Ollie turned around, not slowly but cautiously.
About five feet away him, a small teenaged boy with long, tousled black hair had an arrow pointed at him.
Ollie took a deep breath. "Hello." He said.
The boy continued to keep the arrow pointed at him. He was wearing faded jeans and an old jacket with the sleeves torn off.
"Put the bow down." Ollie said carefully.
The boy shook his head.
"Why not?" Ollie asked.
The boy's eyes narrowed.
Ollie sighed. "I said-"
The boy let go of the shooting string, letting the arrow go.
Ollie didn't even flinch as the arrow flew by his face and imbedded it's self in the wall behind him. "Was that a warning?" He asked.
The boy nodded quickly.
"Okay." Ollie said. "Warning for what?"
The boy shrugged, gripping another arrow that hung on his waist.
Ollie sighed. "What are you doing here?" He asked.
"Watching you." The boy murmured.
"Me?"
The boy nodded.
"Why?"
"You don't belong here." The boy said quietly, glaring at Ollie. "You're not welcome."
"I'm trying to find out what happened here." Ollie said, stepping toward the boy.
In a matter of a second, the boy had another arrow mounted and aimed at Ollie. "Why?" He hissed. "It's too late. You can't do anything for us now."
Ollie felt sadness well up in him when he heard the slight trembling in the boy's voice. "We can still help you-"
"I don't need help." The boy said, his voice trembling.
Ollie was sure that if he was closer to the boy he would see tears. "Are there any others?"
"There all dead!" The boy yelled. "You didn't help them!"
Ollie flinched. The boy had been so quiet the whole time, he wasn't expecting him to yell.
"I'm all that's left." He said, barely above a whisper. His arms were shaking, causing the bow to wobble dangerously.
"Can you put that down please?" Ollie asked.
The boy lowered the bow completely, looking at the ground as his body was wracked with silent sobs. He put the arrow back in the quiver hanging on his waist. He put an arm and his head through the bow and let it hang on his shoulder, the shooting string resting against his chest.
"Are you okay?" Ollie asked, looking hesitantly at the crying teen. He never had any kids, just Roy. And Roy had always took care of his problems himself. He had absolutely no ideae how to comfort him.
"Leave." The boy said.
"I can't leave you, it would be ranked in child neglect." (don't ask which state)Ollie said as he walked towards the boy. "How long have you been here alone?"
The boy shrugged.
"What's your name?" Ollie asked, kneeling in front of the boy.
When the kid looked at Ollie, Ollie could see that he had bright green eyes- now of which were slightly red- with dark circles underneith.
"What's your name?" He asked again.
The boy was now breathing shakily, but the tears were still comming. "T-Turnip..." He said quietly.
Turnip?
Ah, Turnip!
"Turnip Betson?" Ollie asked.
Turnip gave him a questioning look and nodded.
"I was suppose to keep an eye out for you," Ollie said, putting his hand on Turnip's shoulder.
Turnip didn't say anything, just swallowed thickly and looked away.
"Are your brother and sister gone?" Ollie asked quietly.
Pain showed on Turnip's face before he nodded.
"Turnip, you need to come with me, okay? You can't be here by yourself."
"This is were I belong." Turnip said. "I can't leave."
Ollie closed his eyes and rubbed his temple. "Kid, you really have to come with me."
Turnip shook his head and pulled away from Ollie.
"Turnip, please. I know its not fair, but you need to come with me."
"You'll send me away..." Turnip said quietly.
"What do you mean?" Ollie asked.
"Were all the kids that no body wants go..." Turnip said, crying again.
"You can stay with me, but you can't stay here." Ollie said, trying to reason with the boy.
Turnip looked at Ollie, his green eyes wide. "S-Stay with you?" He whispered.
"If I let you stay with me for a while, will you come with me?"
"For a while." Turnip said dully."Then you'll send me away."
"Turnip."
Turnip flinched, stumbling backwards away from Ollie. "D-Don't be mean...please..."
Ollie sighed and stood up. This kid was just ready to skewer him, and now he's asking Ollie not to be mean to him.
"Can you stay here for a minute?" Ollie asked.
Turnip nodded.
Ollie walked out of the building and pulled out his cell phone. He dialed a number and then put the phone to his ear.
"Hello?"
"It's Ollie."
"Hey!" Barry said cheerily. "How's the investiongation goin-"
"There was a survivor."
"...That's impossible."
"Obviously." Ollie said sarcasticly. "Turnip Betson."
"Uh...thirteen year old ebony, right?"
"Yeah, though he acts like he's eight-"
An arrow shot at him and landed by his foot.
"You need to bring him here." Barry said.
"I know," Ollie said, watching as Turnip came outside and sat down at his feet. "He's being reluctant."
"Really? I would be haulin' ass tryin' to get out of there."
"What am I suppose to do with him?"
"I don't know. Just make sure you come back with him and the samples."
"Alright."
"Good luck." Barry said before hanging up.
Ollie put his phone in his pocket and looked down at Turnip.
Turnip looked up at Ollie innocently. What?, he mouthed.
"You know what." Ollie said.
Turnip shhrgged and stood up. He grabbed Ollie's hand and started pulling him in the direction of the houses.
"What are you doing?"
"Nothing." The boy said. "Green Arrow."