Chapter Text
All wars start silently, mine started with the death of a girl in my class named Sally Ferry, a girl whose classroom was three doors down from my classroom. She was the first to die in my eighth-grade class, though hundreds of thousands of kids were probably already dead. The adults hid it well enough that no one knew what was going on until Sally died in the middle of lunch.
The day she died, the entire sixth, seventh, and eighth grades were in the cafeteria eating lunch. The school's population was small to begin with, so we all had enough room to sit comfortably. As everyone talked and ate, I looked at Sally who was sitting and laughing at the end of the table when her eyes suddenly turned blank. The cup she held in her hand flew out of her hand. Instead of falling to the ground or the table like it should have done, it stopped half a foot off the table. It then twisted itself around, and Sally fell over onto the ground with a loud thud.
One of the ladies in charge of watching us during lunch, walked over concerned. Her blue eyes seemed to narrow on the girl. She walked with patience, but as soon as she touched Sally’s shoulder, she seemed to notice that she didn’t respond to the touch. She touched her neck, feeling for a pulse. She didn’t seem to find one, so she pulled Sally’s body off the chair, and started a futile attempt at CPR.
The other lunch ladies noticed what she was doing, and some started moving kids away from their tables, while others walked to help her. I felt someone grab my arm, and when I looked up, I saw that Dylan was yanking at my arm. “Come on,” he said. I quickly stood up and followed him in a daze as he led me away from the table.
One of the lunch ladies must have radioed the teachers, because they showed up long before they were supposed to show up to help direct us into classrooms. I walked in a daze the entire time, and barely recognized when Miss Hornton, my teacher, shoved a manila folder into my hands. I sat for maybe ten minutes in Miss Hornton’s classroom, before the bell rang, and Mrs Solace, the principal, rang through the announcement that all classes were being released to their parents' care.
I blinked in surprise wondering why they would release us early before I remembered what happened. My entire body shook for a second, before I had enough courage to reach down and grab my backpack. I swung it over my shoulder and grabbed the manila folder off my desk. The manila folder looked like any other one, except it was stapled together and had my parents name on it. Max, a meek girl who I somewhat knew, walked up beside me. She gave me a small smile but didn’t say anything as we walked out of the classroom together.
“Wonder what happened to Sally?” I asked. I had wanted to ask someone what had happened since it happened, but I had’t had the courage to do it since the adults seemed to be walking around the school on eggshells.
“It's called IAAN, Idiopathic Something, it's been causing a lot of deaths recently,” Max said, and my jaw dropped. I looked at her shocked, because I had never heard of the disease or the fact that many had died.
“How many kids have died?” I asked, fear growing in my stomach.
“Thousands apparently. My cousin lives in LA. If what he says is to be believed, his school started with three thousand kids, and only a hundred are left. It happened in a few weeks.”
“Dear god,” I said, and she nodded.
“No one has any idea what’s causing it, why some kids have died, and others haven’t," Max said and a loud grunt came from somewhere nearby. Max and I looked over at the noise, and we saw two of the older boys picking on one of the younger girls, Marie. She was one of the smallest kids in the entire school and was an easy target to be picked on. After a few seconds of us spotting them, both bullies were thrown against the nearby wall with a loud thunk, much to the surprise of everyone in the hallway.
Everyone stared at the kids in shock, and the girl being picked on glanced down at her hands before looking at the kids again. I heard Max grunt and when I glanced at her, she wiped her bloody nose. I looked at the boys again and wondered what the heck had just happened.
Before I could say anything, I heard my mom shout behind me, and when I turned, I saw she was approaching me fast. Her long red hair flowing around her face, and her long coat loosely thrown over her shoulders. “Bye Max, see you later,” I said, and she nodded. I turned to fully face my mother, and saw that her wrinkles seemed more deeply scratched into her face. I heard light footsteps walk away right as mom came to a stop in front of me. “Hey.”
“Hey,” mom said as well, and she looked at the manila folder in my hand. Her wrinkles only deepened, and she gulped. “What’s that?”
“I don’t know, Mrs. Hornton gave it to me,” I said and handed it over to her. As soon as she grabbed it and opened it, her face blanched and I asked, “what’s wrong mom?”
“Nothing,” she lied and folded the manila folder. “Come on.” She grabbed my hand and led me away from the school and the dead body still inside. We walked to her black Honda, and she loaded me into the backseat, and threw the manila folder onto the hand rest between the driver and passenger seat. She jumped into the driver’s seat and put the car in drive. She pulled out of the parking lot like a bat out of hell.
&&&
A month later, I was standing in my bedroom, looking at myself in the full-length mirror when I heard my mother start talking downstairs. I couldn’t hear what she was saying, but I could hear her harsh tone. Curiously, I set the dress that I was holding up down on the bed, and snuck out into the hallway, making sure to gently close the door behind me. The lights in the hallway were already off, so I didn’t have to worry about either suddenly seeing me. The top of the stairs could see into most of the living room, so even though I could see in, I sat down on the top of the stairs and could hear my parents talking clearly.
“We need to keep her here,” mom insisted.
“No, we don’t,” dad snapped back. “She can take her chances at school for the next week until we can move up to my sister's place.”
“She’ll die of IAAN long before we can move up there. Most of the school is dead, and she’s showing signs on the packet that they sent home a month ago.” I remembered the packet that mom mentioned, as well as the cryptic message that Max had given me a month before.
