Two weeks later
Friday, February 28th

He was improving, apparently, and getting his strength back after a number of weeks in a coma.

His memories were also coming back to him. One good thing was that the hospital did not know his real name; He was just 'John Doe' to them. Every time they asked, he would just say that he could not remember his name. However, the boy did know exactly who I was, and he also knew why he was here in the hospital; he knew what had happened and he knew that he was very much alone. He also knew that the hospital would never release him, unless he had somewhere to go. The boy had been out of bed a few times over the past few days and his legs were strong enough to walk unaided. He had some horrendous scars on his chest, from the burns, but the remainder of his cuts and bruises had healed over the past few months.

Where would he go?

What would he do when I got there?

He knew where important paperwork and money was stashed, both at home and at another, hidden, location. He hoped that both were still viable. His Dad was very careful as he always expected to be double-crossed and thus he had taught the boy to look after himself. Although, currently, he would have trouble fighting off the average six-year-old. He needed to find a place to lay low and recover properly.

But, he could not do that at the hospital, just in case they worked out who he was and to whom he was related.

..._...

The boy had decided to go that night.

Security would be lax during the night shift, he knew, and the hospital had kindly provided him with some clothes, as he would soon be leaving the hospital. When he was hurt, the boy had had no personal effects on him, so there was nothing left at the hospital for him to collect. He waited until ten forty-five, as that was after the final rounds and he would not see anybody for quite a while. He quietly got dressed and left his room. He headed down the dimly lit corridors, until he reached the lifts where he took the second arriving lift, down to the second floor before he headed for the fire stairs.

Once he got to the ground floor, he was able to slip out of the exit to the fire stairs and then out the main door.

..._...

Damn, it was cold out there!

The boy's jacket was not thick, and it was the last day of February. He immediately headed away from the hospital. He had to be careful, as a boy his age, wandering around New York at that time of night, would probably attract attention from the Police or worse. First, though, he needed money, so he headed to an innocuous part of the city, where he knew that there was a dead drop that had some cash and a key. It was a long walk, but he needed the exercise, not to mention that the walking kept him warm. Finally, over an hour later, he found the street that he needed, and he headed up towards a certain block. Beside that block, there was an alleyway, and halfway along that alleyway, below a fire escape, was what looked like an electric box. In fact, it had been installed just the previous year, by his Dad. On the base of the box was a removable strip, behind which, was a keypad.

The boy hoped that it still worked and still had its contents.

..._...

He punched in the eight-digit code and the box clicked open.

So far so good, he thought, as he pulled open the front cover. Inside was a small pack, which he grabbed before shutting the box, just in case he needed it again. He ran a short distance away, before he checked that he was not being followed, or observed. The boy quickly found another alley and he hid between a pair of dumpsters, before he then pulled open the pack. He felt around inside, and he found a small torch which he used to check the remaining contents of the pack. Inside the pack was about three hundred dollars, in small notes, a folding knife with a six-inch blade and a key. The key opened the front door to the flat that the boy and his Dad lived in, or had lived in. He hoped that the flat was still intact, but he would have to see about that later.

The boy was very sure that the bastards, who had killed his Dad, knew where he lived.

The early hours
Saturday, March 1st

It took the boy a while to get to the flat, but he arrived there soon after one in the morning.

With the knife in his hand, he opened the main door to the apartment block and he went up to the third floor. He tried not to make any noise as he stopped outside the door to the flat, where he listened carefully. He heard no noises at all, so he gently inserted the key into the well-oiled lock, turned it, and let the door swing open slowly. As soon as the alarm started to beep, he punched in the code and the alarm went quiet. The boy closed the door, but he did not turn on any lights. The flat appeared to be exactly as he and his Dad had left it, towards the beginning of November, the previous year.

The boy quickly pulled up a particular floorboard and grabbed the Glock 17 pistol and two spare magazines that were hidden there. He did the same in another room and he placed one pistol and four magazines into the pack. The first pistol, he kept in his hand and he replaced the knife in his pack. After he pulled up yet another floorboard and retrieved a packet of papers which included his Passport and Birth Certificate, plus some other personal papers and some more cash, he stuffed some clothes, a few personal items and some other potentially useful items, into a larger pack, before laying down for the night, as I was very tired. He had not switched on a light, nor made any noise.

The boy intended on leaving before six that morning and then he would search for a new place to lay low.

Later that morning

Daylight found the boy sitting in a McDonald's, enjoying breakfast.

He was tired, but he had money, a few changes of clothes and most importantly, weapons. He could now defend myself, kind of. Unfortunately, his Dad had not had the chance to setup a Safehouse before he had died, so the boy would need to find his own.

..._...

By lunchtime, he had wandered several miles around New York and caught quite a few cabs to various locations that he thought might have abandoned properties.

It was still cold, and he had to find somewhere, before it got dark. Towards four in the afternoon, the boy found an apartment block that appeared to be in a bad state of disrepair and looked to have some abandoned units. Some of the units had broken windows and some were boarded up. However, the unit on the top floor appeared to have windows that were of a much better quality, than the others had, so he expertly picked the lock on the main access door and headed up the stairs. The building had no obvious CCTV or any other such security. One of the units on the second floor was burnt out and abandoned, so the boy continued on up the stairs.

There was only one unit on the top floor. The main door looked very solid, from a structural point of view. The boy dug into his pack, and he pulled out a small black box, along with some wires, put it into his pocket and he then proceeded to pick the lock, and open the door. There was no beep of a security system, but he did not like to take any chances. As he looked around, he saw nothing and no wiring around the door. The room was a living room and had little more than a couch. There was also a door leading off to what looked like two bedrooms and a bathroom. None of the rooms looked to have been used in years; the boy was leaving footprints in the dust on the floor and everything had a thick covering of dust.

The remaining door had a keypad beside it, to the left of the frame. The boy pulled out the black box and wires from his pocket and he carefully pulled the cover off the keypad. A red LED illuminated almost immediately, so he quickly connected two probes to a pair of contacts on the circuit board. He then pressed a red button on the black box and he waited. Five seconds later the black box showed a green LED and the keypad did the same. The alarm system was successfully disarmed, and the black box displayed the eight-digit access code.

The boy turned the handle and he entered the room.

Updated: January 2018