Andrew took a large gasp of breath. He was quick for a man of 6’2’’. Even his six year old son Noah was fast enough to catch up with him. ‘I know a cave around here where they won’t be able to find us,’ said the little boy, ‘I used to come here with my friends.’ He led them there.
It was a disturbingly creepy place but owing to how tired they were, they instantly fell into a trance of sleep. This day had been too much for Noah to assimilate. His mother had been cooking his favourite lasagna when two burly ‘tromokrates’ or terrorists in Greek, had barged into the house and asked for his dad.
Noah knew about his father’s controversial speech at the district elections the other day. He had quickly called his parents and they had used the trap door in the kitchen to escape. In his heart Noah had said a silent goodbye to Abdera.