“She won’t get it,” I heard dad snap. I looked at the kitchen, which I could see from my position, and saw the drawer that mom had slid the manila folder into earlier above the fridge open. The manila folder slid out of the cabinet, flew out of the kitchen, and eventually made it into my hand.
My jaw dropped, and I felt a pang of fear as I looked at the manila folder and saw that the staples had been removed. I looked for a second trying to figure out what to do. If I opened it, I could get in trouble, but if I didn’t, I wouldn’t know something my parents knew.
I already have it, why not look through it? I’ll get in trouble either way, I thought and quickly opened the folder. Inside was a single piece of paper with the title reading, HOW TO IDENTIFY IF YOUR CHILD IS AT RISK. Five points were underneath it.
- Your child suddenly becomes sullen and withdrawn and/or loses interest in activities.
- S/he begins to have abnormal difficulty in concentrating or suddenly becomes hyper focused on tasks, resulting in s/he losing track of time and/or neglecting himself/herself or others.
- S/he experiences hallucinations, vomiting, chronic migraines, memory loss, and/or fainting spells.
- S/he becomes prone to violent outbursts, unusually reckless behavior, or self-injury (burns, bruising, and cuts that cannot be explained).
- S/he develops behaviors or abilities that are inexplicable, dangerous, or cause you or others physical harm.
IF YOUR CHILD DEMONSTRATES ANY OF THE ABOVE SYMPTOMS, REGISTER HIM/HER AT IANN.GOV AND WAIT TO BE CONTRACTED ABOUT THE LOCAL HOSPITAL TO WHICH S/HE SHOULD BE TAKEN.
I closed it quickly when I heard my mother step away from dad’s office. Panic set in, and without warning the paper caught on fire. I jumped, dropped it, and as soon as I realized what was happening, I stamped it out. As I looked at the half-burnt piece of paper, smoke in my nose, mom walked into the living room, and looked right at me.
“Hey, Ava, are you still asleep?” mom called out, stress in her voice. I blinked in surprise. What’s going on? How come she isn’t seeing me? Acting quick, I called out.
“Yeah, I’m up,” I answered, and I saw her small body sag in relief. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Just checking on you. Are you planning anything for tomorrow?”
“No, just hanging out,” I said. She cocked her head to the side, confused, because my body was in my bedroom, while my voice came from the hallway.
“Okay,” she said and looked at the kitchen. Fearing that she would see the open cabinet, it somehow miraculously closed silently before she could notice it. What is going on? I thought as I walked quickly to my bedroom door, and opened it. I turned so that it would appear that I had just walked out of the room. “How about you go to bed?”
“Okay,” I said and scooped up the manila folder as best as I could before I walked back into my bedroom, closing the door behind me. I wanted to clean up more of the mess in the hallway, but mom already knew that I was in my room, and she would be pacing around downstairs instead of coming upstairs. Besides she wouldn’t know what had happened unless she turned the light on, which was just as unlikely.
I dumped the folder in the trash, and turned off the lights. I walked over to where I knew where my phone was plugged into the wall. I grabbed the phone, and pulled the charger out of it, before walking over to my bed and lying down. I pulled my sheets up and over me, before opening my phone to look at the death toll of IANN once again.
&&&
The next morning, after I walked up, got dressed, and started walking down the stairs, I could hear my mother talking. “I know, I’m just checking,” mom said to someone I couldn’t see. “Alright, thank you. I’ve been so scared of her for the last few days.” She paused again, before saying “thank you. I’ll see you later.” She hit a button, and I realized she had been talking on her phone.
I was shocked. Mom had said she feared me, instead of for me, like she hadn’t said that she was scared I was going to die sometime soon. I shook my head, sure that I had misheard, and continued walking down the stairs to start breakfast. Mom seemed to recognize when I walked down the stairs, but she didn’t say anything as I grabbed a bowl, spoon, cheerios, and milk,
I poured my cereal, and milk into the bowl, while mom walked around the house nervously. It wasn’t anything new, mom was a worrier, she always was. Even when I was young, she would worry. She had a lot going on in her younger years, so it made sense that she would be worried for me. IAAN made it a lot worse, instead of being somewhat laid back, she would constantly check on me, and always seemed to be right behind me.
It made sense that she wanted to take me out of school, but I was surprised that she hadn’t done it earlier. Dad was the opposite, he figured that I could do most things by myself, and whenever I needed help, I would only have to ask, and he would help me in the best way he could.
As I looked down at the cereal in my bowl, I remembered the strange incident that happened last night. It was weird, but not as weird as some of the other things that happened, like how my arm had healed after I fell on the stairs the other day, or when my bedroom lights had suddenly gone out, or how I was suddenly doing better in school than I had ever done before. My grades had been fine at steady B’s and C’s, but over the last few weeks my grades had skyrocketed to solid A’s.
When mom walked into the dining room, she gave me a strange look. She, and most of the town and school, had been shoving healthy food down everyone’s mouth’s the last few weeks. She shook her head and said “come on. Time for school and leave your bag here.”
“What?” I asked, looking at the clock on the wall. School didn’t start for another thirty minutes, and the school was only three blocks away, and why would I never not take my book bag with me.
“I don’t know, the school just said they don’t like having to keep sending book bags home every day,” mom snapped waving her hands in the air. My eyebrows raised, and my jaw dropped. Mom rarely snapped, especially at me. She dropped her right hand and pinched her nose with her left hand. “Sorry honey, I’m just worried.”
