Running Wild

strong and gentle and he shivered under them.
    Then he was out, gone far, far below.
A face had belonged in there somewhere, darkened by a frown, black eyes maybe. Seamus would never know. He slept through nearly twenty-four hours and woke as the day did, sun rising while an old man puttered around in the kitchen set across from the couch he lay on.
He raised himself on one elbow, taking an inventory of himself. Suddenly the one thing he knew was he desperately needed a bathroom.
As if reading his mind, the old man looked up and pointed to a doorway. Seamus dashed in.
He rather more slowly made his way out, not sure what surprises lay in store, unable to process a bizarre series of events, though he recognized the old man who’d come to greet the horse that had carried him here.
Had that really happened?
“It’s about time you woke up.”
Seamus could think of nothing to say so he nodded.
“Have some Red River Cereal then.”
“Uh, sure.” As it happened Seamus would have eaten anything. When a bowl was placed before him, it wasn’t in him to do anything but devour it, and the refill.
“Too skinny,” his host scolded him when Seamus’s mouth was full. “I don’t know what you’re doing wandering around in the middle of the night by yourself like that. No common sense these days.”
Seamus supposed he was referring to young people or something. Normally he would have wanted to argue, hotly. But this man had given him sanctuary and was feeding him, and to be honest, common sense hadn’t been Seamus’s strong suit this past week. It had been more about pride.
“Where are your parents?” the old man demanded.
God, the last question he wanted to hear. Seamus shrugged, staring at his empty bowl.
“Winnipeg?”
Given that was the biggest city in the province, it wasn’t a bad guess. It was also the correct one.
“You look like a city boy, and you look like someone who’s been cared for until very recently.” His host made him sound like a lost pet as he wagged his finger. “You call your parents. I’ll wager they’re worried sick about you.”
“No,” said Seamus flatly.
His host cocked his head, eyes widening. “No, you won’t call them or, no, they aren’t worried sick.”
“Both.”
“I’m Zachariah.”
Seamus hadn’t known that name existed anymore. It seemed like something out of a classic novel written a century ago, and so did the man and this rundown house.
“Seamus,” he said, rising. He held out a hand to shake, wondering a bit at how small and frail Zachariah seemed to be and how the hell Seamus had ended up lying on this old man’s couch. It was hard to think his memories of being carried inside made sense.
“Seamus, you sit down and drink this orange juice.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Then you’ll call your folks.”
Seamus cut his gaze to Zachariah, who was studying him. He must look a mess.
“How old are you? Sixteen?”
“I’m nineteen,” Seamus replied, affronted. Geez, he didn’t look sixteen. His stubble was rough, the beginnings of a beard. He was no longer the stick he’d been three years ago.
“You all look young to me.” Zachariah rubbed his chin. “Thing is, your anger is fresh, not old. Your falling-out with your parents is a new thing.”
The back of Seamus’s neck prickled. He didn’t like being read this easily. It unnerved him. He shook his head.
The old man sighed. “I’ll make you a deal, and I’d appreciate it if you cooperated. Call your parents, and if they don’t want to hear from you, I’ll help you out. Don’t call your parents, and I’ll show you the door.”
Seamus met the stranger’s steady gaze. He wanted to take his pride and walk out, use it as a burden and a shield. Well, a part of him wanted to walk out. But he’d reached the end of his resources and didn’t know where he’d go. His ID and money were lost. And those men… He shivered at the idea of running into them again, given how they’d kept popping up from nowhere last night.
No, that was the night before. He’d slept for a day and a night, and he was getting his days mixed up.
What the hell . Who cared if his mother didn’t want to lay eyes on him? He could make that phone call, and hopefully Zachariah would allow him to rest here a little longer before he had to move on.
“All right,” he said ungraciously and held out his hand.
Zachariah pointed to a landline, and not only a landline but a corded phone. Seamus could feel his face heat up at the thought of