One boy lost,
one boy found
666 was the address – true story
In my truck driving days, one night just before dark I returned to the lot where we parked behind the locked gate that we shared with some school buses. Our office was at a different location but our mechanics shop was there although everyone had gone home by now and all the school buses were done for the day and parked.
I pulled up to the fence and got out and unlocked the gate like so many times before and proceeded to my parking spot. Watching the side mirrors, I backed into the spot, set the air brakes, and gathered up a couple of things I wasn’t leaving in the truck. As I reached for the door handle, I looked straight ahead and directly across from me was a young boy of about 5 years old just sitting there in the driver’s seat of one of the school buses and staring straight at me. We sat there for several seconds, not sure how long, and just looked at each other. He made no motion, did not wave or act as if he was in any kind of distress. Me, trying not to freak out and scare the crap out of him, thinking he’s probably already traumatized by being left behind.
As deliberately as I could, I got out of the truck and slowly walked over and pushed the door to the bus open. I held out my hand for him to take and we walked towards the mechanic’s shop. I told him that there was a phone there and I would call someone for him if not 911. He didn’t say a word. This should be pretty straight forward, right? Not quite.
The shop had an alarm which I had the code for but after unlocking the door, I drew a blank, then guessed and got it wrong. Knowing how loud that alarm was going to be, I explained to him what happened as I led him away from the building to go to the first house for help and a phone. That’s when I found out that this little Hispanic boy didn’t speak English. Then the alarm went off and it was hideous loud, filling up the whole neighborhood.
So, we start walking towards the first house, no one home and not at the next house either. Finally at the third house (alarm blowing up the neighborhood) people were home. It was then I noticed the number on the house was 666.
A lady opened the door and after explaining what happened, let us in to call the police. When we went inside, there was a lot of people all dressed up but there was a very negative air to this gathering. The people who lived there had just gotten back to their house with family and friends after burying their son.
The mood in the room took a 180 when they learned what the boy and I were doing there. All of a sudden, everyone was smiling and excited. It just lifted them up to be part of saving this little boy. They were Hispanic too and were able to communicate. One of them called his parents after I had called the police. I waited for them. No way I was leaving him alone at that address. Saw it through, parents were happy. The boy never acted like it was any big deal.