The first time I met that man, he scared me. He was so much of a killer, and he seemed to enjoy it. But now, I know him more. And I know myself more. Even though, I still question myself, and the killer inside me.
Chester, Pennsylvania, 16:34 4th March 2037
The ride was bumpy. I couldn't sit still, and my legs and arms were constantly shaking. I could barely keep my own hands against the old man's wound like the other passenger had told me to. I could tell that the other man was a rebel as well, just by looking at him. he had an attire that was very similar to the injured man that lay before me, minus the hat. Instead, he had a skullcap over his head, strands of auburn hair hanging down just above his green eyes. His clothing was a darker shade than the old man's, and his under shirt and trousers were a dark brown. In his hands, he had a standard M4 assault rifle with two magazines taped to each other. He sat with his legs folded beneath him so the back of his boots were touching his lower back.
He reached into his pack and retrieved a rolled up bandage. I watched him unroll it to a suitable length, then use a small, sharp knife to roughly cut through the fabric.
"Hold his leg" he instructed calmly, pointing to a point of his leg above the wound. I placed my hands on it, trying to will them to stop shaking. The injured groaned in pain, still muttering swears and insults. It seemed he was delirious from blood loss. Or it just his way of coping. Either way, it wasn't helping. With one slow movement, the auburn-haired man lifted his leg and wrapped the white fabric carefully. He stopped after three cycles around his leg, and slowly lowered the leg back down before sighing with relief. "Thanks."
I merely nodded, still staring at the blood on my hands. I had blood staining my clothes ,and for the first time, it wasn't mine. I felt a firm grip on my shoulder and looked up.
"You did good. He'll live." I moved my head again, then looked back down at my hands. I must have stared at them for hours, for I had lost track of time when I felt it stop. There was a knock on the door, and the man slid it open, revealing a young woman.
She had her black hair in a ponytail that hung down halfway down her back and was braided all the way down. Her hair ran through the back of her green baseball cap. A green vest covered a camouflaged long-sleeve shirt and she wore green camo pants to match. Her eyes were really similar to the old mans. I wondered if they were related at all. She had a hand on her hip, the other on the door, and a glad smile on her face as she saw the man next to me.
"Good to see you made it-" she stopped as her eyes fell upon the older man. She fell to his side, and it seemed that she was angry. "Why'd you have to get yourself shot up?!"
He mumbled something back, trying to move his head.
"It's not too bad. This young man here saved him" he stated, gesturing to me. She gave me her attention for a small moment, then looked down at the injured rebel.
"Seriously. You had to have a kid save your ass?" I felt insulted by the statement. She had basically called me a useless boy. I glared at her. She glared back when she caught onto it. It took the other rebel and all of my willpower to withdraw from the hateful stare.
"Lydia, stop it! Leave him alone! He's been through enough!" he snapped, staring at us both with disappointment in his eyes. I couldn't help but feel even more guilt. The woman, Lydia, turned her head and upturned her nose, avoiding eye contact altogether. She folded her arms and crossed her legs that hung over the side of the van entrance. And soon, I noticed a sign of despair in her eyes. And the anger remained, as well.
"Fine. I'll meet you at camp." She stormed out of the van, and once again, the man sighed. But this time it was of hopelessness.
"I swear, she is sometimes so much like her father" he muttered, shaking his head with a palm against his forehead. I pondered of what he meant, then looked at the older man. I guessed that their my suspicions were true, yet said nothing. He removed his hand from his face and placed it on the floor in front of him. "That was Lydia, in case you were wondering. Mathias's daughter." He received a confused look from me, and rolled his eyes. "Of course he didn't tell you his name." He hesitated on his words, then added, "The guy you saved." My mouth formed an 'o' as I knew what he meant. My eyes went to Mathias. Now that i knew his name, I would be able to thank him when he woke up. If he woke up. My mind went back to dark thoughts about death. Almost being executed. Picturing myself in the place of the thief earlier that day. It made me shudder. "Get some rest. It's still a long while till we get there." I nodded shakily, and laid myself down on my seat, the metal cold against my skin. Then, I fell asleep.
Man's POV
The young boy had been through a lot. I could tell just by looking at him. He must have been at least in his late teens, possibly nearing adulthood. It showed me how cruel the KPA can be. I'd seen kids much younger than him watching their own families be killed, or being killed themselves. I'd seen the mass graves. Just low pits where they dump the corpses. Corpses of children, men and women. All innocent. My teeth began to grind against each other as I recalled all of those moments where the enemy was at it's worst. Where I had seen their true side. And soon, the boy will too. It seemed that he did not fully understand what they were capable of. Perhaps he would question him about it later. But for now, he would let him rest.
