Oscar by Unknown

drawn the short straw and had to live with it.
    ‘Come on—I haven’t got all bloody day…
move it.
” he was frustrated by Oscar’s lack of cooperation. He was almost about to physically drag the boy out of bed, when he launched himself out of the covers. Maybe he had noticed the scowl on Max’s face, and thought better of winding him up.
    Max made his way back down the dining room to ingratiate himself with John Cutter, the founding father of The Independent Mind. For John, every day was a dangerous one, for he had to face the very people he and his cell were trying to undermine. So far, he had been successful with his deception.
    ‘Where’s this boy you told me about? I don’t like waiting.’ he snapped. He stood with his arms folded across his chest, tapping his fingers on his forearms impatiently.
    Oscar was hiding behind the door of the dining room. He was too scared to go any further after hearing the gruff tone coming from the rugged-looking man, who had a thick head of raven hair and five o’clock shadow. Somehow, the suit he was wearing seemed out of place on him, but it was part of being a member of parliament. It was especially necessary for John Cutter, a high-powered official with sway over the military and knowledge of every move played out in the war so far.
    ‘I can see your shadow, boy.’ he barked in his gruff manner. ‘Come out where I can see you.’
    He didn’t move. He was too scared. He shrunk back into himself, trying to become invisible. John turned his attention to Max.
    ‘Bring the boy to me.’ he ordered. ‘Quickly!’
    Max bolted towards Oscar with a sense of urgency. He too, was a little scared of John Cutter by his reputation alone. He had no intention of disobeying a direct order.
    He grabbed Oscar by the arm and pulled him out of the shadows, leading him straight to the gruff, unpleasant man who had summoned him.
    ‘Stop pulling.’ he sneered, as he pulled Oscar closer. He remained rigid and impatient. Max stopped with just a short distance between John and himself, before shoving Oscar forward.
    ‘Don’t be scared, boy.’ he grunted. ‘Come closer.’
    Oscar did as he was told, not wishing to piss the big guy off even further than he already had. What he faced was a man of great stature. He stared at the man’s vast size intently.
    ‘Don’t stare at me, boy.’ he howled. ‘What is your name?’
    Oscar began to snivel, overwhelmed yet again by his abruptness.
    ‘What is this?’ he roared. ‘Don’t you dare cry!’
    Oscar became consumed with fear, his snivel turning hysterical. The flow of his tears became uncontrollable.
    ‘Stop that ungodly racket, boy.’
    He stood motionless in front of Cutter, trembling at the sheer size and menacing demeanour stood before him.
    ‘Please, answer my question—what is your name?’
    ‘Oscar.’ he replied sheepishly, in a faint whisper.
    ‘Speak up, lad, I didn’t hear you.’ he snapped.
    ‘Oscar!’ the seven-year-old screamed. ‘My name is Oscar!’
    John Cutter immediately took a liking to this boy who stood in front of him. There weren’t many people who spoke to him in such a way: in fact, no one ever had, for fear of what might happen to them if they did.
    He had built a fearsome reputation on hearsay alone. Others had started rumours of what he did to people who crossed him. None of it was true, but he played on it. He found it highly amusing, watching people cowering in front of him. Of course, Oscar had heard nothing of his reputation—he was just scared of everyone at the moment. It had been an emotionally exhausting week for the youngster. First the loss of his parents—and then Sam, who had tricked Oscar into liking him for the sake of furthering his own desire to becoming a patrolman. He had planned to throw him in harm’s way, feed him to the wolves; to send him to the slaughter like a spring lamb. He was far too young to understand the gravity of the situation that he found himself in. He needed