beds, our school bags were laid out neatly; at the foot of the empty bed was my own, which I could have sworn I’d dropped outside. I pulled out from my bag a pencil and paper, and I began to write. I don’t think the four of us will ever be found, so I hope this note will be discovered, and our parents will have closure. Only now does it occur to me just how much we put our parents through with our little disappearing act; and now, we’re going to disappear for good. 

I deserve this, really. I know that the only reason Claire agreed was because Jess had. I knew that Jess only hung out with us because she liked me, and I’d pulled her aside and told her I’d go on a date with her if she agreed to come with us, a promise I never intended to honor. At least she had been taken first. If it was the other way around, she would have been screaming her head off with worry and fright by now. I’m glad she gets to sleep soundly forever. 

When I finish writing this, I’ll slide it under the basement door into the house, because I’m sure the door will lock after this, and then we’ll never be found. Then I’ll come down, say my final goodbyes to my best friends in the world, climb into bed, and go to sleep. 

I suppose, in a strange way, that the Runaway Plan was a success. We’ll be remembered for years to come; and we’ll never be seen or heard from again. 

Daniel M. Watkins

Oct. 30, 2018