Chapter 1

White, untouched snow had fallen freshly on the floor outside. It reached all the way to the broad wall that closed the town off to the world.

On the bed was a young girl, about fifteen, drawing. The tip of the pen beating on the paper, making a scratchy sound that was relaxing to the ear. Every stroke elegantly resembled the picture with ease. She leaves the wall out, still wonder what was beyond the barrier.

The young girl had tights that evenly spread out evenly along her legs. She had a fancy white turtleneck and a flannel skirt. She had eyes crisp blue and her hair, strikingly long and sandy. She kept looking up out the window with a close precision, slowly again, filling the paper. A slight knock startled her. The door opened and a middle-aged man walked in. The lines around his eyes remade his stress and fear. “Merry Christmas Claira.” He whispered silently with a crackle, so silent that you could barely hear his voice, “Have a surprise for you.”

“But Dad, we aren’t supposed to celebrate Christmas anymore.” Clair spoke to him recklessly.

“Shh, keep your voice down.” Her father said hoarsely as he closed the blinds of the window. He turned around; the room was now dimed down with only a little light shattering in. He sat at the edge of the bed and ruffled something out of his pocket. Claira gasped, eyes almost bursting out of her sockets. It was a handgun.

Her father placed his finger on his lips, “I’m giving you this because I trust you to use it for you and your brother’s protection.”

“But he’s older than I am, why give it to me?” Claira whispered.

“Because he will brag about it. Don’t mention this to anybody and use it wisely. Keep it with you at all times, even at school.” He said vigorously, finally looking into Claira’s eyes. He handed her the gun and smiled weakly, “Get ready to go to school.” And he kissed her on her forehead.

“Okay.” Claira said with a smile and two dimples revealed themselves. Her father left the room, closing the door silently so it made a little click. Claira drew the blinds again. A vast amount of light soared around her room. Suddenly her alarm started to go off, warning her to get to school. She grabbed her school bag and put her notebook and gun inside it.

She gracefully stomped downstairs and enter the kitchen to  kiss her mother goodbye on the cheek. Her brother, sandy-haired too and nose identical to hers was sitting down finishing up his breakfast.

“Going early again?” He rolled his eyes with bits of cereal still in his mouth. Droplets of milk started spilling on his shirt.

“Maybe.” Claira said mischievously. She grabbed two waffles from the table and stuffed one in her pocket while she gorged down the other one down.

“Or are you going to Louis’s house again?” He said noticing her action.

“No I’m not I have to turn in some homework early.” She said with waffle still in her mouth.

“Down talk when there’s food in your mouth Claira. Anyways, do you need a ride?” Her mother asked.

“No, I’ll just walk.” Claira decided, biting her upper lip.

“I’m telling you Claira, stay away from that boy’s house, his father is as drunk as a skunk.” Her mother said, concerned.

“I know mom.” Claira complained as she headed for the garage for her bike.

As Claira was settled on the bike’s seat, she drove on the rigid pavement that was covered in frozen ice. She rode for a couple minutes, passing every house that was bland and covered with snow, all identical to each other. Then it started getting more uncared for. Trash on the lawns, shady characters on their porches staring at her, and roads were cracked with potholes every few feet within each other.

Claira pulled up to a driveway that led to a tiny house, who’s paint was crumbling on the outside like scales of a snake, shedding out of its outer layer. Claira put her bike against the tree across from the sidewalk and sat down, starting to flipping through her notebook of old pictures before cameras were banned from their town. A loud yell came from the house chaotically, Claira looked up on alert with her eyes wide open.

She flips to the next page after a while to her drawing of a boy with very descriptive details. His hair in curly locks, hair darker than Claira’s and his face innocent and bony.

A loud scream fills the thin air, echoing throughout the street. Claira immediately puts her notebook in her bag. At the same time, a scrawny boy rushes outside on the break of tears, scared out his mind. He wipes his eyes on his sleeve and pulls himself together as if nothing had just happen a few seconds ago. It is the boy in the drawing.

“Hey, are you okay Louis?” Claira asks softly, “what happened back there?”

“Nothing.” His voice trembling, “Can we just get away from here.”

Claira picked up her bike, walking next to Louis’s side. his pale radiant skin gleamed with the snow, his eyes, big and wide with terror written in them; they were pure black. She hands him the waffle from her pocket and Louis scoff it down like there’s no tomorrow. Claira notices the gash mark that was slowly painting his skin on the back of his neck a rich color of red.

“Louis,” Claira started, “please tell me what happened back there, there’s a gash on the back of your neck and you haven’t been at school in over a week.”

Louis sighed and looks afar, “My dad got mad, that’s all.”

“And.” Claira stopped his path.

“And he raged on on how I killed my mom. How this was my fault we’re living like this. So he threw his beer bottle at me while I was leaving. There, happy?” He shrugged, moving around Claira, taking another bite out of the waffle.

“No but concerned. You’ve got to tell someone.” Claira told him, turning around.

“No, I can handle it myself.” Louis said weary. He cover his wound with his hood, cowering towards the floor with his hands in his pockets. They walked down a block or two in silence. Claira urged to tell him the new about what happened that morning.

“I have to show you something. But I can’t tell you here. It’s for Christmas from my father.” Claira said looking around so no one could hear them.

“Christmas?!” Louis said with confusion.

“Shh!” Claira warned him, covering his mouth. The neighbor across the stared at them suspiciously as she let her dog out to do it’s business.

“Christmas,” Louis said, now whispering, “we can’t celebrate it, you know the law. We haven’t celebrated it in years.”

“I mean it really isn’t for Christmas.” Claira rephrased herself. The school was right in front of them. Kids were all filing into the small school. Louis looked down at the ground as they get closer to the crowd of people. Claira locked her bike up outside on the bike stands and they both walked inside the narrow door to a warm humid hallway. All the lockers were painted a bland beige, identical to each other. There was a loud whistle that blow behind them made by a fool, it followed by hysterical laughter.

“Just keep waking Louis.” Claira whispered.

“Well, well, well, look what we have here. Princess and the ugly-ass toad. He hasn’t even changed in his clothes years.” Said a teenager, 17, who wore ripped off sleeves that revealed a tattoo of a dragon, angry and fierce. He had a cigarette in his mouth like a cowboy kid playing sheriff. His features being overwhelmingly horrifying but there was something else to him unsettling as he made fun of Louis. His friends howled behind him, acting as if they were drunk.

Louis and Claira turned to their lockers that were across from each other, pretending like they didn’t hear the boys behind them. Louis was blinking violently as he stared down at his locker, grabbing his books trying to buzz out the kid with the tattoo.

“Oh, so Marlee isn’t going to talk here, is he?” the teenager laughed.

Louis turned around to head to class, but instead the teen stood in front of him, standing tall above his head with his chest broad and his long blonde hair like a lion’s mane. Louis moved to his sides but the teen’s friends blocked his way, one with too many pimples and the other with a crooked tooth.

“Where ya going Marlee?” He asked sarcastically, pushing him against the lockers, letting Louis back-clash painfully against the locker, dropping his books on the floor. His hands shook and he was breathing heavy. Rick ruffled his hair but Louis studied the floor carefully, creating a lump in his throat, scared even to just move.

“Leave me alone Rick.” Louis stuttered with a tremble in his voice as he gritted his teeth.

“Oh yeah, what are you going to do aye?” Rick said, blowing his cigarette in his face, gray smoke pushing into Louis’s face, causing him to choke. There was a faint smell of alcohol from his breath.

Rick pushed him again against the locker again, leaning in on Louis closer, “Were all waiting Marlee. Do something to impress us all!” Rick said loud enough for the whole hall to hear. Everyone froze in silence, watching the two standoff,  “You won’t, because your weak.”

“Rick!” a little voice said loudly behind him. He turned around. His friends holding Louis down as he tried to break free.

“Hello princess.” He said sweetly with a bitter smile across his dazed face. Unexpectedly, Claira slaps him hard across his stoned face. Rick avoided Claira’s eyes, looking towards the exit doors, pursing his lips tightly.

“You leave Louis alone!” She yelled. Her eyes becoming raged.

Rick looked at her oddly, “Why do you even hang out with this loser anyways.”

“I said leave him alone.” Claira repeated, putting her foot to the ground.

“What’s going on?” A teacher demanded, “Patrick Rogerson?”

“Crap, scram.” Rick and his friends ran, letting go of Louis. He collapsed to the ground, wheezing, his eyes racing back and forth.

“Louis?” Claira said getting down to her knees. She had witnessed this happened before. But nobody knew what really was happening to him. Most tell him he had an asthma attack, others would say he’s overreacting. But Claira knew it wasn’t any of those because it became worse overtime.

The teacher got down too on her knees to help the suffocating child before him. He picked him up and together, they rushed to the nurse's office. Students flying to the wall, getting out of the way for the three of them to pass by the confined space they had. Other teachers were curious to know what the commotion was about but before they could even catch a glimpse, they were gone in a matter of seconds with only a gust of wind to be left for them.

Once they made it to the office, the teacher, out of breath, sat him upright on the nurses bed as Louis seems panicked and overwhelmed by the purple room. The nurse rolled her chair over, seemingly calm. She was fairly old with round thick glasses. She wore a heavy chunk of make-up and a whiff of over-exaggerated perfume. A Betty Boop poster hung over her desk office like she was still a little girl in the 1930’s.  

“Just breath. In and out, slowly.” She said, putting down her burning cigarette. Louis nodded trying to breath. His hands shaking violently. Looking around the room frantically like his was insane. His breathing was slowing down but it was still a rapid fire. Claira closed her eyes and hoped for him to be okay, whispering to herself while rocking back and forth: breath, breath.

“In and out Louis.” The nurse said calmly to him. Something in her voice made him slow down, and in no time, Louis was breathing normally. Sweat ran all over his body, his blinking was consistent and his hands didn’t tremble as violently as they were. He was immediately brought into himself, thinking of a memory of his father’s tall stature over him a he saw a belt clear as day ready to hit him as he wheezed. “Are you okay Louis?” The nurse said to him, coming back to the present time.

He nodded, looking up at her with his eyes glistening.

“I’m going to call your father to see if you can go home.” She told him, picking up the phone.

“No. I’m not going home. I’m staying.” He expressed with a demanding tone.

“Are you sure? I’m worried about you.” The nurse asked, taken aback.

“Yes I’m sure.” Louis replied.

“Do you have an inhaler?” The nurse asked him.

“No.” Louis said.

“Any, pills, medication?” She asked once more.

“No.” Louis repeated.

“I know this has been going on for a few month but you need to tell your father.” The nurse told him. Louis looks at the floor. “Tell me, why do you hide it from him.”  There was a long pause. The nurse suddenly sighed and turned to her desk, writing on a little note pad.

“I’m going to give you this note. Show it to your father. Then I want you and your father to go down together to the pharmacy and get the antibiotics you need. Your lungs aren’t developing correctly. Don’t hold this back.” She said, giving him the note with sorrow in her eyes, “As for you, Claira, make sure he give it to his father.”

Claira nodded surely, “Will do.”

“Now, you two go off to class.” The nurse told them, “Already you two have missed some of first hour.” The two of them got to their feet, approaching to leave the nurses office, “And Louis.” She said, halting them again, “I really am worried about you.”

Louis nodded, looking down. She knew something was up with him at home. The two walked out of the office and into the silent hallway.

“Janitors, now.” Claira said as soon as they were far away from the office. Silently they walked swiftly towards the tiny closet in the far corner of the small school. Claira grabbed a pin out of her wavy sandy hair and started to pick at the lock on the door as soon as they reached there. Louis looked around and made sure nobody was going to find them out of class to get them in trouble. The two heard a clicking noise from the knob and looked both at each other with Louis impressed and Claira satisfied. She opened the door to darkness and the two of them stepped into the closet that smelled like cleaning chemicals and mold in one. Louis grabbed the yarn that was dangling from the light bulb and brought brightness to the small storage space.

“Before I show you this,” She started with her eyes twinkling, “Don’t tell anyone, promise.”

Louis nods firmly, “Promise.”

Claira sighed nervously, putting her hand in the bag slowly and pulls out the shiny handgun with mahogany wood placed as the handle and dark silver with medal carvings on top of the gun’s body. Six bullets were loaded in it but the safety was put on so it didn’t act up in Claira’s hand when she held it in between them.

Louis gasped with his face lit up with shock, “A gun!”

“Shh! Keep your voice down.” Claira warned looking up at him, then the closet door, back to the gun.

“But why would your dad give you this?” Louis asked.

“That’s my question, I don’t know why. He could have gave it to my brother, or himself, but he chose me.” Claira said examining it in her hand. It felt bulky in her hand for something so small and murderous.

“Maybe he knows about something.” He suggested, scratching his left cheek. It turned into a bright red after he put his hand down to his side.

“If he did, wouldn’t he tell me?” Claira said looking up into Louis’s eyes, he was more gangly than her in height but Louis was much more sensitive and insecure.

“Who knows, there’s tons of secrets here.” Louis shrugged, “This town is already fishy enough.”

“How do you know?” Claira testified, cocking her eyes tightly at him.

“Remember we had to get rid of our T.V.’s, radios, cameras and Weapons that could kill someone in an instant?” Louis asked.

“Yeah, why?” Claira replied.

“Well, that was the same day when we had to sign a contract about the wall. All of us had to sign it. Even younger kids too.” Louis emphasize.

“Yeah, weird. We were cut off from the whole world when they explained to us that day what happened.” Claira said, starting to catch onto something

“What happened to the world around us is fake.” Louis admitted.

“Yeah but how do you know?” Claira asked. She unsure of weather to believe him or not but Louis never lied to her. He’d never lie to anyone.

“Come to my house. Hopefully my dad won’t be home.” Louis said, “I have something to show you.” Claira was a bit confused.

“You’re sure it’s safe? I’ve never been inside your house and you know your dad.” Claira asked, worried.

“It’ll be fine.” Louis insured thoroughly. He sounded as if it was completely safe for them to go over to his house. Like there was nothing lurking there like his father. The two left the closet as the bell rang loudly throughout the school and the halls were being crowded with kids getting to their next class.

But little did they know, in the vent was a tiny microphone that caught all of their words that they just coverstated about in the closet. It led to a facility that heard every call, every conversation, every transaction that went on in that little town, ghostly hidden between three towering mountains and a wall that enclose them off from outside.

A woman, stood up; her skirt too tight along with the business suit she wore and her ginger hair that was hair-sprayed into a stiff hair-do. Her nostrils flared up on her tiny nose, the sound of her heels were over exaggerated a the rest of the operators peeled their eyes on her, unable to focus.

“Let’s go, get back to work.” A bald, fat man clapped fircely. The operator in front of him jolted backwards, startled as he got back to his computer.  The bald man raised his black coffee to his mouth, starting to gulp down the hot liquid as the lady whispered in his ear to tell him the new that had just occurred a few minutes ago. He choked on his coffee and looked at the lady stunned as she nodded surely.

He started to run out of the room, already out of breath, sweating. He pushed the two soldiers in front of him against the wall. Both of them fairly confused by this pugy man running through the halls. He barged into a double doored room that was holding a meeting of several shady administrators that all stared at him. The man at the end of the table stared at him blankly.

“Sir,” He said out of breath, “Sir, we have a-” the man put his hands on his knees and started to cough on his spit.

“What is it Horton? Go ahead, spill it out.” The man in a british accent.

“Sir,” He started to stutter, “We have an A71.”

“What?” The British man said quietly, “Sorry everybody, this meeting is now over.”

Chatter broke out among the administrators.

“Everybody out now!” The British man yelled impatiently, slightly irritated at his couples. Slowly they all started to leave the room still muttering under their breaths.

Once everybody was gone, the two men were left alone in the dimmed roomed. Hornton stood there at the end of the table awkwardly waiting for the British man to answer. He sat there for a minute or two with his hand over his mouth, thinking as he swayed in his chair.

“What are we going to do sir? Exterminate them?” Horton suggested.

“No not yet. How much do they know?” The British man asked, clapping on the lights so the shadows of his face disappear.

“The girl has a gun and the boy something to tell her.” Horton said, squinting.

“Watch them.” The British man confirmed.

“Yes sir” Horton said retreating back to the room.

Miles caught up to Claira and Louis through the bustling halls of the school, hauling them both back, “The hell have you been Claira? You missed first period.” He ignored Louis’s presences.

“Yeah well I was busy.” Claira told him, walking on without looking back at him.

“Busy with what?” Miles argued, catching back up to them.

“None of your business.” Claira said calmly.

“None of my damn business!” Miles started fire up, “Ok Claira, I am your older brother, I’m supposed to take care of you!” Miles stopped and realized, “You went to his house, didn’t you! You didn’t go to school early, you disobeyed mom!”

“Okay, first of all, maybe I did go to his house.” Claira stated to fire back as she looked through her locker for books.  “Second of all I didn’t intentionally skip. I was at the nurse's office; and third of all, you’re only one year older than me. I think I can make my own decisions instead of you telling me what I can and can’t do.” Claira said steamingly grabbing her books from her locker and slamming it, storming off with the rest of the hallway. Miles looked at Louis who flinched slightly at Claira’s rant.

“The hell were you doing in nurses office?” Miles said taken aback.

“Something happened.” Claira said.

“Something happened?” Miles said hoarsely, “Like what?”

“Calm yourself first.” Claira told him, turning around firefly. Then walking off to her next class leaving Louis and Miles alone. They looked at each other; Miles looking disgusted and Louis feeling uncomfortable. He looked down and followed Claira, sprinting off. Miles turned around, storming off to his next class in a heat.

Chapter 2

After school, Louis and Claira headed outside in the cold wintery world. Claira unlocked her bike. As she was, Louis watched as kids passed by leaving with their parent because their town was so small, they didn’t need buses. The middle of town was the forest that ran quarter mile was the only thing that had kids occupied in the summertime. Louis was dazed off in his own little world as Claira struggled to get her bike unlocked from the space. Slowly, time started to evaporate in front of him; all he could focus was the car in front of him. He squinted, taken back to him in the passenger’s seat of a car, an old one with a stick shift; the 1955 Chevy Bel Air that his mother won at an auction when she was a teenager. The new slick blue paint rusted over the span of two decades, being older than Louis himself. The wheel larger than his mother was; she could barely see over the wheel, and the antique seats furnished with sewn in armrests and cloth lace to outline the headliner.  Quickly over a split-second of peace, his mother and him jolted sideways as the car tailspin crazily. The song, Twist and Shout, overplayed in his head slowly, reminding him of his mother and her sense of music that brought him into liking it. Now it all seemed a blur, he hadn’t listened to music in over three years by himself for the fear of breaking down in front of his peers or most frighteningly, his father.

Something knocked Louis down to the ground easily on his shoulder. He landed in the mud, coating his favored sweater in muck. Looking at his hands, also covered in mushy mud, Rick walked back over with his friend, laughing cruelly. Claira, like a feisty chihuahua, started to swear back at him as he called behind his back, “Ass Toad!”

“C'mon, let’s get out of this hell.” Claira said, standing over him with her hand out. Louis latched onto it with his filth-covered hand and hoisted himself back to his feet as they started their journey to set off to Louis’s house. Passing by from house to house identical from this morning in silence with still a slight fear in their stomachs by passing by the poorer part of town.

“Does your brother hate me?” Louis broke out looking at Claira who had her hair tucked behind her ear. Her eyes became an icy blue with still a kind, caring nature.

“What?” Claira asked, stepping over ice on the sidewalk.

“Your brother,” Louis repeated, looking at Claira, “Does he hate me?”

“You know my brother.” She looked back at him, “He’s stubborn. It’s like he’s on his period 24/7” Claira said sighing slightly. They both laughed at the same time.

“How long have you discovered this thing you're dying to tell me?” Claira asked.

“Since my mom died. It’s kept me busy whenever I’m alone.” Louis explained, looking up as the wind blew in his face, bitterly forming tears on the corners of his eyes.

They approached his house; still and quiet but the chilling sense of terror was still present around them. Louis’s dad’s car, a car that had been broken down in the last four years, was absent from the ricked driveway meaning he had gone out for a drink or two at a nearby bar. He would be gone for hours at anytime of the day without a trace. Louis’s dad was in debt, losing almost to completely everything in their house. The rest of their furniture was underneath the trash his father never picked up in the living room. From time to time, Louis had to pick up after him if it started to get to out of hand.

Claira hide her bike in a bush on the side of Louis’s house. She made sure that nothing stuck out to make his father suspicious before returning to the front door with Louis who pulled out his key from his back pants pocket and inserted it into the rusted keyhole and turned the cracking lock that crumbled a bit to the ground. On his shoulder, he put all his pressure on the door; pushing it with his elbow with not much luck with his twig-like body. The door only pushed him back, struggling to even move on inch.

“Let me try.” Claira insisted. Louis stepped back to let her through as she opened it on the first try, cracking it like a piece of cake. The wave of smoke bursted out of the dim room, heaving outside to make a run for it.

Claira stepped inside, stepping once with the floor screeching. She turned on the lights, coughing in the strong stench, looking around the tiny living space. The house consisted of old worn-out furniture with beer bottles and newspapers scattered everywhere around the living room.

“What does your dad do here?” Claira asked him disgusted, wrinkling her nose whenever she was uncomfortable.

“Well, isn’t it obvious?” Louis told her wearly, “He reads the newspaper since we have no television to entertain himself and he drinks and smokes when he pleases as if there’s no tomorrow. Once he gets drunk, that’s the end of me. Now,” He sighed, changing the subject, “If you'll follow me.” He led the way through the thin hallway with a shallow ceiling that almost was lopsided as they walked through it. Louis stopped Claira in front of the room. The knob was broken, drooping down, unusable. Louis Opening his door to a tiny room that was only occupied with a twin-sized mattress lying on the floor with a ruffled up blanket against the wall, unfolded. Half of a wall was covered with pictures and articles, all connecting with red yarn.

“I have to say Louis, this is impressive.” Claira complimented while analyzing the the wall, “Now, what do you know about our town?”

“First of all, you swear not to tell no one?” Louis cautioned, turning on the flickering light fixture above them.

“I swear. Now on with you story.” Claira said firmly.

“Okay, You know how we have no outside connection in this town? Well there’s got to be a reason. I mean our T.V.’s and radios had to be taken away for a reason to. It just doesn’t make sense to take away. They told us there was some disease that was spreading quickly, Shouldn’t we need that communication.”

“Yeah.” Claira whispered softly, mesmerized by the pictures and the descriptions of each person Louis marked down.

“But then I remembered, before the walls came up,there was no news about a disease outbreak. Did they?”

“No?” Claira guessed.

“Exactly, now, they let us keep our telephones but whenever we try and contact someone outside of this town, it just rejects the call. But within the barriers, we can call someone without it intervening. And somehow, I get the feel we're being watched too. Here’s the reason.” He said, opening his blinds, the sun was setting quickly.” There,” He pointed out, “ The guards on top of the walls. They have to get out somehow. And plus they can see beyond the walls. There’s more out there then there is here. They’re just keeping us a secret.”

“But why?” Claira asked him.

“That’s the problem I’m trying to figure out.” Louis told her, tattering with the blinds again. “I have a few suspects that may know what’s going on around here. First, Mr. Lawrence Quinby.” Louis points to a skinny, rat-faced man, “He only shows his face once in a while and leaves his house unattended for weeks to months.” Claira looked at him closely before following Louis the next suspect, “Second person is Mrs. Carla Kilder.” He points to a woman with a huge mole on her left cheek, “She is always paranoid and never wants to talk to anyone about anything. And the third of all that has major evidence all over him is Dr. Horton Gilbert. He rarely shows his face to town and disappears without a trace. He only comes to examine people who are ill.”

“But how do you know these people are, part of it?” Claira asked, confused.

“Because Horton dropped this.” Louis then pointed out a paper that had bolded highlighting: “Town Experiment” and a red stamp marking across the page making: Classified. The two of them crouched over to see it, “This article talks about the town being watched and experimented for no legitimate reason but for being under supreme supervision for times of war in case we really needed to do this or something. It is confirmed.” Louis said, “In my opinion. I don’t think this is the actual document. I think the government doesn’t know what they're really doing. They have our mayor’s name on it. I believe they tricked him.

Claira was speechless; her jaw dropped as she reads the article.

“I can’t believe it.” She said, “under the supreme watch of Dr. Mark Manhattan? Who’s he.”

“ I don’t know. Probably the lead scientist.” Louis told her quietly, sighing, “We’d better mark that gun ours. I’ll grab my dad’s pocket knife and you crave your name in to the wood of the handle.” Louis got up and looked for the knife outside while Claira sat on the hard mattress and looked at the gun in her hand. The shine on the wood was polished heavily. It shook her to think why her father had given this. Why give you own gun to your daughter, when he himself could use it for his own. Maybe he had one other one for his own? But wouldn’t he give that one to Miles? He’s intelligent.

“I found it!” Louis called out, closing drawers from rooms over.

Claira got up and walked over to the kitchen which was occupied with a folding table next to the wall. The counters and cabinets were eerie and dingy looking. The sink was cluttered and filled with dirty dishes that haven’t been washed in almost weeks. The faucet dripping drops of water every five seconds.

Louis gave her the knife as if she was some neurosurgeon. She looked at the glare of the blade the flashed quickly in her, then, set down the gun on the counter which then Louis held it steady. The tip of the blade made contact with the gun and she pierced into it and started to engrave her initials on the wood. Working to making her ‘C’ when her hand slipped and cut Louis’s hand sharply. He made a little wince of pain, jolting back and held his hand.

In shock, Claira put down the knife and apologized as Louis confronted his hand that dripped blood over the counter ceaselessly.

“It’s fine, you finish the carving and I’ll go clean this up.” Louis said tuning to the sink and pushing the faucet so that water flowed out. He put his hand under the water and started washing the red away, disappearing into the drain. Claira turned around and continued with the carving.

Louis studied the drain rigorously, watching the blood wash down. He thought long and hard, remembering that frightened look his eye by just watching the water swirl:

Louis threw up the blood from his mouth out, shooting into the sink, holding onto its edges tightly as it drained down. He choked hard, gasping for air while his eye watered with pain. His father, who was intoxicated, pulled his hair back and yanked it so hard that hair ripped from Louis’s head making him wince and squint his face. He fell backwards on the ground, knocking down things from the counter and onto the floor, shattering in his face. Louis tried to pick himself up on his feet as quickly as he could but his father latched his feet and started dragging him across the floor. Louis focused dizzily at the ground ahead of him, a straight line of fresh blood in front of him. He was helpless.

“Why did you kill your mother!” His father yells like a wild ape.

“I didn’t.” Louis cries, his cheek touching the cold kitchen floor as he is dragged forcefully. His father dropped both of his feet and grasps onto Louis’s hair again. With great pain, he was brought up to his feet and was pushed into a dark closet were cleaning supplies and other random things fell on top of Louis’s body. Before he could get himself onto his feet, the light is sucked out of the tiny space with a hard slam. It’s lock from the outside.

Louis pounded on the door blindly, screaming for his father to open the door until his lungs gave out, curling up into a ball and weeps silently, wiping metal-tasting  the blood of his mouth, and rocking himself under a self against the wall that held the utilities.

A sudden slam of a car door made the two jump. Louis wrapped his hand with a small towel, it started to bleed through right away. He looked out the window to find his father tottering towards the house. He widened his eyes and looked at Claira, alarmed. She grabbed the gun and the knife desperately and followed Louis into his bedroom.

“In the closet!” Louis said frantically as Claira hand him the knife. She jumped into his closet that was filled with boxes of Louis’s mother’s memories. The door slammed with great force in the background.

“I’m home!” His father yelled as he welcomes himself in the home. He swears loudly after a cold silence. His stomping comes closer, and the sound of chains rattled as he walks closer and closer. Every boom haunted Louis, who now was shaking violently. He sliped the knife in his back pocket swiftly along with the cloth he wrapped his hand as his father storms into the room like a stormtrooper from Star Wars. It was so fast that you’d never even think he’d slip them in his back pocket. Louis stared at the ground trembling in angst.

“What’s this Louis?” He said in a curious tone, holding his hand out with red smeared on it. He had the face as stern as a bull, wrinkles describing his face. He was younger than he looked. Louis said nothing, his chest pumping and stared in reticences.

“Did I stutter?” His father said in a more broad voice, starting to become more heated, “I said what is this!” He screams, shoving his hand in Louis’s face. Louis flinched slightly, crossing his eyes to see the hand in front of him. His father notices his cut hand, trickling red to the floor and firmly grasped it. Louis, still hunched over, his free hand shaking.

“The hell is this? Where’s my pocket knife?” His father said, outraged. He examined the hand, then pushes back Louis greatly, “If you’re not going to tell me then off.” Louis tensed up quickly. He looked at Claira, traumatized. His whole body was quivering.

“No dad.” He mumbled as tears slipped out of his eyes.

“Then give me the damn knife.” His father told him, holding his hand out. Louis reach in his back pocket and pulled out the knife, handing it to him. His father whipped his pocket knife back from his son.

“Now can you tell me why you have this Louis?” His father said quietly but devilishly.

“I-” Louis shut his eyes, tear welled down but his face, still as a brick. He didn’t finished his sentence.

“Tell me! Dammit!” His father screamed in his face, throwing the knife down to the floor by Louis’s feet, landing it, stuck to the floor with the blade, “Holy.” His father scoffed before finishing, “I’m wasting my time. Take it off.”

“Dad.” Louis whined, staring up at him. He eye reminded Claira of a lost child.

“Now! I’m not playing around.” His father told Louis as he took off his leather belt from his waist line, the metal clinging together, “You need to learn what not yours you hear me you little thief. Now take that off.” Louis gulped nervously, his body tensed even tighter as he zipped his sweater off first, then his shirt, letting them rest on his bed. Louis’s dad coiled the belt around his hand gesturing for him to turn his body, his back facing his father, his face had worry carved into it. Claira, in the closet, covered her mouth. Tears started to rolled down her cheeks when she saw all of his scars all over his bony back. Most were newly fresh slit while others healed, leaving his body permanently marked. Louis put his hands against the wall and started tearing up, looking down to his feet for comfort.

“Dad please!” Louis pleads but at the same time, his father held his hand up with the belt. Claira shut her eyes tightly and heard the first hit lash out. Louis yelped, trying to hold himself up against the wall. It repeated on and on. Each one getting more fired up like a riot. Claira rocked back and forth, sobbing, but still pushing herself to stay silent. Louis beat his hand against the wall as blood trickled down his back. The deep cuts burnt like fire as the belt slices down his flesh. The crazed look in his father’s eyes were filled with senseless delight and rage. It almost seemed as if he had no heart in him left.

He dropped the belt that was drenched with blood and grabbed Louis, turning him around, and pinned him against the wall like he was a high-school bully. Louis hit his head, hard on the wall; his face was bloodshot red and tears tumbled out of his black eyes quietly. Louis avoided his father’s eye contact, which was blazing with craziness, and studied the wooden floor.

“Your a piece of trash, you know that?” His father said, spitting in his face. Louis sniffed. It wasn’t the first time he heard that. Suddenly his father slapped across the face making his cheek blush even more, “Listen to me,” he pointed his finger in front of Louis, “you’ll never be anything, you’re just a jinx to us all, especially your mother. You hear me Louis, you're a jinx, you’re a dirty little mistake!” He stomped on the floor like a told having a tantrum, “You never take my things, ever! Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes sir.” Louis mumbled.

“What did you say?” His father asked, leaning his ear closer. His breath had the strong scent of alcohol.

“Yes sir!” Louis repeated louder.

“Good.” Louis’s father said as he left the room, slamming the door. The whole room shook along with it, tiny bits of debris fell from the ceiling. The innocent slim boy made himself as small as he could, blood smearing on the wall as he coiled on the floor, covered his face and started to weep. Claira jumped out of the closet and wiped her tears off. She went over to comfort Louis, who’s breathing was rapidly increasing.

“Breath Louis.” She said hiccupping. He ignored her. He wanted to be left alone so Claira climbed out the window guilty and jumped over the gate carefully, not to be seen by Louis’s father and took her bike out of the bush to ride off.

Back at the facility, Horton and The British man, known as Dr. Mark Manhattan, and amatur scientist who was wanting to make big success and money listened to Louis’s and Claira’s conversation at Louis’s house. The two look worried at each other, Horton showing more fear than The British himself.

“He knows about you Horton.” The British man said softly as if it was any normal conversation.

“Yes, but I don’t know how?” Horton responds.

“The boy just said you dropped one of our documents. A very important and classified document.” The British man said, “If this gets out to the whole town, we are done. Everyone here goes to jail.”

“So what are you saying we should do?” Horton asked.

“We are done with this project, exterminate everyone. No one lives. Burn all of our documents. Procedure Solo.” The British man concluded.

“But sir, they’re are innocent people there.” Horton said being cut off.

“Horton, it is to be done. Do you want to go to jail?” The British man said firmly.

“No.” Horton replied hesitantly. He watched these people for year like some reality T.V. show, he didn’t want to hurt them, nor did he want to think of it.

“The Procedure Solo everyone.” The British man said. Everyone shut off their computers and packed up their things.

“Send the soldiers down.” Horton said on his walkie talkie, “Save some of them, escally the boy. Rember plan Angel.”

Chapter 3

Claira made it home safely, still hiccuping from her cries, year it was dark now and the temperature had dropped notoriously over her ride across town. She opened the door to see her parents sitting on couch, staring at the wall, talking among themselves quietly with a glass of red velvet wine. Claira silently closed the door. Going through the kitchen, grabbing a cookie from the cookie jar. She tiptoed silently over through the doorway and up the first few steps upstairs.

“Claira.” Her mother stopped her from the couch. Claira rolls her eyes in dismay of getting caught red handed.

“Yes Mother?” She answered in a audacious tone to her Mom.

“Where were you? It’s a school night, almost eight o'clock sweetie.” Claira’s mother said turning around. Her father ignored the conversation, yet still rubbing his wife’s feet on the couch, leaning back, almost sleeping.

“I just was staying after school to study.” She lied dubiously as she bit one of her fingers.

“Oh really because your brother was studying too down at study hall, but he said he didn’t see you and thought you went home and he told us you weren’t at first hour either. Were you at that boy’s house?” Her mother asked.

“No.” Claira said simply, looking at her toes that crinkled underneath her shoes. She was remembering what happened earlier.

“Where were you Claira. That all I want to know. I won’t get mad at you.” He mother said smoothly, taking a small sip of the wine.

“Fine, I went to his house. Is that it?” Claira confessed.

“I told you not to go to his house.” Her mother exaggerated, almost choking on her drink as she widened her eyes, hazel like Claira’s brother.

“I know, but something happened.” Claira said, tears trying to escape from her eyes, but Claira held them back.

“Like what?” Her mother asked.

“Something personal.” Claira argued, her voice becoming scratchy, making her way up the stairs.

“Claira! Claira!” Her mother called as she got up. But Claira ignored her and was already on the second floor of their house. To Claira’s surprise, Miles was waiting in the hall. Seemingly, he was listening to the conversation that started downstairs. He seemed guilty.

“Oh, you.” Claira said flatly.

“I didn’t mean to.” Miles apologized.

“Oh yeah, really?” Claira said with in sassy tone.

“Look, I’m just looking out for you okay, I don’t want you hurt.” Miles explained.

“You think Louis is dangerous?” Claira said, still not satisfied.

“Yeah, maybe I do. But I don’t want you to get in trouble.” Miles told her.

“Oh, I totally wasn’t in trouble about 30 seconds ago.” Claira said, trying to hold back her tears, “And you haven’t even met Louis personally you dirtbag!” She stormed of into her room.

“Claira!” Miles said as she slammed in his face, locking it from the inside. Claira threw herself on her bed limply. She cried silently, pushing her face into the cold, lumpy pillow and cried herself to a peaceful sleep.

Claira woke up an hour later prior to that night. She sat up, opening her bookbag, setting her assignments from school and her journal over her bedspread with was fluorescent with floral. She placed her hand over the leathered cover, feeling the bumpiness of the book, she smiled dearly, her eyes still heavy after teary. The house was dead silent. All that was heard was the crickets chirping a lullaby outside of Claira’s house. It was a foggy night. The frost was in the air, creeping over the window, creating a wing textures of patterns like evergreen trees out in the dark forest across the street.

Claira stood over her vinyl player, letting the record spin for a few seconds before it started the beginning of the song, the light strums of a guitar, Rock n’ Roll Suicide By David Bowie. She looked out her blinds, only to see the pitch black wall in front of her and the lights of other houses down below.

She sat back down after hearing the cracking of something in the distance. She didn’t mind it too much as it kept echoing on and on when she fell back into her pillow, reading her directions to herself aloud, “Write about someone who you care about and why they are so significant?” Immediately, she thought about Louis, bony and troubled.

“Claira?” A faint yelp called. She looked up to see nobody by her. She opened the door, the hallway was deserted.

“Claira?” It called again, but it was more clearer. It sounded like her father, “Claira?” He said, panting up the stairs, “Get the gun, put it in your boot, meet us in the attic.” Claira rushed back into her room, Bewildered. She heard the door being knocked on loudly, the cracking becoming louder, more heart-pounding. Panicked, she put on her loose boots and hid her gun in it. Claira stumbled upon her notebook lying on her bed. For a brief moment, she feels the cover slowly and pick it up. The knocks become louder, the door was about to break down. Claira looked over, hiding her book in her jacket on the chair and ran out of her room as, scurrying like a mouse to her father who was helping her brother up to the hole in the ceiling; he was already in his pajamas, bare of any shoes. Their mother right beside their father, holding Miles’s leg up.

Once he slipped in, Claira stepped on her dad’s hands and he hoisted her up ladylike, Miles helped, pulling her up by the shoulders. He was surprisingly strong enough to carry her in the foul-smelling loft. The door burst open downstairs, the sound of soldiers were yelling orders to search around the house.

“Be safe.” Her father said closing the seal. There wasn’t time for them to hide also with their children who tried to stop him from closing it but as the last bit of light was sucked out, they became silent and scared.

“Hands up!” The soldier's muffles said from the outside. The sound of triggers were set ready. Claira started to cry as her brother hugged her, they both knew what was going to happen with their parents and that was the last thing they wanted to think of now. She covered her ears and hid in her brother’s chest as gunshots were fired, her heart skipping a beat as she felt the vibration of the shot that were fired.

“There's children sir.” One soiler concluded, the sound of his marches clear as day.

“Look around.” An older-sounding soldier said. For that moment, Claira knew she was about to die.

The two heard there marches vibrate the ground underneath them. They sat there in the darkness, trying not to make a sound, holding their every breath they could. Miles not making the slightest reaction.

“Sit, up here.” Said a soldier clearly underneath them. Claira sat up, away from her brother and took out her gun slowly, aiming it for the small entrance, shaking to keep it still. The lid opened slowly, light trying to reach for Miles and Claira. They made eye contact with the soldier who viewed his head in the attic. Promptly, Claira pulled the trigger, making a loud booming roar. The soldier fell backwards, blood shooting out of him and the lid falling backwards, but the two were still in the shadows. Feeling sick to the stomach, Claira looked at Miles, unsure of what to do next. But he was cold frozen, sitting there, staring at Claira like a motionless robot.

Claira looked down, she saw her parent laying on the ground lifeless with blood oozing out of them, onto the new carpet their mother put in place. The soldiers were aiming their guns towards them, standing as if they were invincible. Claira stepped back, tripping over, scared of getting shot unexpectedly.

“You may come out peacefully or we’ll shoot.” A soldier demanded.

“Let’s go Miles.” Claira whispered in her brothers ear. He nodded with his eyes glistening.

“You’ve got 10 seconds.” The soldier said counting from 10 backwards. Claira slipped down first, dropping to the floor, followed by Miles who turned around, his face red. They looked at the three soldiers who aim at their presences; one middle-aged with lemon-yellow hair, the other old and buff with shoulders bulging from his uniform. He had short silver hair like metal and had an old ghostly face. The last soldier was young, hazelnut-headed, pickle-nose and cheery-looking. He was no older than thirty and was stiff. Not that he was strong like the rest but he typically wasn't like those other soldiers. It was almost as if the man didn’t want to aim his gun.

“Put the gun down.” Demanded the silver-haired soldier who name read: Apollo. Claira didn’t obey the order and keeps the gun steady in her hand at him. “Put the gun down!” He repeated firmly.

“Come on Claira listen to him!” Miles whispered worried while he clutched his knuckles.

“Little girl,” The old soldier started. Claira shot the man before he could say anything else. At the same time the other the yellow haired soldier, aimed for her and pulling his trigger but was shot by the young soldier. The bullet from the yellow haired soldier hit Miles’s leg, sending him down like a ship in Battleships. Claira had never heard such screams from Mile as blood trickled down to the floor. She caught him before he completely collapsed still having her aim for the young soldier.

He put his gun down, Claira watching his every action. She smelled the strong scent of blood throughout the room that had turned into a standoff, “I’m here to help.” He told her. Claira looked into his eyes, she knew she could trust him. She stuffed her gun into her boot and was helped by the soldier to carry her wounded brother. Claira picked up his heavy gun, almost knocking her back as she held it to her chest and the they both ran downstairs running into the woods across the houses, away from the riots. They ran far into the cold darkness, the bitter frost nibbling at their nose. They ran as fast as their feet could take them, the parlous woods, unaware of the lurking blackness that ran everlastingly.

“Over here!” The soldier said letting Claira step first into a small hollow log. He set her brother slowly down next to her. His leg seeped with his own blood. He squinted his eyes in the torture of the bullet jammed into his leg.

“Listen, stay hidden here and do not leave from your spot, I won’t tell anyone you're here if you don’t tell anyone I hid you two. What there doing here is inhuman. I have to get back.” The soldier explained to them grabbing his gun from Claira, running back to civilization.

