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“This is stupid, Max. What if Mom and Dad wake up?” Despite her protest, Isobel clung to the back of the tricycle Max was pedaling along the dirt road. She’d refused to let him go alone when he’d insisted on following the feeling that had awoken him for the third time in as many weeks.
“There’s something out here, Isobel, I’m telling you.” Max insisted. The bicycle lamp lit the area with its red and green side lights, and in the near darkness there was something almost eerie about the way the colors shaded the landscape around them.
“But we don’t know....” Isobel trailed off, spotting something ahead. Sitting on the fence of the ranch was a young preteen boy about their age with a head of wild curly hair.
He turned at the sound of their approach, hopping his perch and pulling a switch knife out of his pocket. “Stay back.” He snarled.
Max could feel it - the pull to the young man in front of him. This was why he’d been waking up. The third child from his memories. “It’s you! Do you remember us?” Max stopped the tricycle, hopping off the seat. Isobel stepped down off the back wheel bars reluctantly, eyeing the boy suspiciously. He was barefooted and dirty - his clothes worn in comparison to the nice clothing the Evans kept Max and Isobel supplied with. When he didn’t respond, Max pressed on. “I’m Max, and this is my sister Isobel. I don’t remember your name, but I remember us being together in the green place-”
“I don’t remember you.” The boy cut him off, keeping the knife trained on them.
“You’re fibbing.” Isobel accused. “I can tell.”
“Isobel.” Max lectured.
“What? You honestly don’t believe a word of it either.”
“Why don’t you tell your Church Bell to shut her sauce-box?” The boy snapped at Max.
“Why don’t you try and make me you pigeon-livered-” Isobel began.
“Hey, hey, c’mon.” Max kept himself between them. “Look, what’s your name?”
“What’s it matter to you?” The boy replied. “You're clearly living the high life. What’s some guttersnipe off the orphan train matter to you?”
Max couldn’t help but feel hurt at his words. He remembered waking up in the caves - somewhere green and damp. The three of them had survived for a time alone in the woods until they’d gotten too close to town. Then they’d been taken to the Orphanage. He hadn’t liked it - it had been crowded and noisy and dirty. Then the Evans had come to take him and Isobel away with them. He’d never known what happened to the other boy until now. Couldn’t have imagined that someone hadn’t taken him in - but apparently they hadn’t. He’d heard of the orphan trains - kids brought out to be auctioned off to the farms and ranches for work. “But… you’re like us. I know you can feel it.”
“I don’t need you. I don’t need anyone.”
Isobel huffed. “Bully for you. We’ll just go then.” She stormed back to stand next to the tricycle.
“Will you at least tell me your name?” Max tried one last time.
“... it’s Michael.”
Max hesitated, before pulling out a small bag from his pocket. “I have some gum drops-”
“I don’t need anything.”
“I’ll just leave them here, and you can take them or not…” He set them on the fence post, before going back to the tricycle where Isobel was pretending to not watch the exchange. Michael didn’t say anything more as he turned the tricycle around and head back up the road.
“Waste of good gumdrops, bet he doesn’t even take them.” Isobel huffed once they were far enough away to be out of earshot.
“I’m coming out again next week.” Max told her. “You can come or not.”
“Don’t be daft, of course, I’m coming.”
Max felt something settle in him at her words. Because somehow he knew this was right. Three of them. There had always been meant to be three of them.