He knew they’d be looking for him, but Zigg was an expert at evasion. On the chance that he was caught, he could fight. Father had seen to that.  

It was a cold, gray day. The sun hid behind a thick wall of clouds, and the breeze carried a tinge of winter. It blew through the tall thicket of trees where Zigg hid. He shivered. He was used to living outside, preferred it even. However, Zigg was not accustomed to going without food. He was starving. It had been at least three days since his last meal, and his stomach groaned in protest. Hiding out in the woods wasn’t going to be a long-term solution. Fighter or not, Zigg wasn’t much of a hunter, and he needed to eat something soon.   

He’d do anything for some chicken. Or bacon.

Mmm. Bacon.  

Zigg pushed his anxiety about being spotted aside and emerged from the safety of the forest.  

Going into town was risky, but he didn’t have a choice. Curling up and dying just wasn’t in his nature. He certainly couldn’t go back home, not that he wanted to.  

A small, two-lane highway led the way to town. Gravel crunched under Zigg’s feet as he carefully navigated the shoulder, being sure to stay close to the woods that sandwiched the road. It wasn’t a long walk, but he took his time. It was best to avoid drawing attention to himself.   

He walked several miles until a sleepy trailer park, the first sign of civilization, gave way to neatly kept suburbs. It was early. He didn’t see anyone except a lone paperboy whizzing by on his bike. He’d been here before when he was very young. That was a long time ago. Most of his life had been spent on Father’s land and in the basement. Zigg hated thinking about the basement.   

A sprinkler kicked on, catching Zigg in its crossfire. He probably needed a bath, but not like this. It was that kind of neighborhood. The type of place with freshly cut grass, automatic sprinkler systems, paper boys, and locked doors. The gentle pieces of his soul, the ones that remained, quietly longed to walk through the door of one of these houses and into the loving, open arms of a family. And maybe some bacon. Part of Zigg still longed for a home.   

He needed to get downtown. That’s where the food would be. He stuffed weak thoughts of family and warmth and delicious treats down and pushed himself forward. He didn’t have much farther to go.  

Brick buildings and flickering streetlights dotted the simple downtown avenues. There were more people here, opening shops for the morning, emptying trash bins, and exchanging friendly hellos. Zigg stood on a corner, taking it all in. A part of him longed to run up to these strangers and ask for help, but he didn’t know who he could trust. It was best to stay out of sight.   

The smell of freshly baked bread and grilled breakfast meats tortured his stomach. No more hesitating. He needed to find food.   

He made his way to a small alley behind a row of restaurants and carefully picked his way down the narrow, dumpster-lined path. He knew he’d find someone’s leftovers here. He certainly wasn’t above scrounging through garbage for a meal. Sure enough, he found a pile of burnt muffins that had fallen out of an overly stuffed trash bin. He ate them ravenously.   

As Zigg was preparing to devour his fourth muffin, the back door to the bakery swung open. He froze. A tall, portly man in a stained white apron stared down at him. “Hey! Get out of there!” the man yelled.   

Zigg didn’t hesitate. He ran, hoping the man hadn’t recognized him. If he had, it wouldn’t be long before Father showed up.  

A full belly and a fading rush of adrenaline were enough to exhaust anyone. Zigg was no exception. He didn’t know how long he’d been asleep, but he woke with a start. His makeshift hideout in the downtown park bushes wasn’t nearly as secure as the forest. Zigg was suddenly acutely aware of that. He needed to move.  

He crept out from under the bush and stretched his legs. Stifling a yawn, he began walking toward the suburbs. If he could make it back to his wooded hideout, he could regroup and make a more long-term plan. Sneaking into town every couple of days wasn’t going to work. He’d be no freer than when he was with Father.  

That’s when he heard it.   

A large, black van screeched to a halt behind him. Zigg looked over his shoulder in time to see two men in dark clothing jump out of the vehicle. They were holding weapons.   

He’d been found.  

Zigg ran. He was quite the sprinter and could easily outpace just about anyone. Especially Father. As he ran, Zigg flashed back to the escape, the moment he became a runaway.   

At first, Father had kept him in chains like the others. With time, Zigg had gained Father’s confidence and was trusted to spend more time outside on his own. Being Father’s most prized fighter had its privileges, but Zigg was terrified. He’d seen others brutally punished for a lot less than running away, and he wasn’t sure he could risk it.   

He planned his escape gradually. First, he tested the boundaries of where he could roam. He’d disappear into the woods surrounding Father’s compound for just a few minutes at a time. Proof that he could be trusted to come home. He began to truly know the forest. He knew all the best hiding spots. He knew the places where the soft forest floor and thick brush would allow him to move silently, invisibly. There in the woods, Zigg allowed himself to dream of freedom.  

He may never have gone through with his plan had it not been for that day. He’d been slinking through the woods when Father emerged from the basement. He was dragging one of Zigg’s brothers. Zigg watched silently, helplessly, as Father beat his brother until he no longer moved. Zigg was sure he was dead. He knew that someday, if he stayed, he would be too. 

So he ran. Just like he was running now.   

Zigg slowed his pace as he reached the outskirts of town. Panting, he looked over his shoulder and saw no one. He breathed a sigh of relief.   

“Gotcha.”  

Zigg felt a thick, coarse rope slide around his body. A rough hand slammed over his mouth. A surge of sheer terror washed over him. It was the men from the van.  

He thrashed violently as a restraint tightened around his neck. Zigg was fierce, but the men were too strong. They were pros, and he was outnumbered. But he kept fighting. He yelled as he was forced into the back of their unmarked van, even after the door slammed shut.   

Then, everything went black.  

Zigg woke to find himself in a stark, square cell. His head pounded from whatever drugs the men had used to sedate him. That was nothing compared to the pit in his stomach. Just like that, he’d lost his freedom. Again.  

From the bars of his cage, Zigg tried to look around. He was in some sort of facility, lined with identical concrete cells. Each cell housed a prisoner like him. He didn’t recognize anyone.   

He needed to get out of there. Zigg began carefully tracing the walls of his small cell, looking for cracks, holes, or weak spots. He clawed at the corners and dug at the floor.  

It was solid cement.   

Panic began to set in. Zigg was trapped. He wanted answers. He yelled at the top of his lungs. He pounded against the bars of the cell. Men in dark clothes, his captors, passed by, acting as if they didn’t hear him at all. They talked amongst themselves in a language he couldn’t understand.  

Zigg’s head spun with endless questions. Why was he here? What did they want with him? Did Father know he was here?  

He didn’t know how much time had passed. Eventually, a man with a serious face and a stocky build appeared in front of Zigg’s cell. He slid a tray of food under the bars, turned on his heel, and walked away. Zigg threw the tray across the room.  

Maybe it was the terror, hunger, or exhaustion, or some combination of it all, but Zigg was done being tough. At least for tonight. He stopped pacing the length of his tiny cell and collapsed onto the thin, scratchy mat in the corner. Heaving a deep sigh, he finally let the weight of it all go, and he began to cry.