An Ordinary Tuesday

Rick kicked a pebble along the winding path of Thistledown Park, watching it bounce toward the wooden bridge. The afternoon sun filtered through the canopy above, casting dancing shadows on the grass below.

"Mom said I could stay until five," he muttered to himself, checking his phone. Two hours left.

He loved this place. No homework pressure, no little sister asking a million questions, just the sound of birds and the gentle babble of the stream. Rick flopped down on his favorite bench near the bridge and pulled out his phone to play a game.

A black van rolled slowly past the park entrance. Rick barely noticed it through the trees.

"Excuse me, young man."

Rick looked up. Two adults in dark suits stood nearby, their expressions oddly serious. The woman had short blonde hair and wore sunglasses despite the shaded area. The man was tall with a square jaw and kept glancing around nervously.

"Are you Rick Thornton?" the woman asked.

Rick blinked. "Um, no. I'm Rick Martinez."

The Wrong Van

The woman exchanged a quick look with the man. "Close enough," she said. "We need you to come with us."

"What? Why?" Rick stood up from the bench, clutching his phone.

"Your father sent us," the man said, stepping closer. "There's been an emergency."

Rick backed toward the bridge. "My dad's at work. He didn't send anyone."

A jogger in bright yellow shorts rounded the corner, earbuds in, completely focused on her run. She passed right between Rick and the two strangers without noticing the tension.

"Look, kid," the woman said, pulling out a small device that looked like a phone but had too many buttons. "We don't have time for games. Professor Thornton is expecting his son."

"I told you, I'm not—"

The man moved fast, grabbing Rick's arm. "Sorry about this."

Rick twisted away but the woman blocked his path to the main trail. The jogger had already disappeared around another bend.

"Help!" Rick shouted, but his voice barely carried over the stream's babbling.

The man scooped him up like a sack of potatoes. Rick kicked and squirmed as they carried him toward the park entrance where the black van waited with its engine running.