One Shot, One Kill.

Chapter 5: Dead or Alive

POV: Christopher Mun

In the blink of an eye,

In a heartbeat.

It took a fraction of a second for my entire life to come crashing down.

In a second, my father, Comrade Vincent Mun, had gone from being a soldier who lived for the country, to being in their terms, "An Asian American" traitor of the United States. All the news stations, all the radio stations, all the kids at my school talked about how my Grandfather had fought in the war against the Americans, and how now, my father had betrayed the country.

It had been Isaiah on the television, talking about my father. Talking about how my father had convinced his comrades to murder the Prince of Andorra. Talking about how he had come clean to his superiors because he couldn't do what my father had asked him to do.

He said that my fathers motive had been to disturb the peace.

They said he led his team, against the orders of the Government and murdered the prince. They said that they had killed the traitors. And the citizens said that he got what he deserved. They praised them... the men who took my father away from me. They said that they had done well. The journalists commended them. They were awarded. Treated like gods.

And while those men basked in the praises from people from all around the world, from the Government, I became a boy without a father.

In a split second, I became the son of a traitor. I became a boy without a mother.

It had been a week. An entire week since Isaiah and Wale took my mother from the restaurant. I had run, just like she had told me to.

I had followed the back door, and I had run. I had run home, to my room, with hopes that she would be home by the time I got there. But she wasn't.

I had waited. All night. All day. All week.

But she didn't come back.

I held on tightly to the picture in my hand. I'd had to fold it into two. Into halves. Because if people saw my fathers face on the picture, then they wouldn't want to help. He was everywhere.

Labeled as a traitor.

Labeled as the devil himself.

"H-have you seen this woman?" I stammered, my eyebrows raised in anticipation. I was clinging on to my last thread of hope. "H-her name is Addison Mun. She was... she was last seen seven days ago in a green dress." I stammered, struggling to keep the attention of the young lady who was walking away from me.

But she paid me no mind.

I knew I looked tired, unkempt even. I also knew that I had no right to demand an answer from her, and that she was only trying to get to her destination.

But I wanted her to then back. I wanted her to say something.

I needed her to.

But she didn't. She didn't spare me as much as a glance. Still I continued.

"Please, h-have you seen my mother?" I took one more step towards her. "Her name is Addison Mun, Addy for short. She was last seen wearing a-" The lady increased her pace so that she was half-running, half- walking down the street.

I felt my hands lower slowly.

I drew in a deep breath and then released a shaky breath, blinking several times to push my tears back. I turned to another woman walking towards me.

I couldn't give up. Not until I knew where she was.

"Please, have you s..seen this woman?" My voice broke. "Her name is Addison Mun. Her friends call her Addy. She was last seen wearing a green dress." I sniffed.

This lady did spare the picture a glance. A very short one.

"I'm sorry, I haven't." She told me.

I'd been on this for five days. For five whole days. And not even one person had recognized her. Not one person knew where she might be.

I had everywhere.

I had visited nearly everywhere. Nearly all of my fathers past comrades.

But their families were mourning. Just like mine. Just like me.

Isaiah had disappeared into thin air. I couldn't find him at their house. I couldn't find his mother.

I was desperate, I was tired, and I was too weak to even mourn my fathers death. I was too scared about mother's safety.

I heard someone call my name softly behind me. It was a voice I recognized. And when I turned around, I was met with Mrs. Petrov's fragile figure. She walked slowly towards me, her forehead creased with worry.

"Mrs... Mrs. Petrov." My voice broke.

" I was told I would find you here." She continued. Her steps were slow and calculated, fitting her age. "You need some rest, boy." She added.

I flicked my tongue over my lower lip and then released a shaky breath, ignoring her words.

"H-have you seen my mother?" I asked. "She was last seen a week ago. You came by the restaurant that day. W-we talked about apple pudding. S-she was taken away." I said all in one breath. "She was taken away." I repeated.

She was quiet for a second.

I could feel her gaze on me. But my eyes were everywhere. Looking. Searching.

"Come with me." She said after a moment. "I have pie, and an extra bed that you can sleep in." She continued. "And I have money. Money which can get us fliers." She continued. "And then we can go to the police to file a report." She added. "We will find your mother." She said firmly. "Dead, or alive." She continued.

Maybe she had been trying to provoke me into listening to her.

Or maybe she had only been trying to get my attention.

If the case was the later, she excelled. Excellently. I turned to face her slowly. My heart was racing.

There was so much going through my head. So much I wanted to say. But words failed me.

All I could do was mutter the words "alive."

She had to be alive. She had to be out there. Somewhere.

"Now, you come with me." She said sympathetically. "And you tell me everything that happened." She added softly, stretching her hands towards me.

For a split second, I was torn between accepting the comfort that she was offering behind, and remaining right where I was.

Because what if there was someone out there who could give me information about mother's whereabouts?

What if the person was close by?

What if leaving with her would cost me the opportunity?

But then again, what if there wasn't?

Isaiah and Wale took my mother.

The government took my mother. I wasn't sure why. I was yet to completely understand my fathers death. I couldn't understand why they had come for mother. What they could possibly want from her.

I felt a tear drop fall from my eyes.

I was alone. Completely alone.

And in seven days, Mrs. Petrov was the first person who had offered me a hand to take. Who had offered me food to eat. Who had offered me comfort.

I slowly stretched my shaky hand towards her, and then took her hand in mine.

As if she had sensed my worry and my reluctance, she gave my hand a tight squeeze. "We will find your mother, boy." She said assuringly. "We will."