There’s No Place Like Home - Michael Robertson Page 0,1
him as the escapee from a few weeks ago, maybe they’d leave him alone. What would they do to him if they did realize who he was? What would Julius do?
Seconds later, the driver sped up and the truck peeled off. Enough tension fell from Michael’s back that he heaved a heavy sigh. Thank god.
Although the cold burned his face, Michael kept his head lifted as he watched the red lights of the truck disappear. It can’t have been them. They would have stopped and tried to take him. Sharp panic ran through his chest. Could it be an ambush? No, of course not. Why would they need to ambush a ten-year-old?
Michael cast another glance into the park and bit his bottom lip.
The lights on the back of the truck suddenly glowed bright red. They lit up the street, highlighting the litter skittering across it in the frigid wind. With his breath catching in his throat, Michael shook his head. No way! Not this time. No damn way!
A white light on the back of the truck punched through the thick fog. Didn’t that mean reverse?
The whine of the reversing engine calling out in the still night made his pulse rage. He looked into the park for escape again.
When the truck stopped next to him, Michael fought the urge to look at it. The sound of the electric window on the side closest to him caused him to lift his tense shoulders to his ears.
“Hey, kid.”
The voice was deep—an adult for sure—but it didn’t sound mean like the men he’d escaped from.
Ignoring the man, Michael continued on.
“Kid, what are you doing out this late?”
What was he going to do next, ask him where his parents were? His mum was hanging from the banister at home, and his dad was a frozen corpse on his driveway. What did this man want from him? Why didn’t he go away and leave him alone? Wasn’t it obvious that he didn’t want to talk?
“Hey, boy, do you want some food? I have cookies.”
Shaking as he walked, Michael still didn’t look up. The others used the same trick except they offered cake; a large slice of sickly sweet chocolate cake to entice you into their car—the perfect bait for a hungry and lonely boy. Cake was the only pleasure they offered; one sugary treat got you locked in Hell with the others. The memories of the boys’ screams spun through his mind.
Michael jumped when the man sounded the horn. With his hand on his chest, he felt his heart pounding through his many layers of clothes as he turned to the driver of the truck. The man’s lips moved, but the words didn’t register with Michael. George?
The man didn’t seem to recognize him. “That got your attention then? Good! Who are you? What are you doing out this late?”
Michael panted as he stared into the truck, his breath turning to fog in the cold air. Warm urine ran down the inside of both of his thighs and the cold turned it frigid in an instant.
The man’s face changed, and he pointed at him. “Fuck! You’re the boy; the boy in the burning house. The boy whose dad…”
When George popped his door open, Michael bolted into the dark veil of the park next to him.
As he ran, tearing through the darkness at a flat-out sprint, the sound of his own ragged breaths drowned everything else out.
As he risked a look over his shoulder, something snagged his foot. It was like falling with his eyes closed, and all he could do was throw his arms out in front of him.
Fire tore through the palms of his bare hands, and a jolt ran up his arms into both shoulders when he hit the frozen ground.
Despite the pain, Michael crawled forward through the long frozen grass and found a large bush to hide next to. He sat up and gathered his knees into his chest as he watched the entrance to the park.
The light from George’s truck made it easy for Michael to see the man’s silhouette. George threw his hands up and called into the darkness, “Hey, kid, there’s some food on the grass for you.”
The chocolate cake trick all over again. They wouldn’t get him a second time. Fool him once… Michael held his breath as best as he could, his heart aching from the effort, and watched George walk back to his truck.
Michael’s eyes stung as he continued to stare.
The echoed slam of the truck’s door made