“I know,” I said, and stood up to put my bowl in the sink. I could feel my mother’s sad eyes on my back, but I didn’t turn to look her in the face. Instead, I turned and walked out of the kitchen, and into the entryway. I heard mom’s light footsteps behind me and heard her grab her keys out of the bowl we keep on the kitchen counter. I opened the front door and walked out of my house.
I walked down the three steps, and onto the driveway. My mother’s black Honda stood a few feet from the garage. I always wondered why she put it in the driveway, instead of cleaning out of the garage, but I didn’t argue with her about it. When Sally died, most of the parents had pulled their kids out of school. So many had dropped out, that the school didn’t keep the buses going anymore. Even if it was available, I doubt my mother would have let me ride it.
I opened the passenger door and slid into the seat. I closed the door behind me and watched as mom walked out of the front door, and closed it behind her, her keys in her left hand. I looked at the driver seat, and wondered once again, would I live long enough to be able to drive? Or would I die like everyone else in my class. I was snapped out of that morbid chain of thought when my mom opened her door.
She slid into her seat, and without thinking about it, shut the door, and slid her seat belt across her chest before putting the keys in their place, and turning the car on. Mom always slid the seat belt on before starting the car, because she claimed that she had once accidentally forgot to put it on and had gotten in a bad accident that made her head snap against the steering wheel. She turned out fine, but scared, nonetheless.
Mom muttered something under her breath and put the car in reverse. She pulled out of the driveway with practiced ease, and as she pushed the car into drive, I looked up at the house, and wondered like every time I had left my house in the last month would I see it again or would this be the last time I saw it again. Mom slowly drove away from the house, and I wondered if she knew why I kept looking at the house like I was.
I shook my head, and watched my suburban neighborhood pass me by. The school was only four blocks away from my house, but mom and I didn’t exchange a single word along the way, and she glanced away from the cemetery we had to pass on the way to the school. The commentary had run out of room a week after Sally died, since the elementary had also been hit, as well as the barest of the high school. So many had died already, that the crematorium was constantly running, and some kids were burned in large piers at a farmer’s house nearby. The conservative town had crumbled, and it was easy to see fear in the air.
As mom pulled into the drop off lane of the school, I saw more cars than usual in the parking lot, and a bus parked in the bus lane. It was a normal bus, but it was strange to see one in the bus lane. As the car pulled to a stop behind the other cars, she turned to look at me. “You know whatever happens, I love you right?” mom said fear in her eyes.
“I know,” I said, and tried a smile, though it didn’t reach my eyes. “I’ll see you later, hopefully.” She gave a somewhat brief smile, before nodding. I grabbed the unlock button on the door and unlocked it. I pushed the door open and jumped out of the passenger seat. I slammed the door shut again and looked towards the other cars. Kids poured out of them and looked around just as sad as I felt. I saw Marie Bentham jump out of her car and was confused. Marie was eight and was supposed to be in the elementary across the street.
Her class had been hit hard, and I wouldn’t be surprised if she wasn’t the only kid in her entire class. Her mother called goodbye, and I silently judged her for dropping her kid off at the middle school. Most of the third, fourth and fifth grade were already dead, and she thought it was a good idea to send her young kid into a disease-ridden school? I shook my head and didn’t say anything.
“Come on Marie,” I heard Mrs. Solace yelled, and waved her hand at the front door. I shook my head and walked inside. Kids who showed up before the first period had to stay in the cafeteria, which stood to the right of the door. Though I had been in the school hundreds of times, and wasn’t expecting anything, I saw a few men dressed in military skivvies standing by the library, which stood next to the cafeteria. They were looking at the kids with harsh looks, and I felt a tang of fear shoot through me.
I shook off the harsh looks and walked into the cafeteria. Most of the time we naturally secluded ourselves from the other grades, so as I passed through the doors, I looked around for the eighth graders. The four other eight graders who went to the school right now, were gathered at one of the tables closest to the door.
I walked without question to the table, noticing that some of the ninth graders, as well as the few fourth and fifth graders were sitting at different tables. I looked back at the eighth-grader table. There were two girls, and two boys. Mark and Jack were twin brothers who had unfortunately transferred in three days before Sally died from their school in Wisconsin. They were somewhat handsome with their blond hair and blue eyes, but there was nothing special about them.
Mirable, Delta and I were somewhat friends, and we only really talked whenever no one else was around. We had somewhat gotten closer over the past few weeks, but they were slowly retreating into themselves. I was one of the luckier kids in the school, if you could call it that. At least I didn’t have to watch my siblings, or cousins, die.
Mirable lost her two brothers, and a sister, but her younger sister, Charlotte, was still alive. I looked over my shoulder and saw Charlotte sitting with the other sixth graders. She and Mirable looked eerily similar, with their bright red hair and sharp blue eyes. Though they seemed to be completely different people.
Delta had long blond hair that went down to her waist, and skin that reminded me of honey. I didn’t talk with her much, but I did know that her five sisters were dead. Before they died, she was sharp wit and an even bigger laugh, after though, it seemed like she was barely there in the head. She no longer smiled, and barely responded to anyone.
“Hi,” I said as kind as I could to Delta. I sat down to her right. Mirable was on her left, and the twins sat across from us. There were several plates of buns and berries on the table in front of us. Which a month ago would have been strange to see.
