"Get up! Get up! Get the fuck up!" I heard Devin yell as he violently shook me out of the deepest sleep I've had in a long while.

I rubbed my eyes aggressively. I could barely see him as there was no electricity in our tiny room.

"What is it, man?" I asked groggily, my voice was hoarse with sleep. I saw my brother grabbing his clothes that were scattered on the floor and stuffing them into a black duffel bag. He ignored my question and continued to ram his clothes into the bag. What is his deal?

"Devin!" I shouted to get his attention.

"Keep quiet Darius and get off your ass! We gotta go. It's the police", he said still grabbing things from around the messy room.

"What? Where's Dahlia?" I asked noticing that her bed was empty in the far corner, but all her things were still there, scattered about the tiny space. What did they do now? 

"I don't fucking know. Help me get this shit together." I got up and started to grab my clothes from the drawers, matching the hurried pace of my older brother. Something was wrong. I could feel it in my gut. When I went to bed they were both here, and now Devin was running from the police and Dahlia was nowhere to be found. 

I grabbed the few t-shirts I had and my only jacket. I started to grab all my texts, notebooks and the wires, and scraps of metal I had collected from a dumpster earlier that day.

"Leave that stuff. We have to travel light." Where are we even going? I was tempted to ask but now was not the time.

"I am not leaving my books," I stated adamantly. Devin didn't bother to argue, as the police being on his tail superseded my books. 

"Got everything?" he asked zipping up his bag and slinging it over his shoulder.

"Yea, I think so. Where are we going?"

"Quit asking questions, we just can't stay here." He cracked open the double-hung window and the icy cold of the Berlington night air whipped my bare skin. His snappiness was something I had gotten used to. It often showed when he was irritated. 

"Put on your jacket," he instructed. 

I shrugged on the jacket. Devin jiggled the window with aggression, forcing it to open fully. The increase in moisture in the air had caused the wooden framing to swell. Once we crawled through the window, we were now on a landing that was about six feet below ground level.

Devin was much taller than I was, so he hopped up easily, slinging the bag over his shoulder. On the other hand, I had to jump in order to reach the edge. 

We could hear the sirens coming from up the street, close to the school we used to attend, so I followed him as he headed downwards where the concrete storm gullies were. The sirens grew louder so we quickened our pace to a run. I looked back at the house we had called home for the last two months, unsure of where we would end up next.

It was an old abandoned wooden house, with rotting boards and broken glass, but the basement was made of concrete. It served us well to keep out the cold on the icy winter nights. It wasn't much, but, it was sure as hell better than living with Barry and Margaret.

We ran until the sirens were barely audible. It was clear that they probably had given up the chase. Devin had good practice with evading the police. He often ran through back alleys, other people's yards and leaped over fences. They rarely ever chased on foot, but if he was, the pot-bellied police couldn't keep up with his athleticism. 

We reached the storm gullies after a few minutes of running. These gullies would normally be filled with stormwater washed from the city roads, carrying the city's garbage with it. That was only when there was an abundance of rain. There hadn't been any for weeks, so it would be overrun with the cities hooligans, homeless, and addicts instead- the city's other garbage. 

It was a ten-foot drop down the vertical edge. My feet were already aching and my shoulders sore from the weight of the books and metal scraps in my bag. Devin threw down his bag making a splash in a puddle of water below. To get down, he dangled himself from the edge; from there, it was about a four-foot drop.

It was easy for him, he was strong and athletic. He had to support me, guiding me down and holding my weight as I dangled from the edge.

The police usually avoided the gullies, so it would be a good place to stay hidden.  Although it wasn't the safest place to be at night. 

During the night it was plagued by drug addicts of all nature, from teenage drinkers and smokers to cocaine and heroin users. We only had the waning moon to light our path so I walked closely behind my brother, desperate to keep his pace. The night breeze carried pungent odours that was no doubt a blend of dung, urine and vomit. 

 We passed a group of tall muscular men, sporting their handguns and AK 47s. They eyeballed us as we briskly walked past them. I wiped the sweat off my palms, and let out a breath. I wouldn't want to be in confrontation with any of them. 

We walked discretely along the wall avoiding contact with anyone we saw throwing up or heard having sex. We came upon a man being pummeled by three other men and a woman. She kicked him in the gut and I could hear him choking on what could have been his own blood. She kicked him again shouting, 

"You like that huh?" 

Devin spared a glance at the scene. The man had seen us and stretched his hand out; silently begging for help. Devin huffed and kept his pace. I don't know that we could have helped him, but I couldn't ignore the tightness forming in my chest. 

I kept quiet as we walked, but my mind swirled with questions. What was going on? Where was Dahlia? Where did they go this time to get us into trouble? Why were the police after us again?

It couldn't be stealing. We had gotten so good at shoplifting over the past year. I couldn't remember the last time we got caught. Dahlia was especially good at it. The last time she had stolen enough food for a week. I didn't know where she hid the tin cans and I didn't ask. 

What could they have done this time?

I looked at Devin. His shoulders were square and his walk was brisk, but his body was tense. I knew he was worried. 

He was in a treacherous place, so he had to look and act tough. He carried himself as though he wasn't afraid of anyone, and he rarely was. I, on the other hand, would be shitting my pants if he wasn't here.  But, I knew my brother. Something was wrong. He was anxious. But about what?

We walked for what felt like a half an hour. No one had interfered with us and I was grateful. Then we came upon a group of three boys who seemed to be around Devin's age. They were seated on empty beer crates, around a tiny fire. They stood up immediately when they saw us approaching. Two of them brandished handguns while the third pulled out a ratchet, its blade glinted slightly in the firelight. 

"Stay here", Devin said through clenched teeth.

"What are you doing?" I whispered after him. Is he crazy?  I knew he was a good fighter, but to approach three men with weapons, was downright stupid.  I stopped just a few metres short of where they were, hoping he'd turn back.

"Devin," I whispered after him, but he didn't even respond. 

He calmly walked over to them and they started to talk. After a while, Devin reached into his pocket and handed the middle guy a black plastic bag. They, in turn, gave him a roll of cash and two cellular phones. He backed away slowly while they checked the bag.

They nodded at him then he turned around and jogged towards me.

"Let's go!" he said, grabbing my bag and exchanging it with his. His pace was even quicker. It was easier for me to keep up as his bag as much lighter than mine. I followed him back down the drain to a ladder we had passed a few minutes ago. He allowed me to clamber up first, while he followed. The rusted metal was missing a few rungs and I had to be careful not to miss my step. I would fall and land squarely on my back. 

We climbed up onto the side of the street. We had ended up on another side of the city, that was under development. They were making efforts to revamp the city. There were several rows of empty unfinished concrete houses on Charles street. There was no doubt that this was where we were spending the night. I shivered when a small gust of wind blew against my jacket. The material was thin and didn't do much to protect against the cold. 

None of the houses had doors or windows installed so there was no breaking or entering, and the zinc fence that surrounded each lot had been torn down in sections by other juveniles. 

We did have to worry about security patrolling the area. The investors probably didn't want any homeless people squatting in their real estate. Good luck with that. 

Once inside, Devin sat on the cold hard concrete floor and sighed. I stood at the entrance, facing him. He looked at me before bowing his head. I caught a hint of pain and anger in his eyes. His shoulders that were kept square all this time but now they slumped. His voice was quiet and remorseful as he spoke. 

" It's Dahlia."

"What about her?" I held my breath, afraid of the answer I was about to get.

"She was taken. She's gone."