her steady, warning her there might be other traps about.
“Back up some, will you two?” Dodger asked.
We slowly did, inspecting each place we set foot. The area grew increasingly silent. As we ran through the park, we had heard a constant hum of noise―animals, bugs, and the marching of our steps. Now everything was quiet.
“I think I might be able―”
Before Dodger could finish his thought, a small boy appeared in the opening. He couldn’t have been any more than ten. He was filthy with matted-down hair, his skin was covered in a mix of green and brown paints, no doubt meant as camouflage. He wore a pair of tattered shorts and a Kiss T-shirt, both his clothes and feet were covered in mud. Despite his appearance, there was an air of confidence about him uncommon in children. He stood tall with pride with a feral smirk. He had a wicked spear strapped to his back and tossed a huge rock back and forth from hand to hand. We were in his yard, and he knew it. He held up his rock and cocked his arm, aiming at Dodger, who held up his hands.
“Whoa, whoa there, little guy.”
He let the rock fly, knocking Dodger in the head, pushing him back off the rope trigger he held in place. A series of swooshes went back and forth through the trees, and, before we had time to register what was happening, a roped net fell from above. Large rocks were tied at four cornered ends, pinning Dodger to the ground. Ropes dropped from the heights of the trees, and other small children dressed the same fashion came swinging down. Two more from the opening came to stand at either side of Kiss T-shirt. In an instant, we were surrounded by a bunch of candy bandits. I instinctively pulled Gia close and held up my hands as they aimed small spears and rocks at us. Whether it was in a valiant effort to protect her or a cowardly attempt at shielding myself, I’ll never tell.
A little girl, maybe eight, stared stone-faced at me. Her yellow dress was covered in soot, and the one-eyed teddy bear hanging from her belt did little to diminish the fact that she aimed a rather sharp knife in my general direction. Even so, she seemed to be the least threatening of the four who closed in on Gia and me. The two boys behind us resembled twins; similar facial features, except the one wielding the machete had missing teeth, which didn’t stop him from smiling mischievously. Another boy closer to Gia seemed to be more interested in her breasts. He licked his lips and caressed the rocks he held at his sides, his eyes wide and hungry. I guessed he was the oldest of the bunch.
“What the hell is this?” Dodger said, struggling to find his bearings. “We’re here to see Peter. He’s gonna be pissed if he knows you’re treating his good pal Dodger like this.”
Kiss T-shirt stepped forward. The two boys flanking him held their spears at ready. “Friends of Peter ain’t friends of us.”
“Ones of ‘em, tons of us!” all the children chanted.
“Listen, playtime’s over!” Dodger started to stand, but the boy quickly pelted him with another rock. “You little brat!” he shouted, rubbing his head where the rock hit.
“Calm it, Dodge, we can straighten this out.” I smiled at the little girl, who growled in return. “We came to speak to Peter. He knows us. Where is he?”
“Peter thinks he knows all the knowing,” Kiss T-shirt said. “Speaks the knowing, and expects the follow. But we know the knowing, too. Here’s the Runts. Ones of ‘em, tons of us!”
The others followed in his chant.
“Do you brats ever speak like normal people?” Another rock struck Dodger in the head. “I will kill you!”
“Peter wants to leg it, split the family with his knowing.”
“Leg it where?” I asked.
Dodger rubbed his head, sitting in defeat under the weight of the net. “Is he gone?”
“No,” the boy said, smiling. “Tried it, but I took the charge, sniped him at the runnin.’ Now ‘em knows the cage. And I’m the one with the
“Back up some, will you two?” Dodger asked.
We slowly did, inspecting each place we set foot. The area grew increasingly silent. As we ran through the park, we had heard a constant hum of noise―animals, bugs, and the marching of our steps. Now everything was quiet.
“I think I might be able―”
Before Dodger could finish his thought, a small boy appeared in the opening. He couldn’t have been any more than ten. He was filthy with matted-down hair, his skin was covered in a mix of green and brown paints, no doubt meant as camouflage. He wore a pair of tattered shorts and a Kiss T-shirt, both his clothes and feet were covered in mud. Despite his appearance, there was an air of confidence about him uncommon in children. He stood tall with pride with a feral smirk. He had a wicked spear strapped to his back and tossed a huge rock back and forth from hand to hand. We were in his yard, and he knew it. He held up his rock and cocked his arm, aiming at Dodger, who held up his hands.
“Whoa, whoa there, little guy.”
He let the rock fly, knocking Dodger in the head, pushing him back off the rope trigger he held in place. A series of swooshes went back and forth through the trees, and, before we had time to register what was happening, a roped net fell from above. Large rocks were tied at four cornered ends, pinning Dodger to the ground. Ropes dropped from the heights of the trees, and other small children dressed the same fashion came swinging down. Two more from the opening came to stand at either side of Kiss T-shirt. In an instant, we were surrounded by a bunch of candy bandits. I instinctively pulled Gia close and held up my hands as they aimed small spears and rocks at us. Whether it was in a valiant effort to protect her or a cowardly attempt at shielding myself, I’ll never tell.
A little girl, maybe eight, stared stone-faced at me. Her yellow dress was covered in soot, and the one-eyed teddy bear hanging from her belt did little to diminish the fact that she aimed a rather sharp knife in my general direction. Even so, she seemed to be the least threatening of the four who closed in on Gia and me. The two boys behind us resembled twins; similar facial features, except the one wielding the machete had missing teeth, which didn’t stop him from smiling mischievously. Another boy closer to Gia seemed to be more interested in her breasts. He licked his lips and caressed the rocks he held at his sides, his eyes wide and hungry. I guessed he was the oldest of the bunch.
“What the hell is this?” Dodger said, struggling to find his bearings. “We’re here to see Peter. He’s gonna be pissed if he knows you’re treating his good pal Dodger like this.”
Kiss T-shirt stepped forward. The two boys flanking him held their spears at ready. “Friends of Peter ain’t friends of us.”
“Ones of ‘em, tons of us!” all the children chanted.
“Listen, playtime’s over!” Dodger started to stand, but the boy quickly pelted him with another rock. “You little brat!” he shouted, rubbing his head where the rock hit.
“Calm it, Dodge, we can straighten this out.” I smiled at the little girl, who growled in return. “We came to speak to Peter. He knows us. Where is he?”
“Peter thinks he knows all the knowing,” Kiss T-shirt said. “Speaks the knowing, and expects the follow. But we know the knowing, too. Here’s the Runts. Ones of ‘em, tons of us!”
The others followed in his chant.
“Do you brats ever speak like normal people?” Another rock struck Dodger in the head. “I will kill you!”
“Peter wants to leg it, split the family with his knowing.”
“Leg it where?” I asked.
Dodger rubbed his head, sitting in defeat under the weight of the net. “Is he gone?”
“No,” the boy said, smiling. “Tried it, but I took the charge, sniped him at the runnin.’ Now ‘em knows the cage. And I’m the one with the
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