“Hey,” Delta said, sounding in the mood to talk. “How are you doing?”
“Fine,” I said. “I heard a strange call from my mother this morning, saying she was scared of me.” Her interest seemed slightly peaked. I knew it would catch her interest immediately, so she turned to talk to me better.
"I don’t think she's afraid for you," Delta said.
"No, she said she was afraid of me," I said, and she gave me a weird look.
“I heard the same phone call from my mom last night now that you mention it,” Delta said, and I saw the other three look at me with the same look. I looked over my shoulder and saw some of the military men had walked into the cafeteria. They slowly walked around the outside of the tables. Kids at the other tables recognized the people but didn’t recognize the problem.
“What is going on?” Delta asked, snapping out of her thoughts. She looked at the men suspiciously, and I wanted to as well, but I was more curious than suspicious now.
“I have no idea,” Mirable muttered, and started pushing her food across her plate. I looked at her, and saw her depressed face looked up briefly concerned at the men, before she looked back down at the plate again.
I shook my head and grabbed one of the buns that was near me. As I slowly started pulling it apart, more people walked into the room. Most were kids, but some were adults. I looked towards the front of the cafeteria. The cafeteria had several windows by the entry door, so I could see into the front entryway. Mrs. Solace was talking with a woman dressed in all black clothing. Even her gloves and boots were black. The led PSF’s were written in white on the top of her arm. An American flag was underneath it as well as the psi letter. I nudged Delta’s ribs, and I could feel her eyes on me. I pointed at the woman and heard the other three turn to see her as well.
“Now it's getting weird,” I said.
“Yeah,” I heard Mirable say. “Ignore it for now.” I shook my head, trying to get the people out of my mind, but I couldn’t really shake it. My thoughts turned to my mother’s suspicious behavior. How she was acting worried last night, then telling me how much she loved me, when she didn’t usually do it when she dropped me off.
Large footsteps forced me to look up again. A man dressed in the same black clothes as the woman outside walked into the room. He was different from her because he was wearing a large gun across his chest. He didn’t say anything, instead he walked over to Marie. I heard footsteps behind me and saw a man in military skivvies walk up behind us.
“Stand up please,” the man ordered in a harsh tone. I looked at Delta, who gave me an equally suspicious look. “Now.” I slowly started standing up, while the others did the same. I looked around the room and saw that someone had approached the others and they were standing up slowly as well. Everyone seemed just as confused as I was.
Delta was moving slower than everyone else, and the man must’ve liked her moving so slowly because he grabbed her arm and yanked her off her seat. Delta turned at him pissed, his arm was yanked off without warning, and he was sent into the wall with a thud. “Blue,” a man yelled from behind me. I looked at my shoulder towards the man who was holding Marie. His eyes were wide open with fear.
“What just happened?” one of the men asked, pointing toward his comrade in fear. I looked at Delta confused, and she jutted out her chin at the man. The table in front of him, where the two fourth graders had been a second ago, was flown into his chest. He landed on his back, and I could hear the crack of his skull as he landed.
I swung my head around confused and saw the man with the gun pick his gun up and shoot it into the ceiling. I covered my ears a second to late and could hear the shot and the resounding screams from everyone around me.
“Line up right here,” the man ordered, pointing toward the floor right in front of him. I quickly scrambled from behind the table and into the space in front of the man. Mirable finding her way in front of me, and Delta behind me. The rest of the cafeteria fell in line behind us. “Alright now, I want you all to calmly follow me onto the bus outside. If any of you try to run, we will shoot you. Understand?” No one said anything, too afraid to say anything. “Understand?” I nodded quickly, and Mirable did the same. “Good.”
The man turned around and started walking forward. Mirable started walking after him, and I followed right behind him to not get behind. We walked out of the cafeteria with the other men following behind us. I looked slightly behind me and saw Ms. Solace staring after us. Several other teachers had joined her and were staring at us. They seemed to have known that we were going to be taken, but seemed surprised that there was going to be this big of a response. What’s going on, and what happened just now with Delta? Is she like me?
Since one of the men had shot a bullet into the ceiling, I figured it would be to stupid to ask any questions. The man led us toward the front door and shoved it open. Not holding it open for Mirable, who had to reach out her arms to catch the door before it hit her in the face. She was nice enough to hold it open long enough for me to grab it. I grabbed the door and held it open for Delta.
She grabbed it, and I walked behind Mirable. I heard the door finally close a minute after I walked through. The bus that had been in the bus lane had been pulled into the drop off lane. Two more men dressed in military clothing were by the bus. One by the door, the other at the end of the bus.
We walked the short distance to the bus, and the man stepped aside to let us onto the bus. Mirable hesitated for a second, and the man raised his gun in her direction. She lunged forward onto the bus with me following close behind her. “Sit in seat three,” the driver ordered Mirable. She quickly followed the order and sat down. I sat down next to her, and watched as everyone passed me. All the others were terrified, and when she passed, I saw tears streaming down Marie’s face. I longed to reach out and hug her, to tell her that none of this was her fault but knew that the men had a trigger finger.
