It was in that fleeting instant, Daniel Woods vanished.

It had been the Ben 10 alien figure which had caught his attention, like a glittering hook in some murky depths. Having crossed the road safely, the boy walked purposely through the space between two buses. Hidden from the afternoon sun, the corridor formed by the long, silver vehicles was cool, like a shadowy ravine. Although, it was not lifeless - the two coaches were gently shuddering, as if they were great sleeping beasts.

Halfway along the strange alleyway, Daniel noticed one bus had its long luggage compartment open. The flap covering the cavity had been lifted up, and pushed back to rest against the side of the bus. This had exposed a deep, dark cavity in the belly of the vehicle. Daniel thought it looked like an open doorway, lying on its side.

As he drew level with the long cavity, Daniel’s curiosity overwhelmed him. Crouching down - as if to waddle duck-like - he peered into the chamber beneath the bus. What he saw there in the shadows made him gasp. The cavity was almost entirely empty, with the exception of a red plastic crate shoved against the back corner of the space. The crate overflowed with brightly coloured toys and candy. Action figures and Barbie dolls were stretching out of a tangle of Slinky Springs, jewellery sets and Hot Wheels cars. Around the outside of the plastic box a selection of Ben 10 - Daniel’s current favourite - figures were scattered around. The sight reminded him of pictures of Santa’s sleigh. Only this wasn’t December; it was July.

The temptation placed before the boy was simply too much. He knew his mom would be waiting, so he had to be quick. Daniel glanced furtively back over his shoulder, then happy enough with the lack of witnesses, he climbed into the cool rectangular compartment. Within the shadowy crawl space, there was a faint smell reminding Daniel of the large white medical room at his kindergarten. Crawling over towards the box of toys, the small boy made a quick grab for a Rip-jaws figure, but as his fingers closed around the figure, someone slammed the door of the compartment shut, trapping him inside.

Claire was out of the locked car now, and running crazily back and forward calling her son’s name. Her efforts were undermined by the dull blasting horn of some large vehicle, which was regularly obliterating her cries. Cold fear began to flood her body, as she darted around the sea of cars. Seeing no sign of her son, Claire dropped to her knees, and looked desperately beneath the sea of cars in the hope of glimpsing red, size five baseball boots wandering by. Maybe he’s just lost, she repeated to herself, in a tenuous mantra. Standing up, she began to stop random strangers, clutching their arms in swelling desperation.

‘Have you seen a little boy?’ she asked repeatedly, her voice rising to a panicky crescendo.

Suddenly, Claire formed a notion of hope. Perhaps he had simply returned to the bathroom. Tracing Daniel’s initial route, she ran back to the service building. Pushing the male bathroom door open, and with no regard now for propriety, Claire found nothing but empty cubicles.

‘Are you okay?’ asked a female employee, who appeared over her shoulder, wearing a red cotton vest, and carrying a plastic clipboard.

‘I’ve lost my son,’ Claire blurted through a ripple of hot tears. ‘He’s just seven years old.’

‘Okay,’ the woman spoke calmly. ‘Let me help you. What’s his name?’

‘It’s Daniel,’ Claire gasped.

As the woman spoke into a small radio clipped to her lapel, Claire hurried back outside, and ran over to the Toyota. By now, she was making all sorts of deals with God to let her find her son standing nonchalantly at the side of the car. As she reached the vehicle, she discovered only Rita, blissfully oblivious of the chaos unravelling around her.

As a group of hastily organised employees began to sweep systematically through the parking lot, Claire felt a new wave of desperation wash over her. Cupping her hands to her mouth, she began shout her son’s name relentlessly. Rushing randomly from car to car, her calls were still regularly punctuated by the angry blasts of some air horn. As the minutes passed, Clare’s shouting gave way to screaming her son’s name, until her voice grew hoarse, and there was finally no breath left.

It was then, in the hopeless silence, a sound formed, like a flare in an eternity of darkness. The broken mother thought she heard her lost son call out to her.

Pausing, Clare’s eyes widened, and then, she heard the sound again - faint, but enough. She moved closer to the sound, passing cautiously by a rusty Volvo, and then, a Lexus.

Claire was vaguely aware the blasting of the horn was louder now, and coming from a large silver bus, which was angrily lurching inches forward. A refrigerated truck, with European plates, had entered the parking lot on the wrong side of the road, and had stopped in front of the service area, blocking the exit of all other vehicles - including the impatient bus. But, it was then, in the small silences between the raging snorts of the horn, Claire heard her son’s muffled voice. She felt her heart stutter, and, operating on some instinctive level, she followed the sound to the side of the bus. Kneeling on the hot black-top, she was oblivious to the diesel staining the knees of her cream pants, as she put her ear to the side of the juddering vehicle.

For what seemed like a hopeless eternity, there was nothing, and Claire felt a knot of despair form deep inside her body. Tears dripped from her face on to the hot tar of the parking lot, and she felt herself slip out of reality.

Then, a loud banging from within the bus jolted her back to life.

‘Mom?’ a small, scared voice said.

‘He’s here!’ she screamed. Her voice was loud and strong enough to wash out over the car park, like a wave of maternal instinct.

Despite this, for years following the incident, Claire would dream about this moment - only, in the syrupy paralysis of nightmares, no sound would come forth from her barren throat, and she would claw weakly at the metal flanks of the departing bus, while it stole her child away.

The woman with the clipboard hurried across the parking lot, and stood officiously in front of the bus, with her hands held up. The bus engine finally died, and the door hissed angrily open.

Claire was vaguely aware of the people who gathered around her, as she frantically grabbed at the handle of the luggage compartment, ripping off one of her nails in the process.

An elderly man wearing a bus company uniform leaned in front of her, and inserted a small stubby key into the body of the bus. He ushered people back, and opened the compartment. Daniel scampered out of the darkness, and into his mother’s arms. His face was streaked with tears, and a damp patch had darkened his denim shorts. His mother buried her face in his neck, and sobbed and sobbed. She cast her puffy eyes towards the Californian sky, where a small god had a change of cruel heart.

The elderly bus driver, who appeared to be as rattled by the experience as Daniel, was busy telling everyone he had just loaded a bundle of toys into the hold for his twin son and daughter's birthday.

‘I swear, I only went for a smoke,’ he said in a dazed voice. ‘I should have checked again.’

A small smattering of passengers, who had also descended from the bus, confirmed they had collectively known nothing of the small stowaway.

But, the crowd of onlookers were only interested in the happy reunion in front of them. As the audience returned to normal life, Claire and Daniel made their way back to the car, where the baby remained locked in oblivious sleep. Daniel, who was being carried, had his arm curled around his mother’s neck. As they moved through the lanes of cars, the boy smiled and waved at the bus driver, who offered a relieved grin, and waved back at the departing child.