Brom: The Child Thief

Freddie dove for Peter, trying to leap over Bennie, who was just standing. Bennie and Freddie collided, landing in a tangle.

Peter leaped high in the air and came down upon Freddie’s back with a double knee jam that would’ve made any professional wrestler proud. Nick heard all the air go out of Freddie in a wounded uuuff .

Freddie rolled off Bennie and began flopping around on the grass, gasping, his mouth opening and closing like a feeding guppy. While Freddie struggled to get an ounce of air back in his lungs, Peter darted over, snatched the back of his pants, and yanked them down to his ankles.

“POINT TWO! That’s two for me!” Peter called. He winked at Nick, then broke into another round of giggles.

Nick wasn’t sure if he was thrilled or terrified.

Peter zeroed in on the kid on the bike. He planted his hands on his hips and glowered at Jake, daring him to make a move.

But Jake, good old Wang-fu, Jake-the-Snake, Steven-fucking-Seagal himself, was frozen in place and looking like he just might be suffering a seizure to boot.

“YOU FUCKER!” Bennie screamed at Peter as he struggled to his feet. He yanked his sweats back up, shoved a hand into a pocket, and tugged out a knife, a big one, and popped it open. “YOU FUCKING FUCKHEAD, FUCKER FUCK!”

“Oh, shit,” Nick said. Bennie loomed easily twice Peter’s height, must have outweighed him four times over. Get out of here, kid, Nick thought. Run while you still can. But Peter just stood there, hands still on his hips, lips pressed tightly together, his eyes squeezed down to slits.

Bennie’s lower lip quivered. He spat blood, screamed, and charged, slashing for Peter’s face.

Peter ducked and spun, and again Nick found himself amazed at the boy’s speed. The back of Peter’s fist caught Bennie full in the face. Nick couldn’t see the actual contact from where he sat, but based on the way Bennie’s head flew back, based on the horrible cracking sound, he knew Bennie was going down.

Bennie crumbled to his knees, his arms flopping limply by his sides, then he fell over face-first onto the sidewalk.

A chill climbed up Nick’s spine. He’s dead. He’s dead for sure . And just for a second, Nick caught a haunted look on Peter’s face. Then, as though knowing the boy’s eyes were upon him, Peter’s quirky smile leaped back into place. But Nick couldn’t get that look out of his head. He’d seen something wild, something scary.

Peter ducked over to Bennie, grabbed the back of his sweatpants, and yanked them down to his ankles.

“That counts. That’s three for me!” Peter called in a delighted voice. “I win!” He rolled his head back and crowed like a rooster.

Freddie stared on in horror as he tugged his pants up and scrambled to his feet. He took off, bumping into Jake, almost knocking him off the bike. Jake’s eyes darted from Nick to the pack.

No! Uh-uh! Nick thought and lunged for the pack, but his legs were still tangled in his pants and he tumbled. Nick yanked savagely to get his pants up. Jake snatched up the pack and pedaled away at full speed. By the time Nick got his pants on, Jake was nowhere in sight.

Peter gave a big wave and laughed, “Later alligators!”

“FUCK!” Nick cried and punched the grass. “FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!”

“Hey, kiddo,” Peter called. “I did pretty good, huh?”

Nick clasped his head in his hands and clenched at his hair. What am I going to do now? he wondered. What the fuck am I going to do now? Could things get any more fucked up?

“I did pretty good, huh?” Peter repeated. “Wouldn’t you say?”

Nick realized Peter was talking to him. “Huh?” he said, low and unsure.

“Y’know, at the pants game. I won, wouldn’t you say?”

Judging by the way Bennie was spread out on the sidewalk with his butt crack peeping out from his underwear, Nick had to agree.

Peter walked over to Nick and extended a hand.

Nick drew back.

“Hey,” Peter said. “It’s okay. We’re on the same team. Remember?”

Nick cautiously extended his hand. Peter shook it, delighted, then pulled Nick to his feet.

“I’m Peter. What’s your name?”

“Nick,” Nick said distractedly as he scanned the park for Marko and his pals, sure they’d be coming out of the trees at any moment, knowing too well that those guys didn’t fuck around, knowing they’d be packing and would have no qualms about shooting either of them.

“Good to meet you, Nick. So Nick, what do you want to do now?”

“What?”

“What do you want to do now?”

“Get out of here,” he mumbled and headed into the trees, back toward the subway, then stopped. He dug in his pockets. “Fuck.” Bennie had taken every cent. He’d have to find another way out of Brooklyn. Panic began to tighten his chest. Which way should he go? Marko could be anywhere, could be coming from any direction. Nick turned quickly and almost ran into Peter. Nick hadn’t even realized the boy had been following him. Peter’s eyes were full of mischief. “So, what’s the plan?”

“What?” Nick said. “Plan? Look, kid—”

“Peter.”

“Peter, you don’t understand, there’s some bad guys on their way.”

Peter looked pleased.

“They’ve got guns. They’re not fucking around either. They’ll kill you.”

“Nick, I said we’re on the same team.”

Nick let out a harsh laugh. God, he thinks this is all some sort of game .

“Don’t you want to kill them? ” Peter asked. “Could have ourselves a real good time.”

“What?” Nick said in disbelief, but he could see the boy was serious. “No, I don’t want anything to do with them. I need to disappear, now .”

“I know a secret way out of here,” Peter said, looking left then right. “They’ll never see us. Follow me.” Peter took off.

He’s crazy , Nick thought, but had to fight the compulsion to blindly chase after him anyway. There was just something compelling about the boy, something that made Nick want to follow even against his better judgment. Nick scanned the park again. It was dark. He was alone. It was hard to be alone. He clutched his rabbit’s foot, sucked in a deep breath, and took off after the golden-eyed boy.

They rested in a small church courtyard. Over the past hour or so Peter had led him along a maze of back streets and alleys, walking, running, scaling walls, and ducking through bushes. Slipping about unseen seemed to come naturally to him.

With the park long behind them, Nick began to breathe easier. He collapsed on a bench and Peter hopped up next to him, perching on his heels, reminding Nick of a gargoyle as he gazed up at the stars.

“Nick, you got someplace to go?”

“Sure,” Nick said. “Well, I’m going to…heck, over to…Well—” He stopped. Where was he going? His money, his pack, everything was gone. He didn’t have so much as a nickel, not even a jar of goddamn peanut butter anymore. He felt the sting of tears. He couldn’t go home. He thought of the bums in the park. How long before he was one of them? How long before he was dirty, sick, cold, and hungry? How long before he was willing to do almost anything for a handout? That was if he could even get out of Brooklyn alive. The tears came. “I don’t know,” he blurted out.

While Nick cried big, heavy sobs into his own hands, the golden-eyed boy stayed beside him. He didn’t speak, just sat there waiting for Nick to finish.