Page 3 of Lost and Found

Later that night, after crawling through the broken boards of the fence, then hefted himself through the window of the abandoned warehouse, Callum curled into the corner, his hands sliding into the pockets of his jeans. Two more store patrons had offered him tips. He had a total of five dollars! Five dollars all to himself! And soon, Mr. McCormick would pay him an hourly wage! Next week, he’d get his very first paycheck!

Closing his eyes, he wondered what he could buy with five dollars!

Dash

At least it wasn’t snowing anymore, Dash thought as he crawled through the broken boards of the fence. He’d seen someone come this way and wondered if it was a safe place. He just needed a place for one night, he thought. One night and then he’d start walking again. His older half-brother lived in a place called Springfield. That was all Dash knew but he was determined to find his half-brother.

Once he was through the fence, Dash paused, looking around the parking lot of the abandoned warehouse. His eyes and senses were alert for signs of danger, listening for anything that might warn him that someone was coming for him. He’d learned to listen, to react swiftly. Life was always about listening and being on guard.

Hugging his arms closely against his body seemed to help ease the pain from the cuts across his chest. Well, not ease the pain so much as stop new shards of pain from lashing his body. He suspected that keeping his arms close to his body probably helped to keep the wounds from opening again.

Glancing down at his shirt, he saw the blood stains seeping through his tee-shirt. Not good, he told himself. Looking around, he let his eyes focus on the trash all around him instead of the surrounding areas. For the moment, it was better for him to hide his injuries. No telling what meddling Good Samaritan might do if they realized he was wounded. Someone might see the blood and think he needed to be taken to a hospital.

No hospitals, he mentally vowed. He was under eighteen. His step-father would be called and he’d be right back in a bad place. No, a worse place, since the old man was probably livid that he’d lost a convenient punching bag.

Better to remain in the shadows. The wounds would heal. They had in the past and there was nothing different about now, other than the fact that he had gotten out of that hell hole!

Off in the distance, he spotted exactly what he was looking for. It was the color that caught his attention. The shaft of murky red was a bright spot against the grey and brown of the broken up parking lot and dying weeds. Walking slowly over to it, he tugged the strip of red out from underneath a heavy piece of concrete. Sure enough, it was a shirt. There were brown spots and holes in the flannel, but Dash didn’t care about that. He just needed the shirt to hide the blood on his tee-shirt. Just until he could figure out how to fix the wounds. Time, he told himself. Time would heal everything.

Once the blood was covered, his next priority was to find shelter. It was hot outside at the moment. Too hot. He needed water, but Dash knew that he’d be okay if he could just get himself out of the heat. Walking towards the old warehouse, he tried to pick his feet up from the ground, to appear normal to anyone who might be walking by. Dropping his hands to his sides, he forced his shoulders back. Again, he didn’t want anyone seeing him hunched over and suspect that he might be in pain.

As soon as he pushed his way into the relative sanctuary of the warehouse, he abandoned standing up straight and tall. The pain was just too much for him. Slowly, gratefully, Dash leaned back against the concrete wall and slowly relaxed the muscles in his legs. He was out of the sun and the relief was intense. Sitting on the dirty floor of the warehouse, he relaxed his hold on consciousness. Moments later, the pain eased as his body slumped into a much-needed sleep.

The metal clinking woke him. Eyes fluttering, he slowly regained consciousness and, with it, the pain against his ribs once again began lashing at his body. Deciding that movement was too painful, he only allowed his eyelids to flutter open.

That’s when he found someone staring down at him. Jerking upright, he ignored the pain and looked around, frantically searching for a weapon.

“I won’t hurt you,” the other boy replied, holding out his hands. The guy’s hair was so dark, it was nearly black and there was some sort of flip at the front, the cowlick keeping his hair off of the guy’s forehead.

“Who are you?” Dash demanded, ready to fight if the other kid was looking for trouble. It was a big warehouse, Dash thought. Big enough for the two of them to share the space, unless this other guy was a jerk. Besides, Dash wasn’t going to be here long. Dash just needed enough time to recover a bit before he continued searching for his half-brother. One night. Maybe two. That’s it and then he’d be out of this place, off on his search once more.