Claira was too mixed into her swirling emotions to even say anything to the soldier. She had witnessed her parents’ deaths, her brother injury. She didn’t know who was going to be alive in the end of it all. She didn’t know where anybody was, it was nine o’clock at night on a tuesday in the middle of a winter crisis. Scared for her life, she looked at her brother, shoeless in the snow, half traumatized to death, and covered in dirt and blood. He didn’t take his jackets to warm himself. Claira, like the thoughtful little sister, handed her sweater to him. He referrably refused to take it, and without arguing, Claira places it over herself like a blanket. This night was unexpected. Distant gunshots were fired all around the two, not knowing where they were coming from. Both of them shivered through the night, close together trying to stay warm; Claira's head on his shoulder. The cold wet ground touching their clothes, spreading it onto their skin.

Chapter 4

After about a cold starving and fearful week from torture and anxiety, Claira’s closed eyes were suddenly opened to the sounds of somebody trotting through the snow slowly. She quickly tensed up, waking her brother up.

“What.” He said groggily, shutting his eyes still.

“Shh!” Claira urged as she looked up to the sky, searching for her gun on the forest floor. They were outside now after the constant shooting was done. She peered over the log, her eyes and forehead to be seen. There was nothing except the the still forest. Behind her, she could hear somebody running. She saw a faint shadow rushing behind her, it hid behind the tree. Miles, alarmed, told her to shoot.

Claira got up slowly creeping up to the tree, ignoring her brother because of the limited amount of bullets they had was low. She held her gun out, ready to shoot, finger on the trigger “Come out here, I know you’re there!” She said, trying to sound bigger than she was. She jumped after the shady figure behind the tree popped out. Claira recognized him, Louis, cold and barefooted.

“Shoot Claira, shoot! You don’t know if he’s some sort of decoy! Shoot!” Miles said helplessly lying upright. Claira turned around looking at him like he was crazy. Louis, drained, his lips were turning a shade of blue, quivered.

“Are you out of you damn mind? Tell me why the hell would I shot my best friend.” Claira fired up. Miles looked ready to argue but then studied his attention on his leg instead.

 The sound of a loud gunfire lead Claira and Louis fleeing back to the log, safe, yet frightened.

“What happened to his leg?” Asked Louis curiously.

“He was shot when the soldiers barged into the house.” Claira remarked, “How’d you escape?”

“Shh!” Miles said, looking out the corner of the log to see the commotion. Nothing.

Simultaneously Miles and Claira looked to Louis to find that Rick and one of his friends coated in fresh blood over their faces. Rick held his dagger against Louis’s throat, tugging his hair back firmly, keeping his head steady. Louis tried tugging Rick’s stiff arm with the knife away from his neck but Rick was too strong.

“Well, wouldn’t you know, toad here somehow survived with princess to save his little ass.” Rick said as his friend chuckled beside him.

“Oh, what the hell happened to that kid?” His friend asked, pointed at Miles’s leg. He nervously laughed slightly.

“Rick, I want you to let go of Louis, this isn’t an okay situation right now, there’s people after us.” Claira said slowly.

“Yeah, we know, our friend got shot by one already.” Rick said looking at his friend. The seemed cool about it. Louis was squirming in his hold.

“Let go.” Claira said, looking over the log.

“Why.” Rick testified.

“Let him go.” Claira said aiming her gun at Rick, looking him straight in the eye.

“Oh ok I will, just put the gun down.” Rick said releasing Louis and putting his hands in the air. Louis coughed rubbing his neck gingerly.

“Why are you backing down dude!” His friends asked, “You never do that.”

“Do you want her to shoot me?” Rick argued back.

Just then, his friend fell backwards, to the ground, blood leaking out from his head, which splatter on Rick’s face. Rick bent down.

“Paul! Paul! Are you okay? Paul!” He said, shaking him. He breaking into silent tears, He checked his pulse. No beating on his two fingers. He was gone. The dead body looked up at the sky, his soul had already left his body.

“Alright princess, did you do this?” Rick said approaching her sullenly.

“What? No! He was hit at the side. I can’t aim there.” Claira explained, backing up.

“My friends are dead now!” Rick said, weeping, nobody ever seen him like that. But just then, a soldier peered over the log and found them, the same anisal reaction looking at each other. He pointed his gun towards Rick, ready to pull the trigger. Bang! The soldier fell. Everyone except Claira ducked. They all looked up at her, tears sliding down her cheeks. Powder slowly falling down to the ground, being pulled by the gravity. Her heart was pounding, she killed yet another person.

“Holy-” Rick said speechlessly. Claira looked at him, dropping the gun to the ground, Her mind racing again.

“We need to stay here until it’s safe.” Claira finally said to break the silence. She climbed up to meet the soldier; taking his shoes, coat, and gun.

“ Rick, take your friends things.” Claira told him while wiping her tears away, “it’ll be useful.” Rick approached his friend, feeling uncomfortable to steal his clothing.

“I think I’m going to throw up.” Rick said queasy. He retreated back to the log, exaggerating his gaging excessively, then tossing the clothes onto the ground in front of them. Louis put on the oversized shoes over his pale freezing feet, tightening them to the tightest they could be. Claira handed the soldier's stainless steel boots to Miles who turned the offer away.

“Miles, take them.” Claira said.

“Why? With all the stuff that’s happened. My leg is bleeding, mom and dad are dead.” He said finally gazing into his little sister’s eyes.

“Mile, if you stay out like this barefooted, you're going to get frostbite. I need you alive. You're the only family I’ve got.” Claira said as she put the shoes on his feet as if her older brother was a toddler needing to be assisted to put on their shoes.

The four of them sat against the log, not speaking or knowing what to do. Claira cuddled in the soldier's jacket. It smelled like sweat mixed in with Axe body spray. Two horrible stenches combined together.

“We need to go into a warm house.” Rick spoke.

“Yeah but even if we did, it would still be the same freezing temperature as it is out here.” Claira considered.

“And even so, there’s a bullet in my leg.” Miles added.

“And we don’t know who’s out there.” Louis finished.

“How long would it be, I mean we can’t get out of this damn place. We’ll die out here.” Rick complained.

“I don’t know, if we're going to get supplies and what not, we have to keep low. Become a shadow.” Claira explained to the boys.

They just sat there, helplessly scared and cold, waiting for nothing.

Dr. Manhattan was just about ready to leave, when he approached the group of soldiers who stood taller than him.

“So, are they all exterminated?” The British man asked.

“Yes sir, we searched everywhere.” One general said.

“Yes, anyone left out there will decay. Did you take all of the goodies from the town?” Dr. Manhattan asked, resting his hands on his waist.

“Yes sir, all aids, non-perishable items, clothings, everything.” The general said again, not mentioning the missing soldiers.

“Good, we just finished burning all of our documents, after years of this experiment, I’m glad to have it off my shoulders.” The British man sighed to the general, patting his back.

Horton peaked through the corner at the end of the hall, listening to Dr Manhattan's conversation. He bit his nails anxiously and rushed to a room that held a woman whose features had dark hair, and pale toned skin and big brown eyes, sweet like chocolates. She seemed to have just woken up from a coma, unknowingly knowing were she was. She turned over to Horton.

“Mrs! You’re up!” Horton said in surprised.

“Up from what?” She asked confused but calmly, “Who are you? Where’s my son?”

“Mrs, Please, keep it down. Your son has been dead over three years ago.” Horton explained.

“Three years ago? How is this possible! Where am I?” Ms. Marlee said, trying to get up.

“M’am! M’am!” Horton said as he stepped outside, “Doctor! Doctor! She’s up!”

Chapter 5

Night had almost fallen on the little deserted town and the sky painted in pink, hazy clouds that looked like cotton candy. It was the third day that they had been together, and have been too scared to get out on their own. They have been half freezing to death, none of which could fully get a full hour of rest. The two bodies in front of them were starting to decay in front of them.

“Hasn’t it been long enough?” Rick protested, “we’ve been freezing our asses off for the past few days and we haven’t moved anywhere, might as well die here.” Claira and Louis looked at each other, then back at Rick.

“And what do you suggest we do?” Claira asked sarcastically.

“Make a fire, for the night. I mean look at your brother’s leg, it’s probably numb by now.” Rick said pointing at the rotten leg. Miles was asleep by now, snoring, sitting upwards.

“And do you know how to make a fire?” Louis asked.

“Why yes.” Rick said, taking out his lighter and setting a little flame visible. The two of them got up and picked up sticks that the forest provided them with. Their surplus was low in inventory. Most sticks being too damp to be set on fire.

“Have you ever built a fire?” Claira asked Rick.

 Rick looked up at her with a pile of sticks in his hand, standing at her side, “No, why princess?”

  “What if this doesn’t work?” Claira asked.

  “It has to.” Rick said stacking the wood into a tepee like figure. He grabbed his lighter. The tiny flame lit it magically.

  “Voila princess.” Rick smirked. He closed his lighter, creating a little sound of metal hitting against each other main part of it. Miles woke up, rubbing his right eye red. Everyone gather around the warmth of the fire, their breaths to be seen floating around, then disappearing in the thin air. Miles had his leg next to the fire, shivering from the cold. It was silent and all that you could here were the cricket’s chirping loudly.

Claira looked upon her book, flipping through the pages of her dead parents and her drawings of all the things she wished she knew. Louis stared at the fire, twirling its yellow and orange embers contently in the pit as it burned off heat and light to the four of them. His huge black eyes reflected its movement accurately. Then he remembered vaguely;

Louis stood in front of his own fire pit, burning paper and his parents’ vinyl records and player. All of them turning into ashes and grey smoke rising in the sharp smelling air. There was a thin layer of snow on the ground freshly patched neatly. Louis watch quietly with his hands in his pockets listening to the crackles of the fire as the sparks grew upwards. He sighed as he grabbed a long stick on the floor to move the papers around and burning pile of vinyls. It was painful to watch them decay, among them, most were his mother. Twist and Shout blackening in front of his eyes.

         “Louis!” His father called from inside the house, breaking the silence. Crows started to leave, scurrying out of trees, flying. “Louis! Get your ass in this house now!” Louis dropped the next stock of paper down and gulped nervously. He ran inside scared of what his father wanted from him. Louis saw his old man’s face older and his hair more lengthy and messier than it was before; he hadn’t seen him at all, for he was Afraid to look up at him. He was in his yellow undershirt with an untied robe, his beard fluffed, unshaven for weeks. His eyes bloodshot red and the belt hanging from his hand, almost touching the floor, pointing to broken glass on the floor shattered. Louis looked at the belt with such fear that he winced loudly, holding himself binded by the door for comfort.

         “What happened here Louis?” He asks madly. He sounded psycho in a way.

          “I don’t know?” Louis mumbled looking at the pile of broken beer glass next to his father.

           “What happened here?” His father repeated again, gritting his yellowed stained teeth.

  “I didn’t do anything dad.” Louis told his father, now looking at him right in the eye; a vicious red glare to his father black pupils.

             “Come here Louis.” His father said, pointing to the tile floor in front of him. Louis widened his eyes and walked over to him stiffly like a frankenstein taking its steps for the first time after coming back to life. “Take off that sweater and roll up your sleeves.” His father commanded. Louis did what he was told, trembling violently as he did so. He put his sweater on the floor and roll his sleeves all the way up until they couldn’t fold up any longer. His father grabbed them towards him one at a time intensely.

            Louis shook his head slowly as he closed his eye, a tear slipped from his eyelid and quickly ran down his pale cheeks, his breathe shaking. For a quick second of silence, he felt the intensity of what was anticipated. Finally, his father brung the belt down onto Louis’s arms with all his force slicing his skin opened on his arms with such a whoosh cutting through the air. Warm blood ran, trickling along his arms. Again his father hit his arms the second time, close to the first cuts. Louis exhaled with agony but show his as the flesh blood seeped down to the floor from his wimp arms. More tears came running down his face.

           “If you stopped lying to me then you wouldn’t be beaten Louis!” His father told him as he hit over and over again. Louis opened his eye, watery and shaky. He looked at his father with a blank expression.

           “But I’m not lying.” He mumbled. His father stopped with the belt and stared into his son’s eyes. He could see the terror on his face. They stared at each other for a good second, until his father slapped him cold hard in the face. Louis’s right cheek was bright red now, almost glowing.

          “Don’t you tell me that I’m ever wrong you hear me!” His father said as his veins popped from his necks and his face was a violent shade of ruby, spitting on Louis’s face with great rage.

           “Yes sir.” Louis said looking at the sink next to him, shaking even more.

            “Now clean this mess up before I come home!” His father screamed in his face, pushing his chest.

             “Yes father.” Louis said shutting his eyes tightly closed as he stumbled backwards.

           “Good.” His dad whispered as he trudge off outside and into his car. Louis was frozen there petrified. He looked at his arms. They were covered in a massacre of blood that was dripping on the floor, burning as they were exposed. Louis curled up on the floor against the cabinets and weeped in his arms in the quiet house.

       “I’m scared I’m going to lose my leg.” He blurted out. Everyone looked at him. Claira set down her journal.

        “I’m scared of most things you know. I’m scared of my own identity. I fear for my sister. It like I have to take care of everyone, if I don’t I’ll let everyone down. Especially my parents. I’m scared of that stupidest things. I’ve always been as a young child. I’m not like you Claira, I don’t have the guts to disobey any one, I’m constantly studying and worrying and planning my next action. I ask myself, why can’t my anxiety go away. I want to be normal. I want to break the rules.” Miles finished.

        “Miles, if it weren’t for you, I’d probably be in big trouble with mom and dad all the time, like telling me not to skip class that one day in sixth grade. If it weren’t for you I’d be in some punk idiot. You help me see my limitations.” Claira said. Miles revealed a smile.

         “Alright then, since we're talking about ourselves then I’ll go next.” Rick said laying at his side towards the fire, “Well, where to start. I’m the bully at the school, everyone fears me and that’s not me. I’m insecure all the time. Every action I half to act as if I’m being some tough guy who doesn’t care. That’s what everyone wants me to be. Especially my dad. He’s always off, telling me about how I’m supposed to be strong in order to be successful in life. How I’m supposed to be the tough one and never give up. I’m scared I’ll let him down by being weak.

It’s just not fair and I’m sorry Louis for all the stupid stuff I’ve done to you.” Rick looked up at Louis, “That’s not me, that’s not who I want to be at least. I don’t want to spend my life like my old man’s. I want to be weak sometimes.” Rick looked at the fire that reflected off of his green eyes. They had never heard him say anything this meaningful, he looked up and smiled, “Enough about me before I go sissy. Some one else can go. How about you toad?”

Louis laughed slightly. For once, that name meant something different to him, “No, no, I can’t.”

“Why?” Rick said cooly.

“It’s a long story. It’s, well, too, what do you call it, too, private.” Louis told him rolling his eyes.

“Come on, it can’t be too bad.” Rick said.

“Yeah Louis.” Miles followed Rick. Louis looked at Claira in the eyes. Her gaze seeming caring, “Go Louis, tell them.” She said looking straight into his eyes.

“Fine.” Louis surrendered. The three of them cheer quietly. Louis licked his lips, “There’s one person who knows me and my history. That’s Claira.” He started, looking at her effectionaly. “It started that one day in spring. May 30th, 1971, end of sixth grade. It was like yesterday when it happen. Mom and I were in the car, on the way to school. I could remember vividly that I had a black eye and the radio was playing the Beatles, Twist and Shout, my Mom’s favorite.

I was wearing these exact clothes, a plaid shirt with pink and yellow stripes with these rundown jeans and my sweater. She wore a blouse with jeans. We were talking about what I wanted to do in the future. I told her ‘I’m going to venture beyond this wall and explore.’ She told me that I should go for it.” Louis’s eyes were twitching, “We didn’t see it coming. A truck hit the driver's seat badly, making us turn off the road and into a tree on my side. My leg got caught between the door. It was painful.

My head was starting to spin. The music was muffled and I could hear a loud ring in my head. Struggling to get my leg out, I turned to my mom who hovered over the steering wheel, there was red dripping down her forehead. Her eyes looking at me dazed. I called out for her. I tried to wake her up. I just cried, and I gave up.” Louis looked up, the others did the same. Tears streamed down his cheeks, “The man who hit us approached our car. His expression, I couldn’t comprehend it.

He looked at my mom, then me. He ran back into his car and drove away. I swore at him to come back, tugging on my leg but the more painful it got, the more weaker I grew, and the more I wept. I eventually gave up. By then, I heard the sirens in the distance and I looked in the back of me to see the flashing lights. I was relieved. They got out of the car and approached our vehicle. They broke open the door to my mom’s side and carried her out.

Another firefighter told me to come out. I said I couldn’t, my leg was trapped. He and a few other men pushed the car away from the tree and busted the door opened. They carried me out and onto a stretcher. I looked at my leg, it was all bloody and bruised.” Miles looked down at his leg, “I started to panic. I started to lose control of my breathing, and then I just blacked out, next finding myself in the hospital, with wires and monitors everywhere to my side.

My dad stood in front of me, he looked up at me when I woke up and smiled, but it was a fake smile. He was never unorthodox at all. He had a stable job and made a decent amount of money but he and my mom would always fight and yell after the wall was placed. I don’t think they ever loved each other.

‘Hey Kiddo’ he said to me. I felt very uncomfortable. He went to the side of my bed and said, ‘There’s something I have to tell you.’ I looked into his eyes and they were glistening.” Louis was welling into tears, “He told me that my mom was dead. Gone. Lifeless. And then I felt like she disappeared when I got home. Like she was never there. I felt a piece of me had just fell off. It wasn’t the same. Nothing was.

My dad changed the most. I’m embarrassed to even say this. I embarrassed this even happened. My dad became a drunk. He drank almost everyday. He lost his job. We lost our money. We became poor. We had to sell most of our things to pay off debt. My dad became paranoid and started blaming me. He blamed me for the money, for his job, for me taking my mom’s life away.

I was scared of going home everyday because I knew he was waiting for me. He was ready to make sure I knew what I did. I guess he got angrier everyday. He wrote it on my skin. Making it sink in. The painful, bloody lines of my mistakes that I never even knew half of the time what they were for. The scars to remind me that will never go away. The secrets I couldn’t tell because I was too wuss to and now look at me. I’m free. It’s silly, but it’s how I feel.” Louis laughed, “It, the greatest feeling I’ve ever felt in years.”

Claira had tears welling down her cheek. She wiped them off and looked at Louis and smiled. Louis smiled back sheepishly. Rick and Miles stared at the fire, astonished to the story.

“You’re tough kid.” Rick told him. Louis laughed.

“Yeah. I never knew.” Miles said silently realizing all of his assumptions. He did a double take.

Everyone was silent for the rest of the night, falling asleep one by one. Miles couldn’t sleep that night, he thought over and over about Louis’s story. Trying to make everything clearer than they were.  He feel empathy rising in him. Empathy he never felt towards Louis.

Horton and the British man explained their made up story on what happened to Ms. Marlee and her son.

“I know you're scared Mrs, but your son is dead.” Horton exclaimed.

“No, no, I remember him. He tried to wake me up but I felt trapped in this bubble and I couldn’t wake up. I know he’s not dead!” Ms. Marlee shouted, “I know my Louis is not dead.” She got up and slammed her fist on the table, creating a loud bang that echoed across the room.

Dr. Manhattan got up calmly, his facial expression still yet unchanged, “I know you're confused but we are telling you the truth. We want you to cope with us-“

“Cope! Cope? What the hell are you talking about. I don’t even know who the hell you are!” Ms. Marlee interrupted.

“Mrs. Please. If your son was alive, he would be here with you already. Now we are going to let you go.” The British man explained to her.

“Go where? I’ve got nowhere.” Ms. Marlee raged on as her eyes became watery.

“We have a little house for you only 10 minutes away from here.” Horton said. Ms. Marlee was now sobbing. The British man comforted her by stroking her back.

“Up now.” He whispered softly into her ear. Ms. Marlee automatically hoisted herself up and walked with the British man.

Chapter 6

  Rain pour down upon the four of them. The fire had been dead from the wet droplets, making the sticks badly damp and muddy to start it up again. There stomachs had been grumbling painfully over the past few days. It was like there digestive system was turning upside down; an awful vibration from the bottom of their stomachs washing up to their mouth, like vomit. Everyone felt miserable; covered with mud and sweat and the aftermath of the smoke scent from the fire. The bottom of their eyes were a shade darker than they normally were, the cold shivering up their skin and into their insides making their bodies numb.

Miles leg didn’t look too well. It was dry and pale with blue and black outlines around the gash. You could probably peel off the excess skin if you could. He curled his toes up, feeling what he could feel what was left of the leg. He was stuck with a terrible cold; his coughs were harsh and jolted him forward, making him unsteady.

“We need to search through town. We’re dying here.” Rick finally said as the gloomy sky was now lighter.

“I agree, but we don’t know what’s out there.” Claira responded as she rubbed her neck that was aching profoundly.

“Well it’s worth a shot isn’t it?” Rick said bouncing up to his feet, “Plus on the good side, everything's for free. I’m going so see you guys later.” Rick went off to retreat back to town, holding out finger guns.

“Claira, I’m going to go too. Is it okay?” Louis said faintly.

“Yeah, go ahead.” Claira told him. Louis then ran over to catch up with Rick who was a few inches taller than him.

“Miles, I’m going to go with them, just to make sure they take what we need, take the gun, when you hear my whistle, that’s us.” Claira said, followed with a melodic whistle.

Miles examined the gun, “And what if you don’t come back?”

“I, I don’t know.” Claira shook her head.

“Okay,” Miles nodded, “Go.”

Claira got up and raced to meet up with Rick and Louis. They hiked through the chilling snow until they saw the back of a house. It was tiny, but abandoned. The door was wide opened.

“Remember, be a shadow, and take what we need only.” Claira said, emphasizing ‘only’ to Rick. She looked over, check if nobody was there and moved quickly into the house, disappearing into the house. Louis and Rick looked at each other baffled and both set out for the house slowly.

Inside was the same concept as Louis’s house, except neater, but things were scattered everywhere; cabinets opened and empty, the floor covered in glass and trash. The telephone hung on the wall, off the stand, swaying back and forth. Louis darted towards it, dialing the phone. He waited there for a good second before slamming it back on the stand.

“What?” Rick asked, looking at him weirdly.

“Doesn’t work.” He told him quietly.

“Somebody has been here.” Claira declared, looking at the cluttered ground.

“If course, there was a family living here.” Rick laughed.

“No, besides that, the army came here and scavenged through their belongings.” Claira looked up. She stopped over the sink, turning the handle as nothing came out of it, “They turned off plumbing too.”

“Well, I’ll be damned.” Rick said, picking up a bottle of pills in a capsule and putting it in his back pocket.

“Rick, only what we need.” Claira repeated herself.

“Only this, no big deal.” Rick said rolling his eyes at her.

“Fine with me if you get an overdose.” Claira shrugged, looking through cabinets for any food that was still good.

Rick paused for a second. He pulled the pills out of his pocket and threw them to the ground, making the capsule break.

“Shh!” Louis and Claira snapped at the same time.  Rick put his hands up innocently and shook his head. The three of them looked for food with the only luck of a little candy bar.

“Blankets, we could look for those in here.” Louis said, leading them through the hall. The gagging smell gets extremely distinct as there lies two dead body on the floor in the way. Rick almost vomited at the sight of the corpses. Swearing under his hand as he stepped over them, entering a small room, taking the blankets on top of the bed.

They leave, feeling guilt in the pit of their stomachs as they march carefully to the center of town, staying close to the shadows. It felt lonesome and different walking into downtown again, the feeling of gloominess and less friendly without people crept up their backs. The three of them stop in front of the old market as a group of kids lay on the floor, motionless. Rick turns a shade of their color, a daunting white.

Claira broke open the door down and stepped into the dimmed store. It was all still and silent, dust particles danced around, shelves knock over on each other, cash registers opened with the money taken out of them. The clerks rested over the tables motionless with blood oozing out of their heads. Louis looks at one lady in particular. She had a young beautiful face with curly red locks of shiny hair. But all of that was ruined with the blood and terror on her face, paused and lifeless. Louis remembered this lady. She was kind to him, yet she was now dead, innocent like the rest who had been killed:

It was a bright day. Louis with his eye swollen and black was carrying groceries in his hands. He set them on the conveyor belt; milk, eggs, bread, and peanut butter spread. The woman smiles down at him as she checks in his items and puts them in a brown paper bag. Uncontrollably, Louis looked up slightly smiling then looked back at the floor, somewhat embarrassed.

“That will be a total of 2.73.” The lady tells him with a pretty smile reminding him of the feeling of the summer sun. Louis reach in his pocket, swears under his breath, upset, only to find two singles. He stutters, scratching his head nervously with an apprehensive laugh

“Take out the milk please. I don’t have enough.” Louis tells her with dismay in his voice. The woman looks at him sympathetically.  With the courageous decision she slides the brown bag over the counter. Louis beams over it, befuddled.

“No, I’ll pay the rest.” She said.

“Well, um, thank you.” Louis said shocked and takes the bag full of grocery.

Slowly, Claira crept up to the register, agitated about what she was about to see. A body lied, deceased. The soul gone from her eyes. Claira covered her hand over her mouth and closed her eyes. She backed away, turing to Rick and Louis with despair on her face; she knew that everyone must have been assassinated.

“Search for anything we need. Any food of some sort.” Claira said, turning to explore the store’s qualities. Rick and Louis went in different directions, looking for what they could use. They found only a handful of things to last them a week.

Rick looked over the counter at Claira who was busy finding supplies in the corner while Louis was in another aisle, fitting through the smaller sections. He looked up at the register. It held a stack of packed Camels. He was tempted to pick them up.

“No.” He whispered to himself, trying to walk away but winded up going back to it. His pupils dilated a few times bigger. He rubbed his eyes, not wanting to touch the pack and  swore under his breath and decided to pocket them.

Louis, on the other side of the store, entered through a beaded doorway, making the weird rattling sounds as they clanged together behind him. The walls that surrounded him were pink and green. Poster of famous singers of the decade. There were bins of old vinyls that were neatly stacked in order. He slid his fingers against the covers and stopped in front of a green colored bin marked, ‘B’. He flipped through each of them, all colorful and bright. The reflection on his black eyes, mimicking his actions.

He chose one and brought the big vinyl cover over to the Crosley player. He gently took out the circular disk and carefully placed it steadily on the player. He placed the arm over on the record and it started to spin. He shut his eyes and took in a deep breath. The static turned into the beautiful sounds of “Twist and Shout.” It wasn’t the clearest quality. The mix between the drums, bass, and guitar were fusing together to create the melody. Louis became deeper into himself and was taken back to the day his mother died, reliving the horrible ratchet memories over and over in his daze. Everything went by fast; the hit, his mom, his trapped leg, the firefighters, the ambulance, and his father's figure with his belt.

Claira had an inventory of things stuffed into a backpack. She was deciding whether to take peas or Joe. She grabbed half of both. She took off the backpack that already had a broken aid kit that had thing already taken from the market. She shoved the cans into the bottom of the bag and zipped it back up. She moved onto a small aisle in the corner of the store. She heard distant cry as she seach through the shelves. She looked over to her sides to see no one so she keep forward.

The cry peeped in again, scaring Claira slightly. She investigated, haltingly slowly, then approached the sobbing. She had fear in her expression. The sobbing became bolstering when she turned to the corner by the bathrooms to spot a young boy bawling on the floor next to two adults, seemingly his parents, who were surrounded in dried blood that stained the floor a grisly red, smelling like rot. Their eyes completely dead.

The boy’s eyes glimmered with a somber gaze. He was quivering in the cold, his breath visible. He had his hand over his shoulder which was painted with red. Claira bent over to comfort him.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, I won’t hurt you.” She said in a tender tone as the boy backed away, “What happened?”

“Bad people killed my mommy and daddy.” The boy hiccuped. His body was ice cold.

“Ah, that’s what happened to my parents. What happened to you here.” Claira pointed at his shoulder.

“They shot me here. It really hurts.” The boy looked at his wound.

“What’s your name? I’m Claira.” She asked him.

“My name is Daniel.” He said.

“That’s a lovely name. How about coming with us, we’ll find you a jacket.” Claira promised. Daniel nodded his head and Claira got up and called for Rick, who was collecting batteries. He ran over and was startled by the little boy. He carried him up. The boys weight was light and underweight.

“Let’s find Louis.” Claira said to Rick who nodded his head.

“Louis? Louis?”

A faint voice called for Louis’s name. He was in silent tears and was still visioning his memories. He felt a tiny tap on his shoulder that made him jump. He turned to Claira, who was surprised to see him crying, like she hadn’t seen him tear up before in her life.

“It’s time to go. We’ve got a new crew member.” Claira said, leaving the room. Louis instantly wiped his tears and tooked the record off the player and slipped it back to the cover and hustled it into his bag. He leisurely walked out but still distressed. The four of them walked into the midst of the cold. Their faces becoming pale and their cheek were turning a slight shade of pink.

Claira looked over to Louis who was staring at the floor. He noticed her and smiled up at her as they were trudging through the snow.

“Oh for crying out loud, stop giving them damn goo-goo eyes and get walking. We can’t be out here all day.” Rick complained with Daniel in his arms. Louis and Claira stopped looking at each other and moved a little faster to catch up with Rick.

Ms. Marlee was being driven over to the house that the British man promised her. The reflection on the window showed her blank expression but within her eyes was a mournful look. She examined every house that they past, each still and gloomy. Maybe it was because of the weather that made them so depressing.

“I thought that the disease was spread around here? That’s why we're closed off.” She told the driver.

“Sorry, but I don’t know what your talking about. We’ve been fine for years, there’s no disease here.” The driver responded.

Ms. Marlee sat back in her seat, thinking hard of what was happening. The driver pulled up to a driveway to the same old gloomy house. They got out of the car and the driver handed her the keys to the house and left. Ms. Marlee waited for him to leave and then she turned herself around and inserted the key into the slot, turned it, and the door smoothly opened.

She turned on the light, making the room appear, the temperature was chilling . A simple couch was placed against the wall with a T.V. in front of it. She hadn’t seen a T.V. in so long. She knelt down in front of it and turned it on. The lights shining on her face. She switch the channels till it was showing the news. She didn’t take her eyes off of it as backed up to the couch and sat down.

Rick, Louis, Claira, and Daniel were now in walking in the woods. Still after being trapped here for almost two weeks, the sunset was still the most beautifulest thing they ever saw. The mixture of pink, orange and a tint of red was like a painted picture up in the sky; but it was real and breath taking. Louis looked over to his side and saw a Weeping Willow grimly swaying its elegant white covered leaves calmly in the woods. Then he remembered vividly the tree in his backyard:

Louis sat on top of a branch of a Weeping Willow in his backyard reading a book, The Outsiders; a book he read many time for it was the only book he had on his shelf at the time. The leafs that were now green and vibrant with color made him feel hidden and secure, away from reality and in a little hut of spontaneous branches. He was halfway through the book and was mesmerized, reading the story.

His mother slowly but calmly approached her son, climbing up the tree in her diner’s work outfit and a paper bag that was mysteriously stuffed. Her smile genuine. Louis set his book down and smiled back.

“Whatcha reading?” She asked softly.

“The Outsiders.” Louis told her.

“Oh, That’s one of my favorite stories.” His mother tells him.

“Mom, it’s the only story I’ve read from home.” He side smirked.

“Doesn’t make a difference” She shrugged, ruffling his hair affectionately, “Anyways, I’ve got something for you.”

“What you get me?” Louis said, leaning in closer.

“Slow your roll mister.” His mother said handing Louis the paper bag. He unwrapped it and looked inside with a great smile on his face. He takes out the present and holds it up: a dark blue sweater that was simple, yet soft and new.

“Thanks mom!” Louis said humbly hugging her.

“Happy Birthday bud.” She said, hugging him back.  

“Damn it.” Rick said, everyone turned to him sharply, “I had no idea that the sky was so magical.” He laughed to himself, the wonder in his eyes, unseen before. Daniel looked up too with wonder too. His hazel eyes sparkling.

Claira whistled her melody tune as they walked over to the log. Miles was staring up at them, startled. He noticed the little boy in Rick’s arms. He set him down as the boy, still holding his shoulder, dazed at Miles’s leg with bewilderment. Miles looked back at him with the same look in his face.

“Miles,” Claira started as she set down her backpack, “This is Daniel. We found him at the store and he’s badly hurt.” Miles beamed back at her, speechless.

“What?” Rick said to Miles.

“Can I talk to all of you? Without Daniel.” Miles told them.

Louis got up and reached his hand out to Daniel. He seized the hand and got up with a sharp pain in his shoulder and they walked over together towards the trees beyond them to get a better picture of the sky. Once they were out of range, Miles started.

“What the hell are you guys thinking?” He said in a fired up tone, but whispering. His curly locks shook.

“What? Are we supposed to leave him out there in the cold? Alone.” Claira argued.

“Well he won’t survive out here. It’s too risky, I mean look at me; I’m basically paralyzed out here in this war zone. You don’t know if he’s some spy or something.” Miles explained.

Rick laughed agitated, “A spy? Out of all the bad things that are in this world, you think a young boy would be a spy for the army? He’s hurt, just like you and me and all of us here. He was the thinnest out of all of us. He was crying out there.”

Miles swore at Rick who swore back at Miles.

“Were keeping him, spy or not okay. It’s to dangerous out there for him.” Claira finally said as impatient as could be.

“Fine, and if we all get killed, it’s not my fault.” Miles responded, crossing his arms arrogantly. There was a long silence before Louis came back with Daniel who now had Louis’s long sweater gulping him whole. Both of them alike, thin, pale, and innocent.

“I see you three have made up.” Louis said sarcastically. Daniel left Louis’s hand and sat down.

“Now I’m going to get some wood.” Rick said, walking away from the group to cool off. The sun was almost gone as it fell asleep and the moon came out to play and the colder it increased. Louis felt the rush of the wind against his skin that made him shudder vigorously.

Claira made cluttering sounds as she searched through her backpack for food. She took out a pot and the canned Joe and set them together by the damp fire pit.

Rick came back with armsful of wood. He kicked the old wood out of the was and replaced it with the ones in his arms. He ruffled through his bag and pulled out gas and sprinkled it over the wood. He bent over and lit it with his lighter. The bright light exploding into warmth for the five of them. The scooted closer to it. Claira put the pot over the fire and poured the can of Joe into it and waited for it to cook.

“So, Daniel,” Rick said, “I’m Rick. That’s Louis, he’s shy.” Rick pointed at Louis who looked up when his name was said. He waved at Daniel who waved back, “Over there in the corner is Miles. He can be crabby sometimes.” Rick whispered.

“I heard that.” Miles said over his shoulder.

“Okay.” Rick mouthed, “Well, moving on, the last one out of our ban of the crew is Claira.” She smiled at Daniel, “She is the kindest person you’ll ever meet, but don’t piss her off, she’ll explode like a firework on Fourth of July. Tell us about you.”

Daniel looked at all of them like they were big giants, “My name is well, Daniel. I’m ten in a half” Everyone clapped except Miles who stayed in the shadows, crossing his arms and looking into the distance.

“It’s ready, Louis can you get the bowls and spoons for me.” Claira announced.

Louis scurried through the backpack and passed the utensils to Claira who prepared the bowls. The steam coming from it made everyone drool. She passed the first bowl around to Daniel who savored it. She repeated this until the pot was empty; there first savory meal in days.

“Danny boy, slow down or you’ll get sick.” Rick said with a mouthful of Joe in his mouth. Daniel couldn’t help himself, he was starving, gouging it down like there was no tomorrow.

Chapter 7

The lot of them were full and tired after eating the warm Joe. Daniel turned in a light green after eating so fast. He held his stomach and turned around, lurched and threw up. He held himself steady by grasping onto the tree as Rick rushed over to comfort him, stroking his back as the barf countinied.

“I told you Danny.” He said shaking his head, “Get it all out and then get some rest.”

Miles rolled his eyes, “I’m going to bed.” He rolled away from the fire and slept soundly through Daniel’s vomits. Daniel looked weary afterwards. His eyes darkened and his skin even paler. He passed out on the ground and fell asleep quickly.

“Is he okay?” Claira asked.

“I’m sure he is, just an upset stomach after not eating in so long. He can’t take it all in.” Rick explained looking down at him sorrowfully, “Poor kid.” Rick sat down, “Well, I have something that I think you might enjoy.” Rick smirked, raising his right eyebrow. He reached in his pocket for a pack of Camels. “Ta-da.” He said, shaking the box, “The most stress relieving thing on this here planet, the good old cigarette.”

Rick opened the package and took the small stick out. He placed it on the tip of his lips, grabbed his lighter and lit the end of it, making it have a glowing red nose that disappeared like a firefly in the the night. He took in a whiff of the smoke and blow out little gray clouds. He passed the pack onto Louis who did the same thing as he did was less ease, then he handed it to Claira who opened the package halfway; pause.

Miles stared at her. He swore under his breath and put his face in his hand, “Claira, I don’t want you to get lung cancer.”

“I’m not, it’s just one cigarette, so what.” Claira testified.

“So what?” He laughed, “We're out here trying to survive until the coast is clear for us to escape and there probably is no escape from this wall to start with and you thinks it’s a good idea to smoke!” Miles yelled.

“Dude!” Rick whispered, “The kid over here is trying to sleep, keep it down.”

“Yeah, I mean if we die here, we only got one chance to live.” Claira persuaded, handing him a cigarette. He took it slowly and lite it up. He inhaled it and coughed in disgust. Claira lite her’s up and started to smoke also. A slight burning sensation on the back of their throats. The air smelt like the drag they took in, relaxing their restless bodies.

Suddenly, Louis grabs his chest and starts to choking on air. The tourcherus sound of him choking had Everyone looking at him, paralyzed, frozen, not knowing what to do. Telepathically, they were trying to think of a solution of what to do. Louis fell to the floor, on his hands and knees, coughing so hard he started to jolt hard, his head pounding. The three of them watched in torment, Claira being the only one not surprised. She looked from Rick to her brother, corrugating her eyebrows.

Finally, with such time taking, Claira threw down her stick and rushed over to Louis. He looked at her, his eyes widened. “Louis, remember, breath.” She said with a calm voice. Her eyes beaming with his. Louis gasped for air. Every breath hard to watch. He started to cough hard. His face turn a shade of redder than it already was, veins like his fathers, appearing around his neck, hurling almost.

“Breath, in and out.” Claira told him, “In and out.” Louis nodded as he calmed himself down. His chest pumping up and down rapidly. He shut his eyes and took in the crisp air, letting it pass through his nose easily and out through his mouth. Soon his breathing was normal and consistent before setting back up to his seat. His hands and pants were covered in dirt and the cut from the day of the attack. With six set of eyes on him, his redness didn’t leave his face so quickly. He pursed his lips and sighed, wiping his hands off uncomfortably.

“Geez man, you almost died. I think I almost peed myself, you gave me a heart attack.” Rick said with eyes widened.

“Yeah, are you okay? You should check that out.” Miles chanted along.

“I have this every once in awhile. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, it started the day of the accident, it’s gotten worse ever since then. But surely it’s nothing” Louis explained.

“It’s nothing? Well, where's your inhaler?” Rick asked.

“Don’t have one. My dad said I don’t need it and we can’t afford it anyways.” Louis was fixed over the fire as it’s flames danced around in the night. The wood cracking, bursting more orange embered ashes into the winter sky high above the trees.

“Well I’m going to hit the sack. Good night.” Rick sighed as he threw his cigarette to the floor, the butt burning out with a sizzle, “Any more scares, I might poop myself” He scooted himself to the forest ground and laying his head to the stars. His arms wrapped in the back of his noggin, resting his head back.

“Me too, I’m tired.” Miles said laying away from the fire and shut his eyes.

Claira stared at the fire, curling up into a ball. Louis looked at her, examining her face like he never seen her before in a different way, her freckles were more noticeable on her cheeks, the ocean-like color of her vibrant eyes, appealing. Claira realized he was staring at him, and looked at him too. Louis got startled and gazed away, staring into the dark forest, studying the trees in the shadow.

“Hey, it’s fine.” Claira said to him. He looked back at her, his eye bright in the fire’s light but were hidden by his obnoxious bangs. They gazed in each other eyes. Both leaned in, their faces getting closer to each other. They shut their eyes and their lips made contact.

The moment they their lips reached a distance from each other, their faces grow hotter. They looked at each other and smiled weakly, embarrassed but there was a tingling sensation of delightfulness.

“That was,” Claira started.

“New.” Louis finished of, his cheeks blushed up.

“Yeah.” Claira laughed softly. Louis liked the sound of it and tried his best not to smile so brightly. She looked at his hand, “How’s your hand.”

Louis picked it up, it was just a long scar, “It’s fine I guess. Picked the scab a few days ago.”

“Good.” She said after a long pause, “Well I’m going to bed. See you tomorrow.” Claira said in a soft tone. She laid down herself down in the raw, dirt floor. Louis did the same, putting he hands behind his head, like Rick, and closed his eyes.

“Louis? Louis?” A voice said slowly. Louis opened his eyes to the woodlands. It was blurred, different than it was before he fell asleep. Everyone had vanished with a eerie silence that was very out of place. It was just him, alone.

“Claira? Rick? Where are you?” He squinted his eyes, he scrambled to his feet and started walking, his voice trailing back to his ear, “Anyone?”

His father popped up at his face from behind a tree, making Louis fall backwards on his butt, scooting backwards with his breath rapid.

“Louis, why haven’t you come home yet? I’ve been waiting for you.” His father said in a crazy manner. Louis looked in his hand; his leather belt. Louis’s eyes broadened with horror, gasping.

“You’re, you're dead, I saw it with my own eyes.” He said tripping over his words, gulping anxiously.

“Oh, I saw that girl you kissed, who is she?” His father said, examining the leather belt, stroking it down the line.

