It was official, all cop cars smelled like feet. Jack was sure of it by now, and he would know, this was his fifth time in one. Static voices came over the radio upfront in that garbled way that only other cops understood. The overweight cop sitting in the driver seat reached over with a groan and grabbed it off the receiver.

“Negative. Unable to comply. In the middle of a 23-19 situation, over,” He said into it. More garbled words came out in response, he just sighed in defeat.

“Look, Jack, I won’t be staying to give you a hand after all. The captain’s on my delicate hindquarters about something and I need to get back to the precinct.”

“Whatever,” Jack replied. It wasn’t like it mattered anyway. Not where he was going.

The car stopped in front of a boring square building with an exterior made from boring white plaster. A sign near the top of the wall read ‘Dept. Of Child Services’. As Jack waited for the cop to open his door, he contemplated on the events that had led up to this moment. Click. The caged door swung open and a damp breeze swept over his face, cooling the heat that had crept up on his face. Silently, he shadowed the man in blue into the office.

…

An hour had passed as they asked him several identifier questions and combed through miles of paperwork. Ever since the new Lost Child Act in the 2050s, any minor over the age of fifteen could represent themselves through certain legal proceedings. That law came about due to the decay in infrastructure that had been going on for decades as various natural resources were exhausted and the country wasn’t fast enough to switch to new alternatives everywhere. The Federal Census’ had become so wildly inaccurate when it came to the current generation of children that they had instituted several safeguards to get them all processed and issued identification.

“How long is this going to take?” Jack complained, not for the first time. The secretary that had been in charge of making sure he dotted all of his T’s rolled her eyes.

“Your caseworker will be in shortly. Please be patient, ” with that said, she exited the room with a fat stack of papers.

More waiting. Always more waiting. Jack swore that if that clock on the wall ticked one more time, he was going to throw it on the ground and stomp on it, repeatedly. He would have done it too, but that was when the door opened to reveal a tall, gangly man in a cheap suit, horn-rimmed glasses, and a necktie that looked like a plaid rainbow threw up on it. But to Jack, it was his smile that was the most striking. It was genuine, really genuine. Over his short life, Jack had seen every flavor of false smile and false face that one could ever imagine. The sheer contrast to his expectations caused him to take a step back. His pulse picked up and he unconsciously started to case the room for any potential fire exits.

“Hello Jack, My name is James Lockhart and I will be your caseworker from this day forward.” He held out a hand to shake Jack’s but retracted it quickly with a worried crease in his eyes.

“I see that physical contact is unappreciated. Please forgive me for my presumption. I should have asked what you were comfortable with first.” his stretched hand changed direction mid-course and snaked down to pull out the chair that the secretary had been sitting in a few minutes prior. He pulled it out more than was appropriate before flipping it around and straddling the chair backward.

They sat like that for a long moment before the caseworker spoke up again. “You know, I hate this room, ” he gestured at their surroundings. “It feels like an interrogation room. Why don’t we take a step outside and talk? There’s a lovely park just a block away that we can explore.”

Jack vacillated for a few seconds between the desire to tell this man to shove his opinions somewhere anatomically impossible and escaping this horrid place. After a brief internal tug-of-war freedom trumped rage and he nodded.

…

The pair stepped out of the room a moment later and Mr. Lockhart led the way down a whitewashed hall filled with healthy eating, abuse awareness, and, cringe, anti-bullying posters. He opened a door at the end to reveal an equally white lobby with more of the same posters. Slotted windows in the front opened to reveal multiple government pencil-jockey’s filing through paperwork and asking questions to the people sitting on the other side.

Mr. Lockhart strode into the room in a beeline for the front door when an older lady in a business blouse and skirt blocked the path. She had her hands firmly planted on her hips in a no-nonsense manner and had a thunderstorm brewing behind her blue eyes. “Don’t you dare take one more step, James!”

“Maddie, we were just going for a walk. It’s just so gloomy in the off—” James explained before he was cut off.

“There is nothing wrong with your office! You have a perfectly good window and were permitted to paint it any color you want. Take the boy there!” Maddie demanded.

“But, it’s just not the same.” James gave her a million-watt smile.

“Sigh, ” she stepped to the side as she deflated at least two sizes. “You’re lucky that your results still outweigh your lack of protocol James. I don’t want to be forced to terminate you for something trivial, ” with that pronouncement made she walked over to an employee access door and disappeared through it.

Jack noticed James’ face flicker with something other than utter confidence for the first time. Under that false facade that was starting to grate at him was something raw, something vulnerable.

…

The wind whistled through the trees and blew leaves across the path. A leaf crunched under Jack’s shoe, then another. This park had been one of many attempts by local leadership to reduce air pollution and promote foot traffic, as such it held a series of interconnected paths that led to several key locations. Jack liked it because it was quiet, all the noise from the city pressed against his thoughts like a weight and it was nice to have somewhere he could escape when needed.

“This park was full of birds once, many years ago, ” James said out of the blue.

“Really, I don’t remember ever seeing a bird here and I come here all the time,” Jack rebutted.

“Yes, I know that you do. We pass each other regularly out here. You’d remember if you took a second. But, anyway, the birds died out nearly ten years ago. Some experimental new fertilizer killed them off so I'm told.” He looked up through the branches wistfully.

“Why are we talking about birds? If that’s all you brought me out here for, I can just—”

“Run away?” James asked wryly. Some of the kids I bring out here take that option. Not everyone is ready to be helped and this is a simple way to separate which kids we can work with. As for all this talk of birds…Have you ever seen a falcon?”

“I’ve seen pictures, but aren't they almost extinct?” Jack asked warily. It was true that he had considered bolting down one of the many game trails he knew by heart. What stopped him was that moment of vulnerability in the child services waiting room. He had never seen an adult show weakness before, so his curiosity had temporarily won out over the burning fire in his gut that was always ready to spill over and set his tongue, or fists, to flame. That decision was now being reconsidered.

“Falcons are able to spot a field mouse from a hundred feet in the air, or more. They are swift to act and glide through the air with perfect grace. You remind me of one Jack. You have that feral edge that only comes about when those that were meant to guide and support you choose to instead exploit and abuse.”

Swing! Jack’s fist collided with James’ upraised forearm. “Stop talking like you know me!” He growled. “You see me a few times in the woods and you think that you have me all figured out? Screw you!”

“You call that a punch?” James replied to the boy's tirade in a steely tone. “Who taught you how to fight?”

“Rrraaagh!” Jack swung another fist at him, only to be blocked yet again. He tried a kick for the family jewels but only met open air.

“If you continue to hit people with your thumbs in your fist then you will only cause more damage to yourself than your opponents.” James took a side step and tapped Jack's back leg with a leather shoe. The leg slid out and the angry teen promptly fell on his butt.

“How did you do that?”

James chuckled at the starstruck expression Jack wore. “I will be happy to show you, under the condition that you go back to the office with me and fill out some paperwork.” He held out a hand.

“Deal!” Jack took the proffered hand.”