Mahomes and the Boy Who Cried Poison
Just as he lifted a freshly purchased hot dog to his mouth, a desperate cry shattered the air.
“Don’t eat that!”
Mahomes froze, his hand still mid-bite. His brow furrowed as he turned toward the voice, spotting a young boy, no older than nine, darting toward him. His hoodie was tattered, his face smudged with dirt, but it was his frantic eyes that held Mahomes’ attention.
“What’s wrong?” Mahomes asked, his deep voice calm but concerned.
The boy hesitated, then blurted, “It’s poisoned!”
A hush fell over the bustling street. Mahomes crouched down, his strong frame making him seem even more protective. “What do you mean poisoned?”
The boy’s small hands trembled as he pointed at the hot dog. “I saw someone give the vendor money and tell him to poison it. I swear, I’m not lying!”
Mahomes studied the boy carefully. His oversized hoodie hung off his thin frame, and his sneakers were worn down to the soles. But the desperation in his voice was unmistakable.
“What’s your name, little man?” Mahomes asked gently.
“Tyler,” the boy whispered, glancing around nervously.
Mahomes stood and turned to the vendor. “Hey, is this true?”
The vendor stammered, his face paling. “Man, I don’t know what this kid is talking about,” he said, wiping his brow. “My food’s clean. Always is.”
Mahomes narrowed his eyes. “Then why are you sweating like you just ran a marathon?”
Tyler tugged at Mahomes’ sleeve. “I saw a man earlier. He gave him cash. He said it was for someone important and then he walked away.”
The vendor’s face flushed. “Look, I don’t want any trouble. I just sell food here.”
Mahomes handed the hot dog back to the vendor. “Keep it,” he said, slipping a $100 bill from his pocket. “It’s not about trust.”
With that, he took Tyler’s hand and led him down the street. The boy clung tightly to Mahomes’ strong fingers, his body still tense.
They ducked into a small diner, the warmth wrapping around them like a protective shield. Mahomes ordered two steaming mugs of hot chocolate, and Tyler gripped his cup like it was his lifeline.
“Alright, little man,” Mahomes said gently. “Tell me what’s going on.”
Tyler’s voice was barely above a whisper as he explained what he had seen—a shadowy man handing the vendor cash and muttering about “sending a message.”
Mahomes’ jaw tightened. “You did the right thing telling me.”
Before Tyler could respond, the bell above the diner door jingled. The boy’s hands clenched around his cup, his face going pale as a tall man in a black coat entered. His sharp features and piercing eyes swept the room before landing on their booth.
Tyler’s voice trembled. “That’s him.”
Mahomes’ posture shifted, subtly placing himself between Tyler and the man. The stranger smirked when he spotted Mahomes but didn’t back down. He ordered a coffee, his movements calculated.
“It’s okay,” Mahomes said in a low voice, his eyes never leaving the stranger. “I’ve got you.”
The man approached their booth, his smirk chilling. “Didn’t expect to find you here, Mahomes.”
Mahomes straightened, his broad shoulders blocking Tyler. “What do you want?”
The man’s gaze flicked toward Tyler. “Not the kid. You. You’ve got something we need.”
Mahomes frowned. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
The man chuckled. “Oh, I think you do. But don’t worry, we can discuss it another time. Just know—this isn’t over.”
As he turned to leave, Tyler whispered, “He’s lying, Mahomes. He’s the one behind it all.”
Mahomes clenched his jaw. “We’ll handle this together.”
He pulled out his phone and dialed a trusted friend. “Sandra, it’s Mahomes. I’ve got a situation. I need your help.”
Sandra Bullock’s warm voice responded, “Anything you need. Bring him here.”
A short cab ride later, they arrived at Sandra’s brownstone. She ushered them inside, concern etched on her face.
“You’re safe now,” Mahomes reassured Tyler. “No one will hurt you here.”
Sandra wrapped Tyler in a warm blanket, her motherly instincts kicking in. Mahomes recounted everything—Tyler’s warning, the poisoned hot dog, the encounter at the diner.
Sandra’s expression grew serious. “This isn’t random. That man knew who you were, Mahomes. They’re after Tyler for a reason.”
Tyler’s voice wavered. “It’s because of my parents. They used to talk about people watching us. Then they disappeared.”
Sandra knelt beside him. “Do you know what they were involved in?”
Tyler shook his head, tears welling up. “Just something important. I don’t know what.”
Mahomes exchanged a look with Sandra. “We need answers. And we need to keep him safe.”
By morning, they had relocated to a remote cabin deep in the woods with the help of Lawrence Fishburne. But as night fell, an eerie silence settled outside. Mahomes’ instincts buzzed.
“It’s too quiet,” he muttered.
A rustling sound broke the stillness.
“We’re not alone,” Lawrence whispered.
Suddenly, masked men smashed through the cabin door. Sandra shielded Tyler while Mahomes’ agility and strength overwhelmed the attackers.
Within minutes, the intruders were subdued. Among their belongings, Mahomes found a folded piece of paper—coordinates scribbled on it. A photograph of Tyler’s parents.
“Why do they have this?” Tyler asked, his voice trembling. “What do they want from me?”
Mahomes crouched beside him. “We’re going to find out. And we’re going to stop them. You’re not alone.”
By dawn, law enforcement had arrived, arresting the masked men. A grizzled officer approached Mahomes. “You just handed us the break we needed.”
Mahomes nodded but turned to Tyler. “What happens to him now?”
The officer hesitated. “That’s up to you.”
Mahomes knelt beside Tyler. “You’re safe now, big guy. But this isn’t the end. We’ll figure out what’s next—together.”
For the first time, Tyler smiled.
As they left the cabin, a new chapter in both their lives began—one built on hope, trust, and the promise of a brighter future.