Louis blinked rapidly, “She, she’s no one. She just a friend.”

“A friend? No one? Which one is it Louis?” His father cocked an eyebrow, looking concerned, “Than why’d you kiss her then?” His father questioned. Louis was silent. His father pulled the ends to the belt making a whipping sound. Louis shut his eyes and winced, shaking feverishly, tears falling off his cheeks.

His father silently laughed, his eyes red in the pupils, “Louis, Louis, Louis. Your weak. Fragile, feeble, powerless, shall I go on? You will never do anything achievable after you killed your mother.” There was a silence. His father started to circle him his hands behind his back, “Your a burden.” He said thoroughly, “You can never do anything right! You’ll just suffer and die out here you a rotten piece of garbage! You hear me!”

Louis covered his ears, “Your not real! Your dead! You hear me!”

“Louis I’m just trying to teach you a lesson.” His father started with a mischievous tone in his voice.

“Teach me a lesson on what, that I can’t do anything right? That I’m the one who killed my own mother? How you hate me so much? No, I’m not afraid of you anymore! You hear me!” Louis raged. He never raised his voice. He was a tiny mouse that had just evolved into something bigger than he already was. His tears had become heavier, he got up, almost approaching to his father’s height. He had enough. “I didn’t kill mom! I didn’t  do anything to deserve this! After four years, I’ve cowered in your goddamn shadow, abiding to you and your damn belt. Having the joy of a scapegoat to all of your problems. Me? I’m hurting because of you” Louis looked straight into his father's fiery black eyes, like his own, “And you don’t care if I live or not! Tell me! Do I mean anything to you?”

His father stared at him with a stern look in his face, his wrinkles coming to life on his face. Silence.

“Do you freakin’ care?” Louis repeated, “I can’t believe you? You asshole. I can’t believe your even my father? You never loved me or mom.”

His father kept staring at him, “Say something you moron!” Louis felt motionless. He was dead inside. He didn’t care about his father anymore. His father raised his arm up with the belt in his hand. Louis shut his eyes again and shoke, ready for the hit, “Your not real.” He said to himself quietly. The hand came soaring down, making a whooshing sound as it cut through the air.

Louis staggered upright. He had a cold sweat going on with his eyes almost popping out of his head. He breathing accelerated, but it wasn’t as horrible as the one a few hours ago. He looked around to see everyone back in there place; his father thankfully not there.

Claira woke up, unconsciously, “Louis? What’s wrong?”  

“Nothing, just a bad dream. That’s it. Go back to bed, I’m fine.” Louis stuttered, rubbing his eyes.

“If you say so.” Claira said sluggishly, falling back asleep. Rick was snoring loudly in the corner. Daniel’s teeth were chattering and his eyes were darkened as he slept forcefully. Miles back was turned from the rest of them. He was curled up in a tight ball, trying to keep warm. His wounded leg, awkwardly sticking out.

Louis laid back down. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest. The frosty winds blowing on his skin making goose bumps appear on his body. He gazed at the stars above the trees. Everyone, a different brightness and shape. He felt the snow seep into his plaid shirt. It was peaceful watching the winter sky. The beautiful Milky Way was painted magnificently in the space constellation. For a second, he forgot about his horrifying past and started to enjoy this freedom, even if this was a fight to survive.

Chapter 8

Miles awoken before dawn had stricken, feeling awful and sticky because he hadn’t washed in days, getting up with all of his strength to stay on his feet. He wobbled and almost fell on Claira who moved her head over slightly. He sighed in relief when he caught himself, smiling at her sleeping sister. She looked younger when she shut her eyes. I reminded him when they’d use to get along as children.

“One step at a time.” He thought to himself because the bullet that was still in his leg was cutting through the flesh again. He gritted his teeth in agony, trying not to make a single cry from his misery, catching his balance on every tree that was close by. Fresh, new blood trickled down his leg, leaving a trail of red in the snow behind him. The leaves crunched underneath his feet.

He found himself in front of a small pond filled with freezing water. Miles crouched down and put his hand under the water and splashed some of it on his face. It refreshed his mood, yet it was freezing cold. He got down to where his wounded leg and him could make contact with each other. He rolled up his pants, revealing the flesh on his shin. A deep hole was leaking the red substance instantaneously.

Miles had a bitter expression on his face, soaking the leg in the pond, not caring of the frigid water that was making it even numb. The blood was twirling slowly in the water as it was being washed off from the wound.

Miles started to cough as he rubbed the red off like lotion. He felt every bump on the bruises around it. The cut deep and rich with blood. Then, from behind him he heard a twig snap. He glanced over in the direction nervously, “Claira?” He said in a panicked tone, “Is that you?”

Nobody answered him. Miles got up sorely and started to limp forward as quickly as he could. He looked behind him and three boys were chasing him. They were at least a year older than him. Miles ran, feeling the discomfort in his shin as it was bursting out blood painfully. He let out little cries. The boys were gaining up to him, hopping over the logs that were in their way, laughing. As Miles kept forward while looking back at the boys, he trip to the ground hard, hitting his head on a rock. He was blacking out unconsciously. His vision becoming cloudy. He tried to get back on his feet but two out of the three boys were in front of him while the other one stepped on him, holding him down to the ground. Miles blinked slowly as his eyelids were shutting down.

“Holy, It’s Wilson!” One laughed.

“How’d he survive?” The other one said.

“We should be asking, why is he on our turf?” The first one asked sternly, pushing the other one in the shoulder.

“Hey,” The one on top of him said, “You dorks stop twiddling with each other and help me get him back.”

The two of them shrugged, looking at each other.

“C’mon, help me here dim-wits.” The first one said, picking Miles hands up. The others lifting his feet.

“Eww! His leg’s bleeding!” A boy with orange curly hair and braces said, dropping his foot on the ground. Miles moaned in pain.

“Damn it Kyle! Don’t be such a wuss.” The first one said.

“Sorry.” He said quietly as he reached for the foot again sickened.

Miles opened his eyes with a aching migraine in his head. He squinted his eyes and tried to reach to touch his head. He struggled to reach his hand out, tugging on it, but then soon realized he was bound to a tree in a tent, restraining him to move anywhere.

“Well I’ll be damned, he’s alive!” Kyle said, walking up to him with a rotten smirk.

“What?” Miles said hoarsely, his vision coming back into view. He realized that it was jocks at school that teased him for having honors classes; Kyle, Joe, and Keller- three of the stupidest stooges there were. Miles gulped and made the expression that Louis would make when he mentioned or saw his father; his skin feverishly becoming paler as he shriveled.

“Let me go you, you!” Miles yelled straggling himself.

“You what Wilson? A holes? oh I don’t think so. You probably would get in trouble from you mommy at home if you said that.” Keller said babish. Keller was a tall muscular teen who’s careless charm would impress any girl that looked at him. Miles glared at straight at him with disgust on his face.

“So, Wilson, what are you doing out here in the cold?” Joe stepped in.

“Nothing.” Miles said flatly, going at him devilishly.

“Oh well you had to be doing something right?” Kyle asked in his face. Keller silky brunette hair getting slicked back. He crouched down, flicking his trench-coat back, out of his way. He was gothic in a way but still athletic.

Mile just looked straight with a blank expression, “I told you-” he turned his head to Kyle, “Nothing.”

“Uh-huh, right” Keller sighed, looked straight down. There was a long pause. Everybody was speechless. Then as in the middle of it came the sound of a hard smack on Miles cheek turning it red. Never had he felt a hit so hard. He didn’t show any weakness but his eye started to tear up as his looked up Keller who was the one who slapped him, “You tell us the freakin’ goddamn truth Wilson before I beat your ass.” Keller shouted, letting it rumble outwards, there noses almost touching.

Miles shut his eyes and sighed, leaving him no choice, “I was washing myself. There, anything else?”
The three of them smiled at each other, as if they had the best idea ever the popped in there dimwitted minds.

“Is there anyone else with you Wilson, like your little sister who would be more likely to withstand these conditions with her street smarts unlike you.” Keller asked.

“No, it’s just me.” He said, thinking of what was happening to the rest of them back by the log. He wanted to protect them.

“Great.” Keller revealed his white pearly teeth. They untied him from the tree and dragged him out of the tent and into the winter. Miles was barefooted and had his jacket removed from him, completely in his pajamas, soaked already. The snow biting his toes as he made contact with the ground, stricken with a wave of frigid coldness that made his skin become stone-hard stiff.

“Where are you taking me?” Miles said shaking, trying to fight the cold.

“We’re washing you up. Isn’t that what your doing in the first place Wilson?” Kyle answered him. Miles tried to escape them but there grip was forceful on his wimpy body.

“Let me go!” Miles said fought as was dragged closer to the pond.

“You two hold him so he doesn’t escape.” Keller told his two minions. They nodded in agreement to his command. Miles feet were in the freezing water, floating up the the surface as his whole body was being carried halfway into the pond. He started to quiver in his breathing as his hands were brought tightly to the back of him. He was being pushed to his knees in the water, feeling the slippery rocks at the bottom of, the waves giving him goosebumps. Miles felt as though he was turning into ice, trembling, his breathing to be shown strikingly visible.

Keller gripped his hair firmly. Miles squinted his face to make it look like he just ate a lemon. Keller shoved his head into the blazing, cold water, Miles face turning numb and sick in the cold waters. He saw the bare ground hit his head as silks of blood were rushing off his skin. He started choking on water, blowing out violent bubbles of air that floated swiftly up to the surface as he screamed muffled shouts underwater.

His head was brought up from the icy water, his shaggy wet hair being pulled out harshly.

“How’s your bath Wilson? Enjoying it?” Keller asked sarcastically. Miles looked at him from the side madly as he was out of breath, water dripping down his skin. “Crap, not enough for your brillant head, oh well.” Keller said, pushing Miles head to the water. The time, it lasted even longer than the first. Miles had no air left and was now drowning, Water rushing into his nose. He heard muffles in above him, yelling. Miles gave up and closed his eyes, giving ease to his entire body. He knew he was going to die at this point. He was going to die in the most embarrassing and unloyal way. He should have told Claira he loved her sooner. He should have apologized to Louis for thinking he was a bad influence to his sister. He regretted many things. Then he lost himself from contact.

Keller brought him back up the second he felt his hand gets pulled down heavier as Mile was limp. His eyes widened.

“Holy!” He panicked bringing Miles’s head back to the surface as his motionless body lost all senses, “I killed Wilson!”

“What did I tell you! Bring him here you buffoons!” A girl called, standing at the shore.

Keller swore as the three carried Miles to shore as quickly as they could, trotting through the water like fish in the sea. Around Miles’s eye were blacken and hollowed, his skin was white as ghost, his lips turned a blistering blue, his veins visible from his flesh, and his head dropped down, motionless.

They laid him on the ground, his body, soaking wet and cold as ice. The girl knelt down and started pumping Miles chest vigorously. She did it thirty times and tilted his head back and pinched his nose and blew in his mouth twice.

Keller, Joe, and Kyle just stared in awe and shock. Each feeling guilty about what had happened to Miles. They knew he was for sure dead and wouldn’t wake up. Keller had his hand over his mouth, scared over his head.

“C’mon kid. Wake up. Wake up!” The girl said, pumping his chest again. Even she was scared.

Pump

Pump

Pump

Pump

She took in a deep breath and blew in twice, tilting his head back and pinching his nose.

Breathe

Breathe

The girl, growing relentless, pushed down on his chest with only his body still limp. Her sweat and tears, festered her anger and determination. Miles coughed out water, waking up in shock and trauma. He started to hyperventilate and shake badly. The girl backed off, breathing heavily. He looked around everywhere, his head quickly moving to next thing in sight. He was alive!  

Claira’s blue eye opened peacefully. She got to her feet and stretched from her nice, beauty rest. The sky was saphire, like the color of her eyes, with clear breezy winds. She looked around, seeing everyone constantly dreaming and eyes shut, taking in a deep breath until she noticed something was off. She crouched down to tap Louis on the shoulder.

Louis groaned sleepily, “What?” His face wrinkled up, irritated that he was being woken up.

“Wake up. Wake up! Miles is gone.” Claira said continuously shaking his upper shoulder.

“He’s probably taking a piss or something now go back to bed, it early.” Louis said defiant to open his eyes, “He’ll come back.”

“And what if he doesn’t” Claira argued, crossing her arms as if she was a toddler that didn’t get what she wanted.

“We’ll look for him, I’m sure he’s fine.” Louis said as his voice trailed off back to sleep. He turned over to his side as his cheek touched snow. His suddenly shook and shot his eyes opened, forgetting the winter cold. Louis stood on his feet.

“Are you done sleeping beauty?” Claira laughed.

Louis’s ears grew hot and rosy as a flustered grin appeared on his face. He’s dimples deepened, “Yeah, let’s go.” He said timidly shrugging his shoulders, “But first we’ve have to tell Rick were going.”

The two of them woke up Rick as he was a surprisingly light sleeper after on tap on the shoulder woke him up.

“What?” He said sitting upright, rubbing his eye.

“We’re going to look for Miles. He’s gone.” Claira told him.

“And we need you to stay here and watch Daniel.” Louis finished.

“What if you two dorks get hurt? What do I do?” Rick said, shaking his head to make his long hair fly into his face.

“Don’t worry about us, worry about him.” Claira said pointing at the sleeping child that was curled in composer. All of them turned to him, admiring the youth of the boy.

Claira sighed, “We’re off.”

“Wait, wait, wait, take this.” Rick said as Louis and Claira backed tracked. He tossed Claira a gun and Louis a bag of food. Louis tripped back from the force the toss had on his scrawny body, “For your travels.” He said, bowing.

“Thanks.” Claira said holding up the gun as if it was a glass for cheers. Louis followed with a quick smirk and they set out into the forest.

Rick watched them as their figures became a tiny, black, speck disappearing into the woods. It became silent and still. Rick stared at the dead fire on the ground and pulled out his knife and started carving the tip of a thick stick from the pile.

Miles’s head was hung down. His skin, still faded, made his freckles popped from his face. Gradually, he opened his eyes that casted a shadow underneath the hazel. His lips bitter blue and numb still. A cold sweat ran down his sticky body.

He looked up to see he was back in the dimly lit tent, the fire crackling in front of him; red as wine ashes twirl upwards to the roof of the tent that hung high up. He shook his head and looked out into the outside, a bright world. The girl noticed his awakening and went closer to inspect him.

Miles scooted himself against the tree feeling uncomfortable, staring at her like she was a extraterrestrial that had abducted him to do research on his human-self. She had green pearly eye that were like the the vibrant color of leaves in the summertime and visible freckles that dotted her face completely. She grinned, showing the mild gap between her two upper teeth.

“You’re lucky you know.” She said getting back up to her feet as she gets back to washing the dishes in a small bucket, “You almost left this world.”

“Aeh!” Miles mumbled,  now realizing his mouth was tied up too, making him unable to speak properly. His sense of feeling was coming back to him like a punch. The tightness of the rag around his blistering lips was painful.

“Oh, yeah, sorry about my older brother and his friends, they don’t trust too many people. I think I know you from school or something. Probably school cause basically everyone knows everyone here in this stupid town. Claira’s brother, right?” She asked.

Miles nodded.

“Knew it, you two are nothing alike except your, noses. It’s a peculiar kind of shape. And hair too, except-” She briefly paused, looking at him, “yours is lighter. I don’t think you know me, I’m always skipping classes at school, I’m Aaden Wyle, Keller Wyle’s younger sister.” Aaden mentioned. “I know your leg is jacked up so I have to take out whatever's in there to stop the bleeding. Also I’ve bandaged your head already” Aaden got up to and cracked open a suitcase. She threw out clothes and other junk out of the case, send it out to the dirt ground.

Aaden finally popped her tiny head out of the box and started walking towards him with tweezers in her hand. Miles eyes broadened at the sight of them, gulping anxiously of the miniature pinscher. He shook his head contemptuously, coiling his wounded leg toward him.

“Don’t be a coward. If this isn’t done now, it could be infected. It’s now or never.” Aaden said forcefully. Miles eased up and confronted his leg to her after a long pause. He felt a lump in his throat, he thought of the pain that would come striking to it once the tweezers are in.

He gripped his sweaty hands hard together, creating little nail creases in his skin. His body tensed up with a hardening expression that didn’t show fear but, it was written all over him. Trying to act brave he sat up, making the tiny hairs on his back raise.

“Relax, geeze!” Aaden said looking at him funny, “I haven’t even laid a finger on you yet.”

Miles just looked at her with a solemn silence. She got down to her knees and held Miles leg down strongly, like her brother’s grip.

“Now you can’t move while I do this so keep still for me, okay?” She commanded as she held the tweezers ready in one hand.

Miles nodded slightly. His head was about to explode out of his skull. He overthought the tweezers and started to get a big migraine from it, which happened often because he was always was thinking about something that was quite simple.

Aaden took in a breath and poked the tweezers into the deep wound that was starting to swell. She reached in there, feeling the squishy tissue in his shin.

Miles closed his eyes in agony and started to scream loudly. The boys peeked in shocked and confused at the screams inside the tent. One of them swore at Aaden to shut him up but she was so concentrated on Miles leg to care about what they were saying.

She had the face of a bull that was ready to charge, “Would you three help me so this is faster! C’mon you lunatics get your ass over here!” The three of them look astonished at each other, each having the dumbest look on their faces, “I could really use help right now and all you’re doing is making retarded faces at each other” The three snapped out of their trans and went over to Aaden to hold down Miles.

He had hot tears rolling down his face and sweat made it look like somebody splashed water on his face. His yelled loudly and hit his head against the tree to get his mind off that someone was picking on his wound. Everyone's hearts were racing as the tension between Aaden yelling at Miles to shut his mouth and Miles screaming his head off continued.

“Shut the hell up! It’ll just take longer if you cry like a baby!” Aaden shouted.

“Well if you were in my shoes, wouldn’t you be screaming?” Miles muffled painfully, gritting his teeth together. Aaden turned silent and focused on the tweezers which were drawing blood on her hand. She blow her hair out of her face and went into the shin deeper while Miles wailed.

Louis was crying silently on his bed with his pillow over his ears. The muffled yells outside were his parents screaming at each other, things getting knocked over, cries from his mother telling his father to stop. The loud sounds of the his father's footsteps came closer to Louis’s room. The door was now being banged on, the knob was being turned relentlessly.

“Let me in Louis!” He yells.

“Go away!” He yells in a cry. The door was locked gratefully.

“Can’t stay in there all day!” His father responds. The door flew open, created a hole in the wall behind the door; the knob broke. Louis jolted himself up, terrified of his crazed father.

He trots toward his son, heavy boots clanking on the floor loudly like an army troop. He grabbed Louis by the collar of his shirt and brought him face to face with his eyes that were gleaming terribly.

Louis looked straight at him, trying to hold back his tears. His mother turned around the corner and raced up to her husband and started to yell while pounding his back with all her might, “Get off of my son you little bastard! He’s too young to know! We’ve got to move on”

His father pushed her away, “You’re a screw up! To all of us!” He yell horsley, shaking Louis violently. He weeped hard.

“Mom?” He cried as she fell to the ground. Then his father's bulging fist swung at his face, hitting his eye badly.

His father dropped him, pushing him backwards as he carried his wife out of the room and slammed the door harshly. Louis laid there with his hands over his eye swollen and puffed with pain, listening to their argument again.   

Claira held out her arm against Louis’s chest, stopping him from taking any step further.

“You hear that?” She said listening closely as bird chirped sweetly in the background.

“Hear what?” Louis asked, looking at the trees above as the sun scorched down on them.

“I don’t know? I heard a cry of some sort.” Claira told Louis.

“It could be Miles.” He responded wide-eyed.

“That could only mean?” Claira looked at him wide-eyed too. Louis swore under his breath, they were close to him. The two of them ran towards the sound along the large pond.

Chapter 9

There was a knocking on the door. It was very broad and loud.

“Coming!” Yelled Ms. Marlee, getting off the couch and onto her feet. Her eyes were red and baggy underneath. She opened the door to Horton, who was astonished to see her disastrous appearance.

“Oh, um, you.” She said confused, scratching her forehead.

“Uh, do you want to come with me for some coffee?” Horton asked, fumbling his words.

“Yeah, Yeah. What for?” Ms. Marlee said squinting at the daylight.

“I have something to tell you.” He whispered, looking over his shoulder to be sure no one was listening into their conversation.

“Okay, come inside while I get ready. Damn it’s cold out here.” Ms. Marlee made way for the stubby man to enter the house.

“Oh no, I can’t I’ll just stay in the car if that is fine.” He said apologetically backing off the porch.

“Are you sure?” She asked.

“Yes I’ll wait for you.” Horton said backtracking, “Just come over to the car when you’re ready.”

Aaden held the tweezers up to her face and inspected the metal bullet that was coated in blood. She looked back at Miles who was dazing out.

“Holy.” She muttered to herself. Her expression somewhat interested and puzzled at the same moment, “This was in your leg?”

Miles nodded like he was drunk, his eyes droopy.

“How did you deal with this excruciating pain?” She asked.

Miles shrugged. Joe came in with a bottle of aspirins and some wrap from the pharmacy, “Last ones that I could find. Why do these soldiers even need these?” He tossed her the bottle, rattling in the air. Aaden catches it with one hand and opened the bottle, taking two out of it. One of them, she pops in her mouth and swallows it whole. She gets up and pours water in a bowl.

“Aspirin. Take it.” She said taking the rag off his face. Joe unties him as Miles rubbed his cheek with one free hand. He takes the pill in his mouth and desperately drinks the water, pouring droplets on his shirt.

“Slow down.” Aaden laughed, “There’s still tomorrow.” She bent over and started to pour warm water off from the fire onto the wound to wash off excess blood. Miles winced, steam came off from his leg. Joe carefully lifted it up while Aaden started to wrap it as it  instantly bleed through.

“Look,” Keller said from out the tent, scratching his eyebrow nervously, “I’m sorry for, you know, drowning you. I don’t know what I was thinking. I guess I just wanted to have a little fun after the confusion. You must hate me.”

“I don’t hate you.” Miles looked up at him.

“What?” Keller said confused.

“I’ve met someone who I learned from, never hate your enemies.” Miles thought of Louis.

“Is this some boy scout crap?” Keller laughed.

“No, just from someone who I use to despise.” Miles shrugged.

Horton and Ms. Marlee were dropped off in front of a coffee shop on Archer Avenue; an old family owned cafe only Horton liked to go to alone when he had days off. Horton opened the door and let Ms. Marlee walk in first, “Ladies first.”

Ms. Marlee giggled, “Why thank you.” She walked into the warm room as her cheeks were pink. She took off her hat and gloves and stuffed them into her pocket. The two sat in the corner. The waiter approached them.

“Well, welcome, what can I get you two?” The waiter said cheerfully, grabbing out her pen out of her hair and a notepad from her pocket. She had a huge grin on her face.

“Yes, a ginger spice latte.” Horton said with an affectionate smile.

The waiter wrote, “And for you hun?”

“Just an espresso.” She said looking nervous at the waiter.

“Okie dokie, I’ll be right back.” She said, twirling around.

Horton looked back at her, concerned, “Okay, let’s get down to business.” Ms. Marlee nodded slightly. There was a sudden silence.

“I think your son is still out there.” Horton blurted.

“Out where?” She asked.

“In what we call Ville Verrouillee. This is a project we have been experimenting about for more than six years. We had you all sign fake contracts for a wall to be put up. There was a fake plaque that striked overnight, killing dozens, remember this?”

Ms. Marlee nodded.

“Well, we fake your death after this accident when you were actually in a coma. We wanted to see what would happen to the economy if a loved one was missing from the experiment.” Horton said being cut off.

“Wait, so your saying that were all an experiment. For what?” Ms. Marlee asked.

“We want to see what would happen if a civilization was cut off from the world at a bad time in history. We want to complete this to see if the theory was correct.”

“Who organized this?” Ms. Marlee asked.

“Dr. Mark Manhattan. He is a billionaire undercovered as a scientist.” Horton told her.

“And what does all of this have to do with my son?” She questioned.

“Well, after your death, your son, Louis, correct? Drastically changed over the next course of years. Especially your Husband, Laurence, he well started to, abuse your son, accused him of your death. Very unorthodox I’m afraid. But when your son’s alone, he found out the fishy scientific stuff we do, exposing me. We had to exterminate everyone in the town that you’ve lived in. We’ve kept some soldiers to help save some kids from the harm of death without Dr. Manhattan’s knowledge. Our main target was your son so we had a body made for him to make him seem dead. We don’t know how many kids are still out there. We have to wait until the coast is clear because Dr. Manhattan is still there working on destroying our files.” Horton stopped and looked over to the waiter who brought two steamy drinks to there table.

“One hot Espresso for the Mrs.” She set the coffee in front of her, “And one ginger spice latte for the man over there.” She said repeating the same steps as she did, setting the drink down.

“Thank you ma’am.” Horton said politely. As she left, Horton took a sip of his Latte.

“What about my husband? Is he?” She asked with a quiver in her voice.

“Unfortunately not, but we believe your son is still out there.” clarified Horton.

“So your saying my son’s out there in the freezing cold?” She said.

“Yes.” Horton sighing.

“Does he have any supplies, like food or a coat?” She said, tearing.

“I don’t know, we only had a few hours to plan. The soldiers were permitted to take the things they needed. But some purposely dropped supplies for them.” Horton said taking another sip. Ms. Marlee thought for a minute or two, looking at her reflection in the black coffee.

“Listen.” Horton said, touching her hand softly. She looked up, tears in her eyes, “He’s still out there. He’s a tough kid, trust me, after six years of watching him, he can make it.” Horton said, deeply meaning it, “And my treat.” He smiled.

Claira swore loudly as she was getting frustrated in find her missing brother.

“He’s so stupid! Why would he leave?” Claira argued with no one. Louis sat on a log gnawing on a granola bar that was half frozen.

“Maybe because of last night?” Louis said with the frozen bar in his mouth, drool dripped down his lips, struggling to bit down.

“But didn’t we make up?” Claira said turning to Louis.

“I think, but how would he get up in the first place?” Louis asked.

“I don’t know but what if we don’t find him in time.” Claira swore again, ruffling her hair back as she paced back and forth. Louis watched her as he jolted backwards almost off the log, finally getting a piece off of the granola and started chewing it.

“Do you want to keep going?” She asked, frantic with her eyebrows raised.

Louis shrugged and wrapped the rest of the granola bar back in the wrapper. He was long and thin when her stood on feet.

Miles was hacking up a strong cough. The color in his face was coming back to him and his sense of feeling was knocking him everywhere. He felt sore and had a terrible headache that felt like somebody had punched him hard in the face.

“I need to get back.” He mumbled drowsily trying to get up. He attempted to get up painfully stepping up. He wrinkled his noses and shut his eyes as he used the tree to help hoist himself up. He groaned painfully, losing his strength and energy, he harshly slammed his butt to the floor and let out a big sigh.

“Woah cowboy, you aren’t going into the wild west until you heal.” Aaden said with a mouthful of food, she swallowed, “If you walk on that, the tissue in your shin will break down and won’t heal, It will bleed more.”

Miles gulped with a sense of unease in his throat.

“Anyways, who’s out there that’s so important?” Aaden asked.

“Nobody.” Miles looked down, remembering the night before, “Nobody that cares about me. I mean if they cared, they would find me by now.”

Aaden swore, putting her hand in her face in disbelief as her spoon clinked on the side of her bowl, “You're so oblivious. If course they care about you, even if they don’t show it.” Miles raised an eyebrow, “and by the looks of it too, it seems like you need them too.” Miles realized Aaden was right, about everything. He needed them and they needed him. He suddenly missed them badly. Miles stared blankly out the the tent. The sun shining radiantly on the snow, each looking like a little diamond sparkling.

Joe was sprinting hastily into the tent, out of breath, “Intruders!” He gasped. Miles stared up at him surprised.

“Who?” Aaden asked with a solid tone, taking out the sound of a sharp item in her hand.

“Two! Two kids, one with a gun!” Kyle bewilderment in his eyes.

Miles looked down and thought hard for a moment. It was silent except for the deep breathing of Kyle.

“The one with the gun asked about you and the other one had a seizure and I managed to escape before she could shoot.” Kyle explained, wiping his runny nose.
“Louis.” Miles said silently.

“What?” Keller darted to Miles in confusion.

“That’s my sister and her friend! You’ve got to save him! He’s sick!” Miles yelled.

“Are you sure?” Joe crossed his arms.

“Yes! Please, you’ve got to believe me!” Miles said, turning to Aaden.

“Then why does your sister have a gun?” Keller jumped in.

“I don’t know, I think my dad gave it to her. Now go! Please.” Miles said, desperately with his eyes teary.

The four of them rushed out. Keller turned to Aaden, “You stay.”

“What? I want help.” Aaden testified sternly.

“I know you do, but,” Keller looks down, “If something goes wrong, I want to know your safe her, understand?”

Aaden rolled her eye, “Yes.” She had a fiery glare in her eyes. Keller ran off to catch up with the boys to save Louis, running as far as the eye could see until they disappear. Aaden slouched back in her chair and blow her hair out of her face angian. Miles could remember all of times he tried to keep Claira safe and her denial to be obedient. They waited there in silence, not knowing what to say without making it seem awkward. Miles felt drowsy and dizzy, he closed his tired eyes that were scorching pain. Aaden, fidgeting her leg briskly, looked outside the tent that she was restricted to leave from every minute before getting up and pacing around the tent with a high urge to leave. Minutes ticked by, waiting impatiently for Aaden's brother and his friend to arrive. Miles wished hopefully that Louis would make it. Praying anxiously that they would come back safely.  

The boys and Claira came back after thirty minutes had passed by. Louis in a deep trance, motionless as he was carried from shoulder to feet by Keller and Joe like an injured soldier. Quickly, Aaden rushed over with blankets close to the fire.

“Over here guys.” She said, laying it over evenly. They laid him on the ground. His pigment was unsteadily ghost white; for a second Miles though Louis was dead. Claira was in tears, Keller sweeped his hair back sorrowfully, Joe bit his nails off tensely and Kyle swore to himself, spooked by the moment.

“Well?” Keller shrugged after a long time of silence had passed.

Aaden stood up after feeling his skin on his forehead and said, “He’s in a coma from hypothermia, I don’t know if he’ll regain consciousness, it would be lucky if he survives.”

Miles looked up his sister who was sobbing heavily in her hands harshly. “Claira?” Miles bursted out silently crying. Claira collapsed into his arms and coiled up against his chest. He stroked her long hair with his hand as she cried, hiccuping.

Chapter 10

Everyone woke up the next morning, all feeling filthy the night before with a cold sweat running down there skin with dirt mixed into the whole collage. They fell silent in mourning except for Aaden who had hope in her that Louis would make it. His body was close to the fire, sweating heavily, dripping down the side of his face. There were large wet stain blotches of the salty liquid on his shirt. Claira sat next to his head and massaged his damp, messy hair in a playful way to distract her a bit. His eyes peaceful shut and his breathing slow and steady. Miles watched Claira as he was shedding into himself, deeply thinking hard about Louis dying. He couldn’t see the world without him, crushing Claira for life. Louis was too young for any of this to happen to him and he wasn’t even conscious about it.

“I need to get the rest of them.” Claira blurted out, still paying attention to Louis.

“How many?” Keller asked, rubbing his eye.

“Just two more of us, I’ll be back.” Claira said getting up.

“I’ll come with you.” Keller said, stretching.

“You don’t have to.” She shrugged.

“Please, I insist.” Keller grabbed his backpack, putting it around his back. Claira looked at Miles, concerned, but Miles nodded and let her go, stepped back into the cold with a new partner at hand, Keller, who was much taller than Claira was in a great matter. He walked ahead of her as if he knew where he was going.

“Now, do you know where the hell we’re headed to?” Keller asked.

“We have to get to the other side of that pond and walk a quarter mile or so away.” Claira pointed across the pond.

Keller swore under his breath, complaining and walked ahead of her again. “You volunteered dingus.” Claira giggled lightly. They walked in silence the rest of the way, only their footsteps heard. The weather was frigid and their cheeks were already turning a slight shade of rosebud, their breath visible in the thin air but yet the scenery was so pretty. Claira wanted it to last forever, a wonderland of winter. She wished she could sketch this in her book if she had time to, capturing the leafless trees that enriched clear white crystals with a coat of snow covering it, the lovely fog creating a dramatic effect to the beauty of the surrounding forest. It was a complete puzzle. Beyond the distance, two tiny speck was visible in Claira’s view like tiny ants, she narrowed her eye, the two boys, Rick and Daniel.

“That’s them!” Claira said, running off to meet them. Keller scoffed and went off to catch up with her.

“Did you find? Where’s Louis? Where’s Miles?” Rick asked like a five-year-old asking one question after another. Claira looked down, shutting her eyes.

“What?” Rick said, putting his hand on her shoulder caringly.

“You have to come and see.” Claira told him, devastated. Rick was left unable to make a single sound out of his mouth, astonished. They packed up their thing in the bags, putting one of them over his shoulder, the others on Claira’s. He picked up the little boy how moaned weakly as he squinted his eyes, sleeping. Then they walked off from the campground where they had hid there for days in silence with their heads bowed down to the snow, watching their feet retrace their earlier steps. Flakes started to drift gracefully to the ground.

Rick broke the silence, “So, who’s this guy?”

“Keller, he goes to our school, he’s in your grade.” Claira said with a depressing tone in her voice. The two looked at each other oddly, not knowing they were in the same grade. But carelessly they both shrugged it off, moving forward. They were close to the tent now, smoke coming out of it. The four of them approached it and crouched down to enter into the warm compartment. Rick set down Daniel gently by the fire, he curled up, looking sickly as he was now awakened.

Rick’s mouth was wide open, aghast to see Louis lie there still, almost dead. He hunched down to the level he was and touched his forehead, swearing under his breath, tears started running down his cheek. That was the first time anyone had ever seen him cry.

“Kid, come on, wake up?” Rick sputtered. The color flushed from his face, he looked uneasy and then he ran outside, covering his mouth with his hand and threw up. Claira went over to him and patted his back, looking out to the lake, almost frozen in ice.

“He’s in a coma.” She said. Rick got up wiping his mouth.

“What?” He said stupidly.

“He’s in a coma,” She repeated, looking back at Louis, “we don’t know if he’ll wake up. It would be a miracle if he did.” Claira didn’t make eyes contact with Rick while she spoke, her face blank and serious.

“Yeah, but still, he’s dying. What if he never wakes up? He’s too young.” Rick said hoarsely, looking in the direction that Claira was facing. He pulled out a cigarette and let it, taking a long drag before exhaling it out into the air. He handed Claira the cigarette and smoked it too, coughing immediately after inhaling the tip of it. They both laughed awkwardly as the sun rose.

Once the cigarette was gone, they burnt it out, tossing it on the floor, making a sizzling sound, smoke arising from the end of it. Claira retreated back inside as Rick stayed, looking at the sky with his hands in his pocket for warmth. Everyone was silent, too silent. Louis had tears dripping down his eye as if he was in agony. All of them watched him, having nothing else to do, he appear thinner than he already was; the bags of his eyes were a deep shade of gray that made him older. Claira wished they were normal; at least for Louis He was pitied by most and no one appreciated as much a Claira. She sat down, knees to her chest and looked through her notebook, examining the memories in every detail.

“What’s that?” Aaden asked, standing over her shoulder. Claira looked up at her.

“What?” Claira said, confused.

“What’s that.” She recapped taking it from Claira as her face turned red.

“Just stupid memories.” She said staring at the floor, “Nothing important really.”

“Stupid? Not important?” Miles laughed, “I thought that was your sketchbook. You have it with you all the time.”

“Hey, that’s pretty good for your age.” Aaden said with a smirk as she looked through the drawings, “Is that the kid over there?”

“Louis?” She turned around, “Yes.” Claira told her.

“How’d you know each other?” Rick said, peaking his head inside.

“Who?” Keller asked, looking around, confused.

“Claira, how’d you and Louis meet?” Rick asked, blowing out smoke out through his nose.

Claira looked at Louis and laughed, “In Seventh grade actually. For being a rebel, almost an outsider at school, I’ve always hated bullies and I’ve never really had any friends either, I flew solo. Then I see this boy, walk by himself, everyday, everywhere he went and he just caught my attention.

He always flipped his hood up, hunched over his books, making no eye contact to anyone. I never really intended to be friend with him so I stood back. But this one day, I sat at lunch outside at an empty table, and behind me, I hear something drop and kids laughing in the distance.

I turn around and I see the kid with food smeared all over his clothes and I feel something I’ve never felt for anyone before, sympathy.” Claira looked up, her eyes dazzling with the memory, “The kid runs off with a couple of older boys chasing after him on his tail, calling him names that were just so horrible. I get up and run after them, seeing where they’re going.

I follow them into a corner of the school, The older boys pinning the poor kid against the wall. He face was red and his eye full of tears. He was scared to death, but it wasn’t the first time he’d ever experienced it. Never have I witness this before. The kid started calling him more name, I guess the boys felt powerful or something because they were into it. They beat him up and I couldn’t take it anymore so I jumped in. I tap the kid on the shoulder. He turned around, taller than me. I stood under his shadow, that how big he was.

I told him to stop and leave him alone. He said, ‘who’s going to stop me? You?’ and then he and his friends just laughed in my face. I looked straight into his eyes. He pushed me to the ground. Surprisingly when I got up, I kicked him in the shin. He started howling in pain, running off, his friends stumbling behind him.

I walk up to the him and I saw he was shake violently, he was breathing heavily. I then crouch down to him and I reach my hand out to comfort him, but he backs away slightly, not letting me touch him like a stray animal. I could understand, for one, he didn’t know me and second of all he just was traumatized. I told him I wouldn’t hurt him and I guessed that changed his perspective of me.

I welcomed him at my lonely table. If course the pretty dumbass girls laughed at me, but I didn’t give them any attention. I told him, ‘My name is Claira. What’s yours’ with my alter ego that I have. He looked at my hand weirdly, then he said, ‘Louis.’ and shook my hand.

I guess that’s how we became close. He was my only true friend. It wasn’t until two years later when I found out what his hell was like besides the bullies that torcher him.” Claira looked down and sighed, “He’s dealt with a lot in the past few years and now, I don’t think he’ll feel truly free from those memories after this if his doesn’t-” Claira started crying, not finishing the last word, hiding her face in her sleeves, curling up to Miles as he hugged her.

Rick looked down at Louis, guilty it wasn’t him. Guilty that Louis was the one to suffer. Guilty that he didn’t care for Louis in the first place. Guilty for being so blind. “Kid, it should be me instead of you.” Rick whispered to himself, mourning but he knew Louis couldn’t hear him; he was concealed in his mind, unable to move or do anything.

A loud growl came from outside the tent when night had stricken completely. Everyone jumped up to their feet, except Miles who was crippled to the ground. Aaden tossed Claira’s book back to her. Claira shoved it into her bag as Joe stepped up, holding his arms out, not letting anyone cross him.

“I’ll handle it.” He said, flipping his pocket knife out.

“Oh no you don’t Joe. Are you crazy?” Keller said, trying to stop him. Joe turned around.

“I’ve been crazy my whole life and for once, I can use it for good.” Joe smiled.

“You insane! No, your not leaving.” Keller said firmly. Joe looked into his eyes and nodded with a happy grin, but his eyes in fear and sadness.

   Claira, Miles, nor Rick knew what was going on. Joe left the tent, approaching whatever was out there. Keller was left speechless.

“Come out you bastard!” Joe yelled from the outside. They could hear a horrible rumbling noise. Everyone stepped back, afraid, as the screams from Joe blasted dauntingly. They could see his silhouette against the tent. He cowered over as the figure of an animal jumped on him. He held out his knife and started to stabbed whatever was out there, with a whimper following it.

Suddenly, it was still and quiet. Nobody moved a muscle, all too scared to move. They all stared at each other, hearts pounding.

“Joe?” Keller said murmured with a crack in his voice. He gulped, aroused in the moment. His breath quivered. For some reason, he managed to step forward and walk out.

“Keller!” Aaden whispered hoarsely. He put up his forefinger to his lips, telling her to be silent. Aaden taken aback, didn’t say another word. Keller disappeared into the darkness. Everyone then followed slowly behind him; Claira bringing out her gun. Keller started swearing and panicked, rubbing his head and paced around, stressed out. Claira looked down in astonishment. There was a dead body lying on the floor, splattered with a bloody dog on top of him, both entirely lifeless.

Aaden brought Keller back inside, who was wide-eyed, sick, and muttering something to himself. Kyle looked closely at Joe.

“No.” He said, “He’s not dead. He can’t be. Come on Joe, stop playing around.” But it was true. He was dead. He gave up, on life. Rick wrapped his arms around Claira who was heartbroken, even if she just meet Joe.

“We’d better go back inside. It’s getting dark and we don’t know what else is there.” Rick said, looking into the distance to see if he could make out any other dangers. The two turned around to go inside. Everyone in the tent looked up at them with devastation written on their faces.

“Where’s Kyle?” Aaden asked, getting off the ground. Rick looked at Claira who looked up at him. The two shrugged.

“Dammit.” Aaden said to herself, moving between the two. Rick and Claira watched Aaden as he called for Kyles name in the dark. Frosty mist floating from her face as she yelled. Nobody answered or appeared. Aaden started to swear loudly. Anger and sadness was on her face.

“Keller, Kyle’s gone.” Aaden confessed to her brother. He looked up at her, blankly, like a robot. The glow in his eyes was gone. His young face transformed into an old soul quicker than anyone could respond.

“Keller.” Aaden snapped in his face. He looked up dumbfounded, “Did you hear me? Kyle’s missing.”

