The Two Strangers


I do own the "Fugitive Kids" website mentioned here (the website doesn't exist…at least, I don't think so).
PG, PG, PG…………………..


CHAPTER FIVE: Fugitive Kids


Sam Dullard opened the door to his room. Yes, it was a complete and total mess, but what can you really expect from a boy his age?

Sam walked over to his computer and started up the modem. As his hard drive was booting up, he lied down on his bed and closed his eyes. Thousands of thoughts ran through his mind- he almost couldn't keep track of them all.

That Prehistoric Skate Park really was a good idea. A lot of kids would be interested in coming. Even he would like to try it out… though he wasn't a very good skateboarder.
However, Amber was a fugitive- she was on the run from the government, whether she'd admit it or not. He needed to tell someone, if not his own mom!

Once the computer had finally booted up, Sam went over and started his online connection. He needed to find out more about Amber's kind of fugitive.

Once he was at his home page, he typed "Fugitive Child" into the search option. He pushed the "Enter" key on his keyboard and waited for the listing.

The first site, which immediately caught Sam's eye, was a website entitled "FUGITIVE KIDS". The summary below noted, "Children go missing every day. Is your child one of them? Fugitive Kids is here to help."

Sam smiled as he clicked the option. Finally, there might be something he could do. As the site booted up, Sam picked up the phone and dialed a phone number.


Meanwhile…


The Rockets had ordered their pepperoni pizza an hour ago. Otto and Reggie were getting very hungry, and Ray kept looking back at the clock every so often. What could be taking that pizza guy so long?!

Finally, the doorbell rang. Ray opened the door and noticed the pimple-covered face of the delivery boy. "Pizza's here," he said, handing the pizza to Mr. Rocket. "That'll be $17.25."

"For a medium pepperoni pizza?" Ray inquired. "That's kind of expensive, isn't it?"

"Hey, it wasn't my idea," the kid complained. "Now, how about paying for that, mister?"

"I thought your ad said, 'delivery in 29 minutes, or it's free'," Ray recalled. "It's been an hour since I called."

"No, sir," the kid corrected, holding up a spare ad that he kept in his pocket. "It says '59 minutes', not 29. Technically, sir, I had 37 seconds before your pizza would have been free."

Grumbling, Ray reached for a twenty in his pocket. Figures that a delivery boy would be so accurate- carries a stopwatch around his neck just to keep his job.

Well, at least Ray finally had the pizza. As soon as the delivery boy was out of sight, he closed the door and walked into the kitchen. "Who wants pizza?" he said, laying the pizza box on the table.

Almost immediately, Otto and Reggie tore open the box and began helping themselves to the tasty pepperoni pizza. The phone rang before Ray could get his chance to steal a slice.

Ray walked over to the phone. "Hey, save me a slice, kids!" he said, answering the phone. "Hello, Rocket house. Ray Rocket speaking."

"Hi, Mr. Rocket," replied a familiar voice. "Is Reggie there?"

Ray looked over at the pizza box. On one hand, both Reggie and Otto were busy invading the pizza. On the other hand, if he let them, there wouldn't be any pizza left for him. He finally decided to…

"Sure, Reggie's available," Ray lied, briefly looking over to his daughter. "Reggie! Phone call! It's Sam!"

Reggie grabbed the plate with her pizza slices on them and ran over to the phone. "Coming!" she called, picking up the phone where Ray had left it. "Hello?"

"Hey, Reg," Sam answered. "It's Sam. Listen, I was just wondering… how did you feel about today?"

Reggie quietly moved away from the kitchen, where Ray and Otto were eating their pizza. "You mean Amber?" she guessed. "…Well, I do like that skate park idea, but it just doesn't feel right knowing that we can't tell our parents."

Sam nodded. "I feel the same way," he said, clicking a few keys on his keyboard. "That's why I did a search on fugitive kids. I found the perfect website- there's a lot of info here."
"Mind filling me in on some of it?" Reggie asked.

"Not at all," Sam agreed, clicking the enter key. "Hold on… hey, did you know that most fugitive children don't live past age eighteen?"

Reggie was kind of shocked. "That's kind of young, isn't it?" she wondered aloud.

Sam sighed. "I wish I was lying, Reg," he confessed. "It also says that though many of them aren't lucky enough to make it off the streets, the kids in the more serious need of help either make a good enough living or are rich."

Reggie clearly saw the point that Sam was trying to make. "So…" she said sadly, "do you think we should tell our parents?"

Sam understood Reggie's disappointment. "Well, I'm going to call this number they've advertised here on the site," he reassured her. "I'll get some information about kid's rights, as far as this kind of situation goes."

"So what do we do until then?" Reggie asked, concerned.

Sam sighed again. "Until we have some more information, there isn't much we can do," he admitted bluntly. "For now, if Amber is mentioned by some slip of the tongue, try and keep her at a low profile. We don't need to make this a bigger deal than it actually is."

Reggie nodded. "Okay, Sammy," she said, looking back into the kitchen. "I gotta go; Otto and Raymundo are hogging all the pizza. See ya!" And with that, she hung up.

Sam also hung up and printed out a sheet of facts about the "fugitive children". By then, his mother called him downstairs for dinner, so he turned off his computer and headed for the dinner plate with his name on it.



R&R! R&R! R&R! R&R! R&R! Yea!!!!!