Conan

The days passed slowly and relatively peacefully at the Wallock house; after that last, desperate attack that had rocked their world and caused everyone to hide away in the waterside vacation home overnight to protect themselves, the attacks of the CrypticSilvers had seemed to die away and go dormant... almost as if something else had their attention. Two months after that fearful, fateful night when they'd fled the trailer for their safety, Conan's gunshot wound had healed, and his strength had built back up until he was almost his old self again, even if he never did sleep peacefully after that. Life had returned to something resembling normality, if one could discount the fact that Conan still missed his brother terribly, and moreso with every day that passed. The teen had taken to keeping the house clean and tidy, and the animals and plants taken care of, while the adults minded the store during the day, and though he was quiet and disinclined to participate in any conversation or social activities, he hadn't seemed to be too badly impacted... he coped with the situation very well, considering. Maybe once a week the household would be stirred by the teen's cries or moans as he woke from a nightmare, but otherwise, he seemed to be doing alright, and he certainly never complained to Summer or Collin.

It was a fine, brisk morning that the household woke to - autumn was well in swing and the temperatures were quite cool in the early hours, to warm up to almost livable temperatures by midday and fade off overnight. Six was the usual hour that Conan stirred, when he awakened by the pale light of dawn through the single window in his borrowed bedroom and set about tidying the house and readying breakfast while the adults still slept, his feet light and soundless against the sensitive, creaky floorboards of the trailer. Ordinarily, by the time they stirred, there would be delicious smells to be had in the house, as the teen had proved to be a marvelous cook. It had taken a great deal longer for the boy to trust Collin than it had for him to get close to Summer, but he'd finally seemed to accept that the man was just as gentle as his wife was, and after that, he'd really started to bond with the husband, and had taken to watching the man and asking questions as he cooked - the teen had shown a remarkable talent for picking up on and remembering the little tips and tricks Collin shared with him. But when the house woke this morning, there would be no smell of sausage or frying bacon, or the tea that the boy had formulated himself and brewed every morning alongside the coffee, mostly because he preferred tea. The house was silent and still, and the kitchen empty.

Summer & Collin

Neither Summer nor Collin were too over bearing with Conan, even if the former of the two had to patiently check herself now and then and remind herself not to smother the poor teen with her worry. Collin was just as invested in Conan's welfare, and that of his kidnapped brother, but he had let his wife provide most of the emotional support for their 'adopted son', merely because he'd learned very early on that Conan was not nearly as comfortable around men as he was woman. The pony-tailed man was pleasantly surprised when the teen began to interact with him more, and he never failed to answer any question the boy had, or to encourage him to try this or that in his cooking ventures. All in all, minus Raimi's disappearance, the small family had bonded and finally provided Conan with the kind of environment that he could have sorely needed in his earlier years.

Summer was the first up this morning, and subtly concerned when she didn't smell the usual breakfast or tea in the air. It had become such a commonplace thing that its sudden absence put up a red flag in her mind, enough to make her dress a little quicker. Stepping into a pair of slippers to ward off the cold linoleum of the kitchen floor, the woman passed through it and moved to the small hallway that led to Conan's room. "Sweety, are you awake?" Respecting his privacy, she rapped quietly on the door and called to him first, a little alarmed that he wasn't up yet.

Conan

Perhaps unsurprisingly, there was no answer when Summer tapped on the door, and even if she waited for a few moments, it wouldn't open, as often was the case if he didn't feel like talking, but wasn't going to keep her out of the room. Never once had he refused to have her in the room unless he was dressing, and even then he politely asked for a few moments to let her know that he was alright. But there was no such answer today, aside from silence. What might attract her attention though, if she stood close enough to the door, was the loud groan of abused wood that sounded when her weight went against the boards by the door. They had always creaked some, but as Conan had displayed time and again, they were quiet if she stepped on them just right, and they never groaned this loudly. It almost suggested a weight on the other end of the boards, where they continued on in the teen's room.

If she tried to open the door, she'd find it blocked from the inside, making her able to push it only a few inches before it would move no more. It came up quite suddenly against something soft, but heavy enough to keep the door from going further and permitting entry into the room. As it stood, the opening was so narrow that even the slim Summer wouldn't be able to squeeze through - another concern, because Conan always kept the bedroom spotless and neat, ever aware that it was Greg's room and didn't belong to him... there shouldn't have been anything in the middle of the floor to block the door. Summer would have to get down on her knees and lay her cheek against the door frame to see into the room, but if she did so, she would be greeted by a flash of red hair and a close-eyed face; Conan was lying on the floor, his face turned toward the door... he didn't respond to her calling, and his lips were a little blue around the edges. That indicated that something was really wrong, particularly when he didn't stir when the door poked into him - he lay there so still that it was impossible to tell whether he'd been lying there a few minutes... or all night long since the adults had gone to bed.

Summer & Collin

Met by a few moments of silence, Summer raised her voice the next go around and called again to Conan. And, after a few more moments passed without any response, the alarm in the back of her mind blossomed into definite concern. "Conan?" She tried his name a third time, this while she pushed to open the door- and promptly found that it wouldn't budge more than a few inches. The way that the door stopped didn't paint a pretty picture in her mind; it didn't thump against something solid and hard, it was stopped by something soft, yet heavy enough to keep her from opening it. Like a body. Since Innuo wasn't here to sprawl himself in front of any door, and Collin was still getting ready in their room, that left only Conan, "Conan?!" Her suspicions were confirmed when she quickly dropped down and tried to peer through the slim crack, and saw the wash of red hair and the close-eyed face of the kid. "Collin! Get an ambulance!"

