Amos sat in the kitchen. The food and money he had acquired from his initial foraging raid on Ms. Murphy’s apartment lay before him on the table. He was covered in dust and wanted to take a shower but at the moment he did not dare. Instead, he sat quietly and listened. Ms. Murphy had been back in her apartment for at least ten minutes now and all was quiet.

  Amos had decided he would wait another five minutes before fixing himself something to eat. If she did not sound the alarm by this point, then Amos had decided that he would be probably safe as she had not noticed the break-in.

  An hour later after a hot shower and a very filling plate of pasta Amos almost felt good again. Almost. He had still just recently lost his mother and that absence was a dull constant ache in his chest, it would gnaw away at him if he let it so he pushed his emotions back as far as he could and tried to get in a more serious mindset.

  His foray into the vent had been both exciting and rewarding. While he felt guilty about stealing from a senior, he also tried to rationalize his feelings. You are just a fourteen-year-old boy with no parents, you need to do something, and no one will help you. As rational as this sounded it did not change the fact that he had become a thief.

  He did not want to be a thief, and he decided that he would have to repay Ms. Murphy as soon as it was possible to do so. Amos felt much better after he had thought about what he had just done and that he would make amends somehow. Now he needed to think about what his next move was.

  Amos realized, with some considerable relief, that while he still had many problems, at least now his survival did not depend on solving one problem immediately. He had time to plan and think. Make a list, set priorities and get things done Amos could hear his dad’s voice in his mind, a little progress each day can go a long way.

  These lessons were often repeated by his dad, even when it was some mundane task like getting ready for a new school year or packing for an overnight camping trip. He had found this advice annoying and boring at times but now that he was in need he was grateful that his dad had taught him how to think, prioritize and stay focused on what was important. He made his list, then Amos thought about what could go wrong and what he could do to prevent this.

  The first thing he did was to hide most of his money and any other valuables behind the vent cover in case Filthy Phil came back to the apartment to snoop around and then he got ready to go out for supplies.

  Amos took his bag and waited by the door listening for any movement in the hall. Once he was sure that it was empty he quietly slipped out the door and locked it with his key and moved down the hall to the stairwell. Move quickly, quietly and don’t be seen Amos told himself as he made his way out of the building and down to the street. As he merged onto the sidewalk, he kept his head down and moved with purpose to his first destination, a military surplus and gun shop that his father had often visited to get outdoor gear and cheap clothing.

  A block away from the store, Amos lost in thought, thinking about what exactly he needed to buy was suddenly pulled back hard with a sudden jerk and then thrown side to side violently. Someone, maybe more than one, had grabbed his backpack and was trying to wrench it off of his body. He threw his arms up to try to regain his balance, and he started to shout for help as he fought to regain his balance.

  Amos was tall for his age, and he had always been quite active, so he was fairly strong as well but when strong hands grabbed his wrists from behind he had no ability to break free. The pulling and twisting stopped long enough for someone to cut the straps off of his back and then he was shoved violently forward where his outstretched arms saved his face from smashing into the sidewalk at the cost of two long and painful scrapes from elbow to wrist on each arm.

  Amos rolled to his side and holding his arms over his head tried to see where the next attack would come from. The thieves were older boys that were now jogging down the street with his backpack under one of their arms. As they turned the corner Amos took stock of what had just happened. Stupid stupid stupid he thought to himself, with all his issues inside his building he had forgotten how dangerous it still was outside the building, everywhere, all of the time. At least you did not lose the money Amos consoled himself as he got up rubbing his arms.

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  That was stuffed deep into his front pocket, the bills carefully folded flat so as not to show through the pocket. He had lost his backpack, an old metal thermos with water, his few old hand tools and his light jacket. Not as bad as it could have been, but I have to be more careful Amos lamented as he set off down the street, this time with his head up and his eyes scanning and alert for any signs of trouble.

