The city of Halberg was such a nice place to live. For once particulate matter didn't cover up the nice blue sky where the sun can shine and give me a much needed vitamin D for my skin and sanity.

I breathed in content, ahh… Fresh air. My nose wasn't twitching in irritation as I surveyed the surroundings. Here I was standing along the river banks with blue waters that had a tinged of green, which could be algae, or chemical as my brain helpfully supplied. I doubt it was one hundred percent free from pollution, but beggars couldn't be choosers. The other option to wash out dirt and grime was by rain. And it was summer time where heat came in waves. Although not as hot as before, I tend to avoid being out in the sun during late morning.

So with no other options, I swam. No one's going to find fault with a child playing in the river right?

Too bad the only clothes I had were the one Richard gave. It was thrown on the ground that nearly had the same color as the earth. For a moment, I wondered if that was its original color. It looked more like rag.

No matter, I wasn't about to discard it and leave myself naked for all the people of Halberg to see. Not when I couldn't find a better replacement.

Aside from my fashion dilemma, I was proud to announce that I've exceeded my expectations. It was unbelievable for a city guy who never knew he'd live in the streets one day, his knowledge limited to medical textbooks… Some would call it extremely lucky but I disagree. Spending sleepless nights on youtube instead of sleeping, watching random videos from ingrown nail removal to penny-pinching methods helped in some way.

How?

First, every evening restaurants, coffee shops, and bakeries threw their day's garbage with either half-eaten pieces or bruised fruits that were still perfectly edible. Well… as long as I saw no mold growing in my food, you won't hear any complaints from me. It tasted even great the farther I traveled, but sometimes food was certainly not the only thing in the trash at the back of those places. God, imagine my surprise when an object wrapped in wads of tissue paper turned out to be someone's dental retainers!

Second, I didn't forget about who was after me. The risk of being caught increases when I stay in one place and despite my protesting feet, I pushed forwards and didn't look back. Adults were, of course, concerned as to why a child of my age was wandering without parents. And they were usually the type to call the police or a social worker, then send me off to an orphanage. I barely passed with my pediatric ward rotation since my tolerance for children was quite low. Also, hello? A 1960s orphanage with hundreds of children and thousands of ghost stories that would make my knees buckle?

Sounds great, but no thanks.

Furthermore, some kids approached me as well, but with no intention of making friends, they just asked why I smelled.

Rude.

Third, was shelter. I'd rather sleep on something soft like the carefully trimmed grass at the parks I've been eyeing since the morning I woke up with a stiff neck. But the thought of being in an open space triggered my acute-onset paranoia. Images of shadow people at the periphery, faceless and tall, putting a sack on my head gave me gastritis every time I considered sleeping somewhere other than the dumpsters. People always avoid that area, even homeless individuals would want to rest without rats and insects bothering them. It was perfect for someone like me. Convinced, I made a fort out of the trash bags so I could hide behind when the sun set. At first, sleep didn't come easily. My mind warned me of various diseases I might contact by being near wastes, however, with time I simply got used to it.

The river cooled down my skin. It was refreshing and I hate to move from my comfortable position, floating with no care for the world.

I took everything I had for granted. My dorms, the friends who checked to see if I was eating, my parents and many more that I couldn't list right now, and it made me realize that this crazy dream served as a wake up call. Me, being an insensitive prick, often hurt people with words which weren't intentional at all but then they'd start distancing without my notice until it was too late. Friends become strangers.

Mom even joked about how that mole on my lip was like a sign from God that something's wrong with my mouth, that I speak before thinking, tactless to a fault.

Perhaps, I could benefit from his dream-coma. Practice my people skills and learn how to converse normally without muttering comments under my breath. That was a nice idea that I'll think more about later now that my finger pads were beginning to wrinkle.

I stood up and put back the dirty clothes on, grimacing as the fabric soaked up the water. It would dry quicker as I walked around but it dampened my mood a little bit when I still smelled bad. Those kids were right.

The plan for today was nothing special. Leave the town once more, look for food again, and build a trash bag fort while trying to enjoy what the 1960s had to offer. Then, repeat. Halberg was a city I don't recognize, nor were the previous cities I've been to like Zeppig and Torfiel. The names sound European, I thought. Though, I have never been to any part of Europe, so asking for directions was a total waste of time. Apparently, the capital city called Berlint was only a few miles away, and no it wasn't Berlin. My ears definitely heard the addition "t".

Briefly, I wondered how my mind created such names…

But anyways. Whether I end up in Berlint or somewhere else, as long as I don't have a trail for my kidnappers to follow, I was up to another adventure.

Or not.

My walk was interrupted. A fair woman with hair that curled nicely, like those princesses from the cartoons, waved at me. Her hand beside her mouth as she screamed where have I been all this time.

Turning around, my eyes scanned for that person she was calling. No one paused to look aside from me, people just kept walking.

