Page 28 of The Chameleon

“When is he coming home?” a small voice asked in Arabic.

Ares lifted his head toward the voice and smiled at the tiny human. “Soon. Are you hungry?”

The young boy nodded, then sat down in the sand next to Ares. Ares placed the jewelry box out of the way, then pulled a small piece of bread out of his shirt pocket. Food was scarce, and he only had two loaves left to last them until he could sell his boxes at the market.

Staring at the hungry brown eyes before him, Ares broke off a piece and handed it to the little man.

“Here. Eat. When you are done, you can help me gather some wood to make a fire,” Ares explained in his native tongue.

The young boy nodded as he took the bread from Ares’s hand. “What about you?”

Placing the remainder of the bread safely into his shirt pocket, he gave the kid a smile.

“Oh, I already ate. Had some beans before I started work on the box,” Ares lied, nodding toward his work in progress.

Trusting that Ares would never lie to him, the little boy nodded and then bit into his dinner.

“Is it almost done?” the boy asked.

Ares picked up the box and held it out in front of the boy. “Well, I still have to make the top, then I have to carve the designs into the sides, then paint it. So, it should be done in a few hours, I think.”

Ares was being optimistic. In reality, he had no idea how he was going to finish all this work by the end of the night. He may have to settle with selling just eight boxes. He had hoped to sell ten at the market. That should give them enough money for food for the next two weeks, but realistically, he didn’t think he would be able to finish the remainder of the boxes in time. He would have to find another way to make up the shortfall in cash.

He hated being this poor—having to struggle so hard each day just to make sure that he had enough food to eat and make it to the next day. Something had to change. He needed to figureout a way to make some serious cash. Selling hand-crafted jewelry boxes and helping his dad build carts was no way to make a living.

Using the anger he felt at the world, he picked up his tools once again and continued working on the jewelry box. His family depended on it.

Two hours later, Ares put down the box and yawned. Curled up next to him, the young boy slept on the cool night sand. Gently, Ares brushed some of the hair out of the little man’s eyes.

The poor kid. He needed a better life than this. He wasn’t going to allow this sweet, innocent little child to grow up in the same futureless environment as him. No, sir. He was going to make a change. No matter what it took, he was going to get them all out of this shit-hole existence they called a life.

“Where is it?” an angry voice shouted, startling both Ares and the sleeping boy lying next to him.

Instinctively, Ares pulled the boy behind his back, creating a shield between the boy and whoever was coming their way.

“I-I don’t have it. I’ll get you your money soon,” Ares heard his father’s terrified voice say in Arabic.

“Time’s up. We gave you two extra weeks to pay your debts; now it’s time you paid up,” the angry man growled.

Two large men turned the corner, shoving Ares’s father into the dirt before their house.

“Oh, who do we have here?” one of the men asked, spotting Ares crouched down on his knees.

“It’s just my son,” Ares’s father stuttered, attempting to get to his feet. The second man shoved him down onto his knees once again.

“On second thought, I think we will take your son as payment. We can always use some extra hands in the mines.”

“N-no. No! You can’t take him. Please! Give me two more days, and you will get your money,” Ares’s father pleaded, once again trying to get to his feet.

“Fuck you, old man. I tell you what the rules are. I’m taking your boy, and there is nothing you can do about it.”

Panic began to set in. Ares knew what happened to people who went to work for the mines. Many became sick and died from infections; others… they never came back. There was no way he was going with these men. He needed to stay here. Take care of his little man and take care of his father. His mother had died years ago, and his grandfather shortly after that. They were all that was left. Just the three of them. Ares needed to stay.

“No!” Ares’s father shouted, jumping to his feet and striking the man with his fist.

The second man tackled his father and began punching him in the stomach.

“Run, Ares! Run and hide!” his father shouted in between blows to the face.

---