1 The Bank of the River by Michael Richan

Roy’s arm,
attempting to lift him. “What happened?”
    “I’m fine,
I’m fine,” Roy said, attempting to get to his feet. “I just need to…” and he
slumped into Steven’s arms.
    “Dad? Can
you hear me?” Steven asked, carrying his father back to the kitchen chair and
setting him into it as carefully as he could. Roy fell forward onto the kitchen
table and stayed there. Steven checked Roy’s breathing and heartbeat, both of
which seemed fine. Maybe Roy was just exhausted and needed rest, but he wasn’t
taking chances. With everything he had seen his father go through the past few
days he was surprised it hadn’t happened earlier. Roy was a tough old man, but
he was old, and he had his limits.
    As much as
Roy would be against it, Steven picked up the phone and dialed 911.

Chapter Eleven
     
     
     
    “Here, I brought
you something,” Steven said, tossing Ben’s book from the floorboards into Roy’s
lap on the hospital bed.
    “Unhook me
and take me home, goddamnit,” Roy said.
    “Not a
chance. Not until they tell me you’re OK,” Steven said.
    “I’m telling
you I’m perfectly fine. They wouldn’t know anyway,” Roy replied.
    “Well, humor
me. The doctor is supposed to come around in a few minutes. In the meantime,”
Steven said, pulling up a chair, “I wish to retract some of what I said about
this book last night.”
    “What was
that?” Roy asked.
    “Turns out
there is something useful in it. After I left here last night, I went home and
tried to sleep, but couldn’t. So I started going through it, more carefully,
page by page. These pages in the middle, the ones that look like scrapbooks,
where he taped in newspaper articles?” Steven said, turning the book to the
pages to show Roy, and pointing to one in particular. “That’s what I found.”
    Roy took the
book and read what Steven had pointed out. It was a Seattle Times article taped to the pages of the journal. Suspect Released in Abduction
Case, the title read. “Hand me my glasses,” Roy said, pointing to the stand
by the bed. Steven grabbed them and handed them over to Roy, who put them on
and began to read, sometimes muttering the words, other times stopping to shoot
a glace up at Steven, who stood by the bed watching Roy’s reaction.
    Roy finished
the article, and turned back a page. Here was another article, this one about
cancer radiation from power lines. Before it was an article on contaminated
baby food from China. “OK, what does it mean?” Roy asked. “I don’t see any
connection.”
    “That
article on the abduction suspect is the Rosetta Stone to the rest of the book.
Not the stuff that comes before it, but everything after. I’ve marked some
other sections with post it notes. I want you to read them, but read them with
the abduction article in mind. Everything before it is Ben trying to find an
answer, rambling, lost. He found what he was looking for when he found that
article.”
    Roy turned
to the first bookmark Steven had inserted into the book, and read some of that
page. The penmanship was very small. Ben had managed to cram thousands of words
on a single page, filling every available space. The overall effect of the page
was lunacy, but the content, read as Steven instructed, became more lucid with
each word.
    Roy stopped
and flipped to the next bookmark. Same reaction. As Roy continued to work his
way through the sections Steven had prepared, he watched the color drain from
Roy’s face. When he reached the last one, Roy glanced up at Steven and said, “You
gotta get me outta here. I insist. Right now.”
    “Wait,
there’s more,” said Steven, smiling, pleased that his father seemed to pick up
on what he had discovered in the book.
    “More?”
asked Roy, clearly intrigued.
    At that
moment the doctor walked into the room, and Roy handed the book back to Steven.
Steven guessed Roy preferring to not be discovered with something so lunatic by
a doctor who would be giving him a prognosis.
    They