“Who gives a damn, they wanted to die anyways.” Keller started tearing up, “Why didn’t soldiers just shoot us? We lost everything Aaden; Mom, Dad.” Keller paused, “Axel. Who else?”

“Keller, don’t you dare. You’ve still got me and I still have you. I need you.” Aaden narrowed her eyes softly, “Hey, we’re going to get through this.”

“When? When are we? What if nobody comes for us? Were going to die out here. Everyone forgot about us.” Keller argued.

“There’s still people out there. We both know it. This town was a lie to us. You know that.” Aaden said calmly, “Now, go to bed, it’s late.” Keller nodded as he fell on top of a cot that cracked when he made any slight movement. Keller just stared up to the ceiling of the tent, thinking, hardly.

Aaden looked at Claira, Miles and Rick, who were by the tree staring speechlessly.

“There’s two cots opened, if you want to.” She offered. Rick nodded, picking up Daniel’s little body. He was terribly sick and miserable. Rick laid him on the tiny bed as Daniel made little fussy noises when he touched the bed. The little boy curled up and faced away from Rick.

Rick approached Aaden, “His sick too, there’s a bullet in his upper left shoulder. It’s getting worse. You think you can help him by any chance?”

Aaden thought for a moment, “Sure, but the kid’s young, you sure? I can’t give him stitches, the best I could do is take it out of him.”

“As long as he gets better and that bullet’s out, not causing him pain.” Rick told her.

“I’ll do it in the morning if he’s better.” Aaden confirmed as she yawned, “Night.” She hopped into bed.

“Night.” Rick responded. Then he turned to Claira and Miles, “Any of you want the cot? I don’t need it.”

Claira shook her head, “Miles, you go. You need it more than I do.”

Rick helped Miles in his feet, limping into the lumpy mattress. Miles fell asleep fast, but great agony stricken his leg. Rick got on the floor with Claira who was swaddled in a blanket, observing the radiant flames, her eyes mirroring the movement.

“Hey? What’s wrong?” Rick whispered.

Claira sighed, “Nothing.”

“It looks like something’s bothering you?” Rick said, looking into Claira’s eyes.

“What if we don’t get found?” She shrugged, “Keller’s right, we’re all going to die here because what if everyone forgot about us. And, I don’t want to die, at least not yet.”

“I know Claira, but we’re going to fight this, we’ll live.” Rick said.

“And what if one of us dies like Joe? I’m going to live with constant pain my whole life if someone dies like Louis or Miles or even you. It’ll leave a hole in my heart.” Claira looked at Rick, worry pressed into her soul, “I wish everything was back to normal. I’d wake up knowing that I’m not dreading of death.”

“But hey, this here, we would not be here, you’ve got a strong bond with everyone here.” Rick explained.

“Yeah, yeah, but I hate survival. What the hell did we do to deserve this?” Claira told Rick.

“The answer is unspoken. But we have to live tomorrow, like we are today. Now go to bed, we’ve gotta get some rest.” Rick said laying his head down. Claira nodded and went to sleep.

Chapter 11

  Ms. Marlee woke up early in the dawn. The sun rising in the east, spreading colors of pink, orange, and red to the sky. She was dressed fancy, like she was going to a party, but she had a grim face when she looked in the mirror. She was smoking a cigarette, white silk flying slowly around her. The doorbell rang loudly through the house.

“Coming!” She yelled, flying the smoke away and burning out the butt. She fumbled to get perfume from the counter. Spraying herself madly with the fume. She started choking on the strong scent but still rushed to getting out the door. Falling on her heels, she grabbed her purse and bag and swiftly made it over to the door out of breath.

She opened the door to Horton staring out to the street. He turned around surprised but then showed a kind smile, “Ready for the case?”

“I think?” She said, unsure as she fixed her hair. Horton laughed silently to himself, he turned around to get into the car, Ms. Marlee following behind him, stepping into the winter-wonderland. Little snowflakes were rocking back and forth, gradually falling to the ground and catching onto her strands of hair as if she was a snow queen. She hustled into the car which warmed her skin from the cold wind.

The driver backed out of the driveway and onto the wet, mucky, road. It was silent the whole ride. House after house they passed out of town, isolated by only the forest and the road in front of them, driving downtown.

“So, what proof are we going to testify to the judge?” Ms. Marlee asked finally.

“I don’t know yet. I tried taking some of that papers from the lab.” Horton said, “But when I tried, they were already destroyed.”

“How are we going to give evidence?” Ms. Marlee was confused.

“I’ve done research on our working facility, cover-ups of newspapers, signed documents, and a bio on Dr. Manhattan and his past projects.” Horton said handing her a pile of papers, “It won’t be enough though. But it’s a start.”
“But won’t you go to jail if we crack this case?” Ms. Marlee told Horton, skimming through the files.

“Presumably.” Horton sighed. Ms. Marlee look up at him who was a head taller than his rounded body.

“But you’re helping me find my son.” She said.

“Yes, but I was associated with the crime. But that doesn't matter, what matters is finding your son.” He said, taking the papers back, “Shall we go?” Horton smiled, heaving himself out of the seat.

Ms. Marlee got out of the car, stepping her heel into the frosty snow again, her legs shivering and the wind blew. She ran inside the colossal building. Marble everywhere that shined brightly on the inside. The ceiling high up, soaring. Ms. Marlee was in astonishment, she had not seen such a place so fancy. She looked down, noticing that Horton was sneaking into the courtroom.

Ms. Marlee raced to the double doors and opened it to the room surrounded by chattering officials dressed up in elaborate suits and briefcases. She sheepishly walked down the aisle as the judge banged the gavel, filling the room in echoes as the officials scrambled into their seats.

Ms. Marlee looked curiously around the huge room as if she hasn’t seen anything like it. The judge cleared his throat. Ms. Marlee turned to him, giving all of her attention to him. She felt the sweat running down her face.

“Today’s case is against Ms. Sarah Kacey Marlee who claims that Dr. Marcus Nathaniel Manhattan has custody of her son and has ran an illegal operation under his name.” The judge said seeming disinterested but serious.

“Can we hear Dr. Manhattan’s testify this judgement.”

Dr. Manhattan stood up, his solemn face disgusting. He ruffled his suit and then went out of his seating area and said, “Sorry, but I have not done any recent projects of my own.”

“Objective!” Horton interrupted immediately.

“And I am retired.” Dr. Manhattan continued.

“Objective your honor!” Horton said raising his hand.

“What do you go against.” The judge looks at the document, “Horton Gilbert.”

“For one, I have just recently worked with this man who is an imposture. I signed up for his project experiment. Nobody gave me specific details on what this was going to be. But when we were explained to, we could not leave this project on any circumstance. We were not explained that this was not approved by the government.” Horton explained.

“Then how come you bring this up here today Mr. Gilbert?” The Judge asked.

“I found out after running some errands around the town for Manhattan. And now, we were supposed to get rid of our documents and exterminate the people there in the town.” Horton told him. The crowd started talking amongst one another.

“Silence!” The judge shouted, hitting the gavel repeatedly, “Silence! Why did you do this procedure? And why haven’t I heard of this experiment?” The judge questioned after the crowd quieted down.

“Your honor, this is project Ville Verrouillee, a project where Dr. Manhattan signed all the townspeople there into think there was a plague outside their area.” Horton explained.

“Objective!” Dr. Manhattan denied. The judge put his hand to Dr. Manhattan listed onto Horton.

“Your honor,” He continued, “we were seeing how it would affect people in the area with no communication in society. The reason we killed all of those citizens is because her son figured us out.” Horton said.

“Now, your saying it is some town simulator but it was on an actual town. Why do you think Dr. Manhattan has custody of her son when all the people in that town are executed?” The Judge asked, paying more attention.

Ms. Marlee stood up, “Your honor, my son is still stuck in that town, in the freezing cold right now.”

The Judge looked at her, “How did you get out here if you were part of this project Ma’am?”

“Your honor, it started after a fatal car crash, I was put in a coma for four years. When I woke up, I was told by Dr. Manhattan that my son was presumably dead from the car crash, except I knew he wasn’t I saw him try and wake me. But I blacked out after the crash. Horton here, told me about Project Ville Verrouillee, and that my son is still out there. They had a team of soldiers help make sure that he was still alive, making a fake body of him. They also saved a few other kids too.” Ms. Marlee finished.  

“Now is there any evidence of this?” The Judge asked her.

“No sir, but we have a couple documents.” She said as Horton handed the Judge the documents. The Judge looked through them, reading the paper’s one by one. There was an awkward silence. The Judge then sighed.

“I will need to be acquainted with more evidence. Nobody after this session shall be able to go to the place of the crime” He concluded, “Recess!” He yelled, hitting the gavel again.

Claira heard a murmur in her ear. She opened her eyes violently, breathing densely. She looked around to see nobody up. Then, her attention was caught by Louis’s mouth moving, saying something softly. His eyes were still shut. Claira leaned in closer to hear him say, “No, No, you’re dead. You’re dead. I saw it. I saw it.” His voice trembled as if he was cold or upset. Tears were streaming down his face, wheezing nervously.

“Louis?” She said to him. Louis stopped talking, “Louis, It’s me Claira. I need you to wake up, wake up for me, for us.”

Louis didn’t say anything. Claira rubbed her head, disappointed.

“Claira?” A voice said. Claira jolted her over again to Louis, “Claira?” He said again, weakly.

Claira laughed, “Louis, It’s me. Wake up. Come on.”

“Help.” He said faintly.

“Louis?” Claira, crunching her eyebrows together, “Louis?” She repeated. She put her hands on his moist face and wiped off his tears. “Miles! Rick! Wake up!” She screamed.

“What?” Rick said stumbling to his feet.

“Louis said something.” She told them as they slowly started to rejuvenated back to consciousness. Rick put two fingers on Louis’s left throat. He was silent, looking up at Claira.

“What?” Claira asked.

“His heart is normal.” Rick told her, “Now, what did he say?”

“I don’t know, just something about, somebody dead or something?” Claira explained to Rick, “Then he call my name, like he knew I was there.”

Rick nodded, “He’s still unconscious, right?”

“I think? He didn’t wake up.” Claira said.

“Don’t bother him.” Claira and Rick look over a Aaden who stood tall, “Let the kid rest, he’ll wake up eventually.”

Rick got up from his knees and stepped back from Louis. He sighed, “So, are we going to, you know, take the bullet out?”

Aaden nodded, grabbing a bowl and taking it outside. She swore silently as she looked up to the sky to see the snow fall over her. She stood there still as could be and then trudged over to the water and scooped it up. She came back in, placing the bowl steady over the fire, letting the flames touch the bottom of the bowl, letting it heat up. She then took twisters that she once used on Miles and wraps that were left by Kyle before he left onto the side of Daniels bed.

“Toss me the asprin on the table over there.” She called out to Rick. He grabbed the bottle and threw it, the pills ratting inside it. Aaden caught it and put it next to her on the ground. She pulled up a chair and sat across from Daniel, who was still asleep. Aaden looked over to Rick, who came over her shoulder with a dignifying expression. Aaden smiled weakly and turned to Daniel again.

Rick tapped him on the back, “He bud, wake up.” Be quietly to him. Daniel moaned sleepily. Slowly he opened his eyes and turned over to both of them, squinting.

“Morning kid.” Rock said, ruffling his bed head hair. Daniel smiled.

Aaden look at him, smiling, but still with worry in her eyes.

“What’s wrong?” He said weakly to her. Rick was too scared to tell Daniel what they were going to do. To scared to see him hurt. Aaden looked down and closed her eyes, “Kid,” She said, putting her hand on his knee, “Listen, and I know this will sound dreadful but we have to.”

Daniel looked insecure and turned to Rick.

“Kid we gotta get that bullet out of your shoulder.” Aaden confessed, looking straight into his eyes which eye gleaming in light brown. He touched his upper left shoulder softly and nodded.

“Danny, it’s so you feel better okay champ.” Rick told him.

“I understand. It’ll hurt. But I get it.” He said simply.

“Damn kid, you got more balls than that wuss over there.” Aaden laughed.

“Hey! I heard that.” Miles said with a grudge.

“Okay, first things first, we need that shirt and sweatshirt off.” Aaden said. Daniel nodded, unzipping Louis’s sweater and slipping off his regular shirt and handing it to Aaden who gently set it down.

The bloody gash on Daniels shoulder had dried up blood around his skin. Darker, freshly-made marks bleed from the inside of the flesh.

Aaden fixed her tweezers and nervously approached them to wound. Daniel held Rick’s gigantic hand and closed his eyes and turned away from what was happening at the moment. Aaden took in a deep breath and punctured the tweases into the hole and started searching for the bullet.

Daniel was stricken with agony. He gasped painfully and squinted his eyes shut intensely. His skin turned white like a ghost. But he sweated like he was out in the sun. He grabbed onto Rick’s hand shaking and felt the tweezers go farther into his skin.

“Almost there kid.” Aaden said, focused on the job at hand.

“Hurry!” Daniel said in a panicked tone. Tears started to well up in his eyes, falling slowly down his cheek. Blood stained Aaden's hand again like Miles shin. She finally reached in the metal part and pulled it out carefully, disposing it after it saw daylight.

Rick dabbed a towel into the warm water and mildly placed it over the wound. The blood quickly stained through the towel, spreading widely onto the white.

“How you feeling?” Rick asked Daniel.

“Good I guess.” He answered.

“You’re a brave kid, you know that.” Rick smirked, making Daniel smiled compassionately. Aaden handed Daniel a small pill and water.

“Pop this into your mouth and swallow it whole.” Aaden told him, “The pain will go away.” She winked. Daniel nodded and swallowed down the pill with ease. The color in his face was coming back.

“Your strong you know.”Aaden told Daniel, Gently placing a piece of cloth on top of the wound, then wrapping it tightly around him with the wrap. “There, done.” Aaden shrugged with a smile, “How are you feeling?”

“Sore.” Daniel responded. The both of them laughed softly. Aaden turned to Claira who was looking at Louis. Aaden picked up a new towel and handed it out to her. She looked up at Aaden, baffled.

“Hey, soak this in the warm water over there and lay it on top of his forehead for me.” Aaden told her.

Claira took the towel out of her hand and sat down by the fire. She placed the towel in the water that was steaming calmly and waited.

Aaden turned over to Miles, who just stared at her, dumbfounded.

“What?” Aaden asked him.

“Nothing.” Miles said, realizing her was looking at her. He shook his head, reassuring that he wasn’t spacing out either. Aaden crouched down by his injured leg and unwrapped it casually. The cloth that was under the wrap was bloody red and soaked. Aaden picked up and held it between her nails and throw it outside into the snow. She came back and dipped warm water onto another towel, washing off the excess blood off.  

Aaden looked up at him and smiled, he smirked back for a striking second and then winced.

“Sorry.” Aaden apologized, she looked at the wound and saw that she was pressing hard on it.

“It’s fine.” Miles said cooly, “How do you know how to do all of these things?”

“Learned it from my mother. She was a nurse in her younger years. Taught me a few things.” She shrugged, “Now, let me take this off.” She unwrapped the bandage on his head. Miles felt the dried up gash in the middle of his forehead.

Claira grabbed the warm wet towel and squeezed most of the water from it, back into the bowl on the fire, making it damp. She felt the warmth rush through on her hands, drops of water, slipping away by gravity. She then turned to Louis and neatly placed the towel onto Louis’s cold head. He whimpered lightly by the presence of the heat.

“Hang in there.” Claira told Louis, getting up to her feet. She silently walked over to Miles and Aaden who were making goo-goo eyes at each other as Aaden wrapped his leg again. Claira scoffed and rolled her eyes, turning to Rick and Daniel who were talking. She sat down next them, seemingly lonely.

“Hey bud, how’s it going?” Claira said to Daniel.

“Fine I guess.” Daniel told her, “What’s wrong with Louis? He looks sick.”

“Louis is just asleep. He’ll be asleep for awhile. Hopefully he’ll wake up soon.” Claira said, patting him on the back.

Horton and Ms. Marlee exited the courtroom and drove back to town. Nobody said anything until slamming the door of the car when they sat in the vehicle.

“What the hell?” Ms. Marlee said loudly.

“What?” Horton turned to her, confused.

“Need more evidence? Where are we going to get more evidence?” She said throwing her hands in the air.

“Sarah, I told you. It’s a start. We'll find it somehow. Evidence can just be under our noses. Now, we’re going to go home and think of our next action, okay, we’re making progress.” Horton assured her. She nodded, looking into his eyes. Something told her he was right that they were making progress.

Horton dropped Ms. Marlee off at her dull house that was covered in white snow on the rooftop, like everyone else's house was, identical. She open the door to her house, pulled out a cigarette and stormed into her bedroom and sobbed, taking off her dress and putting on baggy clothes. She sat on the bed in the dark, inhaling the cigarette in silent sobs.

“God.” She said silently with her hands covering her face, ashamed, “Where the hell is my son!” She screamed, kicking the pillow in front of here.

Ms. Marlee stood up, stressed and tired. Mascara running down her cheeks. She wiped her nose with her sleeve and walked over to the bathroom, hunched over. She looked in the mirror, miserably. Ms. Marlee wash off her makeup, black smearing off her eyelids, sighing.

She grabbed her coat and left the house to her car in the garage. She sat in the cold convertable and rested her head on the wheel, memories coming back to her, haunting her. Remembering Louis next to her, pushing her shoulder, telling her to wake up. Ms. Marlee swore quietly and looked over to the passengers seat. She twisted her key in the starter as the roaring engine rumbled.

She drove out into the snow once again. Passing into towns mucky street filled with grey snow. She drove into the nearest bar and parked her car by the sidewalk, entering coins into the parking meter.

She entered the pungent smell of beer and smoke bar that was surprisingly quiet. Wood tile from floor to ceiling everywhere with only a few people seated at the bar, ordering something of their choice. Many with buff arms that we covered in various tattoos and matcho mustaches and beards that were down to their belly-buttons.

Ms. Marlee sat in an empty seat and rubbed her face, with her mind racing around the case and her son. The bartender approached her.

“Having a bad day ma’am?” He smiled. Ms. Marlee looked up at him, turning her frown into a feeble grind.

“Yeah, sort of.” She told him.

“So, what can I get you today?” The bartender asked, putting his towel on his shoulder.

“Whatever you prefer.” She said.

“Coming right up.” He said and left. Ms. Marlee puts her head in her arms and closes her eyes. Then a shoulder taps her from her left. She looks up, eyes squinted.

“Yes?” She asks to a young man.

“Mind if I sit here, or is this seat taken?” He asks her.

“No, knock yourself out.” She tell the young man.

“Thank you.” The young man sits, “You look familiar.”

“I don’t think you know me?” Ms. Marlee said, confused.

“Are you that woman from the case?” He asks.

“Yeah, which one?” Ms. Marlee asked suspiciously.

“The one about you son being missing in this project.” The young man told her, lowering his voice. Ms. Marlee looked into his eye, surprised.

“How do you know?” She said, the bartender retrieved back with her beer.

“The one I prefer, a Miller Light, and for you sir?” He asked the man sitting next to Ms. Marlee.

“Something on tab please.” The man said. The bartender slightly nodded at him, quickly filling up his mug with beer like magic. He left after sliding the mug in front of him.

“So, who are you?” Ms. Marlee asked after the bartender was out of earshot.

“I’m Ian Cooper. I worked for Manhattan too. I was one of those soldiers who saved kids there. I feel guilty for just leaving them in the cold, and who know if there still alive. I get nightmares because of this and I knew your son was safe because they told me the plan on how his fake body was going to be a decoy to protect him.” Ian said, getting flashbacks from the town, “God they were all innocent.”

“So you know about everything?” Ms. Marlee asked him.

“Yeah, I can’t stand it. I never wanted to do it anyways because Manhattan is my uncle. You see, he was my dad since ten because my parents died. I hated him. Always telling me what to do and then forcing me to do his dirty work. Look I want to help you, I’ll be your witness, no cost. If it’s for those kids stuck there, then I want to save them.” Ian told her.

“Really?” Ms. Marlee said, sounding surprise.

“Yes really.” Ian said, “Tabs on me.” He said placing a five on the table.

Chapter 12

Ten days have past since Louis had slipped into a coma. His body becoming bone and sweat running crazily down his body. Everyone was on edge for his life but nobody ever mentioned it. Claira monitored him, not getting much sleep or food out of it.

“Come on Claira, you’ve got to eat something, you’re getting too skinny.” Rick said that afternoon.

“No, I can’t.” She told him, “I’m not hungry anyways.”

“You’ve been saying that for the past week now, eat something.” Miles told her.

“Hey guy,” Aaden interrupted. Everyone looked at her, “We’re low on food.”

Everyone peered inside the cabinet acquainted with only two cans of food. Rick swore, raising his eyebrow.

“Should we get more?” Miles suggested.

“No, just checked, only found two cans.” Keller said coming back from the outside.

“There’s seven of us here.” Aaden started.

“Six actually, Louis can’t eat right now.” Rick corrected her.

“Six.” Aaden continued, “There’s only six of us here and four cans. We don’t have enough to last us two days.”

“What if we all ate one meal a day, then skip the next. Only use one can, then that would equal to almost a week.” Claira told her.

“Yeah but when we run out?” Aaden asked. Nobody said anything, “And if Louis wakes what will he eat? He hasn’t eaten at all.” Claira suddenly looked at Louis. What if he doesn’t wake up? She thought.

“Eat what nature provides us.” Rick suggested.

“Too risky of infection.” Aaden said.

“We eat the three cans and we leave one for Louis if he wakes up.” Miles said.

“Yes, but we split it to one day one meal, skip a day skip a meal.” Aaden told them, “Claira, Claira?”

Claira shakes her head, “What?

“Did you hear what I just said?” Aaden asked her.

“Yeah, yeah.” Claira told her.

“Good, now eat something, would ya.” Aaden complained, “You're as thin as a stick.” Claira laughed, sitting down and grabbing a bowl of beans.

Later that evening, Claira woke up in the middle of the night as she heard someone loading a gun, running out of the tent. Claira got up immediately and looked in the darkness of a shadow running out. She shoved Miles and Rick up.

“Guys! Someone took the gun!” She yelled, rushing over to Aaden, who jerked herself upwards.

“Who?” She said urgently.

“I don’t know?” Claira told her. Aaden looked around, stopping suddenly with her eyes wide open
“Keller!” Aaden yelled, tripping to his bed, “Keller?” The bed was empty. Aaden swore and ran out of the tent and into the darkness screaming Keller’s name loudly. Rick and Claira following out behind her.

It was too dark to even see in the pale moonlight. The three bumped into trees and tripped over roots, not knowing what will come up in front of them. Aaden paused in front of them, startled. They could a shadowed figure standing in the dark. Claira started getting a chilled feeling.

“Keller?” Aaden said in a weak, trembling voice. She took out her flashlight and shined it on the back of Keller’s head. The gun was in his right hand, finger on the trigger up against his head. He turned around slowly, crying. The rain sprinkling on their face, dripping harder then before.

“Aaden?” Keller asked.

“Keller! Put the gun down. Please.” She told him calmly.

“Aaden, just go back. I don’t want to live anymore. I’ve lost everything.” He said, his hand now trembling.

“But you haven’t. You’ve still got me.” Aaden laughed nervously, “I’ve lost everything too, but do you think I’m giving up? No, now you’re the only person that I haven’t lose. Now put the gun down.” Aaden said. Keller looked into his sister’s eyes, bulging, like they were about to pop out of his sockets. “Please.” Aaden said, softly. Keller got to his knees, mud and snow splashing on his pants. He looked down and put down his arm and let it drag to his side. His expression, defeated.

Aaden carefully walked up to her brother, kneeling down to his level Her eyes rounded, looking at her older brother’s eyes that were shaky. He looked up at her, not moving his head and said, “I’m sorry.” Then bursting into tears. Aaden confronted him, as they rocked together in the heavy rain, soaking their bodies in wet.

“Come on, let’s go back. We’re going to get sick out here in the rain.” Rick told them softly. Together they trailed back to the tent, shivering. Daniel slept soundly through the rattling of their presents.

Aaden restarted the fire and all of them sat there in silence, waiting for themselves to dry up and fall back asleep again.

Three days later, Ms. Marlee gets dressed up again, wearing a different dress; black and slim. It was making her body seem longer than it already was. Swiftly putting on her makeup, her hand shaking with every precision becoming a mistake. Ms. Marlee swore as the mascara smeared on her eyelids. She quickly wiped it off, black now staining the wipe.

After see was finished tackling her makeup on her face she ran over the the kitchen, almost falling off her heels again and slid at a stop to grab her purse. Ms. Marlee headed out, struggling to put her coat on, opening the door to the outside. It was still dawn; the air felt fresh and the sky was lit with shades of magnificent warm colors that gave the sun a great entry. The car pulls up to the driveway, the headlights shining brightly, blinding Ms. Marlee as she goes towards the car, she steps in and takes a deep breath. The car leaves the house and into the mist.

Claira woke up before anyone else did, she stared at the same sky as Ms. Marlee did. In aweing moment that spurred at different times in the worlds. It was frigid outside, Claira’s teeth chatter violently. She curled up, sitting in a ball under the blanket on the dirt floor, feeling miserable and sticky for not taking a shower in the past month of being outside in the winter, for it was too cold and too dangerous.

Claira gazed down at Louis for a long moment. The world was silent, even Rick’s snores were. Claira looked older than she appeared to be, bag under her eyes, sagging sadly. Her mourning expression making it seem as if she couldn’t smile any longer.

She studied Louis, his body, bony and pale. His breathing slow and calm. It was like he was in a bubble, unable to pop it to get out of his deep stupor. He was sweating crazily, his eyelids popping reddened and warm. But still, he laid there still.

Claira closely scooted up to Louis, “Hey Louis.” She told the motionless body, “It’s been a long time since we last talked. And I don’t even know if your listening to me, but, I really need you now. A lot has happened since you were gone and I just need someone to talk to. If you go away forever, there’s so many things that I haven’t told you yet. I haven’t told you my true feelings to you because I was too scared to even tell you. I was too scared. I’m so scared now, so scared for you, for Miles, for everyone. And you’re the only true friend I’ve worried about for a long time, and now I feel so alone, like the world’s about to fall. I, just want you back.” Claira finished, silently sobbing in her arms. Tears emerging from her eyes.

“Claira?” A quiet voice call. Claira doesn’t look up and continues to cry, “Claira? Why are you crying?” The voice said, broader. Somebody taps Claira shoulder. She looks up slowly. Through her blurred vision, she makes out the person in front of her, a thin boy with messy jet black hair and his head cowered down.

Claira widened her eyes and jumps on the boy, hugging him, “Louis!” She screams with joy. Louis hugs her back, puzzled. Everyone else wakes up with a jolt, surprised and unaware of what was going on.

“Holy! What the hell is going on? Claira you almost gave me a heart attack!” Rick yells, rubbing his eyes. He looks up to see Louis looking at him, “My gosh, is that you or am I just dreaming?” Rick said, getting out of his bed and approaches Louis. He ruffled his hair affectionately. Louis smirks slightly. Rick looks at him with a warm grin of relief, “You’re back.”

“Where are we?” Louis asks, looking around the new environment he was around.

“We’re in a tent.” Rick answers.

“Yeah, but what happened? How did we get here?” Louis asks again, looking at Rick now.

“Kid, you were in a coma.” Rick admitted to him.

“What?” He said horsely, “For how long?”

“For at least two week.” Rick told him.

“Louis, you passed out when we finding Miles.” Claira said to him. Louis thinks for a minute.

“I don’t remember.” Louis tells them, shrugging.

“Well what do you remember?” Aaden asks, sitting on her bed.

“I,” Louis starts, thinking hard and squints his eyes, rubbing his head, “I remember I saw my father, that’s about it. But I heard conversations in the back of my head.”

“And what did this conversation talk about?” Aaden said.

“I don’t know. It’s just, muffles.” Louis responds.

There was a sudden silence. Everyone looked at each other awkwardly as Aaden thinks. She paces back and forth repeatedly.

“Is there anything else?” Aaden stops, turning to Louis.

“No.” He said, turning green, “I’ll be right back.” He runs out of the tent, throwing up. Rick and Claira run up behind him as he hurls.

“He hasn’t eaten in a while.” Rick said to Claira, “Start small.”

“I’m telling you that’s the evidence.” Horton yell, slamming his fist on the table, making an echo throughout the room.

“Give me time to think about this man’s story because it seems questionable.” The judge said emphasizing his statement.

“We don’t have time left. Who knows who’s still left alive in that town!” Ms. Marlee shouts.

“I know you’re upset ma’am.” The judge starts.

“I’m not upset!” She yells over the judge.

“But court need to decide if this evidence is convincing to take.” The judge raises his voice.

“Look,” Horton said, pacing back and forth as he rubs his forehead, “If we could, might we be able to send somebody over there to the town to find evidence and maybe survivors.”

The British man looks a Horton stiffly, “I don’t think that’s is necessary, there is nothing there. No town, just a facility.”

“Dr. Manhattan, you said you were retired.” The judge looks over at him skeptically.

“Yes your honor, I am but it is just a facility.” Dr. Manhattan repeated himself.

“A facility under your name.” Horton said. The judge looks over his paper searching for the facility contract.

“It is true Dr. Manhattan?” The judges tells him.

“Is it wrong to own a business?” Dr. Manhattan said as if it was a statement.

“Well if you own a business, isn’t that considered a job?” The judge responds back. Dr. Manhattan opens his mouth to argue but no word were able to be spoken. He sat down utterly disgusted and insulted by the judge.

“You’re honor.” Ms. Marlee said with sympathetic eyes to the judge, “Please, I want my son back.”

The judge sighed, “I give the military the ability to search through the facility that belongs to Dr. Mark Manhattan.” He slammed the gavel down, “Keep custody of Dr. Mark Manhattan, Sarah Marlee, Ian Cooper, and Horton Gilbert.”

All four stood up, astonished, “What?” Horton yells as he’s being handcuffed with the others, “Why are we being arrested?”

“Horton, we cannot have anyone ambush our search.” The judge explains.

The officers push the four of them into one cell, Ms. Marlee jumps back up and starts rattling the cell bars, “Come back you bastards!” She shouts as they walk away.

Ian sat down and closed his eyes; he woke up early for this day and hadn’t got much sleep from the night before. Dr. Manhattan approaches Horton, he was taller and slimmer than Horton.

“What do you want?” Horton asked, looking up into Dr. Manhattan’s eyes. They had an evil glare to him an his ticked off face.

“Why are you a traitor?” He asked, “You too Ian.”

“Uncle Marcus, I never wanted serve for you, you evil backstabbing bastard!” Ian disputed.

“Yeah! I was never a traitor, I’m just trying to get a mother’s son back to her and give the innocent people that lived there justice.” Horton said spitting in his face.

Dr. Manhattan slowly wiped the spit off his face and looked at Horton with great despite. His eyes glared at him devilishly, flashing red almost. He grabbed Horton’s chubby neck and starts to choke him. Horton falls backwards and struggles to get Manhattan off of him.

“Get off him!” Ms. Marlee shrieked. She hide her mouth under hands, petrified and unsure. Ian grabbed his uncle, trying to pull him off of Horton who squealed like a pig.

“Hey!” A very loud and broad voice yells from the outside of the cell. Ian looked up, backing off from the scene. The cell door opened and an officer grabbed Manhattan off of Horton and arrested him out of the cell and placed him into another one with great intensity to get him to enter the cell across from theirs. Ms. Marlee helps Horton back up to his feet as he coughs for air, sweating from his forehead.

Chapter 13

Louis was grimly staring into space with the badly bruised eye. He didn’t listen to anything nor anyone and thought of nothing but the vase across the room that was his grandmothers. In front of him was his parents, fighting and screaming at one another. His father spitting as the veins popped gruesomely from his neck. His mother’s face growing a vivid wine-colored shade.

“Would you stop shaming you son!” His mother yelled with such rave, “Ren! Are you listening to me!” His father turned around. There, Louis felt a hard slap on his face from his father slowly.

He looked up slowly, eyes darting towards him, his breath heavy. His mother throwing weak punches at the man standing in front of him. Louis gingerly touched his cheek and felt a huge bump that was growing hot with a sting to it. His mother falling in front of him as his father stormed out of the house.

“Louis! Are you okay?” She comprehended calmly, reaching her hand to his burning cheek.

“Don’t touch it!” He briskly slapping his mother’s hand away. His adrenaline was high. His mother looked at him, stupefied. Louis started to blink rapidly, know what he did, “Sorry.” He mumbled. She nodded understandingly, hugging him as he wept.

“Louis!” Rick called in front of him, “Your food’s getting cold. Eat.”

Louis looked down at his plate of food, he didn’t want to obtain any of it and set the plate aside. Rick looks at him surprised.

“Aren’t you hungry?” He asks, “You haven’t eaten in like two weeks and that’s one of our last cans. Don’t let it go to waste.”

“I’m not hungry.” Louis answers getting to his feet and walking outside to find Keller grabbing wood with Claira who was drawing the mystic pond in front of her. Louis sat down next to her. They smiled at each other.

“You okay?” She asked him.

“Yeah, just tired you know.” Louis told her, “ I have a question.”

Claira looked at him concerned, “Yeah what’s the matter?”

Louis licked his lips, “Do you ever have these visions of the past that are so vivid that they seem real?” He asked her slowly.

“Like dreams?” Claira asked him, putting her book to the side.

“No, like visions.” He told her.

“No, can’t say I have. I’m sure it’s normal. What are they about.” Claira said.

Louis looked out into the distance and sighed, embarassed to tell her his visions, “My Dad sometimes, My parent fighting.”

“Oh.” Claira said, thinking, “Well, what do you think it means?”

“I don’t know.” Louis said contently still looking at the pond the wind blowing his hair back. A cold ball hits Louis’s head, jolting his head forwards. He looks back to see Rick laughing hard to where his eyes were balling with tears of joy.

“You want to go?” Louis said, chuckling too. He grabbed some snow in his hand and throwing it at Rick, hitting his face filled with tears. He stopped laughing and stared at Louis blankly.

Louis stared him back uncomfortably. Then a smile appeared on Rick’s face again.

“Snowball fight!” He yells, starting to throw snowballs back. Claira joined in with Louis and Rick, having a laugh out of it. Aaden steps out of the tent, looking for the comotion. A snowball makes contact with her face. Everyone freezes and looks around to find Keller frozen in the position when he throw the snowball. Aaden wipes the snow off her face and looks over to her brother.

She laughs and smiles, cupping snow into her hands and throwing it hard at her brother. “Let’s do this!” She yells. White snow flies in the air, hitting everyone with a cold kiss. Daniel joins in too, hitting Rick mostly. The final joys of the past few weeks has came with an impact that lifted everyone up.

The six of them headed back inside, noses all runny and red. But still a smile stuck to their faces as they crowded the fire.

“Damn, well your all cold.” Miles said as they came in.

“Yeah.” Rick sighed, “We got carried away out there.”

“Shoot! I forgot my book! I’ll be back.” Claira said, running out of the tent, scavenging for her notebook. She finds it shoved inside the snow by the pond. She digs it out not feeling her hands as she sweeped off the snow. She finally reaches the book and rubbed the snow off the book. Something small shoots close to her face to the ground fast. She looked up quickly, her heart pounding.

Soldiers were trotting their way to Claira with stern faces as if they were a stampede of bulls. Claira screamed, sprinting to the tent to warn the others.

“What?” Rick said, getting to his feet.

“Soldier!” She yelped. Everyone's eyes widened with fear.

“We have to go!” Aaden said grabbing a gun from her pillowcase. Claira took her gun out of her boot. Rick helped Miles up. “Now.” she said seriously. Claira tossed he own gun to Louis who fumbled to catch, but it didn’t touch the floor. Claira, instead used the gun the soldier had when they first tried into the woods. The lot of them ran out, scared that the soldiers were on their tails, chasing them like dogs. Miles, stumbling on one foot being assisted by Rick. A loud bang behind them echoed followed by a torturous scream of prickling agony. Claira looked behind her shoulder with great terror in her eyes.

Rick set Miles down on his side as he winced with extreme torment. Fresh blood trickled down his back and bleeds through his shirt. Claira retreated back with tears in her eyes.

“Miles?” She cried.

“Guy! Come back! Miles’s been shot badly!” Rick called.

“Go.” Miles whimpered to them.

“No. No I’m not leaving you.” Claira told Miles.

“Go now! Save yourselves.” Mile said weakly, “I’ll only slow you down.

“We can’t, leave him!” Aaden called back urgently.

“Claira, come on, we have to go!” Rick said grabbing her hand as she tripped to get to her feet. Louis, who looked back, tossed the gun to Rick, who caught it with ease. They ran, Claira looking back at her brother, painfully lying on the floor, crippled, reaching out to them.

They ran as fast as they could down hills and over stubs. Daniel falling behind then the others on his little feet throughout the bitter snow. Rick picked him up and started running with him on his shoulder, fleeing for their lives. Soldiers appeared around them. Circling them together. The boys with their hands up, scared.

“We’re here to help.” One said, “We know your scared but we need you to trust us.”

“Yeah right! Like we believe you!” Aaden yelled, holding her gun out.

“You shot my brother!” Claira protested too with her gun aimed at them.

“Put the guns down children.” The soldier tells them. Rick held up his gun out, looking crazily scared.

“No!” Aaden said, her voice trembles, “What are you going to do to us then?”

“We’re here to save you.” The soldier tells them.

“By who?” Claira asks.

“By the government.” The soldier answers, “Now put the gun down.” Everyone looks at each other, scare and skeptical. Louis remembers, widening his eyes:

A flash of bright light from the bottom of the door. Louis looks down desperately in hopes of being let out of the dark closet. The sound of a door slammed out in the distance and the front door opens.

“Dad?” Louis said, nobody answers, “Please dad, let me out of here! I’m starving!” The lights turn on and the sounds of his boots comes klincking close to the door. The shadows of his feet are outside the door. It opens slowly and the light reaches Louis’s face slowly as he gazes up.

Claira hears a heavy breath behind her, growing rapidly fast. She turns around. Louis pupils dilated ten time smaller in his eyes. He grasps his chest painfully and he searches for air to flow through his system.

“Louis!” Claira yells, dropping her gun and running to him. Before Claira could reach him, Louis falls to the ground, eyes close with his breath choking harshly.

The door is opened widely now, Louis’s father standing tall and straight with a halfway empty beer glass in one hand. He gulps uneasily with his eyes burnished upon his father.

More tears streamed down Claira’s cheeks as she watched Louis choke. “Breath dammit!” She yells desperately. The soldiers approach them as they are all distracted. Taking them all with a firm grasp. A soldier grabbed Claira away from Louis, screaming.

“Out.” Louis’s father said firmly. Louis looks out beyond, it’s bright outside, “I’m not waiting all day, now get out!” Louis scrambled to his feet and trips out the closet on his toes hastifully and falls on his face. The dried red blood line in front of him.

“Holy,” His dad laughs feebly. Louis looks behind him, scared.

“You’re drunk.” Louis said.

“What?” His father asks, wiping his smile off his face, looking at Louis dead in the eye.

“I said you’re drunk!” Louis repeats louder.

“So I let you out and this is how you repay me?” His father said, waving around the beer to his mouth. He drinks the rest of the alcohol and holds the end of the empty bottle tightly. Louis just stares, petrified. He glances at his school bag then back at his father who was slowly approaching him.

“Is this really how you think of me?” His father started, “Really? Why don’t I just put you back in the closet. Come on now. Get back in there.” Louis shook his head.

“Get back in the damn closet.” He father said louder.

“No!” Louis testified.

“Get back in the closet Louis!” His father yells. Louis jolts up and dashes for his bag and bolting for the door. Then something hits the back of his neck, splitting into a billion pieces; a warm thick liquid going down his neck, burning badly.  

“No!” Claira cried as she struggled to get out of the soldier’s pull as he tugs her in another direction, away from Louis’s who still is choked. Soldiers picked up the fallen boy onto a stretcher and carried him away quietly. Claira and the rest packed into a helicopter with a blanket wrapped over her body. They flew over the deserted town, able to see beyond the barrier. Claira could not focus on the wonderful essenes outside like the others, she stared at the ground and hiccuped.

“Hey,” A soldier said in front of her, “They’re going to alright.” His eyes soft, comforting to Claira as she nodded looking out into the mountain with white fluffy tops and an endless land of fog that settles over it. Soon they reach a small town. The helicopter set down in front of a hospital. Wind blow the surrounding area; trees almost come out of their roots in the ground. People hopped out of the other helicopter. Their clothes and hair flying like crazy as they ascended to the ground.

Claira hopped down from the helicopter by the help of a soft looking soldier and looked around. She could see beyond the wall now. The sun rose down, creating the same kind of pink and orange cotton candy clouds that surround the sun. The sky was a pretty rainbow reflecting off of the sun and into the night sky.

“Claira.” Rick tapped her shoulder lightly, “We should go.” Claira nodded as Rick put his shoulder around her. They hurried to catch up with the two stretchers entering the enormous building in front of them. Miles wailing out cries and Louis, with a breathing mask over his face was drenched with sweat, longing for air. Once they reached the double doors, a nurse stopped them from taking another step forward.

“This is a restricted area so please take a seat if you could.” The nurse told them. Rick stepped up to the nurse, their eyes leveled with each other.

“Sir, but if you could please take this child over here and get him stitched up for us, that would splendid.” He said, bring Daniel in front of the nurse.

“Wait why?” He asked, kneeling down to Daniel.

“Well he got shot in the shoulder before we met him.” Rick tells the nurse.

“Oh god, I’ll take him back.” The nurse said getting up and bringing Daniel throughout the double doors. Rick turned around and sat down. Claira, Aaden, and Keller following behind all sitting in silence. Rick’s face was revealing a shade of dipare and tiredness. He looked older than he was, bringing out a cigarette and smoking it.

