Captain Kangaroo was conversing back and forth with both Mr. Green Jeans and Mr. Moose on the television while Isaac spoke in a low, overcast tone to his father over the phone.

Dressed in the same clothes from the night before, Isaac watched Isaiah crawl and romp about on the floor with his Fisher Price toy phone while he sipped away on his fourth cup of coffee for the morning. Isaac's mind was from the TV and drifting even further away from his son.

Every so often he would stare down at his scarred fingernails that felt as if someone had pierced each of them with sharp needles.

"Isaac, are you still there?" Mr. Mercer worriedly asked.

Shaking himself awake, Isaac replied, "I'm fine, dad. I just got a bad headache. Did the fuzz bring your car back yesterday?"

"Yeah, they brought it back last night. I think the carburetor needs replaced."

Just then, a long pause prevailed. The pause was soon followed by a moan from Isaac's father.

"Son...is everything alright with you? You sure don't sound fine."

Just judging by his father's stretched out gap in speech Isaac could sense that he was stressed over his grueling ordeal. All the young man could do was sit and shut his eyes in angst.

"Yeah, dad, I just need some time to...to work things out."

"Where's Lynn at?"

"She went out to get some more medicine for Isaiah. She said she'll be back before nine."

"Isaac, just relax and let the good Lord take care of everything. You've got a friend in him."

Out of helpless frustration, Isaac threw himself backwards into

to tell you later on." He flinched, trying with all his might not

off from work at five, come down to the church and we can talk then. I'd

"Okay, I'll be there." Isaac hesitantly said, sitting back and

"I gotta go to work

"I will, dad," Isaac sniffed

a frightened shakiness in his father's tenor that he hadn't heard before; it startled Isaac enough to where he even lost track of where Isaiah was and

"Dah," the child squealed out as he handed his father his toy phone to play

smile came across Isaac's battered face before taking the plastic receiver, holding it to his ear

customary; Isaiah would just sit and clap his tiny hands as though a parade were trolling right through

forth father and son played until the newsbreak on the television re-ran reports of the murder of the kidnapper, the dead bodies in his basement and

There were the usual speculations from the usual talking heads on just what kind of animal could have possibly killed all

the TV as the screen scrolled through every little Sanders

steady stream of drool dripped down and out of Isaac's bottom lip the longer he concentrated on the screen. He was completely void of any emotion

Isaiah blurted out, handing his father

Isaac's hands and knees all shook in perfect unison as Leroy Cummins' sharply dressed photo appeared on the television. He remembered the generous man offering him a ride

Isaac struggled as he lifted his aching body from off the

of clothing from off the child's body,

being wet; just splashing about in the water was all playtime for him. He knew that he should have been paying close attention to the

couldn't help but to drown in the hellacious notion that everything that happened two nights earlier was nowhere to be found in his mind. Even the remembrances of the grueling strain of his physical transformation had ostensibly been erased, which was hard to fathom considering the pain that he had been in

adults to children, and yet,

Isaac's dead face, alerting him to

playing with that thing, boy, it'll turn into a habit." Isaac

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