It couldn't have been me, I had no connections here, other than Richard and his cousin, who I was pretty sure were unlikely to gossip regarding a certain child they housed for four days. Unfortunately, this woman pointed at me when I looked back at her. And now, she's crossing the road, coming closer with excitement behind her eyes.

During this time of the day, it was less populated since most were already inside their office slaving away. Few shop workers peaked to see who was shouting and went back in, uninterested with what this woman was doing.

"Oh dear… What happened to you." She cried, dropping on her knees. "We were so worried!"

Who's 'we'?! Suddenly, I was feeling agitated.

"I don't know you lady. You're kinda creeping me out." She cupped my cheeks with a gentle touch, like she was afraid of bruising me with her hold. I wasn't some delicate human that broke when handled improperly and her touch made my skin crawl.

"Darling. It's me, mommy!"

My eyebrows furrowed in deep thought. For real? She looked nothing like my real mother for God's sake. Her eyes weren't the same color as mine. Mother was an old surgeon with graying hair and hated jewelries because it gets in the way of putting gloves on. This woman before me wore rubies for earrings, and an expensive looking ring on her finger indicating that she must have been married not long ago. Her overall appearance suggested wealth.

Have I already mentioned that some adults approached me before? They always had a certain emotion displayed when they asked why I was outside and not in school, or with my parents. An emotion that was neither happy or enthusiastic, but a judgemental stare behind their worried gazes always had me scoffing. However, today as she attempted to arrange my damp hair I was reminded of how my own mother used to care like that.

She drew her hands back at the frown curving my lips.

Right now people were observing us as of this moment and my self-consciousness grew.

"My parents said not to talk to strangers." A wise lesson I learned a long time ago and I watched her expression crack, gradually shifting from an eager look to something stony.

"So bye. You see you never!"

"Wait!"

I ran. My legs might not be long but compared to the woman who wore heels, our distance grew farther and farther, passing by various shops and weaving through crowds of people in the market to lose whoever was chasing after me. I don't like how she gave off a weird vibe. Her smile seemed forced, practiced over time, like the smile I had facing a panel of judges for my thesis dissertation. The kind that showed plenty of teeth and was anything but sincere.

Merchants were shouting "hey", not liking how a kid almost collapsed his boxes of fruit. One vendor dropped an egg when I stumbled over him. Sorry.

Eventually, I stopped running. Hunched back in exhaustion as I panted for air. It was barely noon, too early to call it a day but my head felt the heat of the sun. Running at this temperature was a bad idea, worsened by the fact that I had no water available. It wasn't like I needed to drink pronto, although it was rather nice to have a water bottle in hand to prevent any episodes of heat stroke.

Now that I thought of it, I still haven't come across a plastic bottle in the trash. Weird.

"There you are!"

Jumping at the sound, I looked behind to see the same woman who was about to grab my shoulders.

"Why are you following me? I'm not your kid!" I snapped, slapping her hand away. But she fought and shook me to shut up and listen to her.

"You are. And you're going home with me." The glare she sent was sharp and dare I say it, promised punishment. I knew back in the past that their form discipline involves inflicting pain, vastly different from 2022 where it would be considered child abuse. This woman pretending to be my mother grabbed my arm so tight there might be bruises showing tomorrow. Not even my own mother did something like this. I felt disturbed by the nails digging into the skin and I didn't like being led to a place without my consent.

So I shrieked.

"Help!"

As loud as I could. My childish voice was shrill and I wanted all the attention on me.

"What seems to be the problem?" A elderly man asked, annoyed, probably for interrupting his business. He was a vegetable vendor, handing a customer a bag of potatoes.

"She's kidnapping me!" I didn't miss her dirty look shot my way but the old man did, preferring to scrutinize me from head to toe. Not gonna lie, he reminded me of Joy.

Then, I was brought back to reality when she laughed, making the corners of her eyes wrinkle up, "My Warren ran away from the hospital he's been staying in."

I scowled, "Lies. My name's Jericho."

"His memory got scrambled up according to his doctor. And he'd been calling himself Jericho since he first woke up after so long." Gaping like a fish at her bold claims, I was too stunned with her excuse that my voice couldn't form words other than uttering a low sound of disbelief. The classic amnesia case in telenovelas was being applied to me! How dare you.

"That sounds stupid!" I exclaimed and pointed at some random guy, "You're not exactly believing that are you?"

Being in a sudden spotlight, the guy nervously shuffled in his feet, "W-well. Maybe it's best for you to go home now. You're n-not exactly feeling well."

"I'm fine and I can prove it!"

His reply was a low mutter, "Uh…erm. You don't?"

"Listen to your mother, kid. You look like you've had a rough week." The old man added as he went back to haggling about potato prices if bought in bulk.

The woman still had her claws on me, nudging to come along now. I didn't move.

