Page 6 of Lost and Found

“Go away, Marco,” one of them sneered.

Marco’s eyes narrowed. Quickly, he evaluated his options. He could walk away and find another abandoned place, or he could try and tough it out here in this large, relatively open and relatively well-built warehouse. He only lived in a place until it wasn’t safe any longer, then he moved on. But these two guys…there was something about them. Something that told him that staying here would be a good thing.

“Not leaving,” he announced.

Both of them stiffened, then glanced towards each other. Some sort of silent message was sent and received between them. Obviously, these two had been living together for a while. Or maybe not, Marco thought. Street kids learn instinctively. And those lessons were learned fast. One either learned, adapted and evolved, or they were torn apart by the unfairness of life.

After an almost imperceptible nod from the black-haired guy, both of them seemed to relax, although their vigilance didn’t wane.

“You do drugs?” one of them demanded.

“Never,” Marco replied fiercely. Drugs might give a person the oblivion that one needed to escape the world, but they also slowly, sometimes quickly, destroyed the body. Marco wanted to survive. Hell, he wanted to win this damn race! He wanted to be a top dog and he wasn’t going to mess around with drugs or alcohol in the journey to his survival!

“Gang member?” the other one called out.

Once again, Marco shook his head. “Never.” Another stupid route. Gangs were more vicious than the foster homes.

His answers seemed to ease the tension. One of them pointed towards a corner of the warehouse. “My space is over there,” he announced. “Stay away and you can live.”

Marco noted that the guy said, “live” rather than, “live here”. It was a threat that he took to heart.

“My space is over there,” the other one said, pointing with the pipe towards the corner opposite the first boy’s corner.

Marco noted the zones and nodded. “Fair enough.” He looked around, saw an elevated area towards the opposite end. “I’ll take that space,” he said, jerking his head towards the loft area. “Leave me alone, and we won’t have any problems.”

Neither of the other two responded, but they stood waiting while Marco moved towards the cement stairs. As Marco moved, he paused to take in the area. The cement floor in this section of the warehouse wasn’t chipped, although there were a few weak spots in the cinderblock walls. The paint wasn’t flaking off of the walls, although it had definitely faded from its glory days.

Moving carefully and keeping an eye on the other two guys, he shifted the trash and broken mechanical parts around until he had a space that was relatively private. There was a space where he might be able to sleep as well as a “wall” for privacy, but Marco would also be able to watch out for danger.

Only then did he sit down and…not relax. Street rats like him never really relaxed. Survival depended on being aware of the world and one’s surroundings at all times. But as he leaned his shoulders against the concrete wall, Marco realized that he wasn’t as tense as he’d been while living in other spaces.

Pulling his cell phone out from the hidden pockets of his backpack, he glanced at the time. He still had about an hour before he needed to report to work. In two more years, he’d be eighteen and could open a bank account. Since he couldn’t open a bank account, he had to find jobs that paid in cash.

Soon, he’d have it all. He ran a hand over the other hidden compartment on his backpack. That pocket had several thousand dollars that he’d saved over the years. Marco had learned to live off of almost nothing, eating food from soup kitchens and other charity places. Or not eat at all when it was too dangerous to be out in public.

He worked out at the local gym that he’d figured out how to sneak into. It had showers where he could clean up each day before work. Any time he wasn’t working, he was at the library, reading anything he could get his hands on. Going to school would have been nice, but since he didn’t have a permanent residence, Marco hadn’t been able to gain admission to any of the local schools. Plus, he sometimes had to move fast to get out of danger. That meant traveling to different cities. Libraries were safer anyway to gain the knowledge he’d need in order to get ahead in this world.

Stuffing his backpack under his head, he leaned back and closed his eyes. Marco had no idea how long he’d been awake, but it had been nearly twenty-four hours since he’d found a gang setting up shop in his last place. He was tired, but because he wasn’t alone and since he was in a new space, he couldn’t allow himself to fall asleep. He’d just doze for a while, then he’d head out to his current job. He was tired. Bone deep tired, but this area…it felt safe. Safer than anything he’d lived in before.

Kasim

Something was wrong. Crown Prince Kasim el Fotima looked out at the crowds. Were they closer than they should be? Yes. His eyes narrowed as a group from the sidewalk continued to inch even closer! This wasn’t the normal security protocol! His guards were usually vigilant about keeping the crowds back. Not even the reporters that seemed to follow him wherever he went were allowed to get close enough to shout questions to him. And yet, today, they were almost able to shove their recorders up at him!

The normal process was for him to quickly walk from the building to the waiting vehicles when he traveled outside of his country of Alistar. In fact, normally, his transportation was waiting in underground parking areas in order to avoid situations exactly like this.

Perhaps if he hadn’t been feeling off, then his instincts might have kicked in sooner. Unfortunately, he’d been feeling a bit nauseous ever since breakfast, so he was a bit slower than normal. As it was, he saw the flash of light only moments before he moved, shifting his body slightly to the right. Only years of self-defense and military training saved him from the knife as it flew through the air. The blade only grazed his upper arm. Kasim didn’t say a word as the pain slashed through him. It was only a flesh wound, he thought to himself as he hurried towards the vehicle. He didn’t bother to wait for his body guards. Instead, he slammed the door closed.

“Go!” he called out to his driver. The armored limousine immediately pulled away, leaving the chaos of reporters and photographers behind. At seventeen, Kasim was already very aware of his place in this world. He’d been trained from birth to handle the responsibilities that would soon fall on his shoulders, the enormous burden of ruling Alistar. He knew the heavy duty that would fall to him upon the death of his father. He told himself that he was ready for anything.

Perhaps he’d fooled himself, he thought as he looked down at the blood seeping through the material of his dress shirt and jacket.

He needed to find out who had done this to him. And why had his bodyguards failed so miserably? Why had they allowed people to get so close?

All good questions, but the pain in his arm was intensifying. Perhaps the wound wasn’t as superficial as he’d originally thought. Unfortunately, his mind wasn’t working as fast as it normally did. The nausea that had been plaguing him all morning was getting worse. He needed to focus. He needed to come up with a plan!

A thought struck him. The nausea! It had started right after breakfast! But…he hadn’t eaten a full breakfast, just half a cup of coffee. Had he…? Yes, the events of the day were starting to make more sense.

He’d been poisoned!

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