Mail was awakened by the sound of screams. He sat up and looked around, fire blazed around his bed. The young boy's eyes widened in fear and he called for his mother. When no one came, he crawled out of bed and ran to his sister Natalie's room.
Mail pushed open his sister's door and saw his sister laying on the floor, fire danced off her body. The scent of burning flesh filled his nose and Natalie's screams echoed over the roaring fire. Tears sprung to his bright green eyes. He needed to find his parents; they would know what to do.
He ran out of his sister's room and down the hall, weaving around the fire and coughing as smoke entered his small lungs. Mail pushed open his father's office door, no one. He checked his parent's room. Again no one. They had probably already got out. He ran down the stair case and into the main hallway.
His foot snagged on a piece of wreckage and he tripped. A piece of sharp wood gashed his knee open. He screamed and more tears flooded down his face. He coughed, the blazing room started to spin and he gave another hacking cough. Bleeding, coughing, tired, lungs burning, scared he sat there crying.
He was going to die. That much the four year old knew. Mail was very smart for his age; he knew his time in the world was coming to a close. He felt himself being lifted up and he noticed he was floating above the ground, moving towards the door. Had he already died, was he going to heaven now?
He looked up and saw a man wearing a gas mask was carrying him out the door. A fire fighter. He was passed to a lady in a white uniform. He let out another cough and he was seated on a soft seat. Something was pressed to his face and cool, clean air rushed into his lungs. After a few breaths, the burning in his lungs had stopped and the cool plastic thing was removed from his face.
A young woman with long blond hair sat in front of him. A stethoscope hung around her neck. She smiled at him and handed him a glass of water. He took it and took and big sip. He handed it back to the lady.
"Merci," he mumbled,
"Votre accueil." she said cheerfully,
She kneeled beside him and rolled up his pant leg. She poured some disinfectant on the bloody wound. Mail bit his lip to hold back a scream as the liquid stung on the open wound. She wrapped a gauze around his knee and pulled the pant leg back down.
"Mon nom est Victoria. Quel est ton nom?" she asked the red headed boy,
"Mon nom est Mail," he replied, "Où sont mes parents et ma sœur?"
The lady's smile left her face and she sighed. She took his hand and gave it a squeeze. Sadness flashed in her eyes as she looked at the small boy. Her first day on the job, and she had to tell a little boy that his entire family had died. That his sister had been burned to death, his mother and father, the President of France Matthew Jeevas, had died of smoke inhalation. That his life had been torn from him by a tragic fire. How could she do that?
"Mail," she began,
"C'est bon, je peux le prendre d'ici." said a voice from outside the ambulance.
Standing there, was an older gentleman. Judging by his accent, Victoria could tell French was not his first language, probably a Brit. She smiled at Mail and walked up to the old man.
"Sir," she said in heavily accented English, "You need to leave. You have no clearance to be here."
"I do actually have clearance to be here," the man said holding up a piece of paper, "According to this, Mail Jeevas is to come with me."
After much debate, a talk with a police officer and a call to child services and city hall records. Mail was changed out of his burned ashy PJ's and into a stripy shirt with black shorts and a black jacket. The old man, introduced himself as Watari and told the young boy that he would be going to live in England with a bunch of other smart children like him.
Mail was also told he couldn't keep his real name. That he would have to pick a new one for his protection. After careful consideration, he chose Matt, after his father. Mail asked when he could see his family again. Watari simply said, never.
So, I hoped you liked the Prolouge. I would like some feedback, as this is my first story on this site. I would love to hear any comments you have. In this fic, Matt, BB and other people will speak French occasionally. I'll put the translations down here.
Translations:
Matt: Thank you
Victoria: Your welcome. My name is Victoria. What's your name?
Matt: My name is Mail. Where are my parents and sister?
Watari: It's okay, I can take it from here.
Hope it helped! Thanks for even reading this! Please comment if you want me to continue!