1.
Transcript of RADIO SILENT
Episode 41
A seventeen-year-old vanishes into thin air. His family and friends have no idea where he might have gone. He leaves behind no trace, no clues.
Or does he?
Almost a million people are reported missing across North America every year. If we pay attention, if we work together, maybe we can bring some of them home.
I am the Seeker, and this is Radio Silent.
2.
TEN YEARS AGO
Dee feels like she’s been waiting outside Sibby’s house forever. She doesn’t want to knock on the door, because then she’ll have to talk to Sibby’s mom and explain what they’re doing, and she’ll make them take Sibby’s little sister, Greta, along with them. Greta is cute, but she can be kind of annoying, always asking questions and being slow. Besides, Dee and Sibby almost never get to play together anymore, just the two of them, and it won’t be the same if they have a little kid tagging along.
Dee isn’t too worried because she knows that Sibby will have a plan. Sibby always has a plan. While she waits, Dee sits on the edge of the porch and swings her legs back and forth, admiring her new boots. They look like her dad’s boots, just a lot smaller. They’re brown leather, the color of chocolate, with bright red laces that catch onto little hooks, instead of threading through holes. They’re warm, but not too warm—perfect for adventures.
The front door creaks open, and Sibby’s head pokes out. She grins and holds a finger to her lips. Shhhh. She disappears back inside, and Dee sits and waits, trying to be completely silent. A few seconds later, the door opens again, and Sibby tiptoes out. Her boots are on, and she’s got one arm inside her coat.
She struggles into the other arm, then leans back inside the house and yells, “I’m going outside to play with Dee!” She stays there, waiting, and then Dee hears Mrs. Carmichael’s voice, distant and muffled. Annoyed? Dee can’t tell.
“We won’t be long!” Sibby replies, and then she reaches in and pulls the door firmly closed, careful not to slam it.
“Let’s go quick,” she says, and Dee can tell from the way she says it that there’s no time to waste. She hops down from the edge of the porch onto the ground. It’s only a couple of feet up, but she knows that the boots help her. She can feel them grip the ground when she lands.
Giggling, the girls run to the sidewalk and turn down the street. When they make it to the maple tree at the end of the block, they both know they’re out of view of Sibby’s house.
“I think we’re okay,” says Sibby, laughing, catching her breath. “Greta made a big mess at lunchtime, and Mom had to clean her up. It was a good time to escape.”
She grins at Dee, and Dee grins back. Sibby always knows how to make things work out. “So what are we going to do?” Dee asks.
“We’re going to the fort,” says Sibby, as if Dee is nuts for even asking.
“Without Burke and everyone else?” Dee asks. She knew that Sibby would want to go to the fort, but she feels a bit uneasy. The woods are fun when there are a bunch of them playing there. But they’re also dark and a bit scary.
“Just because Burke’s uncle built the fort, that doesn’t mean Burke owns it,” Sibby says, as if Dee should know this. “Besides, the woods belong to everyone, and it will be fun to play there by ourselves without everybody else taking up space. Burke’s sisters are annoying. They’re so bossy.”
Dee thinks it’s funny that Sibby would call someone else bossy, but she knows better than to point that out. She also doesn’t bother mentioning that Mara and Alicia have only come to the fort once, right after their uncle Terry built it, and that time it was just to see it. They’re older and not into playing outside the way they used to. Anyway, it’s true that there are usually a bunch of people at the fort, but today Greta is out of the picture, Burke and his sisters are in the city to watch a movie, and the twins—Dee’s brothers—are at hockey practice.
Sibby’s right. Today they’ll have the fort to themselves, and who knows when that will happen again?
“Okay,” says Dee. “Let’s go.”
They cross the street to Dee’s house, then walk two doors down to Mrs. Rose’s house, because the easiest way to get into the woods is through her backyard. Mrs. Rose doesn’t mind. She likes all the kids on their street. She’s like a grandma, even though Dee knows she doesn’t have any grandchildren of her own.
It’s the end of March and still chilly enough for a coat and mittens, but there’s a bit of warmth in the breeze, and as Dee follows Sibby through Mrs. Rose’s backyard, she notices little points of crocuses poking from the ground and tiny green buds on the shrubs and trees, and she knows that spring is almost here.
At the back of Mrs. Rose’s garden is a hedge that backs almost all the way up onto the forest. There’s a gap they can step through, and soon they’re in the narrow strip of grass that separates the neighborhood from the trees.
A cloud passes over the sun just as a breeze picks up, and Dee feels a chill run down her spine.
“Let’s go!” says Sibby, several steps ahead of Dee.
Under the shadow of the cloud, the woods look cold and dark and ominous. Dee wants to tell Sibby that they should just go over to Dee’s house and watch a movie or play a game. But she knows it’s no use; Sibby has made up her mind.
Besides, it will be fun. Sibby’s ideas always end up being fun.
Sibby turns and walks into the trees. A moment later, Dee follows.
3.
What happened to Sibby Carmichael that afternoon in the woods?
If anyone should remember, it’s me. I was there, after all. But ten years and a million sleepless nights later, nothing new comes to me. No sudden revelations, no deeply buried memories emerging from a haze. Just the same few fragments, still crisp and clear in my mind, still as useless as they’ve always been.
It’s the middle of the night, and I lie in my bed, awake in a sleeping world, a broken record skipping inside of me. The same lines skimming past again and again and again.
You could have tried to stop it.
Forget that I was only seven. Forget that nobody, not even Sibby’s parents, blamed me—a terrified little girl—not for a moment. None of that matters when the record starts skipping.
You could have paid attention, noticed something useful, helped them find her.
Over the years, I’ve heard lots of stories about incredible kids, kids who beat the odds. A girl who survived on a raft for days after her whole family was murdered on a sailboat far out at sea. A boy who protected his younger siblings from a cougar by fending it off with a stick. Three small children who climbed into a tree and waited out a tsunami, somehow managing to hang on while the only world they’d ever known rushed by, a chaos of water and destruction.
Why couldn’t I have been one of those kids? Why couldn’t I have dug deep, found strength, risen to the occasion?
You could have saved Sibby.
You could have saved Sibby.
You could have saved Sibby.
Enough. I force myself to sit up. My shoulders slide out from underneath the pile of blankets, and the shock of crisp, cool air is good. It clears my vision and braces me enough to stand and get out of bed.