John's POV
Eden moaned in pain, his forehead burning. The cold, wet, tattered cloth I had draped over his forehead was already becoming warm. His eyes were purple, almost black from the plague as he tried to focus them on my face. "John? Am I going to die?" he whispered, his fists bunching and clenching the dirty mattress cover.
"No. Daniel will find a cure for you," I assure him, although my hope was already dwindling. I remove the cloth from his forehead, rising from the floor to dunk it back into the cold water.
His curly white blond hair was damp with sweat. I brush his cheek. "It's going to be alright, Eden."
I'm making my way towards the kitchen when the door flies open. Mom lets out a startled cry. It's Day.
The blood in my face drains. The cloth I am hold slips from my shaking hands. Why would he come here now? Sweat runs down and drips off his chin, exposing lines of clean skin in the thin layers of grime. He must've run all the way here. But why?
"What's wrong?" I ask. "What are you doing here? Tell me what happened." I try to mask the fear in my voice.
Day's eyes shift from my face to Mom's. He whips off his dirty cap and his long hair tumbles out. Mom's eyes widen before her hand covers her mouth in shock.
"It's me, Mom," he says. "It's Daniel." Mom begins to stutter before she takes a hesitant step forth. She glances back at me, flabbergasted that I knew Day was alive, and hurt that I never told her.
"Daniel?" she says numbly, almost in a daze. "My Daniel. You're alive. This must be a dream."
Day grips her shoulders, not tight enough to actually hurt her. "Mom listen," he pleads. "The plague patrol is coming, and they have a medic truck with them. Whatever virus Eden has…They're coming to get him. We have to hide you all."
She pauses, absorbing the information before nodding. She turns on her heel, quickly making her way to Eden's room.
I lift him onto my shoulders. "What's going on?" Eden slurs, half asleep.
"The plague patrols are coming. We have to hide," I explain. He nods, burying his face against my neck.
"Under the porch," Mom instructs. "There's no time to run." She hurries to the porch, sliding a wooden board to one side. "Eden first," she whispers as Day looks cautiously for arriving soldiers. I adjust him before kneeling and crawling under the porch. Mom goes in after me. Day crawls in after her and carefully places the board back. Darkness engulfs us until I can't even see Eden, who's snuggling in my arms.
It's silent for a moment, before the medic truck's siren pierces the air. It gets louder and louder until it is parked right in front of our home.
"Stay here," Day whispers harshly.
"No," I argue. "Don't go back out there. It's too dangerous." I might lose you. Again.
"It's too dangerous for you if I stay. Trust me. I'll be right back," he promises.
Someone is banging on the door. The voice is muffled, but I can still make out what they're saying. "Plague patrol. Open up!"
Day moves the board and slips outside. He smiles reassuring at us before reclosing it. We try to be as silent as possible. I hear footsteps-too loud to be Day's. I hold my breath. Please don't find us, I pray. A tingle runs down my back. It's some kind of feeling that mixes itself with fear. I don't know what it is.
The floorboards above us creak before chunks of wood rain down on us. I use my body to shield Eden and my mother. More splinters fall down, piercing my back and arms. Bright light shines down on us. "Found them!" a male voice booms.
A shiver runs down my back as gloved hands yank me up. I try holding onto Eden tighter, but he is ripped from my arms. "No!" I scream as I try to take him back.
Two soldiers restrain me, one of them shoving the gun onto my temple. The barrel is cold, and the soldier clicks a bullet into place. "Don't try anything," she warns. "Or I'll shoot you and your brother." Reluctantly, I stop struggling.
They strap Eden on a gurney as he screams. Eden flails his limbs wildly, trying to strike a soldier. Mom doesn't even bother to struggle. Her face is in a mask of defeat and she watches her youngest son being wheeled away in a sea of tears.
"Keep moving bitch!" a soldier slaps my mother. She stumbles back a few steps.
"Don't touch my mother!" I scream, and about ten guns are shifted to my body. Soldiers drag us out to the front of the house.
A silver bullet flies past my ear and slams into the soldier's neck. His blood splatters on my cheek as he crumples to the floor.
A girl about Daniel's age says, "Day. I know you're here, and I know why," she points to me and my mother. "You want your family to be safe. I understand that," she continues. "I wanted my family to be safe too."
Her voice becomes pleading. "Now I'm giving you a chance to save yours. Turn yourself in. Please. No one will get hurt." I want to scream, Run Daniel! but I am frozen in my spot.
Day is silent, hidden on the roof. I wish he'd just turn back and run.
The commander shakes her head. "Okay, Iparis. We've tried your tactic. Now let's try mine." She nods at the captain that stands next to her. "Cop her."
I don't even know what's happening. The captain raises his gun and aims at my direction. My eyes widen, thinking that they are going to shoot me.
He fires, but the bullet never hits me. My mother crumples to the floor, dark blood streaming out of her head. My heart stops. I stare at Mom's body with wide eyes. I try to reach her, but soldiers hold me back, and that's when I start screaming.
No. Mom can't be dead. Please say I'm dreaming.
My vision becomes blurry with tears, and I try ignoring everything that is happening behind me. I'm snapped out of my daze when I hear another gunshot. And then Daniel's scream.
They hurt Daniel. They hurt my brother. The soldiers grip me tighter as I scream unintelligible things at them; useless threats and swears. They're cuffing my brother, beating him in the process. He's shoved into one of the waiting jeeps, blinded and gagged. They shove me in another jeep.
The medic truck takes off first, the high pitch wail that deafens my ears. I'm sprawled on the floor of a moving jeep and I use a hand to steady myself. I lift myself up, looking out the window at my mother's dead, abandoned body. I press my palms harder against the glass, as if I could break the door and run back to Mom. The jeep moves further away from her body and I choke out a sob.
Maybe the soldier upfront felt some pity. Or did it for his own pleasure. Either way, I'm thankful he did. He slammed the butt of his pistol against my jaw, effectively knocking me out.
The pain stung at first as the world began to turn black. I heard the screeching tires of the jeep and the chatter of the two soldiers becoming small buzzes. Then silence. And nothing.
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