Finding Out Who
Author: Alexandra
From: Des Moines, USA
Age: 11
Date: 5th Jul 2000, 9:18 AM
Rating: 5
Comment:
Title: Finding Out Who
Chapter 16
The Pudgy man had thrown me into the back of a car, and taken off with only one
body guard. We were headed off to find the man or woman that must have caused all of
this, some way. . . or another.
We drove and drove for hours, and at one point passed what use to be Perry’s
hideout. But now, now Perry was dead. Gone. It was now obvious that Perry didn’t harm
my father in anyway. Instead, he was a kind, yet loony friend of mine that I was never
going to forget.
The car stopped. The Pudgy man lead the body guard now carrying me to the front
door of an old, beaten up black house. I really, really didn’t want to have to go in.
I was carried into the house, and I didn’t like what I heard. It was silence. Pure,
utter silence.
"Find him." The Pudgy man barked out. "You can leave the girl on the couch and
search the main floor so that Ozrob doesn’t grab her and run."
The guard holding me stood to attention for the Pudgy man and then laid me down
on the couch. Then he started to search. I don’t really remember what I was thinking right
then, all I know is that I was in a sort of shock. Shock that it couldn’t be my mother in
hiding. For the Pudgy man had ombined the word "him" adn the name "Ozrob". And I
sure didn’t have any long lost brothers. Besides, my dad was an only child. No brothers to
become my uncles. There was only one male Ozrob, since my grandpa had fallen from old
age before I was even born.
Get the point? Catch my clues?
I just got to lie on that couch, and cry, for about five minutes. Only five minutes,
before a man with a 3 day old beard did just what the Pudgy man I later found out was Joe Johnson thought my dad would do. My dad burst out from the cubboard he’d been hiding in and yanked me up from the couch. He shot over to the door, but never made it.
Johnson’s body guard had seen and heard him, but he didn’t use his machine gun on my
dad. Instead, he pulled out a little dart gun, aimed, and fired. The little dart hit my dad
square in the middle of his back, and my dad dropped me as the liquid in the dart seeped
into his veins and put him to sleep.
I was crying for joy, that at least he was alive.
* * *
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