Secret Chapter - The Grecian Manifesto

Corfu, Greece

Niki stumbled through the narrow city streets. Hunger gnawed at his belly. His parched throat ached for water, or something cool and wet. At that point, he didn’t care what.

The kind woman who’d freed him had vanished. While he appreciated the fact she’d set him free from the monster who’d taken him, he was alone in a big world, terrified of what might lurk around every corner. He tried not to meet the eyes of passing strangers on the sidewalks, but he felt as though everyone stared at him. Why were they looking at him? He wished they wouldn’t, but on the other hand, perhaps he could get someone to give him something to eat and drink.

He loathed the idea of begging. His entire life, he’d been given everything he needed. Now he was on his own, and he had no idea how he was going to survive or even find his next meal.

Niki was too young to work yet. Even if he was old enough, he had no idea what kind of work he could do.

His legs felt heavy. He didn’t have the energy to go much farther.

He spied a side street where a corner cafe provided shade from the warm sun, and made his way over to it, dragging his feet with every step. When he reached the building’s shadow, he slumped up against the wall and lowered himself to the ground. Niki let out a long, exhausted sigh. He ran his fingers through his mottled hair and then hung his head. He stared down at the pavement, languishing in a vortex of emotions. The strongest of those was fear, fear that he would starve to death, or not find a place to sleep, or that his clothes would wear out, or that one of his parents’ killers would find him and take him back to that awful place—to the basement prison.

The vivid, horrific memory of his parents’ murder returned to his mind’s eye with disturbing, wretched clarity. He squeezed his eyelids shut to push the vision away, but it would not budge, and he watched his mother and father shoved over the cliff time and time again.

Tears welled in his eyes. One broke through and streamed down his cheek. It splashed to pieces on the ground between his legs. Niki had escaped captivity only to be thrown into another kind of it. With freedom, he found imprisonment wardened by hunger and thirst, the elements, and a cruel world with no parents to care for him.

He’d seen homeless children before, street urchins begging for coins or the occasional bill, claiming to be hungry. His parents had largely disparaged those kids. Now, he was one of them.

Despair washed over him. What would he do? What could he do? He’d never been in a survival situation before. But he knew he needed to get something to eat, some water too. He would look for a person who appeared kind. That was something he could recognize.

The Spanish woman’s face came to mind, the woman who’d freed him from the basement prison. She had a kind face. Niki simply had to find someone who carried the same look.

He drew a deep breath through his nose and raised his head. He shook, startled by the presence of a man standing over him. The man’s short, blond hair seemed to radiate in the sunlight. His tanned features belied many hours, perhaps years of time spent in the sun. From the looks of him, the man probably spent many of those hours on the beach or on golf courses. He wore fine clothes, the kind Niki’s father wore, with shiny black shoes, gray slacks, and a black button-up shirt with the top two buttons undone. A necklace dangled from the man’s neck, down to the top of his muscular chest.

The necklace was unlike anything Niki had ever seen. It was a silver chain with a two inch silver tube attached to it. Niki wondered if the metallic cylinder contained something, and if so, what it could be.

“You look lost,” the man said, his accent foreign and his tone kind.

Niki didn’t respond at first. His parents taught him not to speak to strangers. The thought of them sent another thread of pain through his chest.

“Where are your parents? Did you lose them?” More agony snaked through the boy. He nodded, but didn’t elaborate.

“Do you recall the last place you saw them?” Niki looked down at the ground again before he answered. “They’re dead.”

The man didn’t respond at first. Niki looked up at him, into gray-blue eyes that could have dampened the hottest fires with their icy gaze.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

He sounded sincere.

“Do you live here on the street?” the man asked.

“I don’t know where I live. I don’t…I don’t know what I’m going to do.” Niki broke down into tears, smothering his face in his hands.

The man inclined his head, then looked out at the street. He glanced in both directions, his eyes wandering over the pedestrians.

“Are you hungry?”

Niki choked back his sobs and looked up again, then nodded.

The man sighed and extended a strong hand. Sensing the boy’s apprehension, he gave a curt nod. “If you’re hungry, I can feed you. If you’re thirsty, I can give you something to drink. But if you stay here, you will suffer. The choice is yours.”

Niki licked his lips. His stomach grumbled, as if giving the answer for him. Then he raised his hand and placed it in the man’s. A strong grip wrapped around the proffered hand and pulled him up as easily as if he’d been a rag doll.

“So,” the man said. “What is your name?” Niki lowered his gaze for a second. “Niki. My name is Niki.”

“Very well, Niki. Let’s get you something to eat. You could use a shower too. I have an extra room here in town. You can stay with me. Then we’ll figure out what to do with you.”

“What to do with me?”

“Of course,” the man said with a smile. “I can’t give you food and clothing then kick you back out onto the streets.”

Niki considered the offer. “Is that what you do? Help children with no homes or parents?” The man smiled at the notion. “No. But you are different. I can tell you come from noble blood. Something bad happened to your parents, didn’t it?”

The boy nodded.

“I assumed so.” He turned his head and motioned with his hand.

Another man with black hair and a dark tan appeared within seconds, wearing a tight black T-shirt that showed off bulging muscles. Under his right ear, his neck displayed a tattoo. The boy had seen an image like that before. He couldn’t recall where, but it seemed like something from Egypt. Then Niki realized that the blond man had the same tattoo. He decided not to ask the man about it.

“This is my assistant, Geren.” The blond man turned to the assistant. “Geren, can you get us a table at one of the restaurants close by? I’m certain our young friend, here, is famished.” ”Of course, sir,” Geren said. He turned and strode down the street toward a patchwork of restaurants and cafes Niki had frequented with his parents. ”Shall we?” the blond man asked, motioning toward the sidewalk.

“Yes. Thank you.”

Niki fell in line behind Geren with the blond man bringing up the rear.

“Parents murdered and left to die by the Americans,” the man muttered to himself, keeping his voice low enough that the boy couldn’t hear. “You will make a fine soldier, indeed.”