I can see my mother sitting there flipping through that old photo album. She's only a little child in these photos but she knows every last person in them. She always tells stories about her grandfather and the adventures they got into back on the farm. She tells these stories even though they hurt her a little each time. The pictures slide and find a new resting place each time she closes the album. I watch her as she seemingly drifts past me into the kitchen. A sharp pain in my arm draws my attention away from her. I open up my eyes to see a make shift tent surrounding me. What the hell? The pain in my arm comes back into focus. A long plastic tube is coming out of it. A gust of wind ruffles the sides of the tent. I look underneath the blanket; I don't have any clothes on. I plop my head back onto the pillow. My legs are sore and my stomach is uneasy. Sleep slowly starts to reel me back in before a couple of voices break through the silence. "I need more supplies; how am I supposed to do my job if I have nothing to treat anyone with" says a woman's voice in the distance. The conversation is an unfriendly one at best. "The top priority is to keep everyone safe, we can't keep looking for supplies every time we run out." Coming from the tone of his voice it sounds like he is in charge. The place falls silent as they enter my room. Neither one of them says a word while entering. Her hair is up while her head is down, too busy scanning through a stack of papers to be bothered with anything else. Meanwhile the man with the well-kept beard keeps his steely eyes on me the entire time. After a while she turns around and places a hand on my forehead. I had forgotten what the human touch feels like. "I'm glad your awake" she says through her southern accent. "When we found you, you were dehydrated beyond belief." She looks at me expecting a response but with the big guy in the corner staring a hole in me I can't come up with anything. "It's all right" she says as she sits down in a chair beside the bed. She continues "how about we start with your name can you tell us that?" They both look at me without blinking an eyelid. "Um" I say before choking on my own tongue. "Alex." She breathes a sigh of relief before continuing on "and how old are you Alex?" I tell her sixteen even though that's not true. The questions continue until I ask one of my one. "So how did you find me?" The large man uncrosses his arms and says "son I saw you running down the street like you were a rabbit at a dog race." He lets out a quick laugh before continuing "you're pretty fast I'll give you that." Several questions run through my mind but I hesitate to speak another word. "Do you think you could get out of bed and stand up?" she asks while the vein in her forehead throbs. "Um, sure" I reply with my voice cracking. The sheets on the bed crinkle as I reposition myself. I slide my feet towards her. They watch silently while showing no signs of giving me any assistance at all. I would have never expected what I felt next. It was not the ability to stand or the disbelief that I was okay, it was the feel of the dirt and patchy grass on the bottom of my bare feet. It's been so long since I've had this feeling. I forgot how your feet sink into the ground if only just a little bit. During this small epiphany I've failed to notice their attention being drawn away. It isn't until she races away from me that I notice something else is going on. A commotion is happening just beyond the tent. I slowly follow the man and woman out and see what is going on.
A couple of battered and bruised young men leave the scene while the smell of dirt and sweat lingers upon them. "So what's the situation here" the doctor asks in a controlled manner. A baritone voice booms from a small Hispanic male. "We have an elder female, approximate age sixty, she seems to have suffered a gunshot to the right hip, she has lost a lot of blood." The doctor doesn't hesitate, "I'll need an IV, antibiotics, a blood bag, morphine and some bandages, but first I need to take a look at the wound to see what the damage is." As soon as she places her hand on the woman's side the elderly woman passes out. The doctor's clean hands quickly become covered in blood. "What's the situation doctor?" asks the big guy. "Well it seems that the bullet passed cleanly through her but she has lost a lot of blood and her wound is not looking good I may need to perform surgery if I can't stop the bleeding." The Hispanic male starts to enter the room with the supplies but is stopped by the big guy. "What are you doing Roy?" she asks standing over the patient. "We're not using all these supplies on her?" the big guy says. "Don't start this crap I can save her." He looks her dead in the eyes, "Tina, we both know that saving her is a maybe at best, we're running out of supplies and I don't like to be the one to say this but what good is saving an elderly woman's life to us." Tina puts her head down while Roy continues "we have to make tough choices, we only need to save people who can return the favor and help us out with our cause." He looks toward me "people like Alex over here." That seems to infuriate her even more "and what is our cause anymore, to just save the ones who can fight and kill even more people!" The room is silent for a few moments, Tina straightens her white coat leaving bloody prints on it and walks towards the exit which is beside me. She pauses for a second to look me directly in the eyes, "welcome to the Fireflies."