Hours later, another nurse approached them with a more kinder and happier face. Claira got up quickly, desperate for answers.
“Are they okay?” She said, waking up Rick, Aaden, and Keller who jolted up quickly.

“Yes they are,” The nurse said. All of them sighed in relief, “But I need to speak with,” She looks down at the papers in her hands, “Claira Wilson privately.” Claira felt a lump in her throat, “And is anyone here Louis’s Marlee’s sibling? They don’t specify here.”

“Nobody here ma’am. But Claira’s known Louis the best.” Rick told the nurse.

“Okay well, Claira if you’ll come with me.” The nurse said, taking her over to an office, “If you’ll please sit.”

Claira sat down, unsure of what was happening, “The doctor will be right with you.” The nurse told her as the shut the door silently and left.

The room was now silent. Claira examined the room, looking at framed diplomas hung up the wall, a large box that was seemingly a computer, pens and pencils were neatly put inside an empty honey jar, files scattered everywhere, and a picture of three kids smiling with pajamas around a tree decorated with lights from top to bottom. The children seemed to be actually happy and free and normal.

A slight knock was heard from outside the door. Claira looked behind her as the door opens to the doctor. His facial expression was showing exhaustion but he also showed a great sense of comfort.

“Miss. Wilson, correct?” The doctor said as Claria nodded, sitting at the edge of her chair, “Well I’m Dr. Gage, nice to meet you.” He said, shaking Claira’s hand that was covered in dirt and blood. It seemed he didn’t mind.

“Doctor,” Claira started. The doctor looked at her straight in the eyes, his wrinkle like hard cracks in rocks and his grey hairs like silk, “Is my brother and Louis okay?”

“You see, that was what I was going to tell you. Now, these conditions are very serious.” The doctor told her. Claira could feel the lump in her throat getting bigger, “Now, Louis has Acute Respiratory Distress Syndrome or ARDS. We did a CT scan of his lungs, we did X-rays, and now we are doing a blood test to officially confirm it and that will take at least 24 hours.” The doctor explained to Claira.

“So how are you going to treat this syndrome?” She asks.

“Well now he is hooked up to a mechanical ventilation until he can breath on his own.” The doctor told her.

“Will he be able to recover?” Claira asks.

“With the probabilities, maybe but there's a chance that he may not because this was not treated earlier. I’ve traced it back to when he was younger. He may have had pneumonia when he was a toddler, developing this kind of syndrome. Also I have a question for you know.” The doctor said, “The scars on Louis’s back, what are those from?”

Claira was astonished, “Those scars are from his father.”

“Why?” He asked curiously.

“Well, Louis’s father was a drunk, he was abusive to him.” Claira told the doctor as he wrote down on his notepad, “Can you tell me about my brother?”

The doctor looks up and finishes writing, “Miles right?” Claira nods, “He has two wounds, one of them we just had to stitch up. Thankfully they weren’t infected. But the one that was shot at his back, hit his spinal cord and broke it badly. He may never be able to walk again because he is paralyzed from the lower back and down. We’ve already done surgery and have successfully taken the bullet out.”

Claira looked at the doctor, tears welling up in her eyes, “Even if he tried to walk?”

“I’m afraid if he did, it would be too painful.” The doctor confirmed, “Now you and your friends can go wash up. We’ve provided clean clothes for all of you, now go.”

Claira got up ready to leave, “Oh and Claira!” The doctor blurted, “Daniel is alright.” Claira nodded silently and closed the door, heading back to the waiting room with tears falling down her cheeks.

“Claira?” Rick said, bouncing to his feet. Claira weeped harder as she fell. Rick caught her, “Claira? Are you okay?” He said, looking into her gleaming eye. He hugs her tightly.

The next day, an officer let Ms. Marlee out and told her what has happened to her son. Her hand was over her mouth, tears erupting from her eyes, the same kinds as Claira’s. The officer lead her out of the courthouse and escorted her to the cop car and they rode off fast to the hospital.

Ms. Marlee rushed into the hospital with the cops. Her make-up all runny and smeared. It was hard to tell whether she was angry or just restless to find her son. Claira, Rick, Aaden, and Daniel shot up to see the frantic lady look around. Keller snores loudly on the couch.

“Who do you think that is?” Rick whispered in Claira’s ear.

“I don’t know, but she looks familiar.” Claira whispers back as they watch her walk up to the front desk with the police.

Suddenly the doctor that Claira talked to comes through the double doors and tells Ms. Marlee something. Their conversation lead Ms. Marlee to approach them.

“Kids, this Sarah Marlee. Louis Marlee’s mother.” The doctor tells them as they all stare blankly at her.

“I thought you were?” Claira started, looking at her, scrunching her eyes.

“Dead?” She said, “Yeah, there’s a long story behind that.”

“So, Ms. Marlee, these kids are more refugees from the town. There is one more but he’s badly injured.” The doctor tells Ms. Marlee.

“Come on all of you, if you’ll follow me.” The doctor said, leading them through the double doors, “Louis is unconscious right now but he’ll gain it back in a couple of days if he gets better.”

“Wait, if?” Ms. Marlee said.

“Yes if, your son cannot breath, he has, like I said before, ARDS.” The doctor said, turning the corner. The halls were busy with doctor swarming everywhere and patients being rushed to different places and other people who were probably family who were emotionally rushing where ever the patient went.

The doctor opened the door to Louis’s room. He looked like a robot, connected to all of these wires around him. The big tub connected to his mouth made Rick run out of the room to the restroom ill.

“Oh god” His mother whispered to herself, tears welling up in her eyes.

Louis had his head askewd down on the pillow, the outside of his eyes outlined a shade of black and his pale skin was glistening with a moist sweat. He was as dainty as a China doll, almost about to crack open as he laid there. Everyone was silent. The only sound was the beeps from the heart monitor at the side of Louis’s bed.

“Now he’s going to be like this for at least a week in a half and the blood results have just confirmed that this is ARDS. We’re just cleaning out the CO2 from his lungs.” The doctor tells them, “I’ll leave you guys alone while I fine the other one.”

The doctor left the room. There was an awkward silence amongst them, all staring at Louis. His mother a little angsty in her seat.

“So, you’ve been alive this whole time?” Claira said to break the silence.

“Yes, I was in a coma for about 4 years.” Louis’s mother said, “How has he been with my time missing.”

“He’s been fine. I mean he’s still the same gently Louis I know.” Claira told her. The door opens again to Rick, wiping his mouth. He looks up to see everyone staring at him.

“I’m alright.” He tells them, pulling up a chair. Then the doctor comes in again.

“Claira?” The doctor peeps in, “Your brother wants to see you.” Claira get up and sighs. She leaves the room with the doctor, “He may be very weak so be gentle.” He leads her to the otherside of the hospital. The doctor knocks on the slightly and opens the door.

“Miles, your sister is here.” The doctor said walking into the room to let Claira in. He takes a tray, still filled with food out of the room. The closest to door quietly.

Miles had his back turned to the wall, his back revealed a large long stitch going through the middle of his back; it was terrifying to see. Claira pulled up a chair to see Miles face. It showed great misery and pain to his expression.

“How’s Louis?” He asked straightforward, not turning around.

“He’s fine I guess.” Claira responded.

“What happened to him? I saw him in the helicopter just choking.” Miles said, now looking into Claira’s blue eyes.

“He’s suffering from ARDS. He’s losing oxygen.” Claira said twitching her eyes, “He might not survive.” Claira looked into her brother’s hazel eyes.

“God, why is that kid always so unlucky.” Miles said to himself.

“What about you? You’re not going to be able to-” Claira said, tears falling from her face.

“Walk?” Miles finished, “Yeah they told me. But that nothing compared to Louis’s condition. Don’t worry about me.”

“Don’t worry?” Claira said, “How could I not worry about you? You’re my brother, If course I’m worried about you. I’m worried for the both of you Miles.”

Miles just stared at the wall silent. He winced suddenly as he adjusted himself. Claira got up from her feet surprised with a jolt.

“It’s fine, it just hurts.” Miles told her cooly.

“Are you sure?” She asked.

“Yeah.” he said, gingerly rubbing his back

Chapter 14

A soldier walked up to the jury, placing a file full of photos and documents after last week’s event that took place. The judge examines each photo studiously one by one. Everyone waits patiently as the projector is being set up. The lights are turned off and a picture appears of the town’s street with people who are rotting dead.

The viewer around look appalled at the picture. The next picture flips to the tent that the kids were hiding in. The small tent show how shabby and run-down there living conditions were at this time, the roof almost falling to the ground. Ms. Marlee closes her eyes.

“Your honor.” a soldier said, “As you can see we have taken these pictures at Dr. Manhattan's facility. We found several children in these extreme areas. They were all in crucial conditions. They stayed in this tent for at least a month running on only cans of Joe and bottled water. None of them had the proper hygiene in this place.”

The picture turned to the inside of the tent. It was cluttered with cots made out of sheets of cloth and the dirt floor ruleling the whole tent appeared to be muddy and gruesome. The fire in the middle had fallen with the twigs burnt black. The whole tent itself was horrible.

“Why didn’t the kids just stay in a house?” The judge asks.

“That is a question for when the children are present at court your honor.” The soldier said.

“Continue.” The judge said.

“There were total of seven survivors.”

“Eight.” Horton interrupts.

“Eight,” He corrected himself, “two girls, five boys, one mother.” The soldier said as the picture showed the individuals that survived, “Two of them are badly injured. One being her son who was diagnosed with ARDS and the other who has been shot two times, once in the back the other in his leg. He may never be able to walk again your honor.” The picture showed the bedridden boys in the hospital.

The viewer looked astonished to what they saw, “There was another boy who was shot in the upper shoulder. Thankfully he only needed stitches and the wound was not infected. The rest of the town, your honor, is deceased. No others remaining.” The soldier finished, looking straight into the judges narrow eyes.

“Might I add?” Horton asked the soldier. He gave a positive nod and Horton got to his stubby feet and walked over to the projector, “There was one more photo we forgot to mention.” Horton said pulling up the photo of the graphs and documents that Louis had created, “The soldiers also went to seek through the Marlee’s house right your honor?” The judge nodded, “Well they found this photo of what the boy had researched of his mother disappears and fake death, and also the proof of our case of Dr. Manhattan running this operation.”

“Objection your honor, the boy was fooling around to impress a girl.” Dr. Manhattan said calmly.

“And do you have any evidence to support that you didn’t kill off a whole town?” The Judge asked, “Otherwise, how did all these people just suddenly die?”

Dr. Manhattan slouched back in his chair with nothing to argue.

“Yes I may have been a part of this crime, but I want to give justice for these very people of the town who were lied to. Here is the true, genuine and also accurate evidence to this conclusion before the kids are brought in your honor.” Horton said.

“Very well, I will examine these photos. They are appealing to me that this is truthful. This session here is done.” The judge said, pounding his gavel.

Miles sat in his wheelchair in an awkward position, his brace around his ribs, holding him up as if he has a life jacket on him. He stared at Louis with a questionable expression on his face saying nothing in the lonesome room. Claira walked in with a tray of food that, the silverware clanking together. She sets it in front of Miles who keeps his focus on Louis who was breathing slowly that it looked like he wasn’t breathing at all. He didn’t pay attention on what’s in front of him.

“This is real? Right?” Miles asked Claira.

“I think it is.” Claira responds back sighing, “Look, do me a favor and just eat a little, you haven’t eaten much.”

“How can I eat? How can anyone eat? It doesn’t matter now.” Miles complained.

“Well you need to eat at some point, everyone does.” Claira told Miles as she tried looking into his eyes, “Louis is going to be alright okay.”

“And what if he’s not?” Miles said, “What if he’s gone and dead? What will we do?”

Claira looked at the floor remembering what the doctor told her, ‘he might not survive’. “Miles, I don’t know. But all we can do is hope for the best.” Claira said getting up and leaving the room in a casual manner.

Miles looked down at his food, unappealed to taste anything in his mouth. He felt like vomiting, it bothered him very much to even think that a friend of his was going to be on the brink of death. It would crush his sister the most to see him pass. Louis, being her only friend and Claira being Louis’s only companion it was hard to think of one of them gone, separated. It wouldn’t be the same.

“Louis?” Miles said not looking at Louis’s pained face. The large tube running down his throat was already horrific to see on its own, “I just want to say I’m sorry. All these years I despised of you being with my sister all the time. I thought you were some bad influence but now brushing the dirt off of you, I see you clearer. You’ve gone through so much that I had no idea this could happen to someone so young like you. I see why Claira adores you. She wants the best for you and now that your  almost on your deathbed, everyone’s now on angst. Just please get better. I thought that coma was enough.” Miles said tearing up, “Dammit, what the hell am I doing.” Miles told himself, wiping his eyes off.

Claira entered the hotel room where the rest were lazyily blanking out. Daniel and Rick playing an intense game of foosball. Aaden spread out on the bed, looking at the ceiling. Keller chewing some gum while looking out the window, the buildings covered in white.

“How’s he holding up?” Aaden asks.

“Bad, he’s not eating.” Claira said, hopping in the other bed. “He’s scared of what’s ahead of him”

“God why does this have to happen to us?” Keller said. Everyone turns to him understandingly, “why didn’t they just kill us then and there?”

“Keller, stop talking like that.” Aaden tells him.

“No I mean it.” Keller looks at Aaden, his eyes rough.

“Yeah, well we’re facing reality right now, you’re not alone on this.” Aaden said fired up, “We have a case a week from now, that’s if Louis is able to wake up by then.”

Claira looks down. Aaden notices this immediately and quickly apologizes. There’s a knock outside that was very broad and loud that scares everyone in the room.

“Come in, its opened.” Rick shouts. A woman enters the room in a business suit.

“Good afternoon children, I have your papers on where you are to stay for the rest of the years to come. Of course Louis will be leaving with his mother, living in the current house Ms. Marlee lives in now. Claira and Miles Wilson will be staying with your aunt and uncle, Sandra and Levi Wilson down in Skokie Illinois.” The woman in the business suit said.

“Wait, is that close to here?” Claira asked.

The woman hesitates, “Sorry honey but that is a long distance from here. We are in Whittier, Alaska.” The woman tells her, “Your aunt and uncle are the only ones we know who are related to you two.”

“No I understand.” Claira said with despair.

“Well, Aaden and Keller Wylie. Your going to your grandparents, Elizabeth and Richard. They live down in Alyeska, Alaska. As for Patrick Rodgerson, you will be living with your Aunt Marcine in Anchorage, Alaska. Daniel Willis, sweetie, I couldn’t find any family member of yours so you'll be in our foster care program.”

“Wait woah woah woah!” Rick said, “He can live with me.”

“But Patrick, we need to agree with your aunt and,”

“I said he’s living with me or I’m coming with him to foster care. I can’t leave the kid on his own.” Rick said looking into the lady’s eyes.

“Very well, that’s all I’ve came here for. I shall contact your aunt to make arrangements. Until then goodbye.” The lady said, leaving the room.

“Skokie, Illinois?” Claira said, brushing her hair back, “that’s so far? But I don’t want to leave you guys.”

“We know Claira but something just are always the way we expect it.” Rick said, sitting next to her, “I don’t want to leave either but we have to, we can visit each other sometimes but this the price we get after what happened to us.”

“But it’s so unfair. Why can’t we just stay here.” Claira cries.

“Because we don’t have a legal guardian here. I know it’s unfair but it just the way things have to work.” Rick said while hugging Claira in his arms.

Miles kept his focus on Louis. He cried silently as the monitor beeps annoyingly between the two. The nurse entered the room and telling where Miles is going to live after all of this mess was over. He nods his head slightly, not looking at the person who’s talking to him. She took the untouched plate, carrying it out of the room, leaving him be again.

Louis had his eyes opened, but barely showing any sight or any contact. His face was thinner and whiter. He looked ready to die. A terrible sweat rolled thickly down his face; he was worse than last week; his lean arms showed gastly scars that were very distinctly noticeable to spot. Only he knew the gruesome truth behind them, along with Claira who they two kept it a secret. Miles examined the lines closely, wondering the tragic story behind this. He wheeled out of the room and down to the elevator, doctors aghast to see Miles ride that fast with worry and a mix of determination on his face. He pressed the down button multiple times and waited impatiently for the doors to open.

He wheeled in the empty elevator and pressed on the second floor button repeatedly until the doors slowly close once again, calmly bring him downwards. Miles rolled down out of the elevator, ignoring the fact that there were people waiting in front of him, flying backwards as he hustled out to the hotel room making a ruckus in the hall.

He knocked harshly on the door 133 and the door opened to Claira looking a bit surprised at the sudden presents of Miles out of breath.

“Hey what’s the matter?” Claira said, opening the door widely for Miles to fit through the door.

“So I found some mysterious marks on Louis’s arms. Do you know what happened to him there?” Miles said resting his tired arms at his sides.

Claira looked at the T.V. trying to avoid Miles gaze to lie, “No, can’t say I have.”

“Come on Claira, I know you know.” Miles said softly, his eye glistening.

“No I don’t Miles.” Claira raised her voice, feeling guilty, “I just can’t tell you thing that you shouldn’t know.”

“Just tell me, I want to know. He hasn’t told anyone except you his most deepest darkest secrets and now when we’re about to be a hundred miles away from everyone here and Louis basically dying slowly, Miles pauses and glances elsewhere, “I just, I don’t know.”

“You really want to know huh?” Claira said quietly, “and if the rest of you want to know then listen. If you don’t then leave.” Miles stared at them, all staying frozen in their places, even Daniel was eager to hear.

“Nobody?” Rick shrugged also looking around, “Damn. Go on Claira.”

“After Louis’s mother died, the past four years were hard on him. Even in his early years before his father was as abusive as he was last month before he was killed just recently. His parents fought with each every night. His father would randomly punch him or something. He’s very sensitive about this, when he talks about his beatings they seem so vivid and violent to the point where he can’t continue explaining it anyone.

He hates remembering. Now after his mother went missing his father shut down but he got angrier as the days went on. Louis took on all the responsibility. But every mistake he made his father would beat him. But this one time, he just was blamed for a broken glass bottle that his father accidentally pushed over when he was intoxicated. He got his arms beaten that time. He told me that was one of the worst beating ever. He told me it still throbs today. He now told me that every now and then he has these visions about them. He’s probably still on edge right now when he thinks of it. If you really wanted to know, there you go.” Claira said, tears slowly streaming down her eyes, “Just don’t mention it in front of him.”

“So did his father ever love him?” Rick asked.

“Yes, up until the walls came up. His father wanted to leave town but his mother refused to but it was too late because they were forced to sign the contract.” Claira told Rick.

There was another knock on the door.

“Holy! Is everyone going to knock on our door, why not have the whole hospital come knock, we’ll have a party.” Rick said sarcastically, opening the door to Horton and Ms. Marlee in their fancy clothes. Both faces frosted and cold from the winter outside.

“Surely the New Year has knocked us out colder.” Horton said, taking his jacket off, “how are you kids doing?”

“Quite fine Horton, how are you?” Claira said flatly, crossing her arms denyingly.

He sighed, “Just because I worked for Manhattan, doesn’t mean I meant to hurt you kids. In fact, I’m trying to help you win this case.” Horton said sympathetically.

“So what brings you two here?” Rick asked, trying to change the subject.

“Well we came to tell you that are required to take the case tomorrow seriously. All we want is for you to explain to us everything that has happened to you in the past month.” Ms. Marlee told them.

“Yeah we know.” Aaden said cooly, looking outside, the snowy mountains magnificent in the vast town.

“Good because it’s going to come soon and hit us hard.” Horton said. Someone knocked again.

“Damn!” Rick shouted, twist the knob opened to a nurse.

“Ms. Marlee?” She said peeking in out of breath, “your son. He’s is now breathing properly.

Ms. Marlee looked at the nurse fiercely with astonishment. She ran out of the room, pushing the nurse to the door. Horton looked at the kids as they looked at him. All of them bursted out of the room and packed into the elevator. Rick and Claira could not fit in with the rest.

“We'll take the stairs.” Rick said, grabbing Claira hand rushes towards the stairs. The door flew open and the two of them ran up the steps to the 5th floor. Claira and Rick both out of breath and legs sore caught up with the rest who were at his door, opening it quietly. They peered in to see a doctor check up on him. The large tube in his mouth gone and was replaced with a CPAP. His features untouched and still unbearable to look at him.

“Ah, the whole crew has come along. Dr. Gage is out today but your son is making progress. His breathing is consistent. We just put a CPAP to insure he is getting support. He’s still not conscious yet but he will soon.” The doctor told them, “Ms. Marlee, your son’s going to live.” The doctor smiled.

Chapter 15

Claira had her sketch book in her lap as she sat in the vacant hotel room on the ledge next to the window, staring down at rough pages that were starting to get moldy from being outside unprotected in the snow. She looked at each of her drawing, admiring the beauty she put into page.

Then Claira noticed on the side of her eye, Louis’s lumpy bag from the store where they first met Daniel at the supermarket. It sat against the wall, all dirty and ruined. Claira looked at it, urging to look into it. She sighed, laid her journal to her side, and got off of the ledge to bring the dirty bag onto the clean sheets mattress. She zippered it opened to find it surprisingly almost empty with spare batteries and some empty cans of Joe, but what really caught Claira’s eye was the Vinyl record.

She pulled it out , looking at the cover: Twist and Shout by The Beatles. She gasped in tears that gradually slid down her cheek and onto the record. She looked up at the door at the end of the dim hallway, then turned to the clock: 10:42 A.M.

Claira got to here feet and walked down to the main entrance camly with the record in her hand. She confronted the front desk with a polite smile on her face. The man from the first time they arrived here looked up at her a grinning inwardly.

“How may I help you young lady?” he said in a forcefully cordial tone.

“Is there a record shop nearby?” Claira asked politely.

“Why yes. It’s on West street.” The nurse said.

“Okay, thank you.” Claira acknowledged, leaving the hospital into the outside. The snow a melting into water and mud now with a sticky feeling in the air; the sky was a cloudy gray as the winds moved the clouds like tumbleweeds. Claira had not been outside in a long time, she smelled the fresh outside air of winter becoming spring slowly.

She walked down the deserted sidewalk and into the little town reading all of the street signs to find West Street. The little buildings with such old character, the paint coming off the wooden exteriors, the windows very bumpy and made you have a strong headache from looking out on; the roof shingles coming out of its place but yet it just feel in place and natural to Claira’s eyes.

Once she reached West street, she search around for the record shop; Henry’s Vinyl shop in big retro lettering stood out from the rest of the buildings. Claira looked both ways across the street, empty, no cars cruising by. Claira shrugged and walked down the street blankly towards the shop and opened the door to a very dated room: Black and white tiled flooring, walls covered in past art styles and crates of old records stacked neatly in order. Smoke filling the air with thick smog. It felt comforting to walk in that room.

A man with long blonde hippie hair confronted Claira with a carefree smile on his face. He was long and gangly, making his shirt seem to short on him. Most likely he worked here since really embraced his position as a clerk.

“Hello dudeet, my name is Henry Drake and this is my Vinyl shop. We have the grooviest new records that just came out. We also have the top artist such as Queen, or the Rolling Stones, you name it. Now is there anything I can do for you?” He said in a calm tone of voice. Claira looked up at him, a little bit speechless. “I’m not going to bite.” The clerk told Claira, raising his eyebrows.

“Oh, yeah, sorry just having a rough week.” Claira finally said shaking her head.

“I’m sorry to hear that. Nothing like good-old music to cheer you up.” The clerk sympathetically said, “Hey you look familiar, you weren’t one of those kids who were found in the science experiment in the outskirts of town, were you?”

“Yeah, I’m one of them. But I just need a Vinyl player to play this record. It’s my friends and I just want to play it for him.” Claira explained.

The Clerk nodded, “I got what you’re looking for. If you’ll follow me.” Claira followed him through a beaded doorway that dangled to the floor. She stepped through them to his desk room with the same designs on the wall but with posters of 60’s band. He had three guitars on show by his desk that had a funky chair behind it.

“Over here.” The clerk said taking the previous record out of the vinyl player, “It’s old but it still works.” Claira handed him Louis’s record as he gently places it inside the player and sets the head-shell on the record. He took his hands off of it and let the record spin as the music started.

“I’ll leave you be.” The clerk winked, leaving the room.

“Thank you!” Claira shouted as he left. She Looked back at the vinyl player, watching it spin over and over again, hypnotized by the music it played.

Rick stayed up for the past three nights straight with no rest; growing his anticipation strongly. He went back upstairs after eating a small breakfast from downstairs and sat in a chair by Louis’s bed for hours, getting more and more angst as he waited for the moment for Louis to wake up with his leg fidgeting wildly. His eyes were red and weary. Every once in a while he would doze off to sleep but woke up startled to every little sound around him.

Rick fell asleep, his eyes shadowed and his head spinning. The sound of the heart monitor repeated in a steady pace. Louis, dainty as he was, opened his eyes casually. He looked around the dim room and held his bonny arms to where he could see them; wires were connected all around him like vines in a forest.

“Rick?” He said weakly with a tremble in his voice. He started coughing hard as Rick opened his eyes with a jolt. Rick saw that Louis was confused and conscious. He stood up and ran out of the room to call a nurse. Louis, startled, looked up a Rick.

“Rick? What’s going on?” He asked.

“Hold on Louis I have to get a doctor.” Rick said continuing to yell outside for a nurse.

“Where’s the rest? Where are we?” Louis asked again, coughing.

“Hey Louis, don’t speak. I’ll go get the rest, wait here!” Rick said running out of the room. He stopped at the desk and told a nurse that Louis was awake then he scrambled down the stairs to the hotel room. Once he was the door, out of breath, he reached into his pocket and grabbed the room key, dropping it to the floor. Rick swore aloud, picking it back up, inserting it into the slot and turned it, opening the door.

Everyone with their grave expression looked up bewildered at Rick. He nodded and looked into Claira’s bright blue eye, who had just came back from the vinyl shop; she stood up and walked slowly up to Rick who waved for the rest of them to come over.

“He’s up, Get off your butts and let’s go.” Rick urged. Everyone got up from their feet and ran out of the room, Claira helping Miles to the elevator. As soon as they made it up to the room like wild animals, They opened the door and surprised him. The nurse hushed them to be quiet as they tip-toed in. Louis looked up and grinned earnestly at them.

“Well there’s a smile.” Rick laughed, “Brought the whole gang along too.”

“Yeah, we have loads to tell you.” Daniel said happily.

Miles rolled inside the darkened room and parked himself near the bland wall that was colored with a remorseful tone of blue.

“Miles? Are you okay?” Louis asked, unaware of what had happened to them over the past two week. He looked at him worried.

“Yeah but don’t worry about me, I’m fine.” Miles told Louis.

“But you got shot?” Louis said

“And you almost suffocated.” Miles finished.

“How are you feeling?” Rick asked, changing the subject.

“Tired I guess?” Louis shrugged.

“Tired? Come on kid you were asleep for like two weeks.” Rick laughed.

“That is true it’s in the middle of February.” The nurse announced as she drew the blinds, letting bright lights surround the room after how dark it was in there.

“Yeah, you have to be anything but tired.” Daniel giggled, hopping up on the edge of the bed.

“So anyways we have some news for you.” Rick said wistfully.

“What kind?” Louis asked, sitting up.

“Well, for one were going to court in a couple of days. We found out that your ideas were proven right but we need to give our evidence to the judge tomorrow. Basically they’re going to ask us question on what happened in the past month or so when we were in there. Also we’re all going to be separated after this no matter what. Miles and Claira are going to be the farest away from us. They’re going across the country to Illinois.”

Louis looked sorrowfully back at Claira to see her biting her lips harshly, “No, they can’t do that.” He shook his head

“Oh they can. It’s the government and plus that’s the closest relative they have over there. The rest of us a staying in Alaska but different towns.” Rick shrugged.

“Where am I going?” Louis asked.

“You’re staying here with your mother.” Rick told him.

“My mother?” Louis said, agast with eyes wide open, “But she’s dead?”

“That was our reaction too. She trying to bring down Dr. Manhattan, the guy who was in charge of this whole top secret thing with the help of Horton Gilbert.” Rick finished, crossing his arms.

Louis wrinkled his eyebrows, “That guy was part of Dr. Manhattan’s experiment. Why the hell is he helping us?”

“We don’t know Louis. He just told us he wanted justice for us.” Claira shrugged.

“Plus he going to go to jail for being a part of it too.” Miles added.

Just then the door creaked opens. Everyone turns around to see who it is; Ms. Marlee walks in slowly, her purse at onside with his sweater that was returned by a soldier the night they were found, the other hand over her mouth, the tone of her skin flushed.

“Mom?” Louis said quietly, looking at the familiar woman with tears in his eyes. Ms. Marlee looked at her son, her mouth wide opened. She approached him slowly, out of breath. Once she was close enough to the hospital bed, she dropped her purse to the floor, reached over and wrapped her arms around him tightly. They hugged each other with tears of joy.

“Mom!” Louis said ecstatically with his eyes welling in tears. She released him and wiped off her tears, “I thought you died. I saw you hovered over the wheel.”

“I wasn’t Louis, I wasn’t.” She smiled, sitting on the bed, handing him the old sweater, neatly washed.

“But where were you all these years? Dad was.” Louis started, staring down at his jacket.

“Abusive? Yes I know sweetie.” She finished.

“We told him everything Ms. Marlee.” Claira said, “I’m glad you two are back, Louis really missed you.” Louis’s smile was strong, genuine, real.

Chapter 16

Louis fussed in the bathroom from his mother adjusting his tie around his neck. He looked in the mirror; he was fancied up with a grey suit that made his pale skin seem even lighter than it already was. As lavished as it looked, it was itchy, and tight around the shoulders.

“Ah, mom your choking me.” Louis squinted.

“Sorry Louis, I’m just a little nervous today.” His mother said. She was fitted in a satin blue dress with a black cardigan with thick shoulder pads on the shoulders. She took her hands off the tie and looked at her son in the mirror, “Well, you look very handsome. I hope you know that.” She said. Louis couldn’t help smiling and turned to his mother and hugged her.

Ms. Marlee looked at her watch: 7:15, “Alright now we have to get going or we’re going to be late.” Louis released his mother and followed her downstairs. He put on his polished shoes; his mother put on black heels that were seemingly uncomfortable to Louis as he twitched his hands anxiously waiting for their ride to await.

“Did you take your medication?” His mother asked from the kitchen.

“Uh, No.” Louis said quietly.

“Louis, you know you have to take this first thing in the morning.” Ms. Marlee said

“I know mom but it’s hard to swallow the pill.” Louis told her in a unsettled voice.

“Louis, you know that the doctor wants you to have this. You need it.” Ms. Marlee pleaded, crouching down to Louis’s level, handing him the pill and a glass of water. Louis looked into his mother’s eyes like a lost puppy; he dashing black round eyes sparkled as he gazed at her. He took the pill and let it lay in his mouth in the middle of his tongue and drank the water as fast as he could, holding his head up high, one gulp after the other. Louis gave the half empty glass to his mother who smiled eminently. She took the glass and placed it in the sink to wash later as the doorbell rang.

Ms. Marlee sighed, brushing her dress off, “Ready?”

“Ready.” Louis replied, standing up. The two of them answered the door to Horton. He looked stubby, as always and was wearing his casual black suit and tie. He ruffled his tie nervously around his neck.

“You two Ready?” He asked.

“Ready as we'll ever be.” Ms. Marlee shrugged.

“Well your chariot awaits you.” Horton said moving aside to let the two pass him. Louis did not make eye contact with Horton. It was a gloomy day with drizzling rain. The mucky snow was melting quickly as it turned into mud. Louis looked out the window, gloomily watching as the houses passed by.

“Louis are you okay?” Horton asked, “you seem very quiet over there.”

“I’m always quiet and I’m quite fine.” Louis said flatly, still looking out the window.

“Well do you have any concerns before we get to the courtroom?” Horton asked again.

“Well What if we lose this case? What if they think this whole thing was a hoax and we lose?” Louis said.

“We’re not going to lose the case. We’ve come so far with evidence. This last one is to confirm that we won. All we need is for you and your friends to tell us what you know okay sweetheart?” Ms. Marlee said. Something in her voice made Louis turn towards his mother. “We’re going to be fine.” Ms. Marlee told her son.

They reached their destination, the courthouse. Louis looked up aghast at the tall stature building in front of him. The entered through the tall doors to the corridors of the main floor. The ceilings high up with calligraphies and arts upon it, many almost telling a story.

Claira approached Louis in a beautiful laced laced dress that made her look like a bride. Her sandy hair in curls and her radiant blue eyes glistened. She beamed at him shyly; clearly she was timid. She rubbed her arm gingerly.

“So,” She sighed, shrugging her arms, “Ready?”

“Yep, that seems to be the word of the day today.” Louis said. Claira laughed softly, her cheeks becoming more pink, “Everyone looks on edge too.”

“Well aren’t we all, Rick’s sweating like crazy and Aaden keeps biting her nails. To be honest, I’m kind of scared too.” Claira told Louis.

“Yeah, me too. Where’s Miles?” He said, changing the subject to get his mind off of the case.

“Already in the courtroom, I can’t tell if he’s nervous. He isn’t sleeping at night either. I don’t what’s in his mind right now. Anyway, you want to go find our seats, it’s almost time too. We sit in front.” Claira said, looking at her watch.

“Yeah sure.” Louis said following Claira through the crowd of people who dressed up in fancy dresses and suits that were too classy for Louis. He tilted his head down sheepishly and made his way to the courtroom. It started to dim as the two traveled towards the front.

“Hey Louis,” Rick said, sitting next to Aaden who was, as Claira said, biting her nails. Miles was staring into space, ignoring everything around him, “Scared?”

“Yep, my heart is pounding out of my chest, that’s how scared I am.” Louis told Rick, making his way into his seat. Louis saw in front of him the Judge in his long black gown getting into his seat in the high desk. He grabbed his gavel started to pound. The echos were sent across the room loudly, the room became quiet except for the humming of the furnace.

“Hello all, thank you for coming here today for the case between Dr. Mark Manhattan, our defendant and Sarah Marlee, accommodated with Horton Gilbert as the plaintiff. We have discussed this topic for over two months. Sarah Marlee has opposes that Dr. Manhattan had kept a secret from everyone here, especially the government. But Dr. Manhattan on the other side objects and tells us he is retired. Horton gave us valuable proof, telling us about the facility owned by Dr. Manhattan and has worked for Dr. Manhattan because he was forced to. Three weeks ago we spoke with a soldier, Ian Cooper. He offered us to speculate this facility and we have found survivors in this facility. Now we are here to wrap up things and ask these kids what they experienced with questions by the jury.” The judge said.

Claira looked over at the soldier sitting next to Horton. He was awfully familiar; the same soldier that had helped Claira and her brother out of the terrible situation they were in after their parents were shot. The same soldier that helped them live and stay hidden.

“Now can we have Keller Andrew Wylie and Aaden Breeane Wylie over to the seats over there.” The Judge told the two. Aaden widened her eyes in shock and got up with her brother to go sit where the judge demanded them to, realizing how vast the room was filled with everyone’s eyes fixed on them. Terrified, she looked at the questioner.

“Just to confirm this, how old are you two?” She asks in a very serious manner.

“I’m sixteen and my brother here is eighteen.” Aaden stutters drastically getting pinkier.

“Good, now there is nothing to be afraid of here, my name is Mrs. Martha Jones, I will be asking all of you questions from the jury. This will confirm that we can close this case and be over with it for no further investigation or evidence. Now I will start out with a tough question, have you lost any loved ones in this time and event back at the facility?” Martha Jones asked.

“Well,” Aaden started with a big gulp, “we had a little brother named Axle. He was only, only 8 when he was shot in front of us, including our parents who were murdered also.”

“How did you two mange to survive or escape this position?” Martha said, looking at her papers.

“My father hide a gun, which was forbidden in our town. It was in the wall, he got it out and tried to protect us with it but failed to when they held our little brother hostage.” Aaden said, remembering her younger brother in the soldier's arms with a gun pointed at his temple, “As soon as it was just us two standing, a soldier killed the other soldier who murdered the rest of our family and brought us to the woods for hiding.”

“How did you accommodate the other children who survived along with you guys.” She asks again.

“Ma’am, we met the rest of them by me capturing Miles, the kid in the wheelchair,” Keller said finally, “And if I want to be honest, my friends and I, both of the conveniently commited suicide during hiding, started to mess with him, almost drowning the kid. Later his sister, Claira and her friend, Louis were found by us when we were gathering the supplies that we needed to fix Miles’s leg. Louis went into a deep coma when we found him for two weeks, at least from hypothermia and maybe a result of ARDS too. Claira brought along her friends back to our tent.”

“Why were you fixing Miles’s leg?”

“Mrs, I’m studying to be a nurse, my mother showed me how to clear up a wound before it gets infected. We basically took out the bullet and wrapped it up.” Aaden said.

“Okay, thank you that is all the questions I have for you two.” Martha Jones told them as they retreated back to their seats, “Daniel Abraham Willis and Patrick Blake Rodgerson, will you please be seated up here now. Now I hear you two boys are going home together, how old are you two?”

“I’m seventeen.” Rick said, sitting down.

“And I’m ten” Daniel said enthusiastically.

“Brillant.” She laughed, “Now how did you meet?”

“We were are the vacant supermarket in town and we needed supplies so Claira, Louis and I went searching for whatever we needed when Claira stumbled upon Danny here. He was shot in the upper arm and his parents were murdered.” Rick explained to Martha Jones.

“How did you, Daniel, survive?”

“I well got shot and let me just say, being hit with a bullet is not a nice feeling, I hid in the towel paper aisle, behind the packages during the shooting. Until the coast was clear” Daniel said, covering his shoulder as if it was still an opened wound.  

“Very well, Rick, how did you meet these kids surrounding you?” Martha said. Rick’s foot was fidgeting nonstop like he was at the hospital, anxious and afraid; he looked at Louis, then Claira, her eyes telling him to confess the truth.

“I, I, I,” Rick tripped, looking into Louis’s round, juvenile-looking eyes that gleamed, “I knew them before at school.”

“Yes but how did you aquant them during your period in the woods hiding?” Martha jones said. There was no way to explain to the judges how Rick acquired Louis, Claira, and Miles. Not in front of Ms. Marlee without her her hating him after what he had did to her son. Rick sat there perplexed, both of them seemed to remember something in their eyes.

Louis staggering through the woods, shoeless, running as fast as he could, his breath vividly visible. He could hear the loud footsteps chasing after him. Louis looked in front of him, fog and white with trees passing by him as he sprints faster. He looks back, Rick and his two minions with a devilish smile on their faces as they were gain up on him.

“Come back here you asshole!” Rick yells with his dagger in one hand with his veins popping from his arm.

“Rick and I were great rivals.” Louis said, standing up with poise.

A loud bang shoots beside Louis, sending snow and dirt flying up by his legs. The loud bang echos again, with a terrible howl behind him, his mind between one thing, run. Louis looked back to see one of the minions down with Rick and his other friend beside his dying body. No time to turn back, it was now or never. Louis just ran, he didn’t feel his feet touch the cold ground, nor his face that was tearing from the frigid weather punching his face hard.

“Louis!” Rick cries from behind. Louis ignores him and keeps venturing forward finding a safe place to hide.

“But we learned how to help each other with our time together and now we are great friends. We met in the woods when we were chased by a soldier a week after the shootings. He shot both of Rick’s friends. That’s how we met.”

“Very well, is this true Patrick?” Martha Jones asked him.

“Yes ma’am.” Rick said, waking up from his trans and back to reality.

“Good, you may be seated you two and I’ll have Claira Mae Wilson and Miles Robert Wilson up here.” Martha Jones commanded. Rick picked himself up with Daniel who hopped in his seat. Rick pauses in front of his seat and stops; his actions with one hand over his stomach. He looked up slowly at Louis who looks at him blankly.

“You okay Rick?” Louis asks. Rick stares wildly at Louis and nods, “Are you sure?” The tension between him and reality were coming to him, replaying that moment of time. Sweat dripping from his forehead. He grasps the seat firmly. He covered his mouth, then he ran down the aisle,  out into the lobby of the court house. Louis’s eyes follow Rick’s silhouette as the bright lights from the doubles opens, letting the light shine in and Rick disappeared. Louis turned back and focused his attention on Claira, who pushed Miles’s wheelchair over by the judge as he beamed at Martha Jones with his eye droopy and dazed in his mind.

“You two are siblings correct?” She asks.

“Yes, we are.” Claira answers.

“How old are you two?”

“Fifteen, almost sixteen in March. My brother is sixteen, seventeen almost.” Claira told Martha Jones looking at her brother who was studying something in the distance.

“How did you receive that gun of yours?”

“My father gave it to me the day of the shooting. I don’t why he handed it to me or why he had it.” Claira said, looking at Martha as she paced around with the papers in her hands; then she looked directly at Claira.

“How did your brother end up in the wheelchair?” Martha asked. Claira looked at her brother; he was still staring at something in the distance.

“Miles?” Claira said softly to him, hoping for a response. Miles stubbornly ignored her. He was in La La Land, blatant to everyone around him, “Miles, snap back to reality and tell them.” Miles looked at Claira with his hazel colored eyes innocently with no smile or any sign of recognition.

“Can you tell them?” Claira asked dead in the eye. Miles bit his lips, eyes glistening, staring perplexed. After a moment of silence, Miles finally nodded and turned to Martha who had one eyebrow cocked up.

“I got shot twice, once in the leg, the other broke my back. I’m now paralyzed for life because of it. I have know idea who’s done it but I know it was a soldier.” Miles said flatly.

“Why do you think they’ve done this to you?”

“I don’t know?” Miles shrugs, “I guess to slow us down. Have you found someone accountable yet?”

