Chapter 8 The Truth Does Not Set You Free

It had been two days since Clayton left for his safe haven with the children and teens, and so far no skitter attack had come. Scouts reported that the roads were clear and the aliens were staying close to the massive structure, continuing their scavenging runs with their child slaves. It seemed more and more like the Mech attack the other night was just a random encounter instead of a pre-emptive strike against the school.

Still, tensions were high as the thought of an attack ran through everybody's mind. Some parents were regretting the decision they made regarding their kids, either now wanting them with Clayton instead of at the school or wanting their children with them at the school so they can be a family. Many people had withdrawn from the public eye and were packing backpacks just in case the skitters attacked and they had to make a quick escape.

Since everything seemed to come to a standstill around the school, Weaver had to order his non-essential fighters, meaning the ones who were injured or young, to help around the school with civilian tasks.

So for the past three or so hours I've been shuffling in between jobs, trying to find something that I'm good at. My arm injury had limited me in many tasks, so I could only do the most meaningless and boring tasks in the school. My first was relabeling all the boxes for food and clothing, since the 'permanent' marker had washed off. After about twenty minutes of this I was ready to bash my skull in and knew that I had to get out of there. So I found some little kids to help me, and then silently sneaked away while they were working diligently.

Next I went to help out in the lunch room, but it turns out people are paranoid about infection and didn't want somebody with bloody bandages giving out food. Sickness was at an all time high and Dr. Glass was working hard to keep people out of the infirmary, so she had passed out a list of things to do in order to prevent disease. One of those was to keep injured people away from the food.

Walking away from the cafeteria I met up with Scott, who needed help in his laboratory. "Since I've lost the youngest Mason boy to Clayton, I have had to do a lot more work. People think what I do is easy, but it isn't. An extra pair of hands always comes in handy."

So I helped Scott for about an hour, trying to fix things with just one good arm. He saw how I was struggling and decided to have me roll up film instead.

"I'm trying to get the film projector to work so we can actually have some electronic entertainment. It might be good for morale around here, ya know?"

"Ya, do you have any Looney Tunes in here Scott? They were my favorite when I was kid." I said, pressing and rolling the film.

"'fraid not Michael. And you can call me Uncle Scott, everybody else does." Scott said, tinkering with some satellite dish by the looks of it.

"Oh, do you mind if I just call you Scott?" I said. Just saying the word 'Uncle' brought up not so fond memories of my dear Uncle James.

Scott nodded confused, and then turned back to his satellite. Getting bored I got up from my seat and wondered over to where Scott was. He looked at me, nodding to the satellite. "Some fighters brought it back a week ago." He explained, "Weaver and Porter wants me to work on fixing this thing up so we can work use long range communications between the different regiments. Much easier and safer than sending out scouts."

"How's it coming?" I asked.

"Well I may be good with electronics, but this has got me stumped. I could defiantly use some help, and I've asked Weaver for it too. I hear the guys in the 7th Mass were good with electronics, but their gone."

After about another ten minutes I left the lab and went to the duty roaster in the fighter's wing. I looked to see if there were any open spots and saw that there was one guarding the roof around the courtyard. Eager to get outside and out of sight, I went to the armory and grabbed a pistol and one of the 47's we had, awkwardly holding it due to my left arm. I managed to get to the roof and I began the normal patrol motion of walking back and forth and looking up at the sky every once in awhile.

I looked down at the crowd in the courtyard, studying the people there. I saw my aunt and uncle, huddled with other parents no doubt talking about something unholy. My aunt looked up and saw me, her face rigid with anger and hatred towards me. My uncle looked up too, but he looked away not even bothering to acknowledge me anymore.

'Daryl! Help me get them out!' My mom called, going around to the entrance of the RV were my aunt and uncle were. The RV had crashed into a pole, shattering most of the front windows glass. Both of them were unconscious and I saw Bethany crying in the back.

My dad moved forward, shoving the door open and stepping inside. I heard Terry shouting and Bethany crying. 'Get them out of here!' My dad said to my mom. She waved me over and I helped them out of the RV, looking at my aunt and uncle.

For a second I thought they were dead, they sure looked like it. Uncle James's face was bloody and his neck was craned back with his mouth ajar. My aunt was lying down on the dashboard, her face buried underneath her hair. There was glass all around her, and trails of blood were going down the dashboard.

I had to back out of the RV and run around to the other side so nobody would see me throwing up. The smell was terrible and the sight was even worse. I cleaned off my mouth and went back towards the entrance where was mom was in an argument with my dad.

