Sorry this took so long to get up. been busy with the last months of school though now im going to be on vacation so I'm back to writing. also hada bit of writers block thoug now im over it and i should update next week, or later this week.

THANKS TO ALL WHO HAVE REVIEW I LIVE FOR THE REVIEWS IT MAKES ME FEEL LIKE IM DOING A GOOD JOB

Chapter 18:

Three weeks had passed since our expensive meeting with Lei Chu. The papers he gave us blew through a large chunk of Ingrid's savings. When we started to run low on food money Ingrid searched for work. She was able to find a place in a small suburban town called River Town that would pay us under the table.

River Town was a city torn by the war. All of the men were gone, being forced to fight, houses were abandoned in the rush to flee the battles and churches and schools were in rubble from fires.

Families tried to defend their meager belongings from looters scraping together any food they could find or save. Mothers kept their kids close to home, parks and playgrounds were completely deserted, no longer filled with laughter.

Expansionists had gained ground in Pennsylvania, including this town. Before we came here the army had swept through pulling any man over the age of 16 to fight.

The Expansionists gathered only the strong able bodied men in their army giving them a sturdier army, though the Philosophers had both men and women giving them an advantage in numbers.

The high school had been burned down, but the gym stood tall with minimal damage. The gym was used as a makeshift clinic since the official one was overfilled with patients. People from neighboring towns come here knowing they wouldn't be turned away. It wasn't long till the clinic was filled with the sick and injured but unfortunately the clinic was also understaffed.

This was where Ingrid and I got work.

Since I was a fire explorer back home, I was taught first aid and CPR. During my junior year I also took a nursing class, so I was asked to help in the clinic. Old mattresses were scavenged or donated to the clinic and were raised on wooden pallets; rope was strung across the ceiling with old bed sheets used as curtains.

Next to the gym were small portable classrooms that survived from the fires. This was where Ingrid shined. She was teaching self-defense to women, teenage girls and children. Reports from larger cities revealed that children were being kidnapped, killed, or sold to the military to be raised as killing machines. When these terrifying events had reached the smaller towns; Ingrid took it upon herself to give the kids of this town a chance to protect themselves.

Ingrid and I slept in her car or if there was room, in the spare beds inside. It was hard at first; getting used to being called Tyson and always having to remember to act like a boy. Alfred helped out in that department by controlling my voice and passing me along tips of how to act. Still, it didn't stop me from subconsciously scanning to my surroundings, constantly in fear of being discovered.

After a while things got easier; I made friends with the patients and kids naturally liked playing with me. Actually people would comment how it was so easy for them to talk to me, and some occasional thought they have met me before; though they passed it off as me just having one of those faces.

"Tyson can you dump this and add fresh water?" Mona, the head nurse, rolled an old beat up mop bucket of murky water in my direction.

"Sure Mo," I nodded with a grin. She gave a small smile back before walking off. I grabbed the bucket handle with both hands and half carried half dragged it towards the door.

A couple of regulars waved and called out my name as I passed. I greeted back with a hello and kept walking towards the door.

The sky was overcast and fog hugged the ground giving the air a crisp chill. This didn't stop children from playing in the grass as their mothers and other adults kept an eye on them. As I walked to the back of the building where the hose was, allowing me to see Ingrid teaching some girls simple defense moves.

The chill bit into my skin causing a tremor to climb up my spine. My eyes were closing ever so slowly, a dull ringing echoed in the back of my head. This had become a common thing; my endurance was low, making the simplest tasks tire me out. My hearing wasn't as good as it once was, my skin was clammy and I got mysterious bruises everywhere as well as the occasional burn. I kept this hidden from Ingrid; she helped me enough, I didn't want to trouble her anymore.

Rustle.

I jumped at the sudden noise, my boot knocking into the bucket soaking my foot. The noise had come from the small wooded area in a ravine a few feet away from where I stood. The tall trees disappeared into the fog, the bushes were also half covered in the thick mist, and orange and murky brown leaves blanketed the forest floor.

Rustle. Snap.

The noises came closer and closer. I gripped the pocket knife Ingrid forced me to carry around in my jacket.

"H-help." A soft cry called out. Through the fog a faint shadow lumbered around slowly coming into view. The figure reached the edge of tree line before falling forward, the thump resounded through the ravine.

"Ingrid!" I shouted sprinting over. I could hear her directing everyone inside and calling for others to help. I slid down to my knees on to the damp grass ignoring the freezing cold water seeping through my jeans. Stumbling over and over I slid across the wet leaves kneeling next to the mystery man.