“No Mr. Wilson, we have not. We are still searching.” Martha Jones told him dexterously. Miles turned away from her, studying the distance again, more than aggravated or paranoid, but let with still a question for him to think about.

“Those are all of the question I have for you. You may take your seats now and I’ll have Louis James Marlee come up.” Martha Jones said as they transitioned back into their seats. Louis stiffly approached the chair by the judge alone and nervous. Sweat came running down his forehead as he sat in the seat.

“Louis how old are you?” Martha Jones asked.

“Fifteen, I’ll be sixteen in May.” Louis told her feebly as he rapidly twitched his foot and rubbed his clammy hands in a panicied way. He could see beyond the distance Claira mouthing the words, ‘Breath’. Louis nodded asertfully and took in a deep breath, focusing his attention back the Martha Jones.

“Now if the next following questions I ask you are too hard on you, you let me know and you don’t have to answer them. Now, tell us what your father did to you?”

Louis looked her; he felt demanded in a way and was reminded of his father, all the flashbacks of horrible times and all the pain that he had suffer through, “He taught me my lessons alway.”

“What type of lessons might I ask?”

“Lessons that were despicable.” He said sharply, “He always told me how weak I was or how I was the one who killed my own mother.” Louis told her, looking at the floor.

“How did he punish you?” Martha Jones asked, tearing up.

“In the most cruel, unmannered way.” Louis said, his pupils becoming smaller and more frightened, “The belt.” Everyone's spines shivered like a cold wind had swooped into the room making everyone uncomfortable. Louis felt the scars on his back heat up behind as he remembered the sound of the belt whooping down against his skin; roughly it felt real. Louis shut his eyes seeing his father's maniced face with his eyes red and the veins on his neck were visible.

“He used his belt to make sure it bleed in that I was a mistake, a burden, his scapegoat to every bad thing in his life. He locked me in the closet for three days with no food or water. He hit me for existing and he didn’t care if I lived or not. I was nothing to him.” Louis told Martha as he opened his brunet eyes with a story in his eyes of all the horrible, indescribable things that had happened to his poor young soul.

Martha looked at the papers, tears falling from her cheeks. She could not believe, nobody could in that room witnessed that pain except Louis and Claira, whose eyes locked for a moment, remembering that spontaneous moment when Claira had came over the Louis’s house. She remembered the guilt of just sitting there and watching, frozen. The petrified wails of Louis when his father slapped down that belt onto his flesh.

“How long has he done this to you?” Martha asks pitifully as if she shouldn’t have.

“Since I was eleven.” Louis said, “My parents use to fight all the time, earlier before my mother had mistakenly died.”

“Ms. Marlee is this true?” Martha asked, turning to the crowd.

“Yes it is.” Ms. Marlee announced, wiping her tears away.

“My father would always leave the house to the bar. He was an alcoholic.” Louis added.

“Now Louis, can you explain what this is?” Martha asked, walking up to Louis, setting down a picture of his wall covered in paper and evidence leading to the town’s secret. Louis examined it wide-eyed.

“I made this to keep me busy and distracted in the house when my mom presumily died.” He said slowly.

“What does it mean?”

“I pinpointed culpable suspects in our towns area. I don’t know why I did it but I felt this weird feeling that I had to. I mean I felt like I was being watched all the time.” Louis explained, “I found three who were the most culpable, one being correct, Horton.” Louis looked at Horton with deceiving eyes. Everyone knew he had worked alongside with Dr. Manhattan. The most frightening part was the Manhattan threatened him to when they first started the project.

Dr. Manhattan, sitting on the other side of the room watched Louis meticulously with a shadow hiding his eyes from the light. He had an evil entity in the glare of his face, silence made him seem tougher and more dominate. Louis caught his eye, eyebrows scrunched together, staring at him quite profoundly.

“How do you know that Horton was culpable Louis?” Martha asked in the mid-silence.

Louis took his eyes off Manhattan slowly, “He dropped a form classifying our town was a secret. I have it right now.” Louis reached into his pocket, taking out a folded up, crumpled piece of paper and handed it to Martha who examined it for a quick minute. She looked up at him again, astound, handing the Judge the form. Louis leaned back, folding his hands, “I found it on the ground one spring when I was walking to school. Horton was racing his way down the street . I tried to give it back to him but I found out what it really was.”

“Interesting,” The Judge said loudly, making everyone turn to him, “It’s signed by your name Dr. Manhattan.” He sneered, “ This is valuable evidence Mr. Marlee, thank you.”  

“Thank you Louis, Those are all the questions I have for you, you may go back to your seat.” Martha told Louis who nodded, getting up from his chair, “Dr. Manhattan if you’ll please take Louis’s spot.”

Manhattan stood up, his tall stature very slender and gangly. Lean and straight he slowly stroll over to the seat carelessly with a filthy grin of pleasure as Louis passed by him. He sat down with arms crossed, his suit too tight for him when he cocked back.

“Thank you, now Dr. Manhattan, you said you recently retired? When did you retire and do you have the paperwork for it?” Martha asked.

“Why yes I do.” He sneered quite contently, “I retired just three month ago. I was about to close down my facility since I have no children.”

“Objective!” Ian hollered, “He was my legal guardian since I was ten your honor.”

“Can we see your paperwork?”

“Yes, Matthews, hand her the paperwork.” He nodded at his assistant, a young hispanic who hastily opening the black binder and flusting up, tripping to give Martha Jones the paper who handed it to the Judge. He examines it, every detail in silents.  

“Very well Dr. Manhattan you did retire, but on the behalf of Ms. Marlee and the townspeople, you have provided us with no evidence that you we’re not guilty. We have also looked on your record of various fines for illegal animal experimentation. This means for you a lifetime of prison you know.” The Judge told Dr. Manhattan thoroughly. All he did was stare blankly at the Judge. No initial reaction to his consequence.

“Ms. Marlee and Horton have brought me astounding evidence and by the looks of it, they automatically win the case.” Ms. Marlee looked shocked at the Judge final words and hugged the fat, tubby man standing next to her who was also amazed that they won the case. “Therefore you and whatever colleagues you had will be sentenced to prison. You will be sentenced for life in prison while the rest of your colleagues, fifteen years. Also you will pay for the expenses of the children’s injuries.” The judge announced pounding on his gavel, “Case closed, arrest Mr. Gilbert and Dr. Manhattan.”

Ms. Marlee stopped and looked at the Judge very confused, “Your honor, but Horton help crack the case, why must he go to prison?”

“I’m afraid Ms. Marlee, but Horton was a part of this experiment too so he must serve his time sentence.” The Judge told her.

“But didn’t you hear him, he was forced to.” Ms. Marlee argued as the policeman arrested Horton beside her.

“Well rules will be rules Ms. Marlee. But I’m sorry,  it said so by law.” The Judge said, packing up his stuff. Louis looked at the shame in Horton’s face, he knew what he did wrong but he did help them win the case that had saved them from dying in the experiment. He didn’t know what to feel, but his mom was surely pessimistic that Horton was being punished for his crime. Needless to say, he did deserve it for following Dr. Manhattan and his cruel doings. He was responsible for his own actions.

“Mom,” Louis said, tapping his mother’s shoulder, “There’s nothing we can do. It’s the government. It has been done.”

Chapter 17

Claira woke up in the dark after her name was echoed in the distance. Her breath steady as she looked up to the purple night sky. The trees shadowed over her, blocking most of the wonderful speaks above her that reminded her of freckles. There, she laid on the forest floor on the icy bitter snow. She placed both hands at her side, imprinting down the figure to the white frost and soaking her palms to cold snow.

Her name was called out again, closer it was. Claira searched for the voice only to find nobody around but shadows. She felt alone and uncomfortable so she decided to look for herself, getting to her feet, tripping through the snow.

“Claira! Claira where are you?” The voice said feebly in pain.

“Hello? Where are you?” Claira yelled, blindly walking towards the sound as falling snow kissed her face, “Are you hurt!”

“Yes! Please hurry!” The voice said screamed, sounding impaled.

Claira squinted onward, finding a frail figure in the mist, grabbing his stomach and collapsing to the floor. She rushed over, aiding him. It was seconds before she realized who it was. He was oozing out fresh red blood from his abdomond. It trickled down, staining the white snow as if a swan’s feathers’ were painted red.

The tiny body wailed in cries of pain until his lungs gave out, his black eyes up to the sky, looking at the the stars that reflected perfectly in his pupils. Then the soul had released itself into the fog as he took one last breath.

“Louis!” Claira whisper frozen in fear, trembling from her spot as her friend died in front of her eyes. She crouch down and stared at him, shaking, no time to save him, nothing to heal him with, just death as his option.

Claira held herself upright from her warm bed that was drenched in cold sweat and started to breath heavily, panicking as she swept her hair out of the way, trying to keep up with her head after awakening from her dream. It had been three months since she last saw Louis, Rick, Daniel, Aaden, and Keller back at home. But being at Skokie wasn’t all bad, the farm was pretty adventurous to explore alone with the animals.

But after a while Claira got bored of it and felt sympathetic towards her brother who watched her on the porch in his wheelchair, depressed. So the rest of the spare time, the two often were occupied in the room that they shared.

“Have anyone of those dreams again?” The boy by the window asked.

“Miles?” Claira called to her brother who was gazing up at the starry night.

“Yeah, it’s me.” He responded.

“But it’s a school night, shouldn’t you be in bed?”

“I know but I can’t sleep.” Miles said, not looking back, “it’s just something that’s stopping me from resting. Anyways, who was it this time?”

“Louis, he got shot in the chest. He died so quickly.” Claira said, feeling terror still.

“Fourth this week, anything else?” Miles asked, calculating in his head.

“No.” Claira answered, yawning.

“Good now go back to bed.” Miles told his little sister.

“You too.” Claira laughed, laying down to a position where she was comfortable at.

“I will in a minute.” Miles responded, continuously looking up at the stars with his hazel eyes pondering over something beyond our knowledge.

Morning rose above the mountains in the shabby old town in Alaska. Mist arisen over the huge pine trees that were a dark shade of emerald green. Before anyone was up, Louis sat across the room from his mother, waiting in a doctors office. It was pure silence, mainly from the two waking up early and we’re still in the dreamy mood.

Louis stared at the painting, covering the bland, white wall that was the only thing emphasizing the room surrounding them. The painting was of a park, abstracted and vibrant. Each stroke so perfect but different; almost like Claira’s artwork. He dearly missed her, being so far away. Louis found himself more lonely, but he wasn’t alone; he was always bothered by his peers at school. He guessed it was part of being new to a different variety of people his age.

A quiet click followed by the door opening made Louis jump. Time had passed by quickly; the doctor walked in with his long white robe following him like he was a bride whose long dress dragged behind her on her way to marry her husband. He sat down and wheeled himself close to Louis who watched him, lacking expression.

“Well, good morning Mr. Marlee. Ms. Marlee, looking fine today.” He said, trying to sound exuberant, “ I know it’s probably a little early this time of day  but this is a quick check up to see how you’re doing. So first things first, is your medication working properly?”

Louis looked at his mother nervously, she stared back, nodding leisurely, “They’ve been working I guess.” He told the doctor quietly as he noted that down.

“You guess? Why is that?” The doctor asked him, fixing his skewed glasses.

“Well I don’t know, I haven’t been breaking out that often anymore.” Louis shrugged.

“When was the last time you did breakout?” He asked. Louis went silent.

“Last Thursday when the kids at school pushed me down in the hall.” Louis told him shaking his round eyes wide.

“Now why would they do such a thing to you?” The doctor started, listening in.

“Because I’m different.” Louis said firmly, “Because I’m some science alien freak to them.”

“Louis, why didn’t you tell me about this?” Ms. Marlee stepped into the conversation. Louis looked at her with great worry, “You told me you were fine.”

“I am Mom but it’s just that,” Louis stopped himself.

“That what?” His mother said carefully.

Louis shut his eyes and sighed, “It’s hard to tell you thing when everything’s changed since the case.” The doctor wrote something down on his notepad and then glanced up a Louis who was curious of what he was writing.

“Here’s what I want you to do Louis.” He started, “We’re going to keep you on your medication still but I also want you to take therapy. Let all the feelings out there and maybe you’ll feel better.”

“How will that stop those kids from teasing me?” Louis narrowed his eyes, unlike himself.

“You’re right it won’t but sometimes we have to deal with theses thing on our own. Even if there’s no way out, we have to face them. That’s the lesson we have to learn.” The doctor said, well-put, “And certainly, you are no science alien freak. You’re Louis, a great kid.”

“We’ll keep that in mind Doc, thank you.” Ms. Marlee said.

“Yes,” The doctor said, getting up to his feet, “I’m getting too old to get up. Anyways, everything else is fine with Louis, all is healthy and good, now, I will fetch you your medication and you can be on your way.”

“Thank you so much again, we’ll see you again in?” Ms. Marlee asked shaking the old man’s hand.

“In June, hopefully Louis will recover then and he’ll be off medication.” The doctor finished, walking out the door. Once the door shut Louis immediately asked, “Do I have to go to school?”

“Louis, you missed two months of it sir. I thinks it’s required you go even if those kids are there and even if it’s Friday and even if it’s the last day of school when basically all you do is nothing.” His mother told him as if it was a joke. Louis complained by dragging his head back, staring up at the white covered ceiling.

“Hey kiddo, remember, you can always talk to me. I ain’t gonna bite.” His mother laughed.

“Mom, stop.” Louis giggled.

“Claira! Let’s go! Your brother’s already ready and he’s disabled, would you hustle it!” A lady shouted from downstairs in the kitchen, preparing some yellow scramble eggs onto plates and giving one helping to Miles.

“Aunt Sandra, right here.” Miles told her, rolling his eyes.

“Oh, right, sorry.” She apologized.

“I’m coming!” Claira shouted from the top of the stairs, buttoning her flannel. She clambered down the stairs and into the kitchen. Her brother jamming a fork into the egg looked up at her and smirked; on the left of him was her Uncle Levi reading the new with his plate and mug of coffee hidden by the large, flimsy papers.

“You’d better eat quick, or we’ll be late Claira.” Aunt Sandra said, setting her plate on the table, sounding more calmly now. Claira sat down and stared down at her plate, starting to eat. She didn’t want to go to school, nor her brother either. They both had sick feelings in the pits of their stomachs when they arrived there. It was hard the swallow their egg, but even if it around the end of the school year, both of their anxiety was high.

Claira could taste nothing of her breakfast; it just felt disgusting in her mouth but even so, she didn’t want to upset her aunt again by not appreciating her cooking. She remember how desperate she was to find food once. It wasn’t a pleasant feeling to starve for a full month.

“I don’t know why we even need to go to school?” Miles blurted out over the silverware clanging together. Aunt Sandra looked up at her husband as he looked over his paper with the same facial expression.

“Well son,” his uncle started.

“I’m not your son.” Miles told him, “God, you people.” He said under his breath.

“Don’t say his name in vain Miles!” Aunt Sandra slammed her fist.

“Sorry.” He told her forcefully. Claira stayed silent, drinking her orange juice contently.

“Right,” Uncle Levi corrected himself, stroking his beard that was as prickly as a porcupine’s back, “we all need to learn the basics of academics, which I assume you already know.”

“But that’s not answering my question, we’ve already learned those basics.” Miles argued.

“After you learn those basics you chose the electives you wish to pursue as a job. Also you need to interact with your peers at school too.” His uncle finished by sipping his coffee.

“I don’t find it very useful to interact with others on a regular basis. I mean even if I’m learning, I still can’t do many things I use to do.” Miles said, rubbing his eyes.

“Well not everyone can get what they want can’t they.” Aunt Sandra said getting up from her seat and taking everyone’s plate, “Now we’re going to be late, so hop in the truck.”

Claira got up and strolled over to her bag that was laying on the floor. Miles wheeled over, his face very blank. The door was in front of him, the light coming from the window, shining on his face. Clearly he was waiting for the door to open as he couldn’t do it himself.

Claira unlocked the front door to the bright outside of a garden of green vegetation reaching endlessly to the pink sky, the familiar smell of nature’s honeysuckles reached their noses, the beautiful flowers that had already awakened with extravagant white and yellow in their Aunt’s little garden by the shed. Claira rolled her brother out onto the porch and down the ramp over to the rocky driveway where the old Chevrolet pickup truck stood.

“Nice and slow.” Claira said, reaching out both of her hands for her brother. He nodded, taking her hands and hoisting himself up painfully from his wheelchair. He squinted his eyes as he took each step; one foot in front of another until he was able to be seated into the car.

Their aunt hopped in the driver’s seat and started the old engine up creating a popping noise. It was quite funny because a small woman was driving a truck five times bigger than herself, but that didn’t match up to her passion or determination when it came to many manly hobbies. Even so, she was more complex than those wrinkles on her face that made her seem as solid as a rock; she was very caring and generous also. A prize in one.

“Buckled up?” She asked, turning around to the siblings. Claira nodded as Miles squinted out the window, watching the leaves of the trees waltz. Most likely, he was planning out his day ahead of him, or maybe a even deeper though;

Rick swore looking at the paper in his hand and a cigarette in his mouth, “We’re famous, already after a day. We just had the interview yesterday after the case closed.” They were all chilling out in a hotel room after the court case was closed. It was raining hard that day, the sound of rain pounding on the windows. Louis seemed uncomfortable with the sound, looking out the window every minute or so.

“We’re going to be all over the nation Rick, that’s a bunch more people than here.” Louis said quietly in the corner, almost terrified of the thought.

“They’re going to think of us as freaks!” Miles said sounding very vaguely.

“No they’re not.” Claira joined in.

“Yeah like we’re contagious to something.” Rick agreed with Miles.

“How bad can people be these days? They’re not going to think of us as freaks.” Claira opposed again.

“I don’t know Claira, we haven’t been in the real world for that long.” Rick said, continuously reading the paper.

The car stopped, jerking Miles forwards, cracking his back loudly. He wailed in pain, rubbing his back. Claira looked at him attentively, not knowing what to do.

“Oh my lord! Miles! Are you okay? I’m so sorry, there was a kid crossing the road and I just had to stop.” Aunt Sandra apologized, looking at the rear-view mirror.

“No, it’s fine Aunt Sandra.” Miles said, forgiving her with a tear almost falling down his cheek. “Just keep driving.”

“Are you sure Miles your fine?” Claira asked softly.

“Yes, I’m fine.” Miles repeated tensely, looking out the window again. They were close to the school now, and very much the children were out in the schoolyard. All of their colored turtle shells being swallowed into the two double-doors that led to a mystery that needed to be solved for the day, in other cases, it was a very basic normal day. For Miles and Claira, a war zone, the silent kind.
Aunt Sandra parked the truck in the middle of a parking space that was deserted from the rest of the cars over by the lot where all the commotion was happening.

“You two ready?” Their aunt turned around with a weak smile.

“It depends.” Miles told her in a flat tone.

Aunt Sandra sighed, “Look, I know you adjusting to this different environment and I know it’s hard but you’re going to get use to it and start to get the jist of things, but for now, you’ve got to try it, and plus it’s almost summer, try and cheer up a little. Now go on, enjoy your day.”

Claira got out of the car with her Aunt, Claira grabbing the heavy wheelchair from the trunk and opening it up for Miles to sit on. As for Aunt Sandra, she helped Miles onto his wheelchair with great patience as he painfully walked over to the chair, sitting back.

“I’ll see you after school okay.” She kissed them both goodbye.

“Aunt Sandra, gross! You’re embarrassing us.” Claira laughed nervously.

“Just have a good day.” She said getting in the car. Claira rolled her eyes and pushed her brother forward, towards the crowd of students who looked at them, disgusted and jumped back to make room for them. Claira lowered her neck down, almost looking at her feet as they sheepishly entered the building, being misfits.

“There you go, now you look like a young man Rick.” Rick’s Aunt, Marcine said giving him the mirror as he looked very delirious at his aunt while Daniel giggle hard in the corner basically crying because of how ridiculous his haircut looked. His long blonde hair was cut down to a bowl cut.

“Holy!” Rick started.

“What did I say about swearing.” His aunt interrupted before he said anything else.

“Sorry, but I look like a frickin’ alien. I can’t go to school looking like this!” Rick finished.

“Well I think you look charming like that.” His aunt crossed her arms. Aunt Marcine was a chubby lady with curly greasy blonde hair like Rick’s. She was short also, having to be on a stool to cut her nephew’s hair. Rick check his sides; his hair was cut above his ears. Then looked down at the ground to see his golden locks dead on the ground, “I’m not going to school like this.” He told his aunt firmly.

“Fine, do what you want. But you’re going to school.” She said sweeping the hair underneath his feet into one pile in a basket, then leaving the room, “Tell me when your finish then come downstairs for breakfast.”

Daniel followed along with Aunt Marcine, skipping out of the room. Rick waited for the two to be gone and got up on his stainless steel boots that made loud clunks as he stepped forward to the mirror of the bathroom.
“This won’t do.” He said grabbing a cigarette and let it sit on his lips as he ruffles hair around, thinking about what he should do to his bowl cut.

Once he thought long and hard, Rick grabbed the electric shaver and turned it on. The buzzing noise ringing in his ears like a bee. Rick sighed and let the razor touch his scalp. It tickled his head, the hair falling down his face and onto the sink. His bowl cut transformed into a buzz cut. The little tiny hairs making him look as if he was in the military. He set down the shaver and checked himself out.

“There we go.” He told himself, running his hands on the now prickly hair, blowing out grey puffs in the mirror.

“Let’s go Rick!” Daniel’s tiny voice yelled from the kitchen, “the bus will be coming soon!”

“Coming!” Rick shouted towards the door, cleaning his shaven off hair from the ground. Part of him felt taken apart, like a piece of his puzzle was missing without his hair. He felt bare and naked as if people could read his thoughts now. This hair had symbolized his great bravery, almost like it was his lion’s mane and now it was gone. He stared at the ground as he sweeped focusing on one thing, but not studying the ground in front of him. It was something in his head:

“Come here you loser!” Yelled a young golden haired eighth grader yelled from the end of the hall, sprinting at full speed with his friends behind his back. They were chasing after a very pale boy who was abnormally very lean. If course by his jet black hair, it was easy to recognize that it was Louis running down the halls, gasping for air with worry on his face. Papers were flying out of his bookbag, dancing in the air. But Louis kept running, turning corners and bumping into schoolmate who were exceedingly confused and furious.

“Get your butt over here Marlee! I’m not finished with you!” The boy yelled again, gaining some speed up on him. Louis ran out of the school, outside where the sun shimmered down his face. It was a breezy day out, a calming temperature for a nice day. But the heat was on as Louis jumped around the students outside who jolted backward to make way for the small kid.

They chased him halfway around the school before Rick tackled him down to the concrete floor. Louis felt the weight on top of his back, stuck to the ground like a mouse in a trap. Red liquid was running down his cheek, stinging as it touched the warm floor forcefully. He could hear two more pairs of feet come running from behind giggling like hyenas.

“Good job Rick.” One said high fiving him.

“I caught him.” Rick said, holding his hair tighter. They pinned his light body against a wall in the shady alleyway.

“Let go of me!” Louis struggled to speak as Rick’s arm was shove up to Louis’s chest. With his other free arm, Rick pulled out his dagger and held it up to his scratched cheek. Louis widened his eyes and followed the dagger with fear and wished he wasn’t in this situation.

“You see this Marlee?” Rick asked sarcastically, “It’s the dagger that my father gave to me. And do you know why he gave it to me?”

“He didn’t give it to you so you could show it off to your stupid little friends!” Louis said squirming.

“Shut up Marlee!” Rick spit in his face like Louis’s father did to discipline him. Rick shoved him against the wall harder, “Now what should we do to him for snooping into our little conversation boys?”

One of the boys who was more lanky than Louis approached him with a Cheshire smile on his face. He examined the little boy in front of him, then messed up his hair, “The lad here needs a haircut.” He did in an accent.

“Good observation Paul.” Rick said as if he was speaking to him like a toddler, “He does need a haircut, right Louis?”

Louis shook his head violently with great horror, “Look! I’m sorry! Please!” He pleaded trying to escape even though he knew that they would chase him again if he ran again. The two boys at the sides of Rick sticked Louis against the wall firmy as Rick cover his large smoke-smelling hand over Louis mouth tightly. Louis weep silently as there was no way out.

“Paul,” Rick said, “Cover his mouth as I do this so we don’t cause attention to ourselves.” Rick took his hand off and Paul’s hand replacing the position in a very quick transition. Rick grasped a piece of his messy hair and looked at it carefully laughing with his dagger ready. Louis’s back neck tensed up as the dagger was held close to his hair.

Rick waited for the tensions to rise and at the exact right moment, he pulled the dagger upward breaking the lock of hair in his hand into two. Rick looked at the hair in his hand with greed and threw it to the floor. Louis in pain had strolling down his cheeks looking at Rick with hatred as he cut more.

“Rick!” Aunt Marcine yelled as Rick jumped, “Your bus is here! Let’s go before they leave you and you’ll have to go with Daniel to school!”

Rick repeatedly blinked his eye as he was snapping out of it, “Yeah just give me a second!” He yelled back, opening the bathroom door.

Aaden looked at her brother sorrowful before she left the house. He was slumped up in the lazyboy chair cuddled in a blanket staring mindlessly at the television lighting his face in the dim room. He was lifeless in a way. Little by little he mumbled to himself and looked frantically around, shaking his hands badly while rocking back and forth. He was in the same time frame, stuck in the same memory of his friends deaths.

Aaden shook her head and focus on the day ahead of her instead of her brother who was mentally sick. The day was gloomy as she walked towards the yellow bus that stopped in front of her house, waiting patiently for her to arrive. Nothing scared her much, not even school where everyone knew who she was; the girl who was rescued from the town experiment. In fact it was more of a praise than a bad thing. Still Aaden didn’t like the fame, but she didn’t mind it. The thing she was most worried about was her brother. Never could she stop thinking about him even for a second.

The bus driver greeted her on the bus, always the same routine was to sit in the back with the cool kids. Yet she interacted with the other kids at school even if the populars, the cool kids name at school, loathed the fact she invited them over to there group sometimes. She stood for what was right and always stayed pure of heart to everyone around her. But this day was different, not as in the womanly difference but the emotional kind. Aaden looked out the window of the bus and thought of a burning memory that was sure to haunt her quite often:

Her, Keller, and a boy with chocolate all over his face were drinking hot cocoa together, worn out from skating at the nearby pond in the distance of the coffee shop who’s windows were frosted. The three of them laughed together as Keller stained white fluffy cream on his nose. His face was more brighter and happier than it was now.

“It’s getting late, Mom and Dad might get worried.” Keller said looking at his watch yawning and stretching at the same time.

“But I don’t want to leave now, just a couple more minutes?” The little boy pleaded with puppy dog eyes.

“Now Axel, it’s a school night, we have to get going. We’ll stay even longer on the weekend, deal?” Keller said holding his pinky out.

“Deal.” Axel smiles with teeth missing while wrapping his own pinky around his big brothers.

Once they made it home that evening, Aaden was captivated by the starry night, able to identify where the wall started and where the endless jetblue started. She eye filled with wonder as she relaxed her mind while the room was still. Zoning out of the presence and focusing on now, there was the sound of thumps in the background. Aaden didn’t pay attention to the noise, thinking it was just her brother banging on his toy drum like any little kid. But then there was a very high-pitched scream that was loud and clear from the downstairs which Aaden jolted the sound looking surprised. Slowly, she got to her feet and started walking over to the door, her stomach watery. Fear rising throughout her body uneasily. She reached her shaking arm out to the metal doorknob and slowly turned the handle as it crack slowly to open the old door. The house was quiet, too quiet. But the sounds of crackling booms were still to be heard in the distance. Aaden took one step out of her room and looked both ways in the empty house she was alone in.

“Mom?” She called as it echoed throughout the house, “Dad?” Suddenly her parent’s bedroom cracks open and her father’s head pops out. He waved her over frantically as his eyes were quite frankly glistening. Aaden ran over quietly to the dimmed room to find her Mother and Keller over in the corner frightened, crying softly. Aaden was confused, why? The sound of a gun was being loaded behind her which made her turn to her father who held a shotgun in his hand, aiming at the door.

“Dad?” Aaden cried. Her father shushed her, focusing on the closed door.

“Aaden.” Her mother's calming called her over, “Come here.” Aaden reached her arms out to her mother and hugged her, crying in her shoulder.

“Where’s Axel Mom?” Aaden said, pulling herself out of the hug, looking into her mother soft eyes.“Stay very quiet.” Aaden’s father whispered. The sounds of the soldier's boots searched everywhere in the house as their boots pounded everywhere like heavy drops of hail did on the car’s windshield. Their father aimed at the door with big blocks of sweat running down his face. He closed one eye and his tongue to be seen peeking out of his mouth, trembling with every breath. Then came total silence that had everyone holding their breath, careful not to make any sudden moves. Then there was a tiny scream that made Aaden sob louder. Her brother, also shredded in tear, covered his eyes as if he was young child, trying not to listen to the world around him. The door opened slowly as her father stood there frozen, twitching his bushy mustache. His breath unsettled and his forehead glistened with sticky sweat, tasting the salty favored skin when he licked his licks. He aimed, pointing at the soldier in front of him who was also reflecting his action.

“Don’t shoot sir.” The soldier said from the distance holding their youngest son with a gun up to his head. Aaden made eye contact to her younger brother who was weeping, the little soul inside of him didn’t understand, “We are trying to help you.”

Her father swore loudly after the soldier told him this deception, “I know your stupid lies anyways.”

“Then you leave us with no choice.” The soldier said as the rest of his crew aimed at the family, the one holding Axel shoving the gun closer to his head. Aaden turned back to her mother, she was going to die. They were going to die.

“No! Wait wait!” Aaden’s father yelled, throwing down the gun and holding his hands up, “Take me, not my family, let my son go please just don’t hurt them.”

“I’m sorry but I can not do that sir.” The soldier told him, pulling the trigger at him, the loud bang made the hairs on the back of Claira’s back stand as her father had a full bullet shot in the middle of his forehead that was dripping down his face. A great this moment he fell to the ground, lifeless.

“Dad!” Axel yelped, trying to run over to his father but the soldier held him tightly, “Mommy!” The soldier's devilish look pulled his trigger, sending blood over himself and everything around him. Aaden didn’t look over. She wasn’t going to. Her mother ran over to her dead child screaming cries that her baby was shot. He was too young, too innocent. Then came the third shot, sending her mother to the carpet too. Aaden and Keller stood there puffy-eyed and terrified. All of the soldiers aimed at them. At the same time, both of them ducked down, covering their ears from the gun shot. Debris from the wall flew onto them as Aaden screeched. It seemed forever that death was creeping up on them. The bullets one by one, missing them miraculously. The air lifted as the last few shots were fired, silence was the only thing that stood in the air.

Aaden slowly moved her head up, looking towards the door as the fallen soldiers were shot down and a young man was holding his gun at his crew, shaking. Aaden shook his brother until he looked up, descending from his ball. The both of them looked at each other and scrambled to their feet; Aaden grabbing the gun in front of her and Keller aiding his little brother. Aaden stepped in front of the soldier and aimed her father’s gun at him. The soldier dropped his gun, blood was splashed to his stern looking face, but his eyes were filled with emotions.

“Step back now you bastard!” Aaden said affirmatively. The soldier did as he was told. Keller shook his brother forcefully, sobbing hard, hoping he would wake up. He skin was a bright shade of white and his lips were blistered blue; Axel was gone.

Keller made a horrendous wail of pain like an injured animal as he hugged the little rag-a-doll body, not caring for the red-staining blood on his brothers head. Aaden looked back, astonished almost that her brother was rocking the dead body in his arms.

“Look,” The soldier said in a shaky voice, “We’d better leave here before anybody else comes.”

“An how can we trust you when you just killed my whole family?” Aaden shouted at him, shoving the tip of the riffle an inch away from his nose.

“Please, I just need you to trust me, I’ll explain when we’ve reached a safe place other than here and I’m sorry about your younger brother, please, I truly am, just. We have to go.” The soldier told her nervously gulping. Aaden set her arm at her side and looked down at the blood filth carpet, rubbing her tired eyes.

“Keller, we have to go with this man, there’s nothing we can do anymore.” Aaden confessed as her brother looked at her perplexed.

“Aaden?” He stared.

“Just listen to me dammit! He’s dead, our parents are too, so what do you suggest we do now!” Aaden said, turning over to her brother. He stayed very silent and still, gazing up upon her like a lost puppy.

“Miss, Miss!” The bus driver said in a Hispanic accent, tapping her shoulder lightly. Aaden turned over, little tears falling from her face, “Miss, are you okay? We are at the school now.”

Aaden nodded her head and wiped off her tear from her reddened cheek and stood up, swung her backpack behind her back and walked over to the middle of the aisle as the bus driver moved out of the way to make room for her. She walk off the bus without a word and the bus was then pure silence. The bus driver shook his head and turned around to check the rest of the bus for missing items when Aaden popped her head back into the bus, wanting to say something.

“Carlos,” She said, making the bus driver named Carlos turn, “Just have a nice day.”

A great broad smile appeared on Carlos’s face, showing his wrinkles around his brown hazel glazed eye that reminded Aaden of Miles’s eyes as she smile, exiting the bus once more. Carlos laughed to himself, joyous as he tipped his hat and continued with his work.

Chapter 18

“Okay, ready for school?” Ms. Marlee asked parking the car. Louis was looking out the window very pessimistic about the thought of school that was in front of him, but he showed no emotion on his face, “Hey?” His mother said in her motherly voice, “It’ll be okay, it’s the last day, go hit them out of the ballpark Louis.”

“Mom you know I don’t play sports.” Louis said sarcastically.

“I know, but, it’s a metaphor. Just go out there and be yourself. It’s the last day.” She said, kissing him on the forehead. Louis revealed a small grin. He opened the car door, ready to get out into the unknown.

“Oh! Wait! Louis, I almost forgot, happy birthday.” Ms. Marlee said giving him a small, poorly wrapped present from the her side door, “I meant to give you this earlier but I completely forgot.”

“You didn’t have to.” Louis told her. The wind blew his already messed up hair around.

“No, I insist.” Ms. Marlee laughed. Louis forgot it was his birthday. He grabbed the present and examined it for a second or two before saying thank you and closed the car door, turning towards the school. He looked at the students who enter the school, all seemingly knowing each other for they were communicating. Louis sighed and walked the halls that were crowded by his peers that he didn’t know the names of but they knew who he was. He was known as the lab rat from a far off facility. They thought he held some disease and tried to carry it throughout the school to get others exposed to his disease, other thought he was some alien creature. Yet nobody felt sympathy for him, he didn’t even want them to anyways. But they were all self-conscious to confront him while all he wanted to normal as a new student. Louis tried to focus on the tiled floor as he walked with his head cowered down, but the temptation of everyone staring at him as he went by made him feel as though he was naked and exposed.

Finding a nearby bathroom that was graffitied by most of the boys in the school, Louis found an empty stall and dropped his backpack to the floor. He sat on the opened toilet without taking his pants down. He looked at the gift once again quietly, running his hand along the edges of the wrapping, finding a piece of it to start unwrapping it. He teared off the paper one by one, leaving the scraps on the floor. The present revealed itself, a cassette tape with a record already inside of it. Louis opened the slide, looking at what the tape held, The Beatles. He slid the slide back and put the headphone pieces in his ears and hits the play button. Louis looked up as some kid pounded on his stall. Louis swore silently to himself. He grabbed his backpack swiftly and ran out of the bathroom fast before the tape even started, knocking himself into a girl, sending her papers flying all around like confetti.

“Dang it!” She said trying to catch her papers as they fell on the floor. Louis kneeled on the ground, helping the girl pick up the chaos he made for her.

“Sorry.” He said softly, not looking at her, but something in her eyes made him look up. The girl smiled at him. “I was just you know.”

“Oh, no it’s alright, just a little collion, things happen.” That’s when Louis noticed who the girl was, Jean Rodgers, the most popular girl at the school and she was talking him. Louis jaw dropped, but not that it was obvious. He gave her the papers she dropped back sheepishly and stood back, “Anyways, thanks, there’s not that many guys here that would so that for girls if you know what I mean.” Jean said with her binder in her hands, holding it the kind of girly way. Louis stared at her nodding along as he say her flawless face, grey eyes and her signature dirty blonde hair that was braided into a ponytail, thing he hadn’t noticed before, “Well, I’m Jean and I know your Louis, so yeah hope to see you around town during the summer.” She said, waving him goodbye as she bit her red lipstick covered lips and looked at the ground. It gave Louis a chilling rush as he looked around at the other kids who were whispering and darted at him, not taking their eyes as he walked the other direction to class.

Claira sat across from her brother who stared down at his tray of lunch, silent as always. Both of them could sense the kids around them were staring. Claira leaned in closer and told her brother, “Dammit, would you just eat the freaking food so I don’t have to watch you be so mopped out all the time.”

“Gosh Claira, after all the stuff we’ve gone through. I can’t eat, I’m traumatized.” Mile told her, trying not to make a scene.

“Well it’s not like you were the only one affected by this.” Claira said leaning back, looking at her own food now. Miles felt guilty for saying that. He knew she was half scared to dead for him and Louis’s life that day.

“Look, I know that this isn’t what you want, nor do I want it either but there are more things that I worry about than eating.” Miles said reaching his hand across the table. Claira looked up with her bright blue eyes, “I don’t know if you’ll agree to this. But I’ve been thinking, and this might be the most absurd thing I have ever thought but I think we should go back to Alaska. Since Aunt Sandra and Uncle Levi won’t let us in the last three months then we’ll do it ourselves.”

Claira said nothing except looked into her brother's eyes.

“That’s it, nothing?” He said, throwing his hands in the air.

“No, but how would we do it?” Claira told Miles. They both smiled at each other and laughed.

“Brilliant.” He said in his genius sounding voice. Miles leaned forward, his eye dazzling a great plan in his mindful head which already seemed to be planned out as he tells her quietly the plan.

Louis entered the graffitied bathroom again, his eyes red and watery as he hacks out a mucus sounding cough with a terrible jolt to his head making his flushed out red. The bathroom was completely dessert, as for everyone was in class already. Louis stumble up to the finger-coat, sharpie-signatured mirror with hateful message written on them and looked up at himself, shaking to grab a small capsule that rattled hollowly in his hand. Louis swore lightly to himself as he opened the cap to the capsule and dropped most of the colored looking pills to the floor. Picking them up one by one, he put them in the capsule again, hacking harder while swearing at himself. He took the last one on the floor and popped in his mouth, swallowing it whole, closing his warm watery eyes, sending it down his throat. Louis opened his eyes again and looked at his reflection, sighing with relief.

At the same time the door bursts open, cracking some of the wall behind it. Louis darted away from the door, shoving the capsule back into his pocket. In front of him were three boys who had tons of acne on their faces and their muscles bulging from arms, almost being too large for their skinny bodies. The three of them had cigarettes sticking out of their mouths, blowing thick smoky air from their nostrils, creating a fog in the bathroom. The first boy made eye contact with Louis who was clearly terrified of the encounter. He stopped his friends from stepping further and smiled devilishly at him walking casually in front of Louis who was attached to the wall, looking up at the boy in front of him.

“Well, well, well.” The boy said, blowing the cigarette in his face, sounding like Rick when he want to play around with him, “Just the guy I was looking for, what did you say your name was, science freak? I heard you were talking to my sister? Weren’t you? You bumped into her in the hall.”

“Leave me alone Jason.” Louis told him in a quiet hushed voice.

“No, no, I’m not done yet.” Jason said getting closer to Louis, “I don’t want you near my sister,” He said, his voice smaller, pushing him a little, “You hear me? If I see you even by her, and I will tell you this once, I will hunt you down and beat the hell out of you. I find you to be a bad influence on her and I don’t want my sister to buy into your stories or be involved with you. Do you understand.”

Louis stared at Jason’s eyes that were grey like his sisters and nodded slowly. He reminded him of Miles, overprotective but not violent.

“Good.” Jason smirked, blowing more smoke out of his mouth, stepping back as the bell rang, “You here that? I’ll be watching you, you freak.”

Rick walked out of his last period class and into the hall. Nobody seemed to notice him or give him any attention at all over his newly shaved head. But an annoying looking red-hair boy with thick glasses ran up to him, his backpack screwed over one shoulder and his books and papers almost flying out of his textbooks.

“Hey! Hey! Patrick!” The boy said finally at his side, fixing his glasses up to his face.

“It’s Rick.” He said, not looking at the boy and kept walking down the hall.

“Oh yeah, Rick. I’ve noticed you’ve gotten a haircut.” The boy said smiling, he was shorter than Rick was.

“Yep, you’re not the only one Jimmy to notice.” Rick rolled his eyes, stopping in front of his locker.

“I know, but I just wanted to say,” Jimmy thought of the correct word at the moment, “It’s different.”

“No dip sherlock.” Rick announced sarcastically. In the corner of his eye, Rick saw a younger boy being toyed with older boys in front of him. Rick thought to himself to drop it but with Jimmy badgering him about the nonsense he told him, the only thing his mind wanted to focus on was the conversation of the boys in the corner. Rick couldn’t help but to look over to see the boy’s innocent eye become glazed as the older boys ruffled his neat hair up. His books were all over the floor as careless students trampled over them recklessly.

“Are you listening to me?” Jimmy asked, looking at the direction Rick was staring at.

“Just, just give me a second.” Rick said, leaving Jimmy to go over to the boy in the corner.

“Rick! Just drop it, you’ll get in trouble!” Jimmy shouted. The boy in the corner looked at Rick petrified making the other boys turn around and back away.

“What are you doing here boys?” Rick asked, keeping his face as straight as possible.

“Nothing, why” One of the boys said, trying to sound tough.

“Are you sure because I think I saw you just fiddling with his hair? Or what were you doing?” Rick asked again.