  The worn string of bells above the door clanged and rang as they jostled and slapped against each other as Amos pushed through the front door into Holden’s Guns and Surplus. The shop was a rambling corner store that also occupied the adjacent storefront. While the door and windows all had bars over them, the owner Jim Holden had not yet felt it necessary to keep the door locked at all times.

  As bad as things were in the city, most people were still smart enough not to try to rob a gun store as the staff would almost certainly have a lot of options to shoot you with.

  A thin, older man with a full head of grey hair and attentive dark eyes stood up from behind his stool, his right hand remained behind the counter and looked directly at Amos. His face was stern, heavily lined but it looked more weary than mean, he was looking at Amos the way adults typically did when they felt that kids were not where they were supposed to be and they were just about to tell them where to go.

  Amos spoke calmly and looked directly at the older man behind the counter while he did so. His dad had made him talk to adults, family, friends and strangers all from a young age and to make eye contact and answer questions with full sentences. Initially he had really disliked doing this but over time Amos found that by speaking to adults this way he could get what he wanted much faster and if he wanted to be left alone then they would be much more willing to do so if he looked them in the eye and asked them nicely.

  “Hello, my dad used to bring me here to buy clothes and gear, I need to buy a few things and I need some help finding them.” The man relaxed a little bit and after looking again at the door he put both hands on to the counter and leaned forward slightly and while looking at Amos’s scratched and bloody arms, said “what is it you need exactly?”

  Amos took a closer look at the damage on his arms, and he said “I guess I will start with a small first aid kit and some bandages, I just got robbed so I will need to replace some tools and a backpack. I also want to buy some good, tough clothing but nothing that will stand out, I need to blend in.” “Let me see your arms son” said the older man, “I can clean them off and at least make sure that they don’t get infected.”

  As the older man tended to Amos, they spoke a little bit about Amos’s dad and the things he had purchased over the years from the store. The older man introduced himself as Jim Holden, the owner of the store and by the time he had finished tending to Amos’s arms he had softened his wary demeanor considerably.

  After another half an hour he was telling old jokes to Amos as he gathered together the items Amos had asked for. When it was time to pay Amos was relieved that he had brought enough to cover the cost and as he counted out the bills he wondered if Jim was even charging him full price.

  His suspicions were confirmed when Jim handed him a heavy cylindrical object after Amos had paid for and packed his purchases into his new backpack. “Here, take this, it is on me, just make sure you practice with it so you know how to use it.” He had given Amos a short heavy rod with a shiny steel ball on the end the size of a large marble.

  The rod was wrapped in a tight black leather grip, and it was heavy in his hand. Amos did not know what to make of it. “Here, let me show you” said Jim first taking the rod back and then placing a wooden crate on its end in the middle of the floor.

  With a sudden movement Jim swung his arm up and then suddenly brought it down over the wooden crate. The top of the crate cracked and splintered as it toppled over with a crash. In his hand the rod had grown two feet longer with the metal ball still at the end. “It’s an extendable baton for self-defence” said Jim, “you keep this in your pocket at all times, and it will get you out of a heap of trouble if and when you need it to.”

  Jim handed it back to Amos and showed him how to collapse the baton and to keep it secure around his wrist with the small loop attachment. “Find a spot to practice and get good at taking it out and swinging with one smooth motion.” “Be very careful not to hit your own legs,” Jim cautioned, “you can do a lot of damage with this baton in just one swing and one good swing is all you should ever need.”

  Jim scoffed and shook his head slightly. “Most people never see it comin and after one good tap they no longer want to keep botherin ya.”

  Amos thanked Jim again for his kindness and his time and promised to stop in again soon. It had been a long time since someone had shown him any kindness and he was glad to have it, even from a complete stranger.

  Stay alert Amos told himself as he walked home. He kept to the edge of the sidewalk to keep as much distance as he could from doorways and side streets and he carefully and methodically evaluated everyone he saw coming toward him. He also discovered that with the bright sun he could look into windows as he passed by and see in the reflection what or who might be lurking behind him.