Getting home was easier than he thought. After gathering his breath and getting his thoughts together Amos watched carefully from the rooftop for any signs of the boys that had chased him. It’s your backpack, you dummy. You can’t expect to walk around outside with a brand-new backpack without attracting attention. The realization slowly dawned on Amos that whenever he went out like this, he was inviting trouble.

  All it takes is for the wrong people to see a young boy alone with a large bag and they will decide that there is little risk in taking it and whatever treasure it holds for themselves.

  Once he knew that the coast was clear Amos found the rooftop access door and tried the knob. Luckily for Amos it opened, whoever had installed the door had decided that it should only be locked from the inside to prevent unauthorized access to the roof. It was unlocked from the outside most likely so that no service worker would ever get stranded out on the roof.

  Amos waited behind the front door until he saw a city bus make its way up the street and then ran out to catch it with just enough time before it pulled away from the stop. He didn’t care where it was going, he just wanted to be away from this area as soon as he could.

  At home Amos took out the revolver and the shells and practiced loading and operating the safety mechanism. He used the empty shell casings and repeated the loading process again and again until it felt natural. He tried storing the revolver in different areas of his body and decided upon his cargo pant pocket. In the back of a kitchen cupboard was one of his mother’s old shopping bags, one with large enough handles that he could wear like a sling.

  The bag itself was dirty, torn in spots and the letters on the front and back had almost faded and worn away. It had a worn and beaten look to it, but it was still strong and sturdy, most likely why his mom had kept it. Hopefully no one else would ever think to want it, he thought, so he would carry his things in this from now on.

  After a rather pleasing meal of a simple but warm spaghetti plate, Amos made his way down the hall to the rooftop to practice with his baton. It had saved him today and he was very glad to have it, and he wanted to make wielding it effectively a skill that he could draw upon instantly. He also practiced drawing the gun, extracting it from his pocket and pointing it at the ready, safety off and gripped with both hands the way Holden had shown him.

  He really wanted to test fire a few live rounds, both for aim and to see if he could handle the recoil but where could he do this? The noise was sure to attract attention so how could he possibly shoot it in the city? A minute later a low rumbling clatter in the distance provided the answer he was looking for. That’s it, I just need to find a spot nearby he realized with a small grin.

  The next morning Amos stood atop a new rooftop surveying the area. After a few hours of searching, he had found a two-story warehouse building attached to a larger four-story office building. The warehouse was unused now and the office building just had a doctor’s office, a pharmacy and a dentist on the first floor, the rest of the building looked vacant. Gas supply pipes had served him well again providing easy access to the rooftop.

  They were even conveniently painted in yellow Amos thought, making it very easy for a willing climber to locate them. The surrounding buildings were low, two-story brick buildings, attached in rows with a mix of shops and apartments. He was alone on this rooftop, not visible to anyone except for one thing, the one thing that made this such a great spot for his needs.

  The train appeared and roared by with a thundering clatter, the roofs of the cars flashing by just below the roof of the warehouse. It was a subway train; part of the Boston Subway system simply called the “T” by Bostonians. This portion of the track was elevated, part of the Red Line that went through Southie. Because of the location of the track there were no taller buildings around, this was not a good spot to live if you wanted any peace or quiet.

  Another train would rumble by, probably in the opposite direction in just a few minutes. Amos took out his gun, ready to try his first shot under the cover of all of that train noise.

  BLAM

  The 1st shot hurt his ears, wrenched his wrist and, if he were to be quite honest, it really scared him. The acrid, burnt smell of gunpowder hung in the air and the T train clattered away onto the next stop. Amos pocketed the gun, remembering the safety at the last moment and took a look at his target. He had aimed at the center of the brick wall on the rooftop walkout.

  It was a small rectangular wall but a big target just twenty feet away. He had not hit the center; he was approximately three feet too high and wide. Despite being so off target Amos was elated, this was power, only when I need it but when I do, it could really make a difference, he thought to himself.

  Fifteen trains and twenty shots later Amos decided to call it quits, his arms hurt and his makeshift ear plugs, wet, rolled-up pieces of paper, had not been that effective. His ears were ringing, and his hearing was diminished, his aim, however, had become much more effective. He was no longer afraid of the noise and the kick when he pulled the trigger, and he was not flinching or missing like he was at first. Feeling much better about how to handle the gun, Amos decided to carry it in his pocket loaded for the first time.

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  Before climbing back down he took stock of this new rooftop spot. He liked it a lot, it was easy to get to, hidden away on the roof and there was a padlocked access door on the side of the roof that led into the seemingly deserted upper floor of the office building. With a bit of effort, with the right tools I can get that lock off and I bet it would be worth it to have a look around in there Amos thought to himself as he walked toward the edge of the roof.