“It’s none of your dumb beeswax twat.” another boy said.

“Oh yeah, then can I ask you to leave our beeswax alone for a second.” Rick told them, “Go on, go to your next class.”

The boys turned around, scoffing as they left rolling their eyes to their next class, “Sissy.” One of them said behind Rick’s back as Rick picked up the fallen boy’s books, returning it to him.

“I think this belongs to you.” Rick said with a cheery smirk.

“Thanks.” The boy said sheepishly grabbing his books from Rick’s hands and fixed his hair back into place.

“No problem Louis.” Rick said unknowingly. The boy looked up at him, puzzled.

“Sorry, but my name isn’t Louis.”

“Did I say Louis,” Rick said, retracing backwards, embarrassed, “I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s fine, but thanks.” The boy said, walking to his next class. Rick stared at the wall blankly before turning back and seeing the boy being tripped by the same boys that annoyed him. Rick ran up to them and slammed one of the kids against the locker, creating an echoing bang throughout the hall, silencing everyone around them. Rick was infuriated as the boy now in front of him tried escaping Rick’s firm hold.

“Geez, you’re crazy.” He struggles.

“I told you to leave him the hell alone!” Rick shouted.

“That’s not what you say though, you told me to stay out of your guys business.”

“Shut the hell up!” Rick said, almost about to punch him but stopping an inch from his face as the boy squinted, feeling the sensation of the lost punch he was expecting to hit his face with. He started to laugh ever so annoyingly to Rick.

“You wouldn’t even hurt a fly! And you think you’re so tough.” He laughed as Rick let go of his fist and looked at his hand, horrified.

“What’s going on here?” A teacher said, storming down the hall. The boy suddenly acted as if he was injured, holding his eye and crying in pain.

“Oh, teacher, he punched me in the face!” He complained. Rick looked at him, speechless.

“Well let the boy go! You two come with me now!” The teacher yelled.

The principal paced around his office. There was very serious look on his face while he was thinking, “Rick, now why would you punch Linus?”

“But I didn’t punch him sir. Ask anyone who was there and they’ll tell you I didn’t punch him!” Rick argued.

“Do not testify me young man. Now why did you hold him down in the first place?” The principal asked again.

“He was terrorizing a freshman.” Rick responded.

“No I wasn’t!” Linus joined.

“Then what were you doing to him? It sure looks like you were terrorizing him?” Rick asked Linus.

“Enough!” The principal slammed his hand on his desk, sending a scary silence between the three of them, “I will be the one to ask you two questions. Now Linus, are you sure you are telling me the truth?”

“Yes sir I am.” He told the principal, eyeing Rick sourly. Rick exchanged it back to him.

“You know what, you two detention on Saturday and Sunday night.” The principal decided.

“What!” The both of them said, arguing at the principal now at the same time.

“Stop! Okay! This is non-negotiable. Now get to class. I’m very disappointed in your behavior today, I will see you on those nights.

As the two of them left, Linus collided his shoulder hard against Rick’s.

“Hey, you could have told the truth!” Rick called out.

“But I didn’t, too bad, why? You’ve got a date?” Linus said, walking out backward into the ocean of students. Surprisingly he held the door for Rick as they were walking out together.

Rick laughed silently, “No.”

“Well then I’ll see you during the weekend.” Linis said, rolling his eyes with a sketchy smile before walking off to his next class, “By the way, nice buzz-cut.”

“Hey Aaden.” A girl said happily, sliding into the seat across from her with her lunch tray. Her tie-dye rainbow t-shirt complemented her belt-bottom jeans. And the jewelry that she wore clinked together every time she would move. Her hair was long, and frizzy only tainted by the pink headband she wore around her forehead, “Whatcha reading?”

“Just a book for reading.” Aaden said, putting the book down and looking at the hippy-looking girl in front of her.

“What’s it about,” The girl asked, picking up the book and looking through the pages, “Romance?”

“No.” Aaden laughed.

“Then why are you reading it? It’s the last day of school.” The girl told her.

“Just got to get started with summer reading.”

“Screw it, we’re going to have a great summer, away from studies and maybe find some cute guys.” The girl said, sliding the book back to her.

“Are sure you’re going to find cute boys that will like you Mallory?” Another girl who was dressed way too fancy for school said, interrupting their conversation. Mallory looked down, not saying anything, “A freak can dream. Anyways Aaden, what are you doing with this lonely trash? Come sit with us. At least people like us are real.”

“Um, Lisa, you and your idiot friends can go an leave me and Mal alone. I think I’m good sitting with genuine people at least. And I’m guessing you don’t even know what genuine means do you?” Lisa was silent with her arms at her hips, starting to get irritated, “I’ll help you with the definition it means sincere and if that word is to big for you then honest which you aren’t. So if I were you, I would think about my words before I call someone trash. And I guess I’m trash too because I’m sitting her so you white girls can go retreat back to your gossiping and leave us be.” Aaden finished.

“Fine freaks.” Lisa said, flipping her long straight in there faces while walking back with her friends to their own table.

“Thanks.” Mallory said flatly.

“Hey, anything for a friend.” Aaden told her smiling, there on they continued talking about their summer plans together.

Henry’s Vinyl Shop’s door opened to Louis right after school ended for summer. The sweet smell of old records and a hint of cigarette smoke hit Louis’s nose as he walked on. Henry, as always, was at the cash-register playing his guitar with his sunglass on and his hair long and greasy. He seemed like he was from Florida, considering he live in Alaska only to do one thing that he never spoke of. Louis could even smell it when he was in the back room, a terrible, pungent smell that made Henry so carefree and drowsy all the time.

“Louis!” He said cooly, putting down his guitar and leaning towards the counter, “Anything fun planned for the summer?”

“Nothing much unless you count me being in here the whole summer. I don’t even know what I’m going to do anyways.” Louis said, setting his backpack on the old purple carpet while taking a seat on a tall stool.

“Oh come on, you're still young, go have fun instead of being cooped up in here all summer. Why not go to the Drive-in. It’s the most popular thing that kids do around here.” Henry said, showing his yellow teeth.

“And even if I did, I’ve got nobody to hang out with.” Louis shrugged.

“What about those kids that you use to hang out with in that facility?”

“Oh them? Yeah, I haven’t seen them in a while. Maybe but I’m not sure just yet.” Louis told Henry.

“Damn, they never should have split you guys up in the first place.” Henry said, pushing his glass up on the bridge of his nose.

“Sometimes I think the same thing.” Louis said scratching his forehead.

“Anyways anything new? Got a girlfriend yet?” Henry said, cocking an eyebrow up.

“First of all, didn’t I tell you that I don’t have anybody to hang out with?” Louis laughed.

“It was worth a shot.” Henry said, snapping his finger.

“Well I did got this from my mom today for my birthday.” Louis told him, placing his cassette tape on the counter, letting Henry examine it.

“Gnarly dude.” Henry said, “I didn’t know it was your birthday.”

“Really, I don’t like celebrating it. It’s just the day that my mom mysterious died and now that she’s back and this incident that happened last year with my father, I just feel so awkward to find her alive and giving me a present. Plus I forgot it was today too.” Louis said.

“It’s an old one but I thought you said you’d rather have vinyls instead.” Henry said, being carried away with it

“I do and that’s what I want to know. She even knows that herself. So why?” Louis tapped his fingers on the counter.

“Maybe you should ask her. I mean who showed you vinyls first?” Henry asked once again, sliding the cassette back to Louis who pocketed it.

“Well, strangely my dad did before he went all crazy and mad. But that was a long time ago when I was six.” Louis told him sadly.

“Then there you go. Your mom wants to start something new with you.”

“I don’t Henry.” Louis sighed, “Anyways is there any work today?”

“Nope, it’s a snooze fest in here. It’s usually jamming in here when summer starts.” Henry told him.

“Probably because of me working here. Henry people are terrified of me like I some plaque waiting to happen.” Louis said.

“Hey, do think of yourself that way and you are totally not the reason why nobody’s here.” Henry told Louis getting to his feet, “Here, you can go do whatever in the back room. I got new vinyls you could listen to. Just don’t eat all the Oreo’s.”

“Eye eye captain.” Louis said taking the keys from Henry’s hand.

As soon as the rubber smelling room was opened, Louis turned on the lights that flickered unsettled for a few second before staying still. The Oreos sat on the couch, opened with crumbs spread all over the fur of the sofas and pool table scattered with old vinyls stacked together. Carefully Louis grabbed his favorite vinyl, The Beatles, on the player as started it up spinning, playing Blackbird. Louis turned around and looked over to the new vinyls that Henry had dropped off in a pile on the coffee table. Grabbing a cigarette, he looked through them; records from Queen, Elton John, and Bee Gees. None of which, except Queen, Louis was interested in.  As he ate his first Oreo, he thought to himself the first time: had his father ever had a genuine smile? When he was actually happy to be with him and his mother. He remembered his father telling him to burn all the vinyl’s they owned. His father through the vinyl player into the fire the night his mother had died. It occurred to him that his parents met because of music. Both dreaming of being a big shot as teenagers or in their early twenties until Louis came along. The longer he thought about this, the more he pondered, was he the reason this whole thing happened? Was it him who caused his parents to fight all the time? The reason why his father hated him? But then why didn’t he just leave when his mother was pregnant? Why?

Chapter 19

Louis opened the door to his house under the pitch black night. The lights on Earth were illuminating by other houses nearby. The moon was half hiding with only a little slit to be visible in the night sky. As he walked in, he found his mother sitting on the couch watching the bright lights of the television in the dark living room as the only sounds from the T.V. was quite peaceful. She was wrapped in a blanket, curled up.

“Hey Louis.” His mother called him over, “How was work?”

“Boring.” Louis said placing his backpack on a chair by the kitchen.

“Boring? Why boring?” Ms. Marlee asked.

“Well barely anyone showed. Usually it’s suppose to be packed during the summer.” Louis told her heading upstairs to the bathroom. He turned the shower on, water bursting from the showerhead as Louis waited for the warm water; the steam arose over the shower curtains, swarming the ceiling with a foggy mist as it touched the mirror that Louis was looking at sitting on top of the counter; following the lines on his back. There was a very painful feeling whenever he looked at them; running his fingers along his bumpy skin, feeling the sensations rise the longer he stared. It was something to remind him of his filthy father. It was hard to imagine him being an innocent child once; a child that resembled Louis himself. Would he be forgiving of his father who was mentally unstable. What made him snap? Pondering, Louis look down at his arms, the scars aligned as he put his arms together. They were almost faded. Slowly the noise of the droplets of water soon rummaged out of Louis head as his eyes were attached to his back. Everything in the distance was tuned out, as if Louis was underwater, returning to the sick memories of his father that replayed over and over in Louis’s head, haunting him everytime he stared at his marks and remembering how he hated his birthday so much:

It was raining over their tiny shabby house back at the facility. The pounds of rain beating on the window, sounding like tiny little pebbles were being thrown repeatedly outside the house. Louis was asleep, snoring, wrapped in his cozy blankets, still dressed in his regular outfit. His bed was uncomfortable though, being completely naked with no spread sheet or pillows for him to rest his head on, making him extremely itchy and restless on some occasions. Little drops of water on the ceiling dropped onto his pale cheek; he was not bothered by it and continued to sleep peacefully.

Then a clash of a monstrous thunder with the simultaneous sound of a door slamming shook the house, waking Louis who’s eyes opened widely from his deep dream, he stared towards the door, spooked. Lightning lit the room for split seconds and then disappearing as Louis looked over by his door, frightened to find the bottom of it leaking light from the hallway and into his darkened room. Silently, Louis was breathing heavily, scared of the sound of boisterous footsteps approached his door, stopping in front it, two feet outstretching a shadow between the light shining on the rustic flooring. The door handle screeching until it clicked opened. Louis curled into a ball as the light slowly reached his face and the figure of his father was standing straight, the leather belt dragging in his hand. He step forward into the dark room turning on the light. Louis squinted, looking up at his father, scared. He looked like he haven’t slept in days, unshaven and drunk as he walk towards him with no coordination, stopping in front of Louis, gleaming at his father’s crazy smile and devilish laugh, grabbing the collar of his son’s shirt, lugging him up to his feet and leading Louis out of his room, through the hall, bashing into the kitchen and into the shadowed backyard. His father opened the screen door, pushing him outside against the deck, hitting Louis’s forehead on the wood, cutting  big red lines of blood from from his head. He slowly trembled, touching the running blood mixed with rainwater with his fingers. He looked at his hand: red.

“Off.” His father said, gritting his teeth with a flash of lightning behind him. Louis just looked at him, frozen, “Take the damn shirt off before I do it for you.” He repeated. Louis got up, taking off his sweater and shirt, dropping it to the damp floor of the rotten deck. His skin touched cold and water, his hair already damp; he shivered. Louis’s father grabbed him suddenly by his bony wrist tightly, pushing him in front of the willow tree, both eyes crossed looking at it, “on your knees!” His father shouted over the thunder, rain dripping down their faces. Louis looked at him, then turning slowly to the tree getting on one knee, then the other, feeling the wet muddy grass soak into his jeans. He put his hands up against the damp bark, little bits sticking to his hands, shutting his eye tightly, howling as his father hit him hard, slashing his already marked up back, sending blood trickling downwards descending from the open cuts that were almost about healed. “Look what you’ve done!” His father cried as if he was in tears. The leather belt strikes again, his father not saying anything more in the rain as it stung Louis’s back as more blood leaked out his skin. Louis shook uncontrollably, looking at his father who puts on a straight face, belt still in his hand with Louis’s blood staining it like a glove. He walked away silently going into the house, slamming the door closed behind him.

Louis’s tears were blended with his face, filled with rain, yet he blushed red, his eyes popping out, mortified ied. He grabbed his soaked clothes, putting them over his weakened body, looking at the door thinking weather or not to go back in or just spend the night outside. But Louis could hear his father knock over glass bottles as he walked through the kitchen. He left his grass-dead yard and out into the sidewalks, stepping into puddles barefooted and tripping over cracks in the road blistering his feet that were soaked and prunny. He put his hands in his wet pockets, cold walking over by Claira’s house, wind flying into his face as he climbed up to her window, looking into it as she slept towards the wall. He knocked on it slightly, waiting for her to wake up. He knocked again, this time Claira looking crabbily out the window to find Louis shivering. She hastily got out of her bed and opened the window concerned.

“What happened? Getting in.” She said, staring at the big cuts on his forehead. She pulled him into the room; everything darkened but warm compared to the outside.

Claira turned on her lamp over on the nightstand, leaving to go to the bathroom across the hall muttering something to herself about the significance of his birthday and his father as if she knew what happened. Louis squinted his eyes sensitivity. The bright rays it gave off was too instantaneous to adjust to in that moment when they were switched on. He examined the room. It was different and more spacious compared to Louis’s room. The walls were coated with a peachy pink wallpaper with pictures of old artists such as Bowie, Elvis, and Marilyn Monroe in black and white photos placed by her desk that held all of her school supplies and other things that Louis could only dream of but never was able to afford; her camera, a vintage typewriter, and her own vinyl record standing on the desk. She had her backpack hung over with on strap on the back of the chair and inside was her journal hanging out of the unzippered bag.

Claira bursted quietly back into her room, throwing all of the first aid supplies over her bedsheets. Louis widened his eyes over the ointments, he looked at Claira hastily confused yet worried about what she was thinking.

“Sit down.” She told him quietly looking at his mud-covered feet. He sat on the bed, sinking into it as if he was falling onto of a cloud. Claira didn’t much care at all about his clothes being drench over on her sheets, for the two sat on the bed together, Louis blushing from the cold while Claira grabbed the rubbing alcohol along with a cotton ball. It was strong smelling, but Louis didn’t say anything. Slowly she started holding out her hand towards his cut forehead.

“It’ll sting a little so try and not make any loud noises, okay.” She said before dabbing the alcohol on the bloody head. It was ice cold as she wiped over, yet it stung. He tried not to make it clear he was hurting but slowly as she touched one of the cuts directy, he flinched back, placing his fingers over it. In Claira’s hand was the cotton ball, all covered in a dark rich red.

“Sorry.” She told him sweetly, “Come here, I just need to wipe it dry.” She reached over, picking up the towel. Louis scooted back, letting her dry off the access blood, “Anywhere else Louis.” She asked, expecting there was probably more.

He just stared down at her carpet, his hair dangling over his face, avoiding Claira’s gaze as she tried and looked into his eyes, “Louis.” She whispered, placing her hand out onto the bed, he turned to look at it, and temptatively, he glared up into Claira’s ocean eyes, her freckles visible. He got to his feet, turned around, and took off his soggy jacket, dropping it to the floor. Claira, astonished found his shirt to be stain in multiple blotch of more blood, “Louis, let’s clean it up. Then you can wash your feet and sleep here for the night.” He nodded, still stay silent as he unbuttoned his flannel. His spine standing out from all the scars and blood as he sat back on the bed, slouched. Claira repeated what she had done with his forehead, dabbing the cotton ball on the gaping slits. Louis sipping in pain as the ointments burned into it.

Slowly walking barefoot, Louis returned downstairs to find his mother in the same position he saw her last; cuddled up on the couch while watching reruns of The Brady Bunch on ABC. It was late at night, almost a galloping hour before midnight. Louis had his beloved sweatshirt on, that his mother gave him, zipped up to the top. He jammed his hands in his pocket, cowering his head down as usually and causally leaned on the wall, watching along too. His mother caught his eye and smiled.

“Hey buddy, tired?” She said, letting him sit next to her.

“Not at all.” He told her, laying his head in her lap, facing the small box-like T.V. His mother started to fiddle with his hair like she use to do when he was a little kid. He looked like an oversized toddler who needed to fall asleep by his mother.

“I just can’t believe it.” His mother exclaimed.

“Believe what?” Louis asked, his eyes getting watery from the bright screen as if the T.V. were trying too hard to smile brightly.

“That your going to be a junior next year silly.” She told him pushing his hair out of his face.

“Mom, don’t think too fast. I’m not ready to grow up yet.” Louis said, mesmerized by what was happening as Alice, the housekeeper, tells Cindy and and Bobby to go and get bathing suits on in the episode, Goodbye, Alice Hello. His mother laugh lightly. Louis urged himself to ask the question on his mind, yet he was scared to; not by her reaction but by her response. Scared of finding of what he didn’t want to hear. But the more he stayed silent the more the question was going to spill out of him. But before he could say anything his mother asked him, “How are you going to spend summer?”

Louis though about what her was going to say for a minute, “Probably just hang out at Henry’s”

“All summer?”

“I mean yeah, why not? It’s not like I have any friends around here.” Louis said with a tremble.

“We could call over Claira and them over the summer?” His mother said, trying to oppose positively.

“Yeah but that just once or twice I’ll see them.” Louis denied.

“Well you do you.” She said before the two of them were silent. This was the moment for Louis to ask.

“Mom?” Louis started.

“Yes.” She said, still fiddling her fingers in his hair, making him sleepy.

“Did you and dad ever love each other?” Louis finished, looking up into her maple eyes. They were a lighter shade of Louis’s eyes but the shape of it was a sassy-looking deep set of eyes that made her fit for a model.

“Well, yes a long time ago.” She said.

“Before I was born?” Louis asked, looking up at her.

She hesitates, looking up at the T.V., thinking, “Yes if you really wanted to know the truth.”

“Then why didn’t he just leave?”

“Because your father was actually a smart man, but made stupid choices. He could had made it big with music but he wanted to stay and raise a family. I know, sounds so unlike him, but he stayed for you buddy.” His mother started to tear up, “He stayed because he wanted you, he wanted a son. It was his poor choices that made him hate, choices he couldn’t fix and so he blamed it on whoever he saw, tried letting it go by drinking as his comfort but it just made things worse. Louis just know that you were never the problem, never ever. He loved you beyond to the moon and back.” She finished, wiping her tears. Louis looked up at the window, beaming up at the pearly half shaded moon. He trying to imagine his father when he was young and loving but it was hard to see through the image of a stren bull printed to his father’s face everytime he thought of him.

What were those choices?” Louis asked, closing his eyes.

“For one, his work laid him off when you were a toddler. It was hard to make money so I took the job as a waitress. The second reason was when we tried to move, your father spent all the money at the bar. Then the walls came up and it was too late, income was going down and we lost a lot of money. That’s why both of these choices made him a prejudice.” Ms. Marlee said, “Why’d you want to know?”

“Just on my mind.” Louis said. The two of them returned their attention back to the glowing lights of the television as Alice decides to leave the family because the kids believed she snitched on them to their mother. Suddenly the phone started to ring loudly, making the both of them jumped, looking at each other a bit unsettled for the unplanned surprise.

“I’ll get it.” Louis told her, getting up from the couch, approaching the ringing phone. The closer he got the more louder it grew. He reached his hand over to the green telephone on the wall, grasping the smooth handle. The ringing stopped as he put it to his ear. The static of the voice coming from the phone was familiar, “Hello? Is this Louis Marlee?”

“Yes? Who is this?” Louis said through the phone.

“It’s Claira.” The voice said, sounding tense.

“Oh, hey Claira, how are you?” He asked.

“Good, actually I just came to tell you that we’ll be coming real soon.” Claira told him with a little reassurance.

“What?”

“Got to go, we’ll see you, bye.” Claira finished, hanging up the phone. Louis stared at the phone in his hand, puzzed.

Claira looked up at her brother at the dark dining table. Both of them relieved after quickly calling Louis. It was past eleven in their time zone. Both of their Aunt and Uncle out for dinner that evening, not going to be home until another hour. The two of them weren’t planning on leaving that day but not until Sunday night when their Aunt and Uncle were busy on a business trip to San Diego for three days, leaving them full custody of the home.

“Are you sure we should call him? What if he doesn’t answer?” Claira said self-consciously.

“Claira,” Miles said, looking dearly in his sister's eyes. He could tell she was nervous leaving by themselves, “Trust me, he’s going to pick up. Just take a deep breath.”

Claira sat herself straight, closed her eyes and took in a deep breath, smelling her Aunt’s pumpkin spice candles that were burning in the middle of the table, the flame waltzing slowly, melting the candle wax into liquid in the dimmed living room. Then Claira dialed the phone, looking at the piece of paper that Miles wrote with his sloppy handwriting of a number marked as: Rick. She put the phone to her ear and waited silently for someone to pick up.

Then came the harsh sounding voice of a woman, “Hello, who is this?” Claira looked up at her brother who looked at her blankly as she panicked in her head.

“Say something.” Miles told her in a light whisper.

“Hello? This is Claira, Claira Wilson. I just wanted to know if Rick was there?” she waited a moment.

“Yes, he’s coming.” Ms. Marlee said. Claira tapped her fingers against the coarse tablecloth, creating a space between her and the wooden part of the table. The phone was obviously being pasted to the next person on the phone, meanwhile Miles whispered, “What’s happening?” while Claira silenced him.

“Hello?” Asked a manly voice from the phone. Claira jumped, surprising her brother too.

“Hey Rick it’s Claira.” She said urgently.

“Yeah, I know, what’s wrong and why are you calling past eleven?” Rick asked very slowly.

“Well, Miles and I are coming to Alaska in your part of town. Meet us the Airport at approximately 5 p.m. this Sunday. Bring Aaden too. We’ll all be going to suprise Louis as a late birthday present. Okay.” Claira told him as quick as possible.

“Wait, it was Louis’s birthday?” Rick said.

“Yes! Now, we’ve got to go. Remember what I told you.” Claira said.

“But wait I have-” Rick said before the call was cut. Claira slammed the phone down, breathing roughly as if she had just ran. She looked up at her brother, with a little smile appearing on both of their faces.

“How are we going to pay for this?” Claira asked rubbing her heavy eyes.

“Grab Aunt Sandra’s credit card when she’s busy.” Miles told her, lean back in his wheelchair.

“Are you crazy? I can’t just go through her purse and steal her credit card.” Claira argued.

“But you’re not stealing it, your borrowing it. Now your going to take it tonight, plus Aunt Sandra doesn’t need it, they already got there plane tickets for Sunday.” Miles explained.

“But what if she finds out?” Asked Claira who crossed her arms.

“She’ll probably think she forgot it at home.” Miles finished, “Now we have to get in bed before Uncle Levi and Aunt Sandra come home and find us negotiating past ten.” Mile said, wheeling himself already through the hall, Claira following, taking the number and sticking it back in her pocket as she turned off the kitchen light, “We’ll take the bus to the airport. We have to be ready at twelve, pack up some close and be on our way. By then, Aunt Sandra and Uncle Levi would be gone and on there flight to California.”

“What if the people at the airport get suspicious of us two kids by ourselves.” Claira testified.

“Easy, we tell them that were going to visit our friends up in Alaska, they’ll understand.” Miles explained.

“But everyone knows who we are.” Claira said quietly.

“Would you stop worrying, don’t you want to see Louis?”

“Yeah,” Claira started.

“Then go along with it.” Miles stopped in front of the staircase, hoisting himself out of the wheelchair and holding for dear life on the railing, shaking as he stood hunched down. He squinted, trying the conceal the pain in a bottle and stepped up slowly to the next step until he made it to the second landing. Claira carried his wheelchair behind him. It was like carrying a five-hundred pound lift up the stairs because it was Uncle Levi’s job to heave it up there.

She set it down on the wood floor that was polished every so often making it slippery when the wheels touched it. Claira held it steady as her brother perched himself on the chair. She let go as Miles starts to row himself to their room. The change in weather of there rooms changed drastically. As Claira walked inside her room, the floor underneath her cold feet cracked every time she stepped.

Miles scooted himself over on the side of his bed, getting ready to climb out of his chair again while Claira got under the untouched cover of her cold bed, giving her goosebumps as she sank deeper into the blankets. She rested her head on her pillow, staring towards the door as Miles reached over and clicked his lamp on the side table off leaving the room dark. At the same time their Aunt and Uncle had just gotten home. Claira listened to her Aunt's footsteps, her heels in a rhythm creating a beat, become louder and louder as she climbed up the stairs. It was not bad for a farm wife to have that steady rhythm like that. Managing to make her way over, her aunt stood at the doorway of their room, her figure in a nice dress looking at them, then closing the door shut silently so that the only light came from the outside stars in the night.

Chapter 20

Louis sat with his mother, staring at a glass window that separated them between Horton who looked awful. He was dressed in an orange uniform, an unshaven beard, and red beady eyes. He seemed balder the last time they saw him.

“How’s prison serving you?” Ms. Marlee asked, trying to speak over the crowd of people who were also talking to master criminals dressed the same way as Horton was. Louis didn’t like the idea of all of these delinquents in one room, it just seem wrong. Everywhere around him had a heavy presents. He didn’t know where to stare at because he felt the guard behind him staring directly at him like a hawk.

“Not too bad. I mean it the same old stuff here just like a hotel if you know what I mean.” Horton said, trying to sound hilarious. He mother laughed a little. Louis caught his eye, “Hey Louis, how are you holding up?” He asked him. The barrier between them made him sound like he was talking to a phone.

“Fine I guess.” Louis said quietly, uncomfortable in his chair, his hands fiddling with the sleeves of his sweatshirt.

“Are you excited for summer? Lots of things to do.” Hornton said, trying way too hard to sound enthusiastic when he really wasn’t.

“I guess I’m excited for summer. I don’t know too many people at my school.” Louis told Horton who was nodding, “I’m thinking on going to the Drive-in or somthing.” His mother looked at him with an encouraging grin, one of her dimple showing.

“Well that sounds fun. Are you going to see the whole scooby gang?”

“Well they said they’ll be coming soon.” Louis said looking back at Horton.

“Great to hear that kid, thanks for coming over today and happy belated birthday, are you going to do anything today?” Horton asks folding his hands.

“I’ll probably be working.” Louis told him, turning his head to the security guard who was still had his watchful eyes laid on him, “Would you excuse me for a second, I have to go to the bathroom.”

“Do you want me to come with you?” His mother asked as Louis stood up.

“No mom, it’s fine, I can go on my own.” Louis told her, stepping out of the room and into the lobby. The scenery was all gray and gloom, police dealing some of the prisoner’s families over by the front desk, phones ringing on the line, and a distressed mother waiting for her turn to talk to her son. Louis looked down trying not to cause any attention to himself as he walked over to the bathroom across to hall. He felt like he was on a stage where a crowd watched him, expecting to be amazed. But with all the commotion going on, Louis was invisible to them.

He pushed open the heavy wooden door to the bathroom, that was extremely bland and white. Still with the sense of gloominess. The light above him flickered on and off, seemingly it had not be changed for a while. Louis latched over the sink, he felt sick to his stomach, wanting to throw up. He turn on the foset and ran his hand under the water, splashing it on his face, rubbing his eyes that felt warm and greasy. He looked up at his reflection finding his forehead sliced open with one thick bloody line. With widened eyes he touched his forehead, bringing his hand down to eyelevel, finding blood scattered over it.

Suddenly one of the stall doors swing open to a man in a sleek black suit and his hair greased to one side. Louis looked at him with his expression shocked at the sight of him. The man flatly smirked at him setting himself over the the next sink, washing his hands while fixing his hair in the mirror. Louis looked back at his reflection, finding that his forehead was clear as day. Not a single drop of blood on his body. Confused, he ran into a vacant stall, his breath racing.

“Are you okay in there kid?” The man asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Louis responded. He curled up in the corner wall opposite to the toilet and rubbed one of his eyes as the back of his mind was being taunted by the memory of going back home after that stormy night:

“I don’t want to go back to that hell hole.” Louis firmly told Claira as they walked along the soaked sidewalk. Louis’s head was bandaged up in soft cloth that bleed through with rich red blood and his body ached from the hectic night before.

“Well you have to go back at some point. If my parents found out a boy spent the night without their knowledge, they’ll kill me.” Claira explained.

“And if my father is over his hangover and doesn’t remember the night before, then he’ll kill me.” Louis repeated back as they took a turn. Leaves and little twigs were scattered all over the ground. The air was thick and humid, making the both of them sweat, “I hate my birthday so much. It’s like this day was cursed. I just wish I wasn’t born.”

“Don’t say that Louis, your not cursed and I love you as a friend with all my heart.” Claira told him softly. Louis smiled brightly as he stepped over an oversized branch in the middle of the pathway.

“Thanks Claira.” He told her quietly. A tiny grin appeared on Claira’s face too. Louis’s smile disappeared the second he saw his house, finding his father’s old Volkswagen parked in the driveway, “Crap.” He whispered under his breath as they approached the driveway and onto the lopsided stoop.

“You’re going to be fine Louis. Whatever happens in there, you’ll get through it.” Claira said to him hugging him. With a second of bewilderment, Louis wrapped his arms around Claira, the scent of sweet pomegranate coming off her. The door bursted wide open to the disgusting looking man that was Louis’s father, overweight, unshaven, and wasted as he flimsily rested his arm against the door frame with a cigarette in his mouth, puffing big clouds of smoke. He wore his undershirt, chest hair showing and yellow blotches printed on them.

“What’s this?” His father asked, waving the beer in his hand, “Where have you been Louis? Get the hell inside.”

“Yes sir.” Louis mumbled as he entered his dark house with his head down.

“As for you missy.” Louis’s father said looking across the street, “Get on home.” He slammed the door in her face loudly, Louis trying to see her on last time before backing away for his father to pass through like a boulder, “Where were you last night?”

“I was at Claira’s house last night after you kicked me out of the house.” Louis told him, tensing up, shaking.

“Really now?” His father said suspiciously, “That’s what happened?”

“Yes sir.” He repeated again, looking down.

“What happened to your head?” His father asked, pointing at his forehead.

“You pushed me over into the deck when you were drunk.” Louis explained while having a slight fidget in his hands.

“Come here Louis.” His father spoke. Louis gulped nervously, strictly obeying his father’s command, “Look at me.” He lifted his head up to his father as his father's hand was on his chin directing his head upwards too. His hands smelled like burning cigarette and alcohol with dirt stuck underneath his nails that had cracked every once in a while. Louis waited for it to happen; a cold hard slap across the face, pushing him slightly back. Louis concealed his tears inside of him as the burning sensation was shaking inside of him. His cheek was a rough rosy red, tensing up. Louis slowly looked at his father with a lost puppy dog look whenever he was speechless to say anything, “You don’t ever leave this house again!” His father screamed in his face, “You hear me?” Louis couldn’t move, he was frozen in fear, “I said do you hear me?” His father yelled as his hand went flying across Louis’s face again, shoving him the hard floor. Louis nodded, focusing on the wood tiling, “I can’t hear you.”

“Yes dad, I hear you.” Louis said, quivering with tears welling from his cheek.

“Good, otherwise I’ll beat the living daylights out of you.” His father told him, starting to walk away, “your mother and sister won’t approve of this, good job being a role model.”

Louis looked up, puzzled. He was back at the bathroom stall still curled in a tiny ball. Tears were glazed upon his cheek, hiccuping.

“Kid are you sure you're alright in there?” The man from the bathroom asked, “you’ve been crying in there for ten minutes now.” Louis opened the stall, wiped his tears, and charged out of the bathroom without answering the man's question. Louis’s mother was waiting out for him, smiling, “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I’ll tell you in the car.” Louis told her as they walked out together.

Once they got in the car, Louis fell silent. His mother started the engine and then sank back into the driver’s seat, looking at her son who was staring out the window. It was a gloomy day, no rain, just fog arising only a short distance away from them.

“So what is it you wanted to talk to me about.” His mother asked, patting his head like a dog in an affectionate way. Louis turned around, his eyes big.

“Did I have a sister?” Louis asked. Ms. Marlee sat back in her seat and stared out the window in front of her. Her eyes watered a little but it didn’t fall down onto her cheeks and she nodded.

“You did.” She finally spoke.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Louis asked her softly.

“Because you were too young to know.” Ms. Marlee told Louis, staring back at him.

“To know what Mom? How many secrets are there?” Louis questioned, staring deeply into his mother’s eyes that resembled his, “Dad couldn’t have been too upset about not moving. Mom I need to know”

“When you were two your sister Vada was born July 11, 1962, C-sectioned, and four weeks early.” Ms. Marlee’s tears fell down his cheeks, “You got down with a fever when you were three. Your temperature was over 103 and you had to be hospitalized. The doctors concluded that you had pneumonia, which I guess cause you to develop ARDS. We thought were going to lose you and somehow it caught onto your little sister, causing her to be hospitalized almost at one. Now know this is not your fault Louis, you were so young to understand.”

“Mom, I get it. Please just continue telling me. I can handle it” Louis said, wiping his tears.

His mother nodded and continued, “Sadly your sister died the night you were released from the hospital. Your father and I were devastated, but your father took another toll with is mourning, violence. He wanted to move to get away from all of his past memories. But we didn’t have the money to which brings us back to last night’s conversation.” Louis’s mother sighed, “We were going to tell you when you were old enough but plans changed in the last few years now.” Louis looked back out the window, “Where’s she buried now?”
“Over behind the church on Wells Street.” Ms. Marlee said, wiping her tears with her sleeve.

Rick sat slouched in his desk, tapping his fingers in the silence. The room he was in was empty other than him, Linus, and the principal. The chalkboard was written with thick chalk, fixing the words: DETENTION, in all capitals.

“Why do you keep us hostile in here when you could be off for summer.” Rick complained.
“Right, now your learning your lesson Mr. Rodgerson. Now no talking.” The principal told him.

“Yeah Mr. Rogerson, why, you’ve got a hot date to catch?” Linis mimicked. Rick stuck his tongue out at Linus like he was a five-year old.

“Both of you, stop this ridiculousness. Now I’m going to go to the bathroom and I better find you two behaving.” The principal said getting up from his chair and quietly exits the classroom. Linus turns from his seat facing Rick who fidgeted with his fingers while thumping his foot. Rick caught his sketchy eye whispering, “What.”

“I just want to know, why did you care so much about me picking on that freshman?” Linus said.

“It was just wrong.” Rick told him, shrugging.

“Come on, there’s gotta be something other than it was wrong. You’re hiding something.” Linus said, sort of pushing the pin father into the ballon.

“If your really wanted to know, I had a friend who was bullied once.” Rick said flatly.

“Really, tell me. I’m ready for a story.” Linus leaned in closer to the edge of his seat.

“There’s no story to it okay.” Rick said firmly.

“Boo.” Linus turned back around from his seat, facing the board before the principal walked back in.

“How’s it going in here?” He asked.

“Just wonderful.” Linus responded with a fiended smirk as he crossed his hands properly.

Louis sighed, rested his fist on his face, sitting at the counter of the quiet shop bouncing a ball at the wall repeatedly catching it and throwing it again. He sat there transfixed of the purple wall designed with the band; The Who painted as if the artist was seriously high while he was painting. In the distance the record was playing Wish You Were Here by Pink Floyd.

Henry came barging through the door outside with a box full of records, ringing the bell. Louis jumped, fumbling the ball, making it jump over the counter. It rolled over to the newstand, knocking it over. Magazines went flying over the floor, along with an explosion of dust. Louis jumped over the counter, immediately picking up the fallen magazines. He apologized, almost fearful something bad might happen.

“No, it’s fine Louis. I just scared you that’s all.” Henry told him, helping pick you the magazines too, dusting them off as he placed them on top of each other. The bell jingled once again. The both of them turned over to a group of girl giggling, making their way in. Henry stood the stand up to its feet again and tucked the newspapers back into the slots, “Hello ladies,” He said calmly, “how can I help you?”

The girls turned around. One examining him with his odd outfit. Louis noticed one girl in particular; her long dirty blonde hair all in one thick braid, smiling. She caught his eye and awkwardly he tucked the magazines in the slots and retreated back to counter, looking down at his hands.

“Um, yeah.” The girl sneered, chewing her gum obnoxiously, “We’re looking for some cassette, if you even know what those are?” The girls behind her laughed.

“Karen, stop, that’s not nice.” Jean told her.

“Okay,” Jean rolled her eye, “Whatever you say Miss. Bossy-pants. But seriously, do you have any cassettes?”

“Yep, I’ve got a couple of those over there.” Henry said, “If you’ll follow me. Louis,” He turned, “could you put those new vinyls behind the counter, I’ll sort those out but you can look at them if you’d like.”

Louis rolled up his sleeves and retrieved the box as Henry led the girls over to the left where the cassettes were, leaving him and Jean alone. Louis looked at here very sheepishly, gulping nervously in the awkward silence.

“So.” Jean spoke, biting her lips, “Your boss is certainly very busy.”

“Yeah, he’s a chick magnet too.” Louis said, trying to make a joke. Jean laughed softly, taking a piece of her hair, tucking it behind her ear. Her grey eyes sparkled as the sun shined through the windows of the shop, “Well I’ve got to put these behind the counter.”

“Mind if I look at them too?” Jean asked, “The girls are going to be there in a while.”

“Don’t you like cassette too?” Louis asked confused.

“I do, but I’m more of a vinyl person. It’s just more, original you know.” Jean told him, her eyes brightened, painting a picture in her mind.

“Okay, just push up a stool.” Louis said nervously as he made his way with Jean over to the counter. He pushed the heavy box in between the two of them. Jean grabbed a handful of the covers, spreading them out among them.

“Led Zeppelin! One of the greatest band I’ve ever heard.” Jean said, holding up their cover,  Physically Grafiet Tied, “But I wouldn’t say it’s my favorite.”

“Then what is your favorite band?” Louis asked, picking up a Jimi Hendrix album from six years ago.

“The Beatles actually. I know, so lame.” Jean said, rolling her eyes with a smile.

“Really?” Louis said surprised, “It’s not lame. The Beatles are actually my favorite band too. It was my parents favorite band when they were young.”

“Same with mine. I grew up listening to it in the house.” Jean told Louis, “I mean the girls use to like them but now they’re all into disco after they broke up.”

Louis nodded understanding that almost every teenage girl came in looking for any type of Disco Jive which really annoyed Henry because they were one of the most sold at the store. He said it wasn’t real music they were listening to. But still there was a decent amount that looked for old music from the 60’s when Henry was a teenager, when times were, groovy.

“Anyways, I was wondering if tomorrow you’d want to come with us to the Drive-in with us if you’re free?” Jean asked Louis, biting her lip again. Louis was astonished by the fact she asked him to come along.

“Yeah, I’d be glad to go. That’s if I don’t have anything tomorrow. But yeah, I’ll go.” Louis smiled ecstatically, Jean followed along, showing her pearly white teeth.

“Great, just tell us if you can.” She said looking down at the counter, looking at the other records. Then noticing with the movement of her eyes, they widened with surprise. Louis smile washed away as soon as her’s did. He looked in the direction that she staring at; his sleeves were still folded up, exposing his pale arms with the horrifying scars that Jean couldn’t take her eyes off of. Immediately, Louis dropped the vinyl to the counter and pulled his sleeve down, tucking away his scars away.

“What are those? What happened to you?” Jean asked sincerely in a soft tone. Louis sighed uncomfortably, scratching the back of his head, embarrassed with his cheeks becoming warmer.

“Nothing.” He trembled, “It’s nothing.”

“Are you sure?” Jean asked, sounding worried.

“Jean,” Karen said, slamming down the cassette down on the table, “We’re done. You shouldn’t be talking to this creep.” She looked at Louis disgusted, “Now if you please could check these out, we’ll be on our way if you can understand us.” Karen said as if Louis didn’t speak their language. Louis ignored her, checking out the tapes, typing in the code into the register.

“That’ll be 15.40.” Louis told Karen as she smacked her gum in her mouth slamming a twenty dollar bill onto the counter in front of him. Louis grabbed it, sliding it over to himself. The cash register opened, revealing all the money in the slots. He slide the twenty into it’s section, counting out the change to return it to Karen who tapped her foot impatiently while she crossed her arms like the rest of her gang behind her. Jean looked down uncomfortable in silence. Louis’s eyes caught hers and she smiled diffidently. Louis couldn’t help to smile too, sliding the money back to Karen who cocked one eyebrow up very confused. Louis looked back down, taking out a paper bag, dropping the cassettes into the bag silently. He waited for the receipt to complete printing out before ripping it out and shoving it in the bag. He handed it to Karen who aggressively took it from him.