As Marie passed, I turned slightly in my seat, and saw her sit in the back of the bus. In total, there were sixteen of us all crowded in that small bus. I looked out of the window and saw the man and woman standing a few feet from the bus talking quietly with Mrs Solace. She seemed mad about something but seemed to be trying to keep her calm. I took a calming breath and looked down the aisle towards the back door. The bus driver doesn’t have a gun, I could make a run for it, I thought.
“I wouldn’t try it kid,” the bus driver snapped, and I swung around to face the front of the bus again. The man was looking at me with fury in his eyes. The fat under his chin bobbled for a second, and he stared at me as the man and woman walked onto the bus. They both seemed to notice the drivers staring. The man walked past me, and walked down the aisle where I could hear him turn and sit down in one of the back seats. The woman sat down in the seat diagonally from me.
“You can go Bob,” the woman said to the driver. He gave a deft nod and pulled the door close. He pulled a lever and hit the accelerator. No one said anything as he slowly made his way around the bend of the parking lot. As he turned onto the street, the woman turned to us with a glare in her eye.
“If any of you freaks try anything we will shoot you,” the woman said with a sneer. She looked over at me dead in the eye, and I reeled back in my seat. The woman lumbered off her seat, and stood in the aisle, keeping her eyes on me the entire time. “I need your hands.”
I quickly did as she asked and handed her my hands. She reached into her right back pocket and pulled out a zip tie. She didn’t waste any time wrapping it around my wrists and she pulled it so right I was worried she might cut off my circulation.
She reached back again and grabbed another zip tie. She leaned over and grabbed Mirable’s wrists, which she was holding in front of her. The woman wrapped it around her wrists and seemed to find pleasure when Mirable grunted at the sudden pain. As she pulled back, I looked out the window. I heard the woman turn to Delta and heard her put a zip tie around her wrist.
I watched as I passed through my hometown for possibly the last time. People were walking down the street, and some stopped to stare as the bus passed. I looked up at the mirror above the drivers head and saw them still staring long after we passed. I wanted to wave to them, but at the same time knew I couldn’t do it. Rage filled me. Rage at my father, my mother, any adult really, for having to put us through what they had done. I knew that they were afraid, but could have at least sixteen parents willingly handed their kids over to the military?
Shouldn’t they have protected us from whatever danger was headed our way? I heard a thunk and swung my head around. The woman was now sitting in her old seat. She let out a sigh of relief. What could have gone so wrong that she only found relief in binding kid’s hands together with zip ties? I was too afraid to ask any questions.
We drove thirty minutes from Wichita to Newton which I recognized from a few trips that my dad and I had done when I was younger, before he got caught up in work. We drove through the town, and two miles out, the driver swung the bus wide and turned us into the parking lot of a small two-story brick warehouse.
Are they going to kill us here? Wait, they had two hours to do it already, if they wanted us dead, they would have done it by now, I thought as Bob pulled the bus to a stop by the stairs of the unloading docks. “Come on,” the woman, who I had nicknamed Snaggletooth, said to me. I gulped and quickly stood up as fast as I could.
“When you get inside, walk directly to the group of kids and sit down on the edge of the group,” Snaggletooth ordered. I nodded and quickly walked off the bus, going slower than normal because of the situation with my arms. My feet hit the gravel, and I started quickly toward the stone stairs. I took them one at a time and walked into the door.
As my eyes adjusted, I saw rust on the walls, and smelled skunk in the air. The group of kids Snaggletooth had mentioned was gathered by the door, surrounded by PSFs and tall spotlights. I looked at the nearest PSF, who waved her gun in the direction of the thirty kids. I nodded in understanding and walked toward the group. As Snaggletooth ordered, I sat down at the edge of the group with everyone else sitting down as well.
Snaggletooth and her buddy walked into the warehouse behind us and joined their friends at the edge of the group. Both seemed happy to have reassurances in their comrades. I could see them smile and start talking excitedly as they walked around the room.
In the distance, I could hear another bus pull up and stop. All the PSF’s turned their heads in the direction of the door, and I had an opportunity to look at the other prisoners. All were around twelve years old, though there were differences between some of the ages. It seemed like eight- to fourteen-year-olds were in the growing circle. Footsteps approached, and I turned to see more kids walk into the room. There were about fifteen in the group. Two girls in the back had their mouths closed by muzzles. As they walked into view, I saw the PSF’s look at them in disgust.
Marie, who had sat down beside me, seemed to have finally broken, and she started crying. Absolutely heartbreaking sobs, and I gave a brief look around the room. None of the adults seemed to want to confront her, and I saw Snaggletooth grab her gun. I grabbed her arm and pulled her into my lap as best as I could. “Don’t let them see you are afraid of them, it’ll only give them more power,” I whispered, and she nodded. Slowly she stopped crying, and I could see Snaggletooth pull her hand off her gun.
She looked at me despised, before walking around the circle. The girl had finally dissolved into sniffles, and I sent a look at Mirable, who was wearing a pissed off look. I shook my head and looked down at Marie again. Within a few minutes, I heard another bus pull up in the distance. Instead of more kids walking into the room, two of the PSF’s walked into the circle, and started yanking kids off the ground one at a time. The two men then would shove them into a small line. When the line reached ten kids, two different PSF’s would lead the group towards the door.
When one of the women, a stocky Hispanic woman, walked up to me, she snapped and with the click of her fingers ordered “up, both of you. And let each other go.” I glared at her, but slowly let Marie out of my arms. I stood up as quickly as I could, pulling Marie up as I went. I grabbed her left hand pulling her behind me I joined the line of other kids. She was about to say something about it, when another PSF shouted from the other side of the circle shouted, “let them hold hands, it’s less likely they’ll try to run.” She glared back at the voice but said nothing. She turned back to the group and pulled more kids up.