'We are going to get them out Daryl! We will not leave them!' She shouted.

'Sam, we don't have time! They're wedged into their seats and no doubt going to die!' my dad protested, hurt in his voice because of what he was proposing.

'No!' My mom said sternly, 'We are staying. We do not leave family behind. We do not forget family!'

I laughed to myself, thinking about how little that sentence meant to my aunt and uncle. They were willing to forget about me, they couldn't care less about my existence. I was an extra mouth to feed to my aunt and apparently to my uncle I was just a brand new punching bag.

"You look deep in thought." I heard a voice say behind me. I turned around to find Mr. Mason right behind me. He came up beside me, staring down at the crowd in the courtyard.

"Did you play sports?" He asked, pointing towards a bunch of kids playing soccer in the courtyard.

"Not really. I wasn't exactly the greatest athlete, so I was the guy who was picked last most of the time."

"Ben was like that." Mr. Mason said, reminiscing on some old memory. "He would try to be like his older brother with sports, but usually he found his way back inside. He preferred to read like me."

"He told me about that." I said.

"Ya." Mr. Mason said, nodding his head. "You know I appreciate you being friends with my son."

I chuckled, "You make it sound like a chore."

"Well you know the kids around here. They're influenced by their parents who fear the harnessed children that we've gotten back, so they ignore him mostly. Ben wasn't always social to start off with, so this makes things even harder for him."

I was considering telling Mr. Mason about the bruises that Ben had, but thought better of it. If Ben wanted his dad to know he would have told him. Even if I was pretty much Ben's best friend here, I haven't known the Mason's long enough to start messing around in their family.

"Well, he actually started talking to me first." I said.

Mr. Mason looked surprised. "Really?"

"Ya. To be honest I thought he was being annoying and just wanted him to go away, but he stuck around and now we're friends." I explained. That wasn't the truth, but the truth would kill Mr. Mason. 'The truth does not set you free.' I thought to myself.

"And I know that he's happy about that." Mr. Mason said. His eyes turned back to the courtyard and settled on my aunt and uncle. "That your family?"

"I would use the word 'family' loosely Mr. Mason." I said with bitterness.

"They give that to you?" Mr. Mason said, pointing to my right eye, where Uncle James's bruise had turned an ugly shade of yellow.

"No," I said stiffly, "I-"

"Banged it on something, tripped on something, take your pick Michael on what stupid excuse you're going to use." Mr. Mason said calmly. I felt my body tense up completely and anger flood through my body, ready to give a response that no doubt effect my friendship with Ben. "Ben told me that your aunt and or uncle had hit you." Mr. Mason said.

That stopped me, as another wave of emotions flooded through my body. I felt betrayed by Ben, how could he tell his dad that? I never told him what happened but Ben wasn't stupid so he would have figured it out. He did figure it out.

"He wanted you to move in with us." Mr. Mason said.

For the second time in just seconds I stopped. "Ben… wanted me to move in with you guys?" I said confused.

"He thought you were in a 'hostile environment' and thought it'd be best if you moved in with us. You could be around friends and start a new life."

"I…" I began, but nothing else came. I was stunned that Ben would actually care that much to propose something so… weird. Me, move in with the Masons?

"I told him that I couldn't do that because that would show favoritism towards certain fighters and that I had to put you in the barracks. He was disappointed, but he got over it." Mr. Mason said.

"I don't know what to say." I said honestly.

"You don't have to say anything. I just wanted to let you know that I'm thankful that you decided to get past Ben's… statues as a," Mr. Mason cringed, "Razor back."

"You're welcome." I said. Mr. Mason nodded and walked off the roof, leaving me to stare at him dazed. Nobody had said anything good about me in a long time, or at least something that made me feel good about myself.

I turned away, smiling. For once, I think I'm doing something right.

Later

Mr. Mason had left just after sunset to go and check on the children at the safe haven, sending many different feelings through the civilians.

Some thought that because Mr. Mason was going they should take it as a bad sign. If Mr. Mason was leaving to check on the kids himself, something must be wrong. Mr. Mason was just the person that trouble followed religiously. Other's felt a sense of hope since they felt like when Mr. Mason returned telling them how everything was going great over Clayton's haven they could send their kids there too. Some kids even had their bags packed in anticipation of seeing their friends again soon or just wanting to get out of the bleak atmosphere around the school.

I was assigned guard duty around the civilians, which was now just like a babysitting job. I would patrol the hallways around the civilian quarters and help get everybody settled in and ready to be up and running if the skitters attacked. Most families were ready but Weaver thought that some might try to take more than they could carry which would slow people down and cost lives. Weaver did not like people dying under his care.