He was about Ingrid's height and nicely built with muscles all in the right places. His back heaved up and down ever so slightly letting me know he was still breathing and the navy blue clothing he wore was damp. "Sir, can you hear me?" I shook his shoulder. Getting no response, I struggled to flip him onto his back.

Mud and leaves coated his torn and tattered pants blood was dripping down his legs from deep scratches and scabs from walking through bushes and brambles. His jacket was damp from the leaves he had fallen on as well as fresh blood from a wound that had soaked through the cloth.

The entire right half of his body was drenched in warm blood and the entire bottom half of his arm was missing. The only reason he wasn't dead was because he had tied off the bloody end staunching the blood flow.

My heart stopped. I should have known with the shade of blue he was wearing. But if that wasn't enough, the blood could not cover the patch of an owl in flight on his breast pocket.

This guy was a Philosopher.

"He's finally asleep," Conner Smith, the main doctor whispered. After three hours of agonizing screams, we were able to patch him up. It had taken me and three other men to hold him down but he wasn't in any danger of dying. His right arm was blown off and badly mangled as well as his right leg. Conner suspected it may have been blown off in one of the explosions we had heard in the distance for the past three days. Part of his left ear had been cut off and he wouldn't be able to see out of his left eye, that's if he survived the night.

"What are we going to do Conner?" I whispered placing a wet cloth on the soldier's forehead. "Once word gets around that he is a Philosopher everyone will be rioting to throw him on the streets."

Conner thought long and hard about his answer before replying with a sympathetic smile. "We just have to make sure that won't happen," he patted my head with a chuckle. "You're a good kid but let's leave this to the grownups alright?"

"How many times do I have to tell you not to treat me like a little kid!" I snapped. Though I helped out the most around the clinic, people couldn't help but treat me like a kid. It also didn't help that my new papers stated that I was 15.

"I know but you remind me of my little brother," Connor smirked sadly. Conner was a young med school graduate, the only reason he wasn't fighting was because his family had hid him from the parties when they came knocking, so they took his little brother Scott instead.

Connor had brown eyes and long blonde hair, usually tied in a low ponytail. He was also tall and 28, making him very popular with the women around here.

"Connor," Ingrid interrupted moving aside the curtains. "The others called a meeting about, well," she nodded at the man in the bed. "They're meeting in the locker rooms."

"Right," Conner sighed tiredly. "Tyson would you mind staying here and keeping an eye on our patient?"

"M-me?" I stuttered in shock. He seemed surprised by my anxiety, even Ingrid's eyes widened in worry. Though who could blame me? This guy was at least twice my size, twice my weight, not to mention the Philosophers were still looking for me!

Ingrid bit her lip and rolled her eyes. "He's asleep and probably won't be up for a couple hours, you just have to sit here and make sure nothing happens." Easy for her to say, Ingrid wasn't afraid of anything!

"If you say so," I finally sighed in defeat. Ingrid and Conner both patted me on the shoulder before walking away, shutting the curtains behind them.

It was quiet, well as quiet as it could be around here, with people coughing and moaning in pain while tossing and turning in their beds. I could just barely hear the other adults talking, their voices unknowingly flowing into the gym. The few words I could make out didn't sound promising; "throw him out" and "Philosopher scum" were some of the phrase I heard.

"They're trying to vote on whether or not to let me die or not," the hoarse whisper made me jump in surprise nearly spilling the pitcher of water from the bedside table. Now that he was all cleaned up the soldier looked somewhat better. No longer being covered in mud, blood and grime meant I could actually see his face now. He was average looking, though his skin was pale from blood loss it was clear it used to be a very healthy beige. His eyes were cloudy though the hazel still showed slightly. His face was very scarred up, with burns ranging from minor to one that nearly took his ear off.

"Y-You should be sleeping," I stuttered quickly.

"Kinda hard to sleep when the people who just saved your life are talking about whether or not to throw you back in the gutter," he snarled, his eyes almost glowing with malice. He must have seen my startled look because the glare quickly changed into a grimace. "Sorry," he sighed, sinking back into his pillows. "I shouldn't have snapped like that." He turned and smiled softly at me. "What's your name kid?"

"Tyson," I replied still uneasy. "You?"

"Full name's Jackson Lancaster but my friends call me Jack."

"Well it's nice to meet you Jack."