EXISTENCE: Recovery

CHAPTER 4: Homeland

"Hello? Is anyone home? I'm coming in!"

A young, blonde-haired boy entered his house, took off his shoes, and retrieved his pair of sandals from the rack beside the door. He carried with him a stack of books under one arm, and in the other hand was a sheathed sword. He walked across the linoleum floor and found the door to his room ajar. He could have sworn he closed it.

He entered his room and set his books on his desk. He sat in his desk and let out a sigh, maintaining his grip on his sheathed sword. He looked over to his bed.

Laying in the boy's bed was another boy with shoulder length black hair. His eyes were closed, and his body lay absolutely still, save for some light breathing. This was the third day he had to go without sleeping in his own bed, with this boy making use of it. He hadn't had a choice in the matter, though. 

He heard some footsteps patter through the hallway and reach his door. He turned his chair around and greeted the man who stood at his door. The man had an unkempt head of brown hair, chiseled features, brown eyes, and a well-trimmed beard. He wore a lose, untied robe that exposed his chest and stomach, along with some loose, white pants. The man was smiling.

"Welcome home. Had a good day at school?"

The boy sighed. "It was alright, I suppose." He turned to the man. "I'm just wondering when we're planning on leaving Algeria."

The man laughed softly. "We'll leave when the time's right, Taylor."

Taylor rubbed his head. "You've left like three times already! And last time you brought back Sleeping Beauty over there. What's going on with him, anyway? You didn't just pick up some random kid from the streets, did you?"

The man sighed. "I told you, Taylor, I'm going to have to head back and forth from here to there quite a bit." He grabbed a chair from the dinner table and brought inside Taylor's room, where he sat beside the bedridden boy. "This kid...well, we've got a little bit of history."

"Dad," Taylor replied, "I'm not feeling any energy from this boy." He looked back at the boy. "Granted, he's alive, but still..."

"Give him some time," the man responded. "He's gone through a hell of sorts. And I know when he wakes up, he won't like what he's about to hear."

Just then, the two heard a sharp rapping on Taylor's door, prompting them to glance at the source of the sound. Standing there was a short, elderly woman, dressed in what appeared to be traditional dress. She looked a bit miffed.

"Tarek, when do you think that guest is going to wake up? It's been three days. Last time I had guests for three days, you were getting married."

Tarek let out a small chuckle. "Trust me, Khalti, he'll be up before you even realize." He got up and left the room. "Is there anything you'd like me to buy for you, Khalti? Some food for dinner, maybe?"

The woman yawned. "Thank you, wlidi, but I've already sent Safa to get what I need." She walked towards the kitchen. "Will couscous be acceptable today?"

Tarek smiled. "From you, khalti? Always." He followed her into the kitchen.

Taylor looked back at the sleeping boy on his bed. He reached for his sword and picked it up, getting off his chair and heading for his door. He paused, and looked to the boy.

"Get well soon, I guess." He walked out the door. 

Coming into the living room, he saw Tarek peer out at him from the kitchen counter. 

"Heading out?"

"Yeah," replied Taylor. "I'm sure Safa will need my help with groceries."

Tarek gave a small smile. "Well, I certainly know it'll warm her heart, if anything."