I leaned to the front of the van and pulled on the latch, opening the small grate window separating me from the driver. I barely saw him, only his black jacket and bald head in my sight.
"How far?" I asked. The driver shrugged without turning his head to acknowledge me. I rolled my eyes and closed it back up, sitting back with my arms crossed. I scratched at the hair beneath my skullcap, which began to irritate my scalp. My eyes moved to Mathias. I knew he was a good man, and had known him since this all started. And when his daughter came along, there was no need for second guesses. I knew right there and then that they were related, whether she liked it or not. She was just as stubborn and rude, but never mentioned her relationship with him. He once told me that he had left them to help another resistance group, and when he returned, they were gone. That may have explained why her accent was British instead of Irish, because her mother was British. And no matter how much Mathias tried to convince her she was part Irish, she preferred the British. And so did I. After a while, it begins to get on your nerves. Trust me, I would know after stuck with the drunk one. He was always cursing, and it became more frequent when he was drunk. And that too was frequent. If it wasn't for the leg wound, I would have assumed he had stopped off at the bar. He had a low tolerance for alcohol, so all it took was two jugs and he was as tipsy as a dinghy in a hurricane.
It was awfully quiet, so I decided to let base camp know of our situation. Pulling out the long distance radio, I started turning knobs and pushing buttons to get on the correct frequency. At first, there was nothing. Then it crackled to life, and I could hear a faint voice.
"Yes? Who's there?" the cautious voice asked. I knew right away who it was.
"It's me." There was a cry of relief from the feminine voice on the other end. My head moved away from the radio, my face cringing from the screech that entered my ear. I still could hear it after, as clear as the ringing of church bells. When I neared the radio again, I could hear babbling on the other end.
"...you were dead! It's been at least three hours, and you never called! Not even once! We were so worried and..and-" Her constant whining was already taking it's toll on me, adding to the pain in my ears. I had to stop her.
"Stop! Jill, we're fine, okay!" After took a breath in, then a slow breath out before returning to a calm state. "Now, I was calling to tell you that we are on our way back. We've picked up a couple of civilians, but Mathias..he took a hit-"
"WHAT?!" Once again, I had to cover the radio with my spare hand and throw my head back from the wailing on the other end, this time hitting the metal frame of the van. I rubbed my head, silently cursed then listened to the communication device. And once again, she had begun babbling on. "..leave it to him to be the one getting hurt! You just had to let him out on his own, didn't you?! I thought you should all go in pairs, but no! You think it might be better to each go alone!" The rest of it was quiet as I turned down the volume on it. Pinching the bridge of nose, I held my head low and shook it slowly, groaning in despair, wishing for her to stop. She went on for a whole minute before I decided to listen in. "Hello?! Are you even there?! Don't tell me you're dead!"
"We're fine!" I answered quickly, not wanting her to go on ranting again. "But I have to go. We're about to go through a tunnel."
"Tunnel? There's no tunnels. What are you- No! Don't you dare-" It was too late as I switched it off. And for extra measures, pulled out the batteries. The van was once again filled with silence. And this time, it felt good. My mind had quieted down, and I was peace. And it all disappeared when Mathias started snoring.
"God dammit! What does it take to get some peace around here?" I exclaimed, earning a light-hearted chuckle from the driver's seat.
Jason's POV
I expected that after my long sleep, I would feel refreshed. But I was very much the opposite. I dreamt that Chester was burning. Fire dropped from the sky in bombs, and the roar of gunfire and the deafening screams filled my head. I could only stand and watch, paralyzed as my parents were turned to ash before me. The last I remembered was the infamous captain marching towards me at a slow pace, then drawing his weapon on me. And the whole time, he smiled.
I had woken to find we had stopped again, and the door was open. The old Irish man was gone, as was the other man. I could hear indistinct voices not too far away, and one of them sounded angry. I dared to peek outside and saw that we were in a large warehouse. I found the younger man, and a woman. It was not the same woman I had seen before, though. Her figure was short and plump, and she was red-faced, which made her look extremely mean, her skin heavy with freckles. She had short hair carrot-orange hair with a long fringe at the front. Her short fingers barely poked out from her finger less gloves. She had khaki pants and a denim vest with cut off sleeves, a long sleeve undershirt covering her arms.
"I warned you to be careful! And this is what happens!" she scolded him, jabbing her fingers at him in an accusing way. He was about to make a remark back when he saw me, and stopped short.
"Excuse me, but our new guest is awake." She looked over to me and put on a wide smile.
