Sugar Free

A deceiving branch snapped icily beneath two sets of alien feet. The larger of the two gasped, grabbing at the hand of his son, pulling him along beneath the weighted sacks containing all their worldly possessions. The moon had blessed them with a lightless night sky under which to escape, only the stars still stood firm against the fugitives' purpose, shining with all their power to reveal them.
The young boy didn't understand why he had been wrenched from pleasant dreams and a warm bed or why he was being propelled at the speed of dark by the lengths of his hand. When his father's trembling shadow suddenly paused, the boy stood bewildered, watching him ponder the best route of indiscretion in a second of rasped breath. The chilling taint of deception permeated the night in the whistling pines.

"Captain, I think we've lost them."
The three men paused, the near freezing air screaming in their heaving lungs.
"No, detective. We've come too far." The tallest of the trio, silent thus far, stepped forward a bit further, examining the forest floor, his eyes sharp even under the moonless blanket of night.
"We'll keep going."
"You've found something?"
"It's my job, isn't it?"
The captain bared his teeth in a gritting smile. "Yes it is."

There was no time for explanation, Lucien had reasoned. A once loyal man had betrayed he and his son for the adulteration of money, and it was this- and the urgency that nipped at the heels of the aliens- that only mattered. Here they were from their warm quarters in England, here from an unsteady boat over the channel in this silent French forest, and here they would run. Thought finally caught up to one Lucien Darson. He staggered back for a moment's rest against a towering pine, avoiding spots of dark, stickied sap with his son pressed warmly against his chest.
"Papa?" The frightened voice gasped for breath.
"James."
"Why have we run away?"
Lucien breathed a weighted sigh.
"Do you remember Samuel, the man with the blue eyebrow?"
The small boy nodded against the harsh wool of his father's jacket.
Lucien paused to pick his words carefully. "He wasn't a very nice man. He told the police that we didn't have our proper papers."
"Why would he do that, sir? I always liked him very much."
"I don't know."
Of course, Lucien did know. He knew that he had been deceived by the one man he had called friend, been duped out of the stationary life he and his son had so vied for, and all for a dirty paycheck. Aliens were legal nowhere but home.
There was silence for several bated moments before the chilling plea of the youth's voice came again.
"Is there someone following us?" Tired, tear rimmed eyes widened at the solemn nod that came from above him.
"But, but sir, wh-"
Sharp ears pricked suddenly at an unknown sound.
"Quiet, James," Lucien quickly pressed his palm gently to the boy's mouth as to keep from frightening him.
Moments held in heart pounding suspense, the weight of two souls heavy on one conscience. Voices came from mere yards away sending shivers of lethal fear, the fuels of murderous anger, trickling ghosts of sensation over Lucien's skin.
"Papa?"
"Climb the tree and don't come down until you hear my call."
"Yessir," the boy barely squeaked.
Ever obedient, James quickly scaled the tall tree with blessedly low branches. His chapped hands broke the flakes of vanilla bark from the trunk before he huddled behind the clandestine needles.
Once he was certain of his son's safety, quicksilver energy, the cocaine of adrenalized hunt, flooded his veins. In a matter of moments, the pursued had become the pursuer.

"Wait."
"What is it, detective."
"Something's changed." The heavy words rang in the air, sending chills through the other two men.

Lucien listened closely. Edging around the circumference of the tree, a sharp pastel eye sized up the three dark shadows, rifles strung over their backs. It took him the bare entirety of two minutes to create an infallible plan as he watched the foe drift listlessly around the small glade, thirty second to execute.
Lightening motion had him slipping behind the captain in stealthed silence, slipping his rifle over the man's broad shoulders. In the sinful cracking of the forested quiet, three rifle shots and a child's scream rang out across the mountain peaks.
James clung helplessly to the thick trunk of the pine, his knees quivering as he curled up against the many branches, eyes darting back and forth, cursing the tears that heated and bit at the backs of them. There was only the sound of his fear stricken heartbeat, thunder and lightening in his ears as he waited.
Suddenly came the soft call of the English mourning dove.
"Papa." James scrambled quickly to the ground, bits of vanilla bark chipping away beneath his actions, a master in his element. The small boy hit the ground running to the soft sounds echoing through his father's bloody hands.
"Everything's going to be okay now," was Lucien's only response as he stood tall and strong with his young son quivering into his chest. "Everything's going to be okay."