The husband came dashing out of the room at she was racing for the door and shedding her slippers along the way, "He's unconscious - he's in front of the door, I don't know what's wrong..." That's the rushed explanation that Collin got before Summer was out the door and stepping hurried across the dew-laden grass on her way to reach the nearest window of the room. While Collin hurried to dial 911, the woman was struggling with the window before she got it to pop up and let her inside. The lock had long ago been broken by Greg, and even if it hadn't, there were more than enough suitable objects laying around for her to use against the glass. Fortunately, she was spared the trouble of that as she climbed through the opening and dropped into the room. The very first thing she did was to grab his wrist and check for a pulse, and to carefully roll him over so that he would be on his back.

Conan

"Summer, what's wrong?!" That voice was Ms. Dyle, the sixty-some year old widow that lived in the number 25 trailer and shared a side yard with the couple. It was said as she watched Summer dash by - the older woman was famous for getting up in the early hours to weeds her garden or walk her little dog, Scruff, and she'd never before seen the younger woman look so panicked. Understandably, Summer didn't have much attention to spare her, but the utter alarm touched Ms. Dyle deeply, and like the technology-forward senior citizen that she was, she dug a cell phone out of her pocket and capably pushed the numbers of 911, unaware that inside the house, Collin was doing the same thing.

Once Summer got into the room, it was clear that no foul play had occurred - the room was as neat and orderly as ever it was before, but alarmingly, the bed was made and unslept in, which meant that he had either been conscious long enough to make it this morning, or that he'd never laid down in it the night before. The fearful woman was offered a pulse when finally she stooped down beside the fallen teen and took up his wrist - one that was strong and steady, despite the alarming paleness of his features and the blue tinge to his lips and face. And he was breathing, too - slow and shallow, but steady at least. And there were no marks on him... apparently, he'd passed out because of a lack of sufficient oxygen getting to his brain. Just why this had happened was unclear, but it was the only conclusion that could be drawn, since the room was neat and undisturbed, and the teen unharmed aside from the fact that he obviously couldn't breathe well - and that he didn't respond even to her touch as she rolled him over.

Summer & Collin

The man's first route of action was to call the police, and then to dash outside as he tried to figure out where his wife was going, and what had happened to Conan. A brief, bewildered sort of look was shot towards Ms. Dyle after he stepped out into the wet grass and watched as Summer scaled their son's window and quickly disappeared inside. His first thought was that the door was locked, which had forced Summer to run around and go in through the window, so he retreated back into the home without having the time yet to pause and address Ms. Dyle.

The lines worry creased the woman's face dramatically, and didn't retreat even when she found a pulse on the teen. He was alive, and that was a tremendous relief, but there was something critically wrong if he was unconscious like that, with blue-tinged lips that suggested a lack of oxygen. Not registering her neighbor's startled question, or Collin's calling as he rounded the hallway and reached the door, Summer put all her strength to use as she struggled to haul Conan back from the door, having sense enough to know it'd be much quicker for the medical personal to get him out this way, rather than have to use the window as she had. "Oh sweety, what happened to you?" Though he couldn't hear her, the woman spoke in whispered distress after she'd managed to pull him far enough from the door so that Collin could enter. One hand was still bound around his wrist, where she could monitor his pulse, and the other was reaching for his face, first trying to discern whether it were hot or cold, and then to brush away what hair was in the way.

Conan

"Number twenty-three Midtown Gardens... well, both Summer and Collin are okay, so I guess it's Conan, the boy staying with them." Now on the phone with the emergency personnel, who were trying to piece together what Collin had told them and what Ms. Dyle was now telling them, the woman was speaking patiently and clearly into her cellphone. "He's just turned sixteen about a month ago... I'm not sure. The kid's kind of shy and has a few touch issues, but he helps me with the plants sometimes. He can't talk too well... something about an old injury. What? Oh..." She trailed off, and stepped up to the window, calling in, "Summer! 911 wants to know is he breathing, and does he have a pulse?" She called that out, and as she was waiting for an answer, she muttered into the phone, "They're fostering him... yes, he's been here for just over a year now. No, I don't think so - I'm pretty sure his parents are no longer living."

The teen's face was cool, though not alarmingly so, since he'd obviously been laying on the cool boards of the floor for a while. He didn't answer her, and after a moment, Ms. Dyle called out again. "Collin, come to the window and get the phone! This will be faster if I don't have to repeat things for them." So saying, she moved below the window and reached her cell up so that the husband could take it from her and talk to the EMTs, so that he could provide the information they'd need when they got there.

Summer & Collin

After things had been going so well, or at least as well as they could have with Raimi gone, this scene struck Summer with enough shock that she still failed to catch Ms. Dyle's question until a few moments later. By the time she was calling back over her shoulder and reporting that he did have a pulse and was breathing, Collin was slipping into the room and getting a shock as well at seeing the teen flat out on the floor, and looking far from well. Having hung up the phone after seeing Dyle already on the ball, Collin now took the cellphone from her as he reached through the window, "No, not that I can see. We don't know, we last saw him at night, before going to bed. Yes..."

There was little that Summer could do by stay by Conan's side and wait for help to arrive, and to make sure that he didn't stop breathing. Collin stayed near his wife for the most part, trying to be supportive while fielding the various questions that he was being asked. Only when the sound of sirens came from outside did he leave their side and move back into the small front lawn to hail down the drivers. For as quick as they were to get here, it felt like eternity for Summer, who was puzzling over and over in her mind how Conan could have come into the condition he was in now. She continued to stay next to him, and only let go of his wrist when the EMTs crowded into the room and began to maneuver the boy onto a stretcher. "I don't know what happened - he was fine yesterday. I just don't know what happened..."