"So that's the cutie that saved that jerk?" I already felt a blush by how she addressed me. Now I know who to thank for bringing him back." With another frown at him, she stomped off. He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly before turning to me.
"Thanks for that. I'm not sure what she would have done had you come any later. She's got a mean temper, but she's a gentle soul. Cares for all of us." I nodded slowly as I watched her in the distance. She reminded me of my mother when it was her time. I did not like to think on it. "So anyway, how was you sleep?" I shrugged. I wanted to tell him about my dream, but decided against it, and kept it to myself. "Okay then." There was an awkward silence, then his eyes gleamed for a second. "How about you see the others we rescued. You might know some." I shook my head enthusiastically, wanting to know if my parents had made it. Perhaps they were there, or maybe even Marcus. "Let's go then. Follow me." I followed him closely. We went across to a pickup truck, and behind was a group of people.
"Where are they going?" I asked.
"They're the others we rescued. We won't force them to say, so we are sending them to a safer place. Go on and see, I'll wait here." I darted to the group and looked at them one by one. Unfortunately, none were my parents or friends. One of them I recognized as the farmer's wife, but no one else. However ,they recognized. I could hear their whispers and murmurs behind me, possibly accusing me of things that had happened. With my head hung low on my shoulders and my shoulders slumped, I felt no hope and moped back to the man. "Any luck?" I shook my head, my eyes heavy with misery and despair. He placed a hand on my shoulder and spoke calmly, his words pushing the sadness back, "We'll save the rest. I promise." That lifted my hopes a bit, and brought a small smile to my face. "Let's get going. I think someone would like to thank you." With a hand on my back, he urged me forward to walk with him. I went with him willingly, wanting to get as far as I could from the other's accusing looks.
I was led past many rooms, some of them open. I glanced in each of them, catching glimpses of weapons, crates, beds and some other things. One of them was a room full of posters that I would rather not to have seen. They sent tingles up my spine, and my eyes went wide until we passed them. The man only kept his eyes forward until we came to another door with someone sitting outside of it.
"How is he?" the rebel asked. The man at the door looked up with tired eyes.
"He's good. If you want to see him, he's awake." The man with me nodded and we both went in. I found Mathias laying on a bed, his leg heavily bandaged. His eyes were droopy, but open.
"Wyatt! Greatter see yer!" he tried to yell, but it came out in a hoarse whisper. His eyes fell on me, and I expected his smile to fade. But in fact, it grew. "An' de fella who saved me arse. I 'av yer ter thank." He waved me over, and i obliged by sitting down in the chair next to the bed. He patted me on the arm, rather hard for what I expected, and grinned. "You'll be useful ter us, naw doubt. don't ye tink, Wyatt?" Wyatt shrugged, but his eyes and face said yes. Though I had to wonder what they meant.
"Ummm, what's he mean?" I asked. Before either could answer, a cold voice did it for them.
"It means they want you to join, idiot." I would have jumped if I was in Wyatt's position, because right beside him was the daughter of Mathias, Lydia.
"Watch yer gob, young lady. Tis man saved me life" Mathias growled at her. She glared at me and him, gritting her teeth. She crossed her arms and walked over, standing over both of us and blocking the light from me, casting me into her shadow. I shrunk back, but Mathias held his ground.
"Does it look like I care? Now I have to deal with you longer." Mathias strained himself to try and get up, but grunted in pain and laid back down.
"Lydia!" Wyatt called for her attention, and she faced him, her face lightening slightly. "Outside. Now." She paused, glaring back at me and her father, then turned and left. "I'll only be a second" Wyatt said politely, then left, closing the door behind him. I raised a brow. Mathias noticed it.
"I know, 'tis weird, innit? She acts as if 'e's 'er ol dad. Always looks up ter 'im." I sensed a hint of jealousy in his voice. "Ye'd best be aff whaen he comes back. Ask 'im for your quarters." I nodded, and when Wyatt returned, I asked. His stern face washed away and was replaced with the calm look.
"Of course." We started for the door, and he called back over his shoulder, "I'll be back soon, friend." Mathias muttered something, and I no longer could see or hear him as we went down the hall. A few doors down and we came to another room. Wyatt pushed the door open, revealing an almost empty room with two bunks. The grey concrete walls were bare, and one chest of drawers sat between the bunks. "That's mine on the left. You're free to choose from the bottom of mine or your own. I'll return soon." He left me to myself in the room. I decided to have one to myself and laid down on the bottom. Before I knew it, I had drifted off into another deep sleep.
And that's another chapter! Hope you guys enjoyed, and stay tuned for the next one. See you all later :)