"Why are you making this hard for your mom?"

My eyes narrowed into slits. "My real mom isn't a wannabe bourgeoisie." I tried to shake her off of me, pried her fingers from my arm in defiance and threw a massive tantrum. Looking at her legs, I even made an effort to kick the knees since I heard that was an effective fight-ending move that handicaps an opponent. Atlas, my limbs were too short.

She gave me a huff, a quiet suppression of laughter that I knew was full of mockery, then shook her head at my pitiful attempts. There were no more responses offered, expression now cold but her hold on me got tighter that it could almost cut off my arm's blood supply, forcibly dragging me.

I was ushered away from the congested marketplace. Looking back, I was disappointed at how these people bought the tall tale this woman sold. They accepted the "reunion" with little to no suspicion at all and I can't help but compare if this situation happened in the future, would they still let a stranger claim someone else's kid? Will somebody call a police officer and validate a stranger's claim?

It doesn't matter now what the answer might be. The woman could be from that factory, or from another group I wasn't aware of. If it was the former, then, I would most likely end up back in that lung cancer-inducing atmosphere to be… what exactly? I didn't explore that place when I first found myself there, too busy crawling in the vents and looking for an exit. The only noteworthy memories I stored, aside from the taser wielding guards, were scientists documenting an experiment inside a glass chamber.

I shivered. Experiments were less regulated back in the days and ethics was basically nonexistent, all in the name of science, humans and animals suffered. Okay, I might be exaggerating. However, the amount of body bags in that morgue was horrifying, in a building that poses as a canning factory, and scientists running the place all point to Trouble. With a capital T. I refuse to imagine what unpleasant scenarios I might encounter there, but the other option seemed more terrifying – an unknown group, syndicate, mafia, black government organization, enemy group or whatever sounded extremely distressing.

My heart was thumping in my rib cage. I was sweating profusely, never stopping in my attempt to remove her hold on me. To an outsider, I could pass off as a stubborn child who wanted to play outside, who got dirty, and now his mom was dragging him home. Perhaps that was one reason why no one acted apart from throwing a curious glance.

Deep down, I was scared and seething.

"Who's Warren?"

"You."

Oh hooo. This lady was committed to the crazy backstory she crafted. If there was in fact a missing little boy named Warren, then that was just heartbreaking. Yet with the way she behaved, fake and cold afterwards, I wouldn't be surprised when her own kid made a run for it.

We followed a street called West Burn. It was close to the river where people walked their dogs. I could make another scene here and hope someone will notice I'm being taken, but she must have gotten a hunch I'd try something like that.

"Whatever you're thinking, don't do it."

"Or what?"

She hissed, "Or I'll cut off your finger, brat!" Based on her response, I could cross mad scientists off the lists since they're the more likely bunch to keep their test subjects intact. Assuming I was a subject of theirs. Who knows? And If I remember my movies correctly, the Japanese mafia had a ritual of amputating fingers. While I might be in a European land, those kinds of groups almost have a similar ritual regarding bodily harm.

At the end of the street was a car. A black Cadillac where a man leaned on, lighting up a cigarette. He seemed calm despite his disheveled appearance.

"What took you so long?" He grunted, smoke puffed out of his mouth as he spoke in a way that wasn't hurried, "This is the kid? He doesn't look healthy."

"This boy was a menace. Had me running. And he looks better than any other street kids we brought in." She pushed me forward and I stumbled a little, rubbing the bruise already forming on my arm. It had the shape of her hand.

"Tch. Maybe all you need is an exercise." He didn't try to hide his snigger, smirking at the way I gave the woman a hard time on what seemed to him as an easy retrieval mission. Unlocking the car door, he guided me to the car and gestured for another child to make a space, "Okay everyone. Try not to do anything funny. You don't want your transaction to be messy or bloody."

The last word was muttered but we all heard it. Two children beside me were trembling in fear, their eyes grew wide as they took the warning in such a somber manner. There were three of us inside and judging by their height and facial features, I surmised that the oldest they could be was ten years.

Honestly, their presence was unexpected. Definitely crossed out the mad scientists thrice in my head, the woman and her partner belonged to criminal group that involved kidnapping and human trafficking. I have no idea what was my fate, what kind of questionable transactions they partake in – prostitution, child labor, organ selling, and many more possibilities that made my vision swim. It didn't help that the car smelled like a chemical which I recognized as chlorine, a common agent that removes blood stains.

At the end of the day, I felt like ulcers were developing at the pit of my stomach.

.

.

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+ True Story: I had retainers that I find uncomfortable, especially when eating. At a restaurant, I had to remove it but left its container at home. Covered it up in tissues and the next day I realized I forgot to take it home with me ¯\_( ͡❛ ₃ ͡❛)_/¯

++ Jericho escapes. He gets taken again.

+++ Next chapter: Yor!