The pounding in his chest was causing his legs to become limp, like wet paper. Running from the law involves much more than physical fitness. Strategy can be the difference from regular life, and life in a jail cell. Not that twelve year old Sampson had much of a regular life, he was a busy bee. He spent most of his days fleeing from the law, and stealing cans of soup from the local diner. Normal parents would tell their son that stealing is wrong, but Sam didn’t have parents. His life was a lonely one, but he had always thought he was better off by himself. As he neared the corner by the bakery, the cops were in hot pursuit. But they didn’t know the streets as good as Sam. Since the streets were his home, whomever tried to find him always could not. Sam shimmied up the gutter drain, and crammed his way in between two metal roof sheets. He waited in anticipation as the wailing sirens faded in the distance.

Dragging his military green messenger bag behind him, Sam made his way back down the dark alley to his home: the trash bin behind the flower shop. This was the perfect place, since there was hardly any trash and it often smelled nice. Sam unlatched the buttons on his bag, and emptied the contents. Two cans of bean and bacon soup, a paper clip, some strands of twine, the canteen he stole from a hardware store, and his brown leather jacket. An abnormal accessory, but nevertheless important. Especially in the wintertime in Chicago. But it was not winter, in fact, it was the middle of spring. And that’s the reason why this item had been stowed away. In the pocket he hid his only important possession, a spoon. Although this is a common object for most, it serves its purpose immensely to Sam. His breakfast and dinner consisted of soup, and this spoon had already been through 4,387 cans. He pulled on his jacket, for it was getting cold at 8:34 P.M., and stuffed one can of soup, the paper clip, twine, and canteen back into the bag. Sam clutched the beautiful silver sculpture in his rough hands. The engraved designs were the only reason he felt a wave of happiness rush to the shore of his face. The slight grin only lasted a few seconds. He then snuggled up against the side of the garbage bin, and opened the can of soup with the spoon. He dove right into the creamy goodness, and within five minutes, the can was empty. Tossing the can up in the air, it clanked into the opening up above his head.
“And that’s plus two points!” Sam had never really been a sports fanatic. However, like most kids, he knew how to play the simple game of basketball. But the game was ruined as soon as the rain began. Not just rain, but a torrential downpour. Enough rain to fill the streets, which is what began to happen. Sam used the water to clean off his prized possession, and tucked it back into the worn pocket. Just as he was about to hop into his concealed cover, a flash of silver blinded his eyes. In the direction it was coming from, Sam saw a tall, slim figure with a silver umbrella approaching him. Not wanting to expose his home, he started to run. But his sense of perception was not the best, and a bony hand suddenly wrapped around his forearm. When looking up, he noticed the clean cut mound of brown that sat atop this man’s head. It complemented the coffee-brown eyes that stared into his own. Crisp lines in his freshly ironed business suit rubbed against the boxy suitcase he carried to the side. Seeing the horrified look in the small boy’s eyes, the man released his grip.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. But might I ask one question. Why are you out in the pouring rain at this hour?”
“Um, well,” Sam didn’t know what to say. Blowing his cover could cost him everything. Foster homes did not seem like the life he wanted to live. So, obviously, he told a simple lie. “I was just out for my evening run. The rain came right as I was about to head home.” Although this lie had worked on any other adult he crossed paths with, this mysterious man did not budge.
“Well I was just on my way home, and I can heat some water up in the teapot, if you would like to get out of the rain.” The man knew the kid was bluffing about his home. He stared at the way his hair had begun to form dreadlocks, like snakes on medusa’s head. The faint smell of flowers circled the child. “And no, I am not a kidnapper,” The man chuckled, as he could tell the kid was scared.
“Um, I don’t know about this,” obviously he was scared, nobody has been able to catch him before. But maybe it was fate, and plus, there was nobody he was important to. Even if this man turned out to be an axe murderer, at least he wouldn’t go starving the rest of his life. “Yeah, I have made a decision. So, where’s your house?” The man smiled.
Inside the house, Sam pulled off the shoes he found in the dumpster a few weeks ago. Although the size was too big, he made the best of them. Once his nose took a deep inhale of his surroundings, a familiar scent of pine trees came to mind. The man shook off his umbrella before stepping inside. “Would you like a warm cup of apple cider?” Not knowing what the beverage was, Sam still nodded his head a simple yes. The man’s sense of interior design was very modern. Dark mahogany floors, white finished counters, and silver appliances. He escorted Sam to a comfy gray loveseat, and then walked into the kitchen to get some water boiling. “So, I don’t think I remember hearing your name.” The teapot whistled.
“Well that’s because I never gave it to you,” Sam had never told anyone his name, for the fear of people knowing who he actually was. But this man seemed different. A feeling of trust rushed through his veins. “But if you must know, it’s Sampson. But I prefer Sam.” The man chuckled at the sarcastic remark.
“Hello Sampson. If you would like to know my name, it’s Nathan.” Bringing two cups of warm apple cider, Nathan sat down beside Sam.
“It’s good to meet you, Nathan,” Sam took one of the cups, and filled his mouth with the spicy yet sweet mixture. “Wow, this is amazing. I have never had such a concoction that makes my taste buds feel so alive!” Nathan laughed.
“So the rain is going to be here for a while, and I suppose that means we should get to know each other,” the man took off his coat, revealing a fresh pressed white collared shirt. This was paired with an orange tie, as rustic as wet metal.
“I’m not really one for talking,” Sampson fiddled with his fingers, showing signs of being uncomfortable.
“Well then I guess I will start.” Nathan cleared his throat. “I had lived a normal life. That is, until about thirteen years ago. My wife and I, we used to work for the FBI, specifically undercover operations.” Sam rudely interrupted.
“Oh! So you hunted down bad guys and got to be in disguise! That’s so cool.”
“Yeah kid, it was. Back to the story. My wife, Veronica, and I decided to retire from that job. We were about thirty seven, and the field work we were doing was just too demanding. Especially since we wanted a child.” At this point, the room seemed to get a bit gloomier. “But I guess that just wasn’t meant to be. Just before our retirement party, Veronica was sent off to a final mission. She was to stay away for ten months,” A tear appeared in his eye. “However, she only survived eight. Something blew her cover, and this made her end up in the hospital, injured from a gunshot wound. I rushed there as fast as I could, which apparently, wasn’t fast enough.” Sam watched in horror as the man began to completely break down in tears. Nathan was a gloomy cloud full of rain.
“But why would you tell me, a complete stranger, this horrible tale? You barely even know me. Why would you share your disaster with such a stick in the mud?” He was utterly confused.
“Because I made it to her bedside, and she told me two things. One was that she loved me, and the second was,” he paused. “The second was that if I was to ever have a baby, with anyone else, there was a particular name she whispered in my ear.” He laid his hand on Sam’s shoulder. “It was Sampson.”
The months following that one night were the best of Sam’s life. He moved in with Nathan, and had a warm meal every night. Nathan finally got what he had always wanted: a son. Sam’s most prized possession, the silver spoon, currently resides in the drawer of an oak dresser in his room. The last can it will ever go through was on the night of the silver umbrella, a night the boy will never forget.