Day and Night

The Patrol

Valuables secured in an empty locker by his combination lock, Ben stepped into a shower stall and began to get cleaned up. He was just wiping the shampoo from his eyes when he heard a loud commotion, so he ducked under the stream of water for a quick rinse and pulled back the curtain to see if his assistance was needed.

A scrawny youth was twisting in the grasp of two drivers he knew.

They looked up at him and spoke. "We caught this one trying to break into your locker. We figure he was after your wallet."

"Let him go but block the exit." Ben declared calmly.

The boy stood there refusing to make eye contact and breathing hard from the struggle. He wore worn jeans, a loose t-shirt, with a ratty flannel shirt on top.

Ben's first thought was to wonder if he was a runaway. His second thought was to wonder how long it would take to get the kid to a healthy weight, because it was obvious the boy hadn't been eating much.

He stepped back into the enclosed space so he could dry off before stepping back out.

The boy's breathing that had begun to even out ramped up again as he approached.

"Let me get my clothes on, then we'll talk." He said softly.

The boy shifted to the side, still without looking at him. As he retrieved his clothes and bent to slip his clean drawers on, the boy bolted for the exit.

One of his captors, Dean, grabbed his arm. "Where do you think you're going?" He asked menacingly.

The boy hissed in pain.

Ben's head snapped up at the sound. He bound over to the boy.

"Let him go." He said quietly yet firmly never taking his eyes off the boy. "Take off that shirt." He commanded.

The boy hesitated and shook as he slowly slid the shirt off his arms and continued to clasp it in his hands as he stood hunched and uncertain.

Ben swallowed hard at what he was unfortunately not surprised to see. The boy's arms were covered in bruises. Various grotesque shades and colors telling a visual story of long-term injury.

"Who did this to you?!" He asked his voice raising.

The boy lifted his head in shock at the angry, defensive tone he heard. It confused him. People only were usually mad because he had lifted something from them, not caring anything about him.

"My uncle." He answered.

"Is he around here?" Ben interrogated crossly.

"No, I hitched here hoping I could get a ride far enough away, but I'm out of money."

Ben returned to his locker and quickly finished dressing. Gathering up all his stuff, he motioned with his head toward the exit.

"Come on." Ben commanded.

The boy followed him because he didn't know what else to do. This man hadn't even commented about him trying to break into his locker. Maybe he and the two mountains of muscle that had caught him were going to take him outside and beat him. He was too scared and tired to run and out of hope for a better outcome. He resigned himself at best for them to call the police.

The man stopped at a booth and pointed to the seat.

"Sit down."

The boy sat.

The man huffed. "Slide your skinny butt over and make room."

He scooted into the corner.

The man picked up the menu and stood it in front of him.