“Call me Callum,” the guy replied. He backed away, but nodded to the space right in front of him. “You need some food and water.”

Dash looked down at the concrete space in front of him. Sure enough, there was a can of beans. And water! The water wasn’t very clear, but he didn’t care at this point. After traveling through the city for the past several days, water was his top priority. He reached out, eager for the water, but then he pulled back.

“Is this some sort of trick?” he demanded, looking around warily.

The other kid shook his head. “No. No trick.” The other guy looked around and Dash wasn’t sure why. Then he said, “I’ll get more food. And maybe I can scrounge up some bandages for the cuts on your stomach and back. But the food and water isn’t a trick.” He backed up again, looking sincere. “I wouldn’t do that to you.” He rubbed a hand over his dirty jeans. “I know…” he paused, looking around again, then stared right into Dash’s eyes. “I know what it’s like.”

The sincerity in the boy’s tone and the calm look in his eyes told Dash that he was telling the truth.

Besides, Dash couldn’t bring himself to care. Reaching out for the water, Dash ignored the pain along his ribs. The cuts were a throbbing, brutal reality to him now. He couldn’t remember a time over the past few years that he hadn’t felt some sort of pain. However, this beating and the resulting wounds was worse, but he would learn to ignore the pain. He had to. Survival was all about adapting one’s skills and learning to rise above the pain.

So he grabbed the cup of water, guzzling it down as if it were an elixir of life. When his thirst was quenched, he hesitantly grabbed the can of beans. There was a bent tin spoon sticking out of the can. He grabbed it and scarfed down the food. It tasted horrible, but since Dash hadn’t eaten in several days, he didn’t care what the food tasted like. It was better than the gnawing pain of hunger. The slash marks on his ribs had covered up his hunger pains until now, but with the introduction of food, his stomach reminded him it had been empty for too long.

Dash didn’t stop eating until all of the beans were gone. Even then, he stuck a finger inside the can and swiped at the sides of the can, licking his finger to get the last little bit of nourishment from the can.

Finally, he lowered the can of food to the floor and looked up. The boy was gone. Dash wasn’t sure where he’d gone, but he was now embarrassed. He’d eaten like an animal, his hunger too intense. He was glad that the other guy hadn’t been around to witness Dash’s crazed eating.

Standing up, he looked around. He should continue to search for his half-brother. Anthony was around somewhere. Springfield. Yes, that was where he’d heard that his brother, or half-brother, had escaped to.

Metal scraping against metal caught his attention. Looking around, he spotted the other boy, sound asleep on the other side of the warehouse. But the metal scraping sound had come from the door close by. Finally, his eyes and brain started working in tandem and Dash understood what was happening. A homeless man was sneaking up on the guy. The older man looked big, but that was probably only because of the heavy, filthy coat and the long hair sticking out from every direction on the man’s head. The homeless man probably hadn’t showered in months, maybe even years, and when he smiled in the direction of the other guy, there were teeth missing. Meth, Dash thought. Meth was such a vile drug that it caused the teeth to rot and fall out of a person’s gums.

Anger built to a fury unlike anything he’d ever experienced before, swelling up inside of him. He grabbed the first thing he could find, wrapping his fingers around a length of metal pipe. Screaming, he raced across the expanse of the warehouse, the pipe raised up above his head as he ran towards the would-be thief. The man was scruffy and unkempt, with a long beard and three shirts, one that that dragged on the floor as he shuffled closer and closer to the boy who had helped him earlier.

“Get out of here! Leave him alone!”

The scruffy man, startled from his attempt to rob the other kid, looked up. Dash didn’t stop. He continued, the fury pushing him faster and harder. The other guy had shown Dash the first human kindness that he’d experienced in years. The idea of someone robbing the only person who had cared, even for a moment, was simply not going to happen. Not under Dash’s watch! “Get out of here!”

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