After I finished my babysitting duties I walked outside and got a breath of fresh air. The nights were fairly cold and many of the night sentries were bundled up tightly. Some of them so tight I don't think they could properly handle their weapons if skitters came.

I looked up at the sky, seeing all the stars above. If there was one good thing about the invasion it was that the sky had cleared up considerably and one could see more stars then when there was light pollution.

One night I actually saw another planet and I began to think about where the skitters came from. No doubt it was hideous and dying, but they probably still kept momentums from their home. I made the mistake of asking Ben about that, asking if he had seen anything that could possibly tell us more about where the skitters had come from. Ben gave me a dirty look and responded 'no' before looking away.

I saw some fighters talking in a group, laughing quietly amongst themselves and felt a bit of jealously come up. I had only begun to realize how alone I was at the school without Ben and how few people I actually knew. Before I met Ben it wasn't so bad because I never thought about it, but now that I actually had a friend I saw just how anti-social I was.

I was tempted to join in on some conversations that I heard, but I knew that the civilians would want me to leave and the fighters would consider me too young to be talking with them. I actually felt kind of sad, wondering why I was so anti-social to begin with.

Wanting to get away from those happy people I went back inside. I decided to get some sleep in and in the morning try to convince Dr. Glass to let me go to the safe haven. My stitches were fine and I wasn't bleeding as much anymore, all I needed were some drugs and I was fine.

"I know." I heard a voice say behind me. I recognized that voice and turned in annoyance.

"Know what Aunt Cindy?" I asked, looking around. She had sure picked the place to ambush me since we were on the outer section of the school, with very few people around. I chose to come this way since it had fewer people and I would be less likely to be sent off on sentry duty for the night. Looks like I had my own stalker all the way here.

"I know how you used that razor back." She said, smiling triumphantly. I refused to cringe in front of my aunt so I tried to keep my face passive. 'I guess she no longer cares about stereotyping the razorbacks I guess.' I thought to myself.

"Who?" I asked. "I don't know anybody with the name 'razor back'."

"Mason's kid!" She spat, moving closer to me with her fist clenched. "You didn't think we wouldn't figure it out! You befriended him and now that's made you a fighter! Do you know what that's done to our family?"

I scoffed, "I don't give a damn since it's your family."

"Our family!" My aunt said with care in her voice. "You are part of this family as well!"

I had to laugh at that as I leaned in closer to my aunt, squinting my eyes at her. "Your insane if you believe that Cindy."

My aunt looked like she had just been slapped. "I am your aunt Michael! You will address me with respect! We looked after you after your parents got killed, feeding you and clothing you. We treated you like one of our own."

"Oh please!" I shouted, "You gave me misery and crap and dare call it love and support. You didn't care about me or my parents! You just 'looked after me' to keep your conscience clear, but I can see that you have moved along just fine now that I'm gone."

Cindy's expression changed radically, the caring expression gone and the cold calculating one that I had grown us to replacing it. "You were always just an extra mouth to feed. But now you have use."

"I'm not doing anything for you." I said walking away. My aunt was surprisingly fast though, managing to get in front of me, blocking my way.

"My son went running away from this place like a scared little boy. That wouldn't have happened if he was a fighter!"

"Your right, he would have been dead because his fellow fighters would of shot him for incompetence! Like father like son I guess." I retorted with a crocked smile.

"How dare you!" My aunt shouted.

"We're done here." I said, but my aunt blocked my way again.

"Not unless you want the Masons knowing how you've used their poor Ben for your own purposes!" Cindy said smiling like a mad women. I froze, unable to say anything. "Make my son a fighter, or I will tell that razor back how his only friend used him. That ought to go down bad for you, and not only with just you and that thing but with the entire 2nd Mass and especially Tom Mason."

I feared that this would happen, that someone would tell Ben that I used him. But I never pictured somebody using it against me.

"Does Terry even want to fight?" I asked with an edge in my voice.

"He will." My aunt said coolly. I smiled, knowing that Terry had no desire to want to fight. He would be forced into something that he wasn't ready for or willing to do just to serve his parents sick desires. No doubt they'd be selling off poor Bethany soon enough.

I walked around my aunt, silently walking towards my room. "You have three days, or I tell!" Cindy shouted out behind me. I got back to my room and plopped down in my cot. I had no idea what to do, but now I knew why I wasn't social.

'People are jerks.' I thought.


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