The Fugitives

 

The weekend rolled around and I was finally free of court cases, at least for two days. I spent the entire day cleaning the house and buying necessities. On my way home from the supermarket, I decided to visit my parents’ graves. However, when I arrived at their plot, their tombstones weren’t there. There was no chance that I was at the wrong plot, so I figured it had to be some kind of vandalism. I went to the police station to file a complaint about the issue and they agreed to look into it.

That night, I could barely close my eyes in bed. I couldn’t fathom what had happened, or who could’ve committed such an odd crime. Who robbed just tombstones? My parents passed away only six months ago; they were both soldiers who got caught in a bomb blast. I wondered whether there was a connection to the military. The next day, the police asked my permission to exhume their remains; it turned out that the bodies I believed to be my parents’ were actually two others’.

As the cops investigated the matter further, I took leave on Monday and visited the army base in our town to talk to the Commander there. He revealed to me something I did not believe to be true. The man said that my parents were involved in illegal arms deals, and that they had faked their deaths to escape when he discovered their crimes.

“I’m sorry, but your parents are fugitives.”

“I don’t believe you!” I said, and stormed out of his office. I drove back home and went through my parents’ journals, but found no helpful information. There was nothing in their files either. I refused to believe that my parents were arms dealers; they were the most honest people I ever knew. That night, I got a call from an unknown number, but to my surprise, it turned out to be the ME.

“Dr. Francis? What’s the matter?”

“Meet me at the cemetery; tell no one about this.”

He cut the call immediately after. I was confused; did he know something about my parents’ whereabouts? I drove to the cemetery right after and found him at our family plot.

“Dr. Francis, are my parents alive?” I asked.

“Yes, we are,” my mother’s voice came from behind me.

I immediately turned around and found my mother and father approaching me. I ran towards them and hugged them tight. “What happened? Commander Cyrus said you two are arms dealers and fugitives.”

“He’s the real arms dealer. He’s hunting us because we figured out his schemes,” my father said.

“Yes, and we’ve been in hiding ever since. We’re sorry we couldn’t tell you sooner. He would’ve expected us to contact you before,” my mother said. “We’re the ones who removed the tombstones as well; it was meant to be a signal for Francis.”

I had no idea that my parents were friends with him. “And what about the explosion?”

“Cyrus is the one who set that up to kill us. Hon, we need your help to clear our names,” my mother said, handing me a USB drive. “This has all the information we need to send Cyrus away for good. Take it to a judge you know you can trust completely.”

My father gave me their new contact details along with a burner phone and told me to contact them only through that. I headed to a close friend who’s a judge the first thing the following morning. My parents, Dr. Francis, and I were all put under witness protection as the case went on for almost a year. Commander Cyrus was sentenced to life in prison without parole and I finally got my parents back.