  “You waiting for your parents’ hon?” asked the older waitress. She had a kind face, but Amos could tell she was unsure about a young kid showing up alone in her diner. He was old enough to eat by himself at a restaurant but these days, good kids were not out on their own so the ones that were, they were usually treated with suspicion.

  “It’s just me, Ma’am, could I please see a menu?” said Amos while seemingly absentmindedly taking a twenty-dollar bill from his pant pocket and placing it in the pocket in the front of his jacket. This was a show that he was putting on for her, being extra polite and showing that he had money. It did the trick, a moment later he had ordered his food and handed the menu back with a big smile. I’m still so glad to have money and food, I would have taken anything off that menu he thought ruefully. He felt sad at ordering a nice meal like this, something his mother could never afford to do and even worse, it was not his money that he was spending.

  The thefts from Ms. Murphy and Old Man Dan were weighing more heavily on Amos with each day. After he had seen Filthy Phil breaking into Dan’s apartment and after how Mrs. Garcia had confronted him Amos was pretty certain that the landlord was a persistent thief in their building preying upon the older residents. He hated the idea that he had become like Mr. Phil in such a short period of time.

  Just over a month ago he was still his mother’s good little boy and now he had broken into two apartments and stolen from their neighbors. Thief…., you are just a thief. Amos flushed with the shame of it and he resolved to make it up to Ms. Murphy and Old Man Dan. He did not know how he would do this but he hoped that he could.

  Feeling slightly better, Amos tucked into his food when it arrived with the grateful abandon that only someone who has gone without good food or enough food for significant periods of time can do. As he ate, he pushed aside his guilty feelings so that he could resolve his most pressing problem, how to rescue three kids from an unknown and most likely dangerous situation, he did not even know who else was at that restaurant.

  As he ate, Amos was hoping some idea, some strategy would form in his mind that he could use to enter the restaurant and rescue the kids he had encountered there but he had none. The idea of entering the restaurant and drawing his gun and making demands was not a great plan he conceded to himself. Who else was in there and what kind of person would keep kids chained up?

  Thirty minutes later Amos was on the sidewalk and he still had no plan of attack. He finally settled on walking briskly by the restaurant and trying to observe what he could. On his first pass he saw from the sign that the restaurant was an Italian style eatery, and it closed at nine pm most nights including tonight. It was open now and it did not look like anyone was dining there.

  The fa?ade was a bit worn looking and the lettering on the sign above the door was dull. Two bright lights on either side of the door were on, this seemed to be the indication for anyone passing by that the restaurant was indeed open.

  On his second pass he did not learn anything new. Ten minutes later, just after five pm Amos swung by again but this time on the opposite side of the street looking for a place to wait and observe. He settled on a large, wide set of old stone steps that were the main story walk-up for a six-story apartment building. This would have to do.

  Almost fifteen minutes later Amos returned, he had a newspaper, a takeaway coffee cup and a cheap Red Sox ball cap. He had just purchased the cap and as he walked he had worked and folded it in his hands and dragged and scraped it along a dusty gutter to make it look old, torn and worn. Now the cap sat low over his eyes, and he sprawled on one side of the steps, leaned back and slowly read the newspaper.

  The coffee cup, hat, sunglasses and his reading materials instantly added a decade or so to his appearance if he was given just a quick glance.

  No one bothered Amos and the few people that came and went from the building he was perched in front of just ignored him. Unfortunately, that is how most people interacted these days, if you didn’t look like a threat, they just ignored you. If you looked like an easy target, then people either gave you a wide berth or tried to take advantage themselves. The trick is to blend in and to not look like an easy target and do not ever display anything worth stealing ever as Amos was learning.

  A small number of people came and went from the restaurant, some alone, mostly it was just couples. Just after eight pm Amos saw the young girl's slender frame emerge from behind the door and head directly across the street on a diagonal.

  Where is she going in such a rush Amos thought as he jumped up and started to move down the steps. A low rumble just down the street provided the answer. She had waited behind the door trying to time the bus and had left to catch it as soon as it turned the corner. He dashed toward the bus stop, feeling the heavy revolver bounce around in the pant pocket on the side of his leg. Please don’t go off Amos silently prayed to himself as he caught up to the bus.

  He was not yet comfortable with the gun, and he was quite terrified of shooting himself or someone else by accident. He slowed down with some relief and boarded the bus at the rear door about ten seconds after the girl had entered the front door. As the bus pulled away Amos dropped the coins to pay the fare in the farebox and walked slowly toward the young girl sitting in a single window seat two rows from the front.