His beard was overgrown and unkempt, a deep cut crossed his left eyebrow, his clothes hung loosely off his thin frame, and a stained bandage was wrapped tightly around his midsection.

Martha pushed past the police barrier line.

“Ma’am, stay back!” an officer called out, but no one moved to block her path.

Christopher raised his head slowly.

For a brief second, he looked just like the young boy in the old photograph.

“Momma,” he called out weakly.

Martha reached his side and wrapped her arms around his body with total devotion.

He winced slightly from the pressure against his injuries, and she instantly eased her grip.