Jun 5, 2007 - Entry #10

Jun 5, 2007 - Entry #10

*This diary is intended to be an official record for the world as to what is happening to me and my family and what (although unknown at this point) is to be. -- for an accurate reading, please begin with Entry #1*

Claire and I (and the boys) had left the farm on the 3^rd and we are currently driving to South America.

Around 4 am, after my last post, Claire woke me.

I could see she had been crying (which she had been doing every night, alone, in her room). She had drifted off to sleep beside her son and woke to find him gone.

I noticed her hands were ice cold when she grabbed my arm and dragged me toward the window. She desperately wanted to show me something outside.

Michael wasn’t beside me either and I panicked.

But before I could ask where Michael was she had yanked me over to the window and told me the boys were outside.

I rubbed sleep from my eyes and initially had a hell of a time to focus…

Outside, under an amazingly bright moon, I could see Michael and Julian standing beside the barn. Both facing the wall in their pajamas.

I asked Claire, 'what the hell they were doing?'...'Michael should be in bed'...‘They should both be in bed’.

She pointed, told me to open my eyes and “Look.”

I rubbed my eyes again and could make out papers tacked to the side of the barn....Lots of papers.

I quickly threw some pants on, ran downstairs, and headed over to the boys.

The boys had kept to themselves over the last couple of days, drawing their strange, geometric pictures. They were content (with their strange behavior)...so I had left Michael alone while Claire and I talked and tried to figure out this whole mess.

The boys had finished their drawings, had got out of bed and tacked them up on the barn wall with a staple gun. Up close it was a strange collage. But when you stepped back several feet you could see that the separate images (on separate papers) made up the unmistakable shape of a South American country.

I stood there with my mouth hanging open beside Claire. I asked her what the hell it was for.

‘The boys said we will find answers there’

Michael walked over and pointed to one, well defined spot. “Here”.

So without any other options and having stayed at this farm way too long, we said our good-byes and have hit the road.

Before leaving, the old man told me he had ‘mowed down’ the strange impressions in the alfalfa and told me not to worry. whoever comes looking for us will ‘see the wrong end of his shotgun’.

I smiled, shook his hand and said goodbye.

We have been taking turns driving Claire’s mini-van for a day and a half now.

We have pulled into a small town now and have rented a motel room with two beds.

Claire hasn’t been talking much and, up until moments ago, she hasn’t slept (hardly at all) in days. Upon opening the motel room door she flopped onto one of the beds and instantly fell fast asleep. It was only minutes before I noticed a few tears roll down her cheeks.

I fed the boys some sandwiches and they have fallen asleep in front of the muted television.

It is quiet here now as I type this and search the internet for any news on anything at all.

Previous news reports on the net of me being 'hunted' are gone.

I keep trying to google my wife’s name. searching online newspapers for any sign of her being found.

Nothing.

It's like she never existed and I want to drive my fist through the wall.

driving to South America like this is insane.

I feel like I'm losing my mind.

and I feel further from the truth

...more than ever before.

.