The Search Essay example -- Creative Writing Search and Rescue Essays

The Search   Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  I used to work for the F.B.I., in the Portland office. It was my childhood dream to be the one who gets the bad guy. My fiftieth birthday was in just three months. I had a wife and three children, still do, and the same job I'd had since my graduation from Quantico. We were living just outside Portland. My oldest son, John jr., was in his third year at Washington. The twins were high school seniors at this time and my pride and joy, daddy's little girls. Carolyn and I had celebrated our twenty- fifth anniversary, that's the silver one I think, the previous Thursday night. That warm July morning, I dressed for work as I had every other. Black socks and slacks, a pin striped white dress shirt, and a black jacket. I slipped on my loafers but was lost in the search for my tie. Coffee stained and still unwashed, I found it laying on the laundry room floor. I swore to myself to let Carolyn know about that. I walked into John's empty room, knowing he owned some ties. It was just as he had left it, I guess, because I'd never really gone in his room. I picked the red one he wore in his graduation pictures and slipped it over my head. I stepped into the bathroom, combed back my whitening hair, and left for the office. The early morning sun shone in through the broken blinds that I noticed hadn't been replaced as I asked. I looked over the pile of paperwork awaiting me. â€Å"Why the hell do I gotta do all these damn reports?† "Actually, you don't, not today." I turned to see a man much like myself, but older and with his piece on. He was a little taller, but with the same sagging features and large belly of my body. â€Å"I've come here to give you something new.† With that, I was handed a thick manila folder. It felt like it contained a video cassette. â€Å"All you need is in there, including my card. This is top priority, Agent Caulsworth. You will report to me on the hour with your progress. The paperwork here will wait.† The man turned and left. Outside, I heard a jet-copter quietly lift off. Funny I hadn't heard it land. I poured out the contents of the folder, the federal statement, a case history, vid cassette, and a dossier. The card that fell to the floor read 'Federal Marshall Wilson R. Franklin'. He was from the Boise office. "Must be real important for him to come all the way out here." Steve Menschke was my oldest fr... ...was the only thing that mattered to me, and he's all that's left."   Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  I reached into my pocket and withdrew the tie. Mud concealed the red fabric. I tried to think of John. My mind strained to see his face, hear his voice. A tear rolled down my cheek and fell off my chin onto the tie. I loosened the knot and slipped it back over my head. With my sleeve, I wiped my face. I lifted the flashlight, switched it off and tossed it to him. "Take it." I turned away and started back into the world. Hendricks' team found me a few miles west of the hole. They airlifted me to the Olympia hospital. I was treated for a broken clavicle and shoulder blade, along with my ribs. The tissue damage to my back and side was extensive and I have little use of either. After two days they released me. The next day, I received a call from Franklin, in Boise. I was commended by him for putting myself on the line. He granted me early retirement, and a bonus for being injured. He asked if I might know anything about the disappearance of David Brown from his grandparents' house in the middle of the night. I told him I did not. I bid him farewell, hung up, and dialed John's number at school.