Feral

476 words

"We found the kid locked in an abandoned house. The neighbours tell us the family moved out a couple months ago. They didn't recognise the boy." Officer Cardew shoved the boy forward. "Won't give us a name."

The child was about nine or ten, skinny, dirty, with unkempt hair and scared eyes. Jo immediately felt for the kid. She knelt down to his level. "Hi, I'm Jo. What's your name?"

"Grrr!" He lashed out with overlong fingernails, scratching Jo's face from the corner of her eye to the base of her ear. Jo recoiled and got back on her feet, clutching her cheek.

"He's a feisty one alright. Put one of my men on his ass. You sure you still wanna take him?"

"The boy just needs love, Officer. And I think we'll start with something to eat. God knows what he's been living on these past few weeks." Jo kept it simple; bread, cheese, and a glass of milk. "I hope he's not lactose intolerant."

The boy grabbed the bread, tore it, and crammed huge chunks into his mouth, choking and spluttering in his haste. Then he did the same with the cheese. He poured the milk down his throat and half of it ran down his front. A huge belch followed.

"Thank you, Officer. I think we'll be okay now." Cardew took the hint and left.

"Now, let's get you in the bath." He certainly understood the word 'bath'.

"Grrr!" He stood his ground, clawing, kicking. Jo decided that the bath could wait.

"Maybe you'll be a bit better after a good night's sleep." Jo tried to take the boys hand but gave up and put her hand on his shoulder. She led him to the bedroom and indicated the bed. The boy grabbed the brightly coloured quilt and curled up on the floor.

Jo awoke with a start as the kid jumped on her stomach. She saw the flash of metal in his hand. Her chef's knife cut into her side. She used her knees to push the lad off balance. The knife struck again, gouging a line in her forearm. For one so small he had incredible strength.

Jo grabbed at his wrist, twisting, forcing him to drop the weapon. Then she forced his arm up his back. Pushing him face down onto the bed, she used her knee in his back to hold him there. With her free hand she grabbed her mobile,

"Help me. This kid's out of control. He tried to kill me."

Handcuffed, the boy was led out to the police car. "I've looked into the family. They were fostering the boy. They complained to Social Services but were told they were stuck with him. Their only way out was to move, leaving the boy behind."

"What happened to his real parents?"

"They were murdered in their sleep."