The Child Thief

THE SHADOWS TWISTED and crowded together, layer upon layer,
until darkness claimed the playground. One by one the sodium lamps
fizzled on, their shimmering yellow glow casting long, eerie shadows
across the park.
The parents were gone now, the playground empty. Garbage cans—
overflowing with empty soda bottles and soiled diapers—stood like lone
sentinels as the distant sounds of traffic and the steady thumping of
someone’s pumped-up stereo echoed across the grounds.
The child thief saw the boy sprint into the park, saw him from far across
the way, catching glimpses of his face as he dashed through the pools of
yellow lamplight. The thief saw the fear, the confusion, and he smiled.
What had led this child here: abuse, neglect, molestation? All of the
above perhaps? It really didn’t matter to the thief. All that mattered was
something had caused the boy to leave his home behind and venture out
into the night alone, a runaway. And like so many runaways, this boy didn’t
know where to run away to.
Not to worry, the child thief thought. I have a place for you. A place
where we can play. And his golden eyes twinkled and his smile broadened.

---

NICK PASSED A young couple on their way out of the park, giggling and
clinging to each other like Siamese twins. He took a wide detour around a
man and his dog. The dog—some sort of large poodle—gave Nick a
shameful look as it went about its business. The man stared dully at his
phone, texting away, seemingly unconcerned that his dog was laying down
landmines along the public walkway.
Nick noticed a pack of youths far up the path. They were cutting
through the park, shouting and acting up. They looked like trouble and Nick
didn’t need any more trouble. He veered off the path and drifted into the
trees.
Nick pushed through a dense line of bushes and jumped down into a
wide ditch. His foot hit a slick chunk of cardboard and he stumbled, landing
atop something soft. The something soft moved. “Hey,” came a muffled cry
beneath him.
The something soft was a sleeping bag, worn and oily, like it’d been
dragged through the gutter. The someone was a woman and she didn’t look
much better—the smear of cherry-red lipstick over layers of caked-on
makeup unable to hide the ravages of the street. Nick thought she might’ve
been pretty once, but now her matted hair, hollowed eyes, and sunken
cheeks reminded him of a cadaver.
She rolled over and sat up, got a good look at Nick, and smiled.
A bald man with a long, white, grizzly beard poked his head out from a
nearby sleeping bag. “Who’s that?”
Nick realized there were several sleeping bags scattered among the
bushes, along with cardboard boxes, blue plastic tarps, and a shopping cart
full of garbage bags.
“It’s just a boy,” the woman said. “A tender little thing.”
Nick rolled off of her, but when he tried to get up, she grabbed him, her
hard, bony hands locking around his wrist. Nick let out a cry and tried to
pull away.
“Where you going, sweetheart?” the woman asked.
“You looking for something, kid?” the man said, climbing to unsteady
feet. Other heads began to poke out from sleeping bags and boxes, dull,
bleary eyes all on Nick.
“Of course he’s looking for something,” the woman said and smiled
wickedly. “Ten bucks, sugar, and I’ll blow more than your mind. Got ten
bucks?”

---

Nick stared at her, horrified.
The old man snorted and let loose a chuckle. “That’s a sweet deal, boy.
Trust me. She’ll make you holler hi-de-ho.” Several of the other men
nodded and laughed.
Nick shook his head rapidly back and forth, and tried to twist his arm
free. But the woman held him tight.
“Five bucks, then,” she said. “Five bucks to blow your little rocket.
What’d you say?”
Nick caught sight of two men moving around behind him; they looked
hard and hungry, eyeing him like a free lunch.
“Let me go,” Nick pleaded, trying to peel away her fingers. “Please,
lady. Please let me go.”
“You’re missing out,” she cooed and let go, causing him to stumble
right into one of the men. The man snatched Nick by the hair and spun him
around, got a hand on Nick’s pack. Nick cried out and twisted away, felt his
hair tear loose in the man’s grip, but didn’t care so long as he still had his
pack. The pack was all that mattered, all he had going for him now. He
clutched it tightly to his chest, reeled, got his feet under him, and scrambled
out of the ravine. He tore through the bushes and sprinted off, with their
ghoulish laughter echoing after him. He didn’t stop until the ditch was well
out of sight. He found a playground, collapsing against a big smiley-faced
turtle, trying to catch his breath and get control of his nerves.
In a ditch, he thought. Is that where I’ll be sleeping tonight? And the
next night, and the next? With creeps like that around.
He dropped his pack between his feet, heart still pumping. He searched
the shadows, the trees, making sure no one was around or following him,
before digging a wad of bills out of his pocket and quickly counting them.
Fifty-six dollars. How far is that gonna get me? He hefted the pack. No,
that’s not all. Just as soon as I find a dealer I’ll have all the money I need.
Of course he hadn’t quite worked that part of the plan out: how a fourteen-
year-old was supposed to go about arranging a major drug sale. I can
handle it, he reassured himself. Just have to play it smart. I’ll take it down
to…take it…take it where? “Fuck,” he said, then told himself that for now
all that mattered was getting to the subway and getting the hell out of here.
Then what? Well? He glanced at the bushes, realizing he didn’t even have a
sleeping bag. It made him wonder if maybe his mother had been right.
Maybe it would’ve been better to just stay out of Marko’s way. If he had,

---

he’d at least still have a place to sleep, food to eat. He rolled his sleeve back
and stared at the burn on his arm, and Marko’s hateful grin came back to
him, his angry, bloodshot eyes. No, Nick thought. This was her fault. All of
it. She’s the one that let those bloodsuckers into Grandma’s house in the
first place. None of this would’ve happened if she hadn’t been so selfish. He
felt tears coming and wiped angrily at his eyes. “Fuck,” he said. “Fuck.”
A thump came from back in the trees. Nick spun around expecting to
see Marko, or maybe the ghoulish woman with the painted lips. But there
was nothing there but the trees and the yellow lights. He glanced about.
There was no sign of anyone; the park had become eerily quiet.
He caught movement out of the corner of his eye. A boy-sized shadow
climbed straight up a tree and disappeared into the branches. “What the
hell?” Nick whispered, then decided he really didn’t want to know. He
turned and sprinted toward the street.