I looked down at Marie, and tried to reassure her as best as I could without saying a word. She looked up at me scared. I heard shuffling feet behind me, and within a few seconds a PSF stepped in front of us, and I heard one walk behind the line. “Move,” the PSF in front of us ordered. He stepped forward, and we followed close behind him.
We followed him out of the building, and as I walked through the door, the light blinded me. I dropped my head and looked at the gravel as I shuffled along. When my eyes finally caught up with the light, I looked up. A normal school bus was standing a few feet away from the bottom of the stairs. Kids were already sitting in the back of the bus. The back seats were filled with kids who I didn’t recognize. While the ones in front of them were from the last group of kids who had shown up.
The last group was slowly being shoved onto the bus, and the PSF in front of us led us to the steps and had us join the line of kids. He stepped aside, and I saw him slowly slink back into the building. I looked back at the bus and saw the few kids in front of me had walked onto the bus. I quickly scrambled up the few steps, and I heard Marie’s small footsteps behind me. The bus driver sent me a disapproving look at me, and I looked down at his hip, where a gun sat.
“Keep moving,” the man snapped, and I moved as quickly as I could down the aisle of the bus. There was a PSF halfway down the bus, and she pointed at the seat she was next to. The girl in front of me slid into the seat. I sat down and pulled Marie into my lap. The PSF looked down at me, mouth slightly agape. She looked at the next group of kids, and she shook her head. She walked up to the next seat and started putting the kids in the next two seats.
It took maybe twenty minutes to fill the rest of the seats on the bus. I counted each kid as they walked onto the bus. There were sixty-seven of us, shoved onto the bus. The entire time I was wondering, where are we going? Why would the government want us? Is there something wrong with us? Does this have to do with what happened last night, or what happened with Delta this morning?
As the last of the kids sat down, the bus driver pulled the door closed. I looked up and down the bus and saw four PSF’s standing in the bus waving the guns around at the kids. The PSF in the front walked forward and muttered something in the ear of the driver. The driver nodded and the PSF stepped back to stand with the kids. The driver put the bus in drive. The gate opened, and the driver pulled through it.
He turned onto I-35 towards Nebraska. Okay, where are we going now? I looked over my shoulder and looked at the PSF who stood slightly behind me. There was a mask of terror on her face, as well as one of boredom. Clearly, she was not expecting anything to happen on this trip. I turned to face the back of the seat in front of me. I leaned back into my chair, preparing myself for the long journey to wherever these people were taking me.
We drove for hours, and I recognized signs as we drove out of Kansas and into Nebraska. My family had been to Nebraska a few times, so I recognized certain landmarks. No one spoke as we drove along, everyone feared the men and women with guns to do anything, even though most of us hadn’t eaten or drunk anything for the day.
Hours later, the PSF’s stood at attention, and their hands seemed to grip their guns harder. Their eyes wandered the bus even more than before, and I could practically feel their anger and fear. We must be close, I thought as something appeared in the distance.
It was towards our left, and I had to look over the kids in the seat across from mine to it. An eight-foot-tall metal fence with barbed wire on top of it appeared out the window. Multiple buildings sat behind the barbed wire fence. My mouth dropped as I took in the camp.
There were four buildings gathered a few hundred meters from the main gate that we were approaching. Smaller wooden buildings surrounded the larger ones. They seemed to be cabins, but I couldn’t tell from a distance. The bus took a long swing and pulled in front of the gate.
A man in the small building next to the gate hit a button, and the gate slowly rolled open. As soon as there was enough room, the driver pulled the bus through the gate, and drove a few hundred feet into the camp. It stopped fifty feet from the door of the closest building.
There was a two-story building to our right, and a one-story building on the left. The two buildings were not next to one another, and the one-story building was much closer to the three-story building at the end of the street. Over the one-story building, I could see a two-story building. The four buildings were made from brick, while the smaller ones looked like they were made from some stone that could resemble wood in the distance.
PSF’s who had been leaning against the building closest to us, straightened as we came to a stop, and with practiced ease towards the bus. They quickly surrounded it, and after a few seconds, the driver opened the door. A tall man walked onto the bus and came to a stop by the driver. He was easily six feet tall, and his spikey brown hair barely brushed against the ceiling of the bus. The stark white skin of his face stuck out against the black PSF uniform he was wearing. There was a thin white scar above his eyebrow. He gave us a look of sympathy before he grabbed the microphone from the driver and put it to his mouth.
“Do not try to run. Do not do anything unless specifically asked of you. Do everything that is asked of you without question. I’ll need you to get off the bus slowly and line up in lines of eight,” the man said, and he handed the microphone back to the driver. He nodded at one of the PSFs, who started directing the kids off the bus.
The process was extremely slow because everyone was tired from sitting all day and not being able to move their hands. When it was my turn to stand up, I quickly moved Marie off my lap and into the aisle. I stood up behind her, and we slowly walked down the aisle. The girl who had been sitting next to me stood up as well and followed behind me.
