Chapter 3 - THE MEN IN THE VAN
Shiomara didn’t think.
She moved.
“Behind me.”
Daniel pulled Maya toward a concrete pillar.
Marcus followed.
One of the men from the van called out.
“Hey! Kids!”
Daniel flinched.
Shiomara noticed.
That told her everything she needed to know.
The men weren’t police.
They weren’t social workers.
And the children knew them.
The taller man approached.
“There you are.”
Shiomara stepped into his path.
“Who are you?”
He smiled without warmth.
“Family friend.”
Daniel shouted from behind her.
“He’s not!”
The man’s expression hardened.
“You need to stay out of this, lady.”
Shiomara’s heart hammered.
She was five foot four.
One hundred twenty pounds soaking wet.
But she didn’t move.
“Then call the police.”
The second man cursed.
The taller one grabbed Shiomara’s arm.
Big mistake.
She swung the hot food container straight into his face.
He screamed.
Beans and rice exploded across his shirt.
“RUN!”
The children bolted.
Shiomara ran with them.
They crossed the road against traffic, horns blaring around them.
Behind them, the men shouted.
Daniel led them through an alley, across a parking lot, then into the back entrance of the diner where Shiomara worked.
Her manager, Mr. Alvarez, looked up from the register.
“What the hell?”
“Lock the door!”
He saw the fear on her face and did it immediately.
Minutes later, police arrived.
The men in the van disappeared before officers reached the bridge.
But Daniel finally explained.
Their mother had died six weeks earlier.
An acquaintance had promised to “help” them.
Instead, he had been using the boys to steal and threatening to separate them if they refused.
They ran.
The city had been searching for them ever since.
By midnight, social services had arrived.
Maya clung to Shiomara.
“Are they going to split us up?”
Shiomara looked at the caseworker.
The woman hesitated.
“We’ll try not to.”
“That means yes,” Daniel said.
Shiomara hated the defeat in his voice.
She crouched in front of him.
“Listen to me.”
Daniel looked at her.
“You survived this far because you protected each other. Don’t stop now.”
“What if we never see you again?”
Shiomara didn’t know what to say.
So she wrote her name and the diner address on another napkin.
“You find me someday.”
Daniel took it.
“I will.”
Then the children were taken away.
Shiomara stood on the sidewalk long after the county car disappeared.
Mr. Alvarez came outside.
“You know you could’ve gotten killed tonight.”
“I know.”
“You gave away your dinner too?”
She nodded.
He sighed.
Then he unlocked the diner.
“Come on.”
“We’re closed.”
“I know. Sit down.”
He cooked her two eggs.
It was the best meal she had ever eaten.
But the next morning, when Shiomara called social services to ask about the children, no one would tell her where they had gone.
Weeks became months.
Months became years.
Eventually, the city erased them from her daily life.
But Daniel never threw away that napkin.
And twenty-eight years later, standing beside Shiomara’s cart, he reached into his jacket and pulled out a second object.
A photograph.
“Do you recognize this?” he asked.
May you like
Shiomara looked down.
And her knees nearly gave out.
