The Song of the World (nanowrimo13)

Chapter 5

“Get up ‘fore they come,” Thunder said, shaking the man sprawled on the ground by the arm. “Come on, sleepy. You gotta get up now.”

“What?” the man groaned. “What do you want?”

“Get up, silly. You wanna be taken?”

“Taken where?”

“To jail. You ain’t young enough to be in juvy.”

“Juvy?”

“Juvenile prison. Get up.” Thunder tried to pull the man to his feet, but he was too tall and too heavy.

“Oh, leave him,” Wind said impatiently. “We don’t have time for the likes of him.”

“What if I’d left you behind?” Thunder growled as the man pushed himself to his feet groggily.

“Where am I?” the man asked, rubbing the back of his head.

“Don’t you remember? No mind – no time for talking now. Them’s gonna come. We gotta get indoors now.” Thunder grabbed him by the hand and pulled the man along with them. Dazed, the man followed docilely. Thunder wondered if he would ever recover. He glanced at the glazed eyes and the bruised face and then his eyes flitted to the setting sun. There was no way they could reach home before curfew, not with this fellow in tow. 

“Whip. Run on home and tell Cherry we won’t make it. Tell her we found ‘nother one, but his brain ain’t all there yet.”

Whip, the smallest of the lot, nodded and sped off. Together, Thunder and Wind half pushed and half pulled the man into a nearby alley. 

“Where – taking – where are you taking me?” the man managed to puff out as they turned through the twisty back lanes. “Where’s this?”

“Hush sir. Almost there.”

They managed to reach their makeshift home in the abandoned warehouse, just as the man toppled over into unconsciousness again.

It was the smell of food cooking that woke him up again. He groaned as he tried to sit up, his head feeling as if it wanted to drop off his neck, it was so heavy.

One of the boys looked in his direction - the one he remembered pulling him off the street. He stood up now, pulling something from off the small fire they had going.

“You feeling better?”

“Yes, a little.” He took the cup of hot liquid that was offered him. “Where am I? What happened to me?”

The boy shrugged. “We found you on the streets. Twas nearly curfew.”

“What curfew?”

“Haven’t you heard of the curfew? Where have you been?”

“I… I was… I don’t remember,” the man said, dropping his eyes. He drained the cup in a gulp and handed it back to the boy.

“What’s your name anyway? I’m Thunder.” 

The man shook the proffered hand then shrugged. “I guess I don’t remember that either.” 

Thunder’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t remember or don’t want to tell?”

He hesitated before answering cockily, “does it really matter?”

“You aren’t a fugitive, are you? Them law’s not going to hunt you down and take us with you?”

“No - no. Nothing like that. It’s just… just. I -” the man dropped his face into his hands and wept. The two boys exchanged glances. Thunder withdrew to the fire.