the alternatives ⇒ tmr trilogy & newtmas au ⇒ COMPLETED

Chapter Four

Thomas's world was crumbling down and his head was spinning.  He stood, frozen, not hearing a word anyone said, but watching their actions through what seemed like a haze of frustration.  The policeman pushed his mother to the ground, unhinged her handcuffs, and walked over to Thomas.

Tufts of thin, light brown hair haloed the man's head.  He was a good foot taller than Thomas, and he looked down on him with an angry glare.

"I'm Officer Reischwitz and this here is Officer Delancey.  And you, little boy, are under arrest." he flung an accusing finger towards Thomas's forehead.

His hope was diminishing fast, like a quickly burning candle. 

"Wait!  I'm the one who called.  I know what happened."

The girl.  Teresa.

She sprinted to where Thomas and the policeman were standing.  Her face was red and drenched with sweat. 

Thomas's eyes widened, and he searched his head for an explanation.

Then it dawned on him.

He had called Teresa, then put down the phone, not hanging up.  She must have heard the whole thing.

"I heard this boy's mother screaming and hurting him."

The other policeman with the notepad, Officer Delancey, looked at Thomas for a second, scratching his chin, eyebrows furrowed together in confusion.  Then he flipped a few pages back in his notebook.

"How do we know whether to trust you or not?  Do you have any evidence?" the policeman asked.

Looking at the ground, Thomas winced.  No evidence, no innocence.

He was going to jail.

"Nice try.  You're coming with me." Officer Delancey chuckled and waved for Thomas and Teresa to enter his car.  When Thomas wasn't looking, the policeman shoved him headfirst into the car, sending him tumbling onto Teresa, and slammed the door shut.
He was madder than ever.

Thomas looked out the window and saw his mother smirking.  His skull continued to throb, aggravating the inky whirlpool of emotion inside of him.

"I'm sorry.  I tried.  Now I screwed it up for the both of us." Teresa slumped over in her seat, her head in her hands.  Thomas fought the urge to put his arm around her to comfort her, realizing they had only met that day.

"You don't have to apologize for nothing.  Dialing the fuzz was the right thing to do, you know."

"But I got us arrested!" she cried.

"We just have to figure things out.  We'll find a way out, I'm sure of it." If there was one thing Thomas could do, it was make a quick exit.  He had escaped his mother two times in the past two days.

"Whatever you say." Teresa choked back a sob.

Thomas let his hand slip onto the cracked leather car seat between them, and Teresa placed her delicate-looking hand on top of his.  A warm, tingly feeling spread throughout his body, making him momentarily happy.  The calm before the storm, Thomas thought.

"What's your name?" Teresa finally asked.

"It's Thomas." he replied in almost a whisper.

The violent opening of the car door startled them both, and Teresa, instead of taking her hand away, gripped tighter.  The engine started, and Thomas prepared himself for the worst car ride of his life.

"What the bloody hell?  You're a stupid little shank, ya know."

Thomas shook his head in disbelief as he stared through the dull plexiglass segregating the car.  Newt craned his neck backward to look at him.

"You've forgotten to talk?" Newt spat. 

"How did you... Where did you..." Thomas started, but Newt cut him off, facing the steering wheel.

"Quit lip-flappin'.  We gotta get out, and bloody fast.  Those shuck police officers are chasing us, and I've never driven a car in my bloody life!" Newt panicked.  He thrusted a foot on the gas pedal and the car squealed forwards.

"Tom!" Teresa yelled, one hand clinging to the car roof, the other still glued to Thomas.  Thomas couldn't help but wonder why everyone called him nicknames after he clearly stated his actual name.

The car sped towards the forest, kicking up dirt as it went.  The three of them bumped along the uneven surface, and at the last moment before they entered the dark canopy, Newt veered left.

"We're going to my place!" he screamed over the deafening dissonance of honks and tire screeches. 

In desperate need for control of the vehicle, Newt slammed his fist down on the car's control panel, which was packed with fancy technologic equipment for the police officers' occupation.  A series of red buttons stood out from the rest of the machinery, and before Thomas could protest, Newt began to violently push them.

Thankfully for the passengers of the car, nothing happened.

A quick ram on the brakes notified Thomas and Teresa that they were at their destination.

"Guess those buttons didn't help." Newt sighed.  "But we're here, nice and safe."

"You call that safe?" Thomas squawked, but he wasn't angry at his friend.  They were in fact safe from the police, and his mother.

"It's over." Teresa heaved, flustered.  She looked sick to her stomach, and when she opened the car door, she ran to the nearby bushes to relieve herself.

Thomas and Newt remained in the car to catch their breath, and Thomas looked back at the mysterious red buttons.

A speaker on the dashboard crackled to life.

"Delancey?  Reischwitz?  This is Larsen, reporting to Vehicle H-9.  It's, ah... October 6th.  I have an update."

The boys looked at each other, both realizing at the same time that this was a communication system between the police officers.  October 6th was about two weeks ago.  The button must have triggered a recorded memo.

"Concerns our little friend, The Hawk."

As the conversation went on, Thomas got more and more curious.

"He's been acting strange lately, more rebellious.  It's part of growing up.  But I'm starting to think he'll never land." the staticky voice said.

Newt pushed the button once more, shutting the recording off.  "It's not bloody helping us, is it?"

Thomas reluctantly agreed and exited the car.  The two boys stood in the damp mud, dead trees dotting the perimeter of the not-quite forest.  Teresa loped over to them and the three stood side by side, looking off into the bare distance.  At this time, dawn was creeping up on them, banishing the dark of night.  Newt pointed to what Thomas suspected was his home; a shack made of thrown-together planks of mildewing wood.

"There it is." Newt said dryly.  "There's our bloody hiding spot.  We're fugitives now."