I walked down the aisle and turned right. I walked down the steps of the bus. The PSF who was standing next to the door pointed at the line that I needed to go. I followed right behind Marie and joined a line of five other kids. I didn’t hear the footsteps of the girl who was behind me, so I looked over my shoulder to see that the girl had jumped off the bus, but instead of heading behind me, she was trying to walk in the direction of the gate.
“Hey,” the PSF next to the door snapped, reaching her arm out to prevent the girl from going any further. The girl stepped aside to walk around the arm, but the PSF caught her hair before she could walk any further. The girl screamed at the sudden contact, and reached up to try and grab something that could be used against the woman. She struggled for a second before catching the wrist of the woman.
A deep groan came out of the woman’s mouth, and her skin paled. Her eyes popped out of her head, and salvia started to pool out of her mouth. The woman doubled over, before dropping onto her knees. The girl didn’t let the woman go, even as she dropped onto the ground. Her eyes seemed to roll into the back of her head.
The girl finally released the woman’s hand, and the PSF’s seemed to have finally noticed what was going on. I heard shuffling behind me and saw a PSF bolt in the direction of the girl. She noticed the man running towards her, and she tried to run, but the man was larger and faster than her, so he easily caught up to her and forced her onto the ground. He yanked the girl off the ground and carried her back into the line. He dropped her down behind me, though he didn’t let her go.
One of the other PSF’s walked towards the first kid in line and grabbed the first two kids in line. She yanked them forward towards the two-story building and started walking towards the door. The others started following behind her, and I could hear the men and girl walk behind me. What can she do? Is she like Delta and I, or is she different?
I looked to my left and looked around the bus. There were two cabins on the other side of the bus. Kids dressed in orange outfits were walking toward the one-story building. They were handcuffed, and so were their feet. They were cuffed to the kids in front of them and the one’s behind them. Their mouths were bound with muzzles.
What can they do, and if they’re so dangerous why would they be letting them near the bus? I looked at the handcuffs again and realized that they wouldn’t be able to get out of formation easily, and if they did, they would trip the rest of the group, and they couldn’t move as a group because they would trip up.
I turned back towards the front of the group when I heard a door open in front of me. The PSF who had been by the door had opened it for the woman who had finally reached the door of the two-story building. The woman yanked the kids behind her and yanked them inside after her. The rest of the line followed in after her, and as I walked through the door, I saw a sign with the word Infirmary written in blue ink hung up on the door. My eyes took a second to catch up with the lights inside the building. In front of me stood rows and rows of cages with a bed inside each of them. There was a staircase to my immediate left, and right. The man behind me shoved me towards the staircase on the left.
I grunted, and walked up the stairs as quickly as I could, and when I topped the staircase and looked down the hallway, I saw seven doors on the left and three on the right. The door on my left had the number one on it, and the one next to it had a two on it. The kids who had been in the line before me were being led out of the rooms, with a different uniform on, ranging from red to purple.
They were led away out of the offices, and down toward the end of the hallway. They were led down a small hallway, between the two rooms next to me. As soon as kids were past the door, the PSF in the front of the line would drag the kids out of the line and shove them into the waiting arms of a nurse who would take the kids into the office.
Eventually all the kids in front of me were taken into an office, and the woman came back for me. As soon as she touched me and dragged me away from the man and girl behind me, I heard the man start pulling the girl toward an empty office. The woman dragged me down the hallway, and opened the door of office eight, which was at the end of the hallway.
She opened the door and shoved me inside. I caught myself and looked around the office. It looked like a doctor's office with white walls, and a certain disinfection about it. There was a small bed next to the door with an x-ray machine above it. A few feet away from the head of it was a standing desk with a computer on it. A six-foot white man stood behind the computer. He had small glasses covering his brown eyes and had a white coat over his shoulders. There was a small poster on it, I didn’t have time to look at it before the doctor started talking.
“Lay down on the bed,” the doctor said in a gravelly voice. I nodded and quickly laid down. The bed underneath me was uncomfortable and the ac started as soon as my head hit the attached pillow, which made me shiver uncomfortably.
"What's your name?" the doctor asked in a dry tone.
“Ava McBrian,” I said, and he typed something on his computer. As he continued typing, the X-ray machine started up. "Is this a hospital?" I asked, looking around the room.
“No," the man said in a harsh tone.
I looked around the room again and looked at the poster which was next to the door. On it was a triangle with eight different sections on it. The smallest one at the top was black with the largest on the bottom was green. There were words in each section. On the bottom was green, intelligence. Blue; telekinesis. Yellow, electrokinetic. Purple; arborkinesis. Red; pyrokinesis. Silver, healing, and disease. Orange; telepathy. Black; combined forces.
I gasped and felt my stomach drop. Most of the powers I knew off the top of my head like telekinesis and electrokinesis, but after a few seconds, I remembered that arborkinesis meant plant growth. Gulping, I realized I had shown two different powers last night, blue and red. Though it could be proven that I could do orange if mom’s reaction last night was not an act.
“You don’t have to worry about being above the purple line,” the man said. “Our studies have shown that reds and above are very rare.” Yeah, I thought that's not going to work. “There have only been three blacks ever recorded and none here.” Right as he finished talking the computer beeped. The man's eyes widened, and I knew that he knew what I was. As the beeping grew louder, he said “it’s okay, we can fix this.”
“What?” I asked him and he brought up the black can. I sat up and as he walked closer, I grabbed his arm. His eyes became cloudy and without thinking I said, “You're wrong, I'm blue.” He nodded slowly and walked back toward his computer. He switched off the noise and typed something on his computer.
"You're a blue," he said, and he hit a button on his computer. A second later, a woman dressed in scrubs walked into the room carrying a set of blue clothes.
“You’re going to need to change in here,” the woman ordered. I nodded and sat up. I grabbed the clothes and realized that the man wasn’t going to turn around as I changed. I held up my hands, and she saw that my hands were still bound by the zip tie. She sighed and grabbed a set of scissors from off the desk. She walked up to me, stuck the scissors between my wrists and started gnawing the zip ties open. It took a second before the zip tie was off my wrists.
I rubbed my hands as I slowly started walking back towards the bed. I grabbed the clothes and started changing into the clothes. Humiliated, I stripped and changed into the clothes. When I was done, I turned around and handed the clothes to the woman. She handed me the other set of clothes before grabbing my arm. She pulled me behind her towards the door, which she opened and forced me past her into the hallway.
She ended up shoving me into a PSF who was standing right outside the door. He looked down at me surprised. After a second, he grabbed my arm and started pulling me down the hallway. I looked down and saw that he was also holding onto Marie. Her zip ties were off, and she was wearing a blue uniform. At least she’s safe, I thought as the man pulled us into the side hallway.
There were several doors in the hallway, and it was wide enough for several people to stand shoulder to shoulder together. Several different colors were standing in the hallway, segregated by color and gender, and each color seemed to be treated differently by the PSF’s. Yellows, silvers, and reds had their hands covered by rubber gloves, and handcuffs, while oranges were the same way, except they were wearing muzzles. Purples, greens, and blues didn’t have to wear anything extra.
The PSF next led me to the line of blue girls, which consisted of Mirable, Delta, and two girls I didn’t recognize. She shoved us into the end of the line before she walked away again. I looked down at Marie and grabbed her hand. She held onto me, as we watched the rest of the kids go into the offices and come back with a uniform on. They would then have to join us.
When the last kid had joined us, it seemed like the doctor was right, above purple were rare with only two oranges, and fifteen greens. It was slow getting out of the hallway, as they led each color out individually. My line was the third to last to leave, followed by the guys. The PSF in front of the line led us down the stairs that were to the right of the stairs.
She led us out of the infirmary, and onto the gravel road. The rest of the camp seemed to be alive as I stepped onto the gravel road. Some of the kids were walking out of the dining hall, while others seemed to be walking out from behind the three-story building in front of me towards the right of the infirmary. The PSF in front of us led us around the infirmary, and I saw four rows of buildings surrounded by barbed wire. It seemed like it was where the kids dressed in green outfits were headed as well.
The distance from the infirmary towards the smaller buildings were about two hundred feet, so it didn’t take long for us to walk to the small gate. As we walked up to it, I looked to my right and saw that there several smaller buildings stood on the other side of the infirmary. I looked back in front of me, and barely stopped myself from running into Marie as the line came to a stop in front of the gate.
I heard the rustling of keys and saw the PSF’s right hand moving something along the gate. After a second the gate swung open, and the PSF stepped forward. She turned around keeping her left hand on the gate. She waved us in, and everyone stepped into the gated area. When the girl behind me stepped through behind me, the woman slammed the gate closed behind her.
She walked around the group and walked back to the front of the line again. She waved her hand in a follow me motion, and the girl in front of her stepped forward. We all followed behind her, and walked toward the last street which we took a left onto. She led us down the street and stopped in front of cabin forty-nine, which was on the right side of the road and third down from the gate. It had a security camera above the door, and forty-nine on the door. Two cabins stood to our right, while two others stood next to ours.
The PSF walked up to the door and pulled out the key. She put the key in the door handle, and turned the key to the left, and pushed the door open. She walked into the cabin, and the girl behind her stepped into the cabin. The rest of the line followed close behind her, and as I walked into the cabin, I saw that there were fifteen beds in the room. Seven on the right, seven on the left, and one pushed against the far wall. The beds were pushed long way on the wall so that the middle was open.
Ten girls were already in the cabin, sitting on the beds on the right side of the cabin. They looked down at us with wide eyes, but I could also see pity in their eyes as well. The PSF in the cabin was showing the girls in front of me their beds, and I waited my turn for her to show me mine, which ended up being the bottom bed of the seventh bed of the cabin.
As I sat down, and looked around me, I saw a security camera sitting atop the door pointed towards us. So much for security, I thought bitterly as the two women were walking out of the cabin. I leaned back against my bed as the door slammed close behind the women.
I wanted to sit up and talk with someone, but I couldn’t compel myself because of the long day I had just gone through. I laid down on my side and saw the feet of the girl who was on the bed next to me. Marie moved a little on the top bed, and I could hear Mirable’s breathing from the bed next to me.
I wanted to sleep, and I also wanted to cry into the poorly made pillowcase. I heard Marie start sniffing in the bed above mine, but I couldn’t make myself want to crawl out of the bed to confront her. I knew that I should probably do it, but I was too afraid to do anything. She also needed to cry it out of her, and probably wouldn’t want to be touched.
I didn’t say a word, even when the ten girls who had been here when we showed up started talking, most of the other girls didn’t want to either it seemed, and the ten girls started talking amongst themselves about something I didn’t bother to listen to. When the lights in the cabin finally turned off, I felt myself finally fall into the land of sleep.