“Come on Jean, let’s get out of here before bozo gives us the plague.” Karen said, pulling Jean’s arm, leading her out the store.

“I’ll see you again sometime Louis!” She said before her body was completely out of the store. Louis wave her goodbye without saying anything. Henry came over, leaning on the counter with a foolish smile.

“What?” Louis asked him. Henry laughed, his yellow teeth exposed.

“Louis, you like her don’t you?” He said, he smelled like the dirty scent of alcohol, reminding him of his father.

“No I don’t, besides we barely talk.” Louis shrugged.

“Then why were you just talking. She asked you out.” Henry told Louis who looked down, thinking.

“She did?” Louis asked looking up puzzled.

“I think she did, you should go. I’ll let you take off tomorrow.” Henry reasoned, “Nothing more like summer love.”

“Henry, we’re only friends okay, it’s not the first time I’ve fell in love.” Louis told him.

“Whatever you say man.” Henry said leaving with the box of vinyls into the backroom.

Rick stood in a phone booth outside a restaurant. He could smell the pungent smell of rotten fish that punched his nose as he tried to cover the scent with his sleeve. He waited for the ringing to stop from the phone until somebody picked it up.

“Hello?” Said a sweet voice that sounded very confused coming out fuzzy in Rick’s ear. Rick woke up out of his daze and stared at the phone.

“Hey Aaden.” He said stuttering.

“Who is this?” She asked.

“It’s Rick.” He told her, almost shouting.

“Oh hey Rick. Why are you calling?” Aaden asked again.

“I’m here to tell you that tomorrow we're going to pick you and Keller up tomorrow, I just need your address.” Rick said getting a notepad and a pen out, holding the phone to his shoulder.

“Yeah, why?”

“Man you ask a lot of questions, Claira and Miles are flying in and I’m picking them up at five. Then we’re picking you up to head over to Portage to visit Louis there. It’s a surprise though so don’t tell Louis.” Rick explained, “Now the address.”

“Oh yeah, 1818 Winston St.” Aaden told him, “It’s the smallest house on the block, you can’t miss it.” Rick hastily wrote her address down in his sloppy handwriting against the window of the booth that was covered in handprint grease.

“Okay, thank you, we’ll meet you at around 6-ish.” Rick said, “Alright? I’ll see you later.”

“See you later.” Aaden spoke before hanging up. Rick hung the phone back up to its original spot, cracking open the sliding door. He was able to breath in fresh air with a hint of hamburgers from the restaurant inside. He shrugged and went on in. Daniel was sitting at the counter where their waiter with a white paper hat gave them both 50’s diner sundaes as Rick sat down in the seat next to Daniel. The jukebox played Let’s Go to the Hop by Danny and the Juniors.  

“Hey buddy.” Rick said, weakly smiling, “How’s your sundae?”

Daniel had already gotten into the sundae with fudge all over his face and spoonful of ice cream sitting in his mouth, “Delicious.” He told Rick.

Rick laughed a little, taking a scoop of the warm fudge and placed the spoon him mouth. The fudge melted on his tounge, swelteing, smooth as he gulped it down.

“Hey Rick?” Daniel started.

“Yes Danny Boy?” Rick respond.

“What was that call about?”

Rick didn’t know what to say to Daniel. He didn’t want to lie nor hurt his feelings, “Umm, just a call to a friend.” He told Daniel.

“With what?”

“Homework.” Daniel stared at him confused as if Rick said something wrong.  

“Homework? Isn’t summer already? Are you lying to me?” Daniel protested in a strange high-pitched voice. Rick nervously gulped, looking up into the metal over that was able to be seen from the bar up top. His reflection showed, vaguely he remembered father for some reason with a specific memory that dawned over him:

Rick walked into his house sweaty with his football sweatshirt over him. The stench of himself was unbearable to even stand next to him. His cut lip that swelled had very much told everyone who saw him that he was in a fight. His father from the kitchen to the front door had a fairly angered with wrinkles appearing on the old man’s face. He looked nothing alike with his son; most thought that Rick would have been adopted if his mother hadn’t had his features for the old man had brown hazelnut hair and a one thick mustache stretching out under his nose that made him look like a news reporter or an author but other than that, he looked like a coach with his stallion-like body like his son’s.

“Where have you been, you’ve missed practice and what is that on your lip Patrick?” His father questioned quickly. Rick looked down; he couldn't stand his father.

“I kind of got in a little fight.” Rick confessed to him.

“Great, I hope you won.” His father cheered in a more lighter tone, heading with his son over to the dinning table where Rick slouched in his chair. He plate had already been set up neatly with the mashed potatoes and green beans on one side and turkey coated with his mother’s famous gravy saturated over it. “Men like us never back out of a fight, surely you picked a good fight, right Patrick?” Rick looked the opposite direction. He did not want to tell his father he backed out running home.

“Rick, your father is talking to you, answer him please.” His mother asked kindly, cutting her turkey. Rick looked back up, his eye watery.

“Use your words Patrick.” His father told him.

“Yeah I won.” Rick slowly said.

“Patrick, something tells me you are lying to us. Did you win or not?” His father asked slowly now too.

“I backed out okay, it’s no big deal.” Rick finally told his parents who looked at him blankly.

“That is a big deal son! You know what this could do to your name, you’ll be called weak, a loser and is that what I want my son to be? No I want my son to be a champion! You hear me, I don’t want that ever again to happen!” His father yell, blowing up like dynamite.

“Dad! I already hurt him badly, he could of had die if I punched him one more time!” Rick argued back, his nose flaring up.

“No, that’s enough! You have said what you have said. End of discussion, we don’t give mercy to those who are weak.” His father bulged, squeezing his fist tightly that it was as red as a tomato. Rick’s mother continued to eat in silence as Rick stared into his father’s eyes that were infuriating with anger of his son’s sympathy.

“Rick! Rick!” Daniel said fervententfully while poking Rick on the shoulder with his tiny hand, “Why did you make that phone call?”

“If I tell you, you won’t tell Aunt Marcine will you? Rick asked hopefully.

“Yeah I promise. I don’t like her anyways.” Daniel agreed.

“Alright,” Rick sighed, “I’m leaving town tomorrow to go back to Portage to see Louis.” Daniel gasped loudly sending people’s eyes towards him, “Keep it down would you? But to the point, I’m not going to be home all day. I’ve got to pick up a couple people on the way.”

“Can’t I come too?” Daniel asked with his wooing puppy dog eyes looking into Rick’s eyes.

“I’m sorry buddy but it’ll get too suspicious if the both of us leave.” Rick told Daniel.

“Will you come back?”

Rick put a hand on Daniels shoulder, “If course I’ll be back and if Aunt Marcine asked, tell her I’m at one of my friend’s house. I’ll be back in no time okay Danny?”

“Okay Rick. You had me scared there for a moment.” Daniel said, “you can go.”

“That’s the spirit.” Rick told Daniel, fist-bumping him.

Chapter 21

Claira entered the crowded bathroom; her hair in luscious curls and her flowery dress beautiful and silky. She laughed at Miles who was being groomed by their aunt. She sliced his curly hair back over his head with a comb. He winced in pain, squinting his eyes shut as his aunt teared through the tangles in his hair. Tears started coming down from his eyes.

“Claira shut up! It hurts!” Miles shouted in agony.

“Would you stop overreacting Miles. My goodness you are such a crybaby.” Aunt Sandra scolded, “And Claira, if you are done could you please help your Uncle with the luggage.”

“Sure thing.” She said giggling down the stairs to help her Uncle outside. But before she could, she headed for the kitchen where her Aunt always stored her purse at the dining table. Claira took the leather purse and searched through it in the bathroom downstairs. She sat on the toilet, pushing out lipstick, makeup wipes, candy, and unopened pads trying to find her wallet. With luck she retrieves it, examining it with great pleasure. She opened the wallet, finding her credit card and hid it in her pocket. She placed the wallet back into the purse, leaving it back on the dinning table where she found it. At this point her Aunt and brother were almost down the stairs. Miles in a suit, very handsome and charming. He looked at Claira who nodded at him to insure that she completed the mission in getting the credit card from her Aunt without her consent.

“Ready?” Their Uncle asked outside the door. It was a clear and sunny day with no cloud to be seen in the endless sky of blue. Her Uncle tuned on the radio to old country music and opened the window blowing Claira’s hair everywhere as she stared at the outlook of fields that reached until the little line that separated the sky and ground meat.

“You two be on your best behaviors while we're gone okay.” Uncle Levi said, his eye on the dirt road, “I know you two are old enough to handle yourself but I’m just reminding you.”

“Okay Uncle Levi.” Claira said, “We’ll be good.”

Their Uncle parked the pick-up truck in the front of the church that stood high above their heads. Claira admired the window art at the top of the church, it had every color shown on the rainbow to create the the beautiful masterpiece it was. People at the church were kind to Miles and Claira unlike the kids at there school were. They always greeted them a good morning, shaking their hands like they were normal people and never once bother to stare at the two like they were alien freaks. In fact many people acquainted them, told them they prayed for them as life went on after their terrible loss of their parents.

It was still all new to Miles and Claira, looking up at the ceiling way up high, reaching to a stop as rays of light shined on down through the window art showing a kaleidoscope spiraling with iridescent and wonder that always captivated Claira. Miles was in awe of the great organ in front of them, a beast and it’s alluring gold pipes that made the sounds of gold as the choir sung in front of it, creating the mightiest sound Miles had ever heard. With the two so intrigued by their new findings, their Aunt always had to remind them to pay close attention to the preacher who spoke in a frail voice, barely any words came clear out of his mouth but still he put on a full audience. Claira sat there listening; still yet bored but with precise patients. She fell sickly in the stomach, knowing that in a couple hours, she and Miles would be headed to the airport, disobeying their Aunt and Uncle.

Would it be sinful just to fly and see their old friends but still disobey their guardians and crossing their consent in secret? Claira ponder this, staring at nothing but the hearing the faint voice of the preacher speak out loud his next verse, “When Job’s three friends, Eliphaz the Temanite, Bildad the Shuhite and Zophar the Naamathite, heard about all the troubles that had come upon him, they set out from their homes and met together by agreement to go and sympathize with him and comfort him.” Claira looked up, thinking about what he said, “When they saw him from a distance, they could hardly recognize him; they began to weep aloud, and they tore their robes and sprinkled dust on their heads.” The preacher emphasized greatly, “Then they sat on the ground with him for seven days and seven nights. No one said a word to him, because they saw how great his suffering was.”

“Louis.” Claira whispered silently. She had to do this.

Louis, with his hands in his pockets, walked along the cracked sidewalk, passing all of the old shops with his head normally cowered down to the ground. The Alaskan sky was a sticky grey with no sight of any sunshine. It was pass 10 as the church bells rung through-out town as sweetly as a bird’s melody. Everyone was parked at the one church on Wells St. A big old run-down building painted several times but still managed to crack with a new coat of paint. Folks on the outskirts of town even drove down through the mountains just to make it to this church. Louis stopped in front of it from across the street; it was a full lot as everyone tried to rush out with their fancy clothes and little cranky children; mass was over. All almost drive away to get breakfast before restaurants were packed. Louis looked both sides of the empty road and ran across making his way through the crowd and entered inside the small church.

It was big on the inside compared to the outside. Everything in there was carved out of wood, smelling like generations of ancestors. Everytime Louis stepped, the floors creaked, making him scared he might fall through the ground. But the elegance of the interiors were miraculous; Louis had never stepped inside a church that he could remember. They were never allowed to in his old town. The preach there looked back from placing the wine and bread back into the church’s box and found Louis standing there like a lost puppy.

“Can I help you son?” He asked kindly. He was young and wise looking with a kind smile that never once seemed naive in his life. He was wrinkle free and looked like the standard young man to be a caregiver.

Louis looked at him in silence before asking him anything, nervous yet too speechless to talk, “I’m here to see my sister’s grave, could you by chance tell me where she buried, I haven’t been here in awhile.”

“Ahh,” He started calmy, “Louis Marlee, I’ve been waiting for your presents.” Louis was confused; how did he know his name? How did he know he was coming? Was he some mind-reader?

Louis followed the preached out into the courtyard where dozens of Small-Cupped Narcissus flowers were starting to blossom in their garden.

“Your mother has told me you’d come one day to visit her. She’s been waiting to meet you finally.” The preacher said, walking alongside of Louis on the stoned pathway. Louis felt the eerie feeling of dead relatives nearby shivering down Louis’s spine. There were all sorts of graves; big to small, enormous to miniature. The grass was brightly green and eye popping to Louis. Seeing all the gifts and flower lined on top of the tombstones made him feel guilty for not getting his sister anything.

“Right here Louis. Your sister.” The preacher said, “ I shall leave you two to be.” Once the preach left, Louis looked back at her grave, weakly smirking. He sat on the stone bench a bit uncomfortable after being with the preacher for a brief moment.

“So,” Louis finally spoke, “Sorry I didn’t bring you anything.” Louis felt crazy speaking to a stone. But he was captivated by it, he knew he had to talk to his sister, “I know you probably won’t hear me, or I probably won’t hear you but just listen. We’re both strangers right? But I’m your older brother. Surprise, suprise.” Louis analysed every detail of the tombstone; the little pointed edges of the brick, the side evenly chipped off and his sister’s name carved into the middle of the stone with the years that she lived. “What’s it like up there? Well I mean you get to meet dad in person.” Louis laughed, “It’s been a crazy life I’ve lived. You’re lucky I guess you’re kind of lucky. I mean without all the terror and stuff. Anyways I just came to visit after finding out about you. I guess I’m just really lonely now a days. You were too after sitting in this grave for quite a while.” Louis looked up into the mountains covered with fog; only to be faintly seen.

“We love you.” Aunt Sandra said, kissing her niece and nephew on the forehead each. Claira’s face was boiling red while Miles kept his cool, “Claira are you okay. You’re very hot.” Her Aunt said, feeling her head with the back of her hand that was cold and bony compared to the sweat running down Claira’s forehead.

“Yes Aunt Sandra, I’m fine.” She gulped nervously.

“Are you sure?” Her aunt asked again.

“Please, you have a flight to catch. Claira and I will be quite alright if you’ll ask me. Now you two enjoy yourselves.” Miles intervened with his charm.

“Okie dokie, we’ll see you on Tuesday.” Uncle Levi said, letting Aunt Sandra out through the door, smiling. Miles grinned back mischievous before his Uncle shut the door; the house was to themselves.

“Beautiful.” Mile blurted through the silence while wheeling himself to the kitchen, “They took a limo which leaves us with the pick-up truck.”
“Wait, I thought we were taking the bus?” Claira asked startled, “And plus I can’t drive, I’m underaged.”

“We’re driving because I don’t want to make the driver suspicious because they’ll ask where our guardians are because we have to be both above eighteen. You have to drive because I can’t drive myself,” Miles told her, stopping himself at the dining table. Claira following behind, sitting next to him,“ and plus you’re sixteen already, they’ll think you’ve got your driver’s license. We’ll come back Monday night, that’ll give us time to get home before they do. You’re getting this?” Claira nodded, “Great, were leaving in a half an hour so that way Aunt Sandra and Uncle Levi are in the sky already, don’t want them to bump into us so be on the look-out when we’re there. Remember what I told you the night before and we’ll be fine Claira ” Miles stopped and put his hand on top of her’s.

“Stop it! Get the hell off him!” A girl screamed from a dark alleyway. She had her hand over her mouth as she thought relentlessly of a way to stop the fight happening in front of her. The shadowy figures wrestled each other clearly scene, “Rick! Get off him!” She yelled as the sounds of laughter filled the cramped space.

“Claira!” The boy being punched repeatedly yelled, “Get out of here!”

“No Louis! I can’t leave you here!” Claira said back, tears of anger coming down her cheek. Then a sudden kick followed by a howl echoed. Claira had gone up to the two boys, kicking the on top of Louis in the gut. He fell over moaning as Claira stood over him.

“What was that for?” He said, holding his stomach as he curled on the concrete in pain.

“Get out.” Claira started slowly, “Now.” Her eyes glared upon his eyes, narrowing them avidly that scared Rick. He scrambled to his feet, looking back at Claira who held her ground defiantly.

“Let’s go, run!” Rick shouted as he and his friends ran out of the alleyway. Claira turned back around, her expression softened as she crouched down to the injured boy in front of her. His eyes widened and frantic with blood running down his swollen face.

“Louis.” She said in a dainty whisper. She could tell he was shaking; his breathing unsteady as he gasped, “Breath, you’re fine.” Claira gently stopped his trembling hands and looked into his big charcoaled eyes. He smiled and relaxed himself as he stared into Claira’s cerulean blue eye glistened like a kindling blue fire, benign and alluring.

“Claira.” A harsh voice from behind called her. She looked back, unknowing who it was in the shadow, “It’s time to go home.” The voice was familiar.

“Miles please, he’s hurt.” She told him profoundly as his shadow stood over them.

“It’s late, Mom and Dad are worried.” He told her, ignoring the fact that Louis was present. He was back on his feet, uncrippled.

“Claira,” Louis stuttered painfully, “Go home, I’ll be fine.”

“But,” She started.

“No, no. It’s just blood. Nothing too much.” Louis finished, “Now go.”

“But what about your father, he’s going to kill you if he sees you like this.” Claira said, starting to get to her feet.

“Don’t worry about me.” Louis smiled.

Claira woke up with a slight jolt to her seat. Miles looked at her startled. They were on the plane, flying high over little towns on the ground as the cut through clouds.

“Hey, are you okay?” Miles said faintly. The pressure of the plane was clogging Claira’s ears making every sound she heard muffled inside her head.

“We’re about to land. Are you okay?” Miles asked again, staring deeply into her eyes. Claira nodded; her eyes had been opened wide as if she was frightened or surprised but she really felt groggy. She looked over to the window, the land endless. Claira every once asked herself the question; what was over the line that crossed the sky and the Earth. She knew that the there was more land beyond that but, now she wanted to discover what was over there and still, if she did, the line went on. It was amazing to see how small the world was, seeing everything birds would see when it flies. Never had she seen the world but a solid concrete wall in front of her, she didn’t even know what kinds of worlds were out there. It was fun to think only a few months ago she was just looking out the window on her bed, drawing what she thought was outside her window.

Getting closer to the ground, Claira looked in her drawing book, looking at all of the sketches and pictures she put into it. Next to her, Miles watched her flip through the page, one of which was a picture of their parents when they were young during one of their last Christmas before it was banned.

“Damn, look at my hair, it’s a living mess.” Miles laughed. Claira looked up at him, smiling.

“Yeah, it still is.” She said, rusling with his hairs.

“We are about to land, please remain seated and put your seatbelts on as we land.” The pilot announced, his voice deep and manly. Claira and Miles both followed his directions, waiting for the plane to touch the ground. It shook as the plane came to a stop. Claira clutched the arms of her seat, her stomach feeling like butterflies as the plane drove on the runway, slowing down every second.

“Thank you, I hope you enjoyed your ride and have a nice day. Welcome to Anchorage Alaska.” The pilot greeted them off. Simultaneously, the two siblings stood up after everyone was off the plane, the flight attendant wheeling Miles’s wheelchair over to them. He sat back in it, uncomfortable after moving. Claira thanked her, smiling gratefully as they left the plane to the busy airport. The two of them waited at the front exit for Rick. Both, listening to other people’s conversations as they all rushed to get to their own plane. One man with his briefcase at his side was talking to himself with a cigarette in his mouth, speeding pass them, going a hundred miles per hour.

“Claira!” Somebody shouted across the airport, “Miles!” The two of them looked over confused. Then Claira caught her eyes to Rick, running over to them, out of breath.

“Rick!” Claira exclaimed excitedly getting up to hug him. Rick lifted her off her feet hugging her too. Miles smiled looking at the too, feeling a sense of happiness in himself.

“Miles!” Rick said, fist bumping Miles, “How are you guys?”
“Great! How are you?” Claira asked back, tucking her hair back.

“Are you kidding, Amazing! I haven't seen seen you guys in so long.” Rick told them, “Anyways, ready to go to Alyeska. I’ve called Aaden, she knows we’re coming.”

“Where’s all your hair?” Miles asked laughing.

“Oh, well my Aunt Marcine gave me a sucky haircut and so I shaved it all off.” Rick said, running his hand over his head, “Does it work?”

“Totally.” Miles nodded.

“Where’s Daniel?” Claira asked.

“He’s at home. I couldn’t bring him, too suspicious.” Rick explained as he started to push Miles’s wheelchair out the doors of the airport into the sunny atmosphere of Alaska. The same existing smell filled Claira’s nose. She missed seeing the graceful mountains. The sun was disappearing behind them, creating a beautiful scenery where the rays were sprinkled as far as they could as if it didn’t want to go to bed. The three of them got in Rick’s old car that had a strong scent of cigarettes. Rick pulled one of his own and lit it, taking a long drag as he handed it to Claira when her finished, exhaling smoke in the car.

As the car started, the radio blasted out Blue Swede’s, Hooked on a Feeling. Rick sang along with it, rocking head to the beat while tapping the wheel with his hand. Claira had her hand out the window, cutting through the wind, feeling the sun beat down on it.

“So,” Rick lowered the music down as they drove on the single-laned road, “Anything new? School?”
“Not too much.” Miles respond.

“So who was the master planner for this idea?” Rick asked again, taking a left.

“Actually, Miles did surprisingly.” Claira told him. Rick raised his eyebrows in surprise, looking in the rear mirror at Miles who has a charming smirk of mischief on his face.

“Now really?”

“Yeah.” Miles shrugged.

“How did you come up with this dangerous task in your brainy head of yours?”

“I don't know. I just got tired of seeing Claira alone all the time.” Miles told Rick who was impressed.

“Do your Aunt and Uncle know?” Rick asked.

“Um, well no.” Claira said sounding guilty.

“No!” Rick shouted, “What the! Do you know how much trouble you could be in if they find out?”

“But wait, they’re in California for a few days, we can make it home in time before they get home.” Claira explained to him.

“Fine, but I’m not getting in trouble. I already had to do detention the past two days. I don’t need to get into more crap than I already am.” Rick said.

“Wait why?” Miles asked.

“Just an incident that happened at school. It’s nothing.” Rick said, focusing on the road ahead of them.

Chapter 22

Aaden stood in front of her brother, her eyes big and wide. She crouched down slowly to her brother’s eye level. He glared at the floor, the bottom of his eyes tired and shaded. He seemed dead inside, still shaken by the memory of his friends. It seemed to replay in his eyes of that night when they died.

“Hey Keller,” Aaden said softly looking at her brother’s eyes, “Do you want to come and see Claira and them?” Keller just sat silent, his breathing only to be heard.

“C’mon,” She said, sounding like she was about to break into tears, “Keller, speak to me. I haven’t heard you in a while and I miss you. You just have to move on from that moment in time and live your life. I don’t want you to live it like this. You’re alive, be happy that you are and just because you lose your loved ones, doesn’t mean we should just shut down.”

Keller still stared afar. Aaden scoffed as the door bell rung, getting up, not looking back at her brother and opened the door to the sunset sky. Surprised that she saw Rick bald, she left very ticked off in the back, but she hid it with a smile.

Claira looked over her shoulder smiling at Aaden, “Hey Aaden. How’s it going?”

“I’ve been better.” Aaden told her, “How have you all been?”

“Nothing much to be honest.” Miles pitched in. The two of them smiled at each other affectionately

“Isn’t Keller coming?” Claira asked her.

Aaden looked down and sighed, “He doesn’t want to go. Anyways, how’s the back?” Aaden asked Miles, looking into his eyes that dazzled.

“Fine, although I can’t feel it sometimes.” Miles sighed.

“Well Mijas and Mijos, off to Portage, here we go!” Rick chanted as they drove out of her driveway.

Louis sat at dining table alone. His hands crossed, staring into space in the darkened kitchen. His mother was working a shift overnight. He was thinking whether or not to leave for the Drive-in that started at seven. But at the same time, he was thinking why he felt so lonely. The clock whispered behind him, ticking in his ear silently.

Suddenly he got up with his plate with food still on it, opened the lid to garbage can, and the let the scraps slide off. For some reason he felt something strike in him sadly. He narrowed his eyes at the garbage can that was halfway filled with garbage;

“Stop it! Let me go!” Louis cried as one of Rick’s friends dragged him to a deserted alleyway. With ease, he pushed Louis towards the hot burning tin dumpster can that burnt Louis’s hand. He jolted back, holding his hand against his chest as he sat on the floor, scooting to the brick wall.

“Good job you ass, now Rick can’t hang out for the rest of the week because of you!” His friend enraged, as he got closer to him.

“But I didn’t do anything, you guys just snuck up on us last night.” Louis said panicked with his breath unsettled, “Please, just let me go Paul.”

He thought for a second, searching for something until his eyes caught something. Louis looked over to where he was looking as he put on a horrible smile.

“Get in it.” He said evilly.

“What?” Louis looked back at him, baffled.

“I’ll let you leave if you get in there and eat something in it.” Paul repeated, grabbing Louis by the collar, leading him up on the wooden box next to the dumpster. Louis, one leg over another, her climbed over, landing softly on top of the trash. The terrible pungent scent killed his nose, flaring his nostrils up. He could hear Paul laughing  on the other side of the dumpster. As he looked through the trash, a shadow came racing over Louis. The dumpster becoming dimmer from above. He looked up, finding that Paul was closing the lid of the dumpster, locking it up from the outside.

“Paul! Paul! Let me out!” Louis yelled, punching the cover hard in the dark, the only light to be shown was coming from the cracks on the sides of the dumpster. He crawled over the trash, feeling something wet and squishy on his hands. Peaking one eye through the crack seeing Paul walking out of the alley. In dismay, he sat with his back against the tin and curled up in a ball, the air getting humidity.

Hours passed by and sweat ran down Louis’s forehead in huge droplets. He used his dirt covered arm to wipe his damp skin. Still he sat in a ball, crying silently to himself as his stomach grumbled.

The shadow of light reached his face again Louis looking up sheepishly squinting his eyes up at the light finding an old man looking at the boy recoiling.

“Come on boy,” He said firmly but in a nice way, “how’d you get in there?” Louis stood on his two feet, swinging himself out of the dumpster with the help of the old man, “What are you doing in there?”

“Nothing sir, just a trick that was played on me, I don’t mean to trespass.” Louis apologized, wiping the dirt off his sweatshirt.

“Now you run along, don’t get into any more trouble.” The old man said to Louis. He looked at his pale face slowly, finding his face marked up by not only filth but scabs from the night before. Louis looked up at him, realizing he was studying his face.

“I’ve got to go now. Thanks.” Louis told him, starting his way out of the alleyway with his hands clenched in his pocket.

The doorbell rang unexpectedly, echoing throughout the house where Louis still stood dazed over the garbage can. He blinked twice before setting the dish in the empty sink. Slowly, he strolled over to the door, not pondering who it was or why they came. The doorbell echoed again as Louis twisted the handle to the door. It creaked opened wide, the day becoming night with only little visibility of the sun over the mountains. At the door was Rick, who was scratching his head. His face brightened up as he saw Louis, and Claira, who was fiddling with her hair.

“Louis!” Claira shouted, immediately wrapping her arms around him. A wave of happiness filled within Claira.

“What are you guys doing here?” Louis asked, confused while hugging Claira, who stepped back, biting her lip, she had never felt so nervous in her life.

“Well, I told we’d be coming soon.” She said, “Now come one, we’ve got all night before we go.” Louis stepped outside, closing the door behind him shut. He followed the two in the car, still confused on what was happening. The five of them, smushed in the car, drove out Louis’s driveway and onto the smooth road in silence.

“So, anywhere in particular we want to go?” Rick asked, keeping his eye on the road. They all thought about it, not saying anything, “Come on you guys. Louis, is there anything we can do here?”

All eyes were on him as he thought, “The Drive-in.” He said, popping his head up smiling.

“Well, off we go!” Rick said, turning up the to Up Around the Bend, while howling loudly as Claira laughed in the passenger seat. They drove through town, shouting lyrics to songs on the radio as people looked at them weirdly.

Rick drove through the entrance to the Drive-in movie theater, turing down the radio as he cranked his window down, taking off his sunglasses.

“Five tickets please.” He said.

“10.65.” The cashier said, printing out tickets for them. Rick took out a 10$ bill with three quarters from his pocket, sliding it under the window barrier. The cashier took it, counting the change out, then sliding it back with the tickets and the five of them were off.

Rick parked in a grassy area near the snack shack. The five of them stepped out of the car, Rick grabbing out Miles’s wheelchair out of the trunk while the others sat on top of the hood of the car. The colors of the sky was like seeing a paint that had come to life. There was only strand left of light from the sun as it reached outwards before it died and the purple sky woke up with a crescent moon above with the stars that twinkled miraculously like little flashlights.

The large screen brightened and a man appeared on the stage with a megaphone that skreacked as he turned it on, “Welcome all to our annual summer movie night to kick off the summer. We have the perfect movie for you guys and I think that you’ll like it. Give it up for, Jaws.”

The crowd cheered happily as the movie stared and the spotlights dimmined. Claira, who sat next to Louis, rested her head on his shoulder. Rick smoked a cigarette on the top hood of the car and Aaden sat next to Miles who sat back in his chair content with himself.

Towards the middle of the movie, Rick jumped off the car, making it bounce up, becoming lighter. Everyone turned to him as he threw the bunt to the floor.

“Anyone want snacks?” Rick asked. Louis looked at his watch, time for his medication.

“Yeah, I have to go use the the bathroom anyways.” He told him, sliding off the hood.

“I’ll go for something there too.” Claira followed.

“I’ll stay here with Miles, but I’ll have candy, whatever type they have that’s chocolaty.” Aaden told them.

“Okay, Miles, anything?” Rick asked.

“Just popcorn.” He said with his eyes glued to the screen, watching the people screaming from the huge shark.

The trio started there way over to snack shack. Barely anyone was there surprisingly. Louis looked down until the corner of his eye found someone approaching him. He looked up to see Jean walking up to him with a genuine grin. Louis grinned sheepishly, blushing a little on his cheeks.

“Hey Louis, you made it.” She said.

“Yep. I’m just here with my old friends that I haven’t seen in a while.” He told her. He could feel that Rick and Claira were watching behind him at the door of the shack.

“Well,” She said, looking behind him, “I just came to say hi.” Louis looked beyond Jean to see her brother storming up to them.

“Well I got to go.” Louis said, starting to approach the shack while keeping a calm composure, “ Nice to see you.”

He turned around, feeling sweat running down his back as he entered in with Claira and Rick.

“Who’s the new chick?” Rick asked, cocking his eyebrow.

“Nobody, I just have to go to the bathroom.” Louis paced ahead of them, quickly hiding in a bathroom stall. His breath seemed heavier. Meanwhile Rick at the front counter was ordering popcorn and Claira checked out the candy that was showcased behind the glasses. Both were were startled to Jean’s brother and his friends swing the door opened, storming towards the bathroom. The two of them shrugged.

Once Louis heard the bathroom door open madly. He squeezed himself to the corner of the stall, trying to be invisible.

“Come out come out wherever you are you freak.” Jason said very angered. Louis could hear the stall doors get kick down one by one. His heart race as that got closer to his stall, the last one of the row. The bottom exposed the three pairs of feet that made Louis skip a heartbeat.

“Why, there you are.” Jason said, peeking from under the stall with a fishy grin. He kick the door open stall door with an echoing bang. Louis stood there petrified, wanting to be invisible. Jason grabbed him by his collar and pinned him against the wall, looking at him with hard, cold stare, “Now what did I tell you?” He whisper, “What did I tell you?” His voice grew louder as he hit Louis again against the wall. He squinted his eyes in agony, “I told you stay the hell away from her!” Jason spat in his face and pushed him over to the floor. Louis closed his eyes, still wishing he could fly away somewhere else. Then he felt a sudden aching pain in his stomach. He held it, rocking himself on his back like a turtle on its shell, trying to get up on his feet. He heard Jason and his friends crying of laughter as Louis moaned in agony.

“She talked to me you idiot!” Louis shouted. Jason stopped laughing, his face becoming stern like a tiger, ready to kill its prey. He started to walk very slowly, his shoes the only thing heard in the bathroom. Louis started to crawl back. There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.

Meanwhile Rick and Claira were at the register with there popcorn ready on the counter with tons of candy for the five of them. Rick was searching through his wallet for a ten when his ear started twitching towards the bathroom. He closely heard what was going.

“I’ll be right back.” He told Claira, starting to slowly pace towards the bathroom door. Claira watched him confused for a second before turning back around to pay for their snacks.

Rick pushed open the door slowly to find Jason on top of Louis who was covered in a massacre of bruises all over his face. His head dangled from Jason holding his collar tighty. Over on the side was Louis’s beloved jacket surrounded by the scattered pills he had carried around.

“Get off him you bastard!” Rick yelled, intervening with the two of them. He grabbed Jason, pushing him against the wall, his friends frighten by the build of his muscles. They started to run over each other, trying to get out of the bathroom as fast as they could.

Claira saw the boys running out of the snack shack, their eyes wide as if they had just saw there worst nightmare come to life. Curious, she too started to walk over towards the bathroom.

“Miss?” The cashier said, pushing up his glasses, breathing out of his mouth.

“Just wait.” Claira told him, holding up her hand without looking back at him. She opened the door finding a full on fight between the two buff teenagers as they wrestled. One on top of another, taking turns to hit at each other. Claira covered her mouth in shock.

“Claira!” Rick struggled to say, “Help him!” He pointed towards the beat looking Louis. Quickly she squatted over by Louis, getting to her knees as she heard him moan in agony. His face was swelled up around the right side of his eye.

“Louis,” She said softly, “I’m here. What do you need?” She could her his breathing, loud and clear over the fighting going on in the background. Louis lifted his arm weakly, his lips dry, trying to say something. Claira looked over in the distance, his jacket.

“Your jacket?” She asked, turning back to him. He shook his head, still mouthing his words, “What, I need to know.” She leaned in closer.

“Pill.” He whispered feebly. Claira look over once again, grabbing one of the tablets off the floor a swiftly as she could, handing in his hand.

“Get up for a second.” Claira told him, helping him sit up straight. He looked at her painful, placing the pill in his mouth, swallowing it whole, “Sit back okay, you’re going to be alright.”

“I’m fine.” He whispered, rubbing the back of his neck, “Just bruises.” Across from them was Rick on top of Jason, holding him down as Jason squirming to break free from Rick’s weight. He swore loudly at him, not caring what word choice he used, angered by the lion in Rick.

“If you don’t want me storming back on you. Then leave my friend alone. You hear me?” Rick shouted in his face. Suddenly, the door swung open. Alarmed, the four of them gazed up at the squad of police filing in on them, the red and blue lights blinding their eyes. Rick immediately got off of him, holding his hands up as the police shouted at them. He closed his eyes tight, breathing slowly as a policeman arrested him from behind his back, another one struggling to handcuff Jason who kicked and swore all over the place.

“Are you two okay.” One younger looking cop asked them. He had kind almond, asian almost, but not quiet. They were a mix between brown and green, but not hazel. Both of them nodded, “Come with us.” He said, holding out his hands for them to grab. The two of them got to their feet, walking behind the two cops that held Jason and Rick, walking them over to the police car.

“Wait.” Claira stopped. The young cop looked at her confused, “We’ll meet you there, we have to get our other friends.”

“Go right on ahead.” He told them, resting his thumbs in his belt. Claira nodded again, turning around, running out of the shack with Louis by her side. Over in the distance was the shadow of Aaden. The shades of red and blue flicked onto her concerned face.

“What’s happening? Where’s Rick?” She asked them as they passed her.

“No time for questions.” Claira said out of breath, wheeling her brother in the uneven grass to the backseat, “We have to go.” Aaden stopped for a second before getting in the back seat along with Miles. Claira rushed, shoving the wheelchair in the trunk, forgetting about its weight and having to foldit. Finally, she got on the wheel and started the engine. Putting the stick shift on drive.

“You do know how to work a stickshift? Do you?” Aaden said, leaning towards the passenger's seat. Claira looked at the pedals confused, she had realized she had never driven a stick shift, nor a car. Her eyes widened looking at the wheel.

“Get in back. I’m driving.” She said, stepping over to the driver's seat. Claira managed to make her way to the back seat next to her brother who was baffled about the event that was taking place. Aaden jolted the car backwards, slamming on the breaks then turning around, facing Claira, “Where do we go?” She asked.

“Follow those police lights.” Claira answered, pointing towards the bright lights. Loud sirens filled the air loudly but it descended as the police drove forward.

“Rick is going to get us all in so much trouble.” Aaden told herself, jeering the car forward out of the parking space. She started following the flashing lights, leading them out of Drive-in and onto the deserted road. The sirens flooding their ears with a sharp, high-pitched screech.

Chapter 23

In the midst of a dead silence, the four waited, sitting in the police’s station as they watched cops come in and out with their suspects handcuffed; each looking tougher and more muscular as time went by. Aaden twitched her foot nervously, rubbing her now red and puffy eyes before getting up. She started to pace, getting agitated every second while Claira watched her. Louis stared off into the distance, very aware of his surroundings as he held the cold pouch of ice under his eye. His lips turned a sudden shade of blues after being visible to the light.

“How much longer?” Aaden complained, still pacing harshly. Louis turned over slowly but didn’t speak. Miles, next to an empty chair, slept soundly as he snored, drooling at the side of his mouth.

“Aaden, we just have to wait some more.” Claira told her, trying to stay positive.

“Screw this, I’ll be back.”Aaden stormed off, heading towards the bathroom leaving both Claira and Louis alone in an awkward silence. Weirdly, it was hard for them to start a conversation after being so far apart for quite some time.

“So I saw you talking to that girl back there at the Drive-In. Who is she?”Claira asked. Louis looked at her from the corner of his eye.

“It’s not what you think. She came up to me first and I had nobody else to talk to and I just-” Louis spilled out all at once.

“Louis,” She cut him off raising her eyebrows, “It’s fine if you like other girls. I mean, we’re going to be miles apart from each other.” She laughed a little, putting her hands underneath her legs.

Just so suddenly, the double doors from the outside exploded open. Everyone around started to stare. Miles woke up surprised and unaware of what was going on, then fell right back into his wheelchair, starting to snooze again. Rusling inside was a very tall woman and a sleek old man with Jean coming from behind them, scratching her arm. Both of them were seemingly her parents. The tall woman had a very stone face with her nostrils flaring at Louis like he was doing something wrong. She wore a fur jacket as if it were freezing but the cool summer air came rushed inside the frigid waiting room. As for the old man, his hair had turned to grey, his eyes kind like Jeans and his wrinkles as crusty as a mountain. He seemed like that type of person who was a grandfather to all, yet her wore an overpriced tuxedo and a black velvet bow tie around his neck.

“Jean.” Her mother said in a very proper tone, “Please sit here and wait for us while we deal with your dimwitted brother of yours.”

“Yes mother, will do.” She said, rolling her eyes when her mother turned around. She sighed in both disappointment and embarrassment. She looked up to find Louis and Claira in front of her, staring. Claira got to her feet and started walking with a smile.

“I’ll leave you two alone.” She whispered to Louis, who pursed his dry lips tightly, staring at the floor beneath them. Jean sat across from him with her eyes blazed with fire as she crossed her arms. There was a silence between them, both confused on how to start the conversation.

Louis looked up at her sheepishly, trying to catch her eye. She tapped her foot impatiently, turning her head over in his direction. Taken aback, he looked away from her, staring at the garbage can against the wall. She laughed, her smile stretched from ear to ear. She welcomed herself to the empty chair next to Louis who looked back at her speechlessly sitting back.

“Sorry about my brother.” She said, her eyes becoming a softer tone of grey, “He can be a really big jerk to people. Anywho, how are feeling?”

“Fine I guess.” Louis told her, “Why do you choose to talk to me now?” Jean sat back in the chair, looking at the wall across from her.

“I don’t know.” She shrugged, “You just looked like you were missing parts of yourself. I figured you need something fun to do this summer instead of staying cooped up at work. But if course you don’t have to hang out with me or anyone here.”

“No, no, I do. I mean I would like to. If that’s okay.” Louis said, sitting back in his seat again. Jean looked back at him smiling warmly.

“I would like that.” She told him softly, “So now it’s my turn to ask you one question. I mean if you’re okay with it.”

“Okay.” Louis shrugged, turning to her, ready to listen.

“What were those scars on your arm from yesterday?” Jean asked him. Louis tucked the sleeves of his sweatshirt over his arms but for a moment, he realized it was missing and his bare arms were exposed. His face grew red as she stared down at his long scars with a worried expression like the ones Claira made when she felt empathy towards him. He licked his lips, tucking his arms by crossing them against his chest and straightened himself up answering the question.

“It happened a year ago with my dad. He was a bad person but he was just was hurt or lost you know.” Louis told her with a quivering cry. For the first time he suddenly missed his father.

“Do you ever miss him at all?” Jean asked once more with her eyes glistening. Louis looked down long and hard. Did he miss him? What did he ever do nice for Louis? He tried to recall a reason why he suddenly felt sorrow for him but nothing had hit him to believe he needed his father right now.

“No.” He lied, “I guess, I don’t know. He really wasn’t a person in my life I would deal with again. Besides I’ve got my mom back and it’s been a change after so many years.” Jean nodded.

“Well I wish that my parents would pay more attention to me than their work. It’s all they ever care about.” Jean said to him personally.

“I’m sure they love you deep inside. They probably don’t show it.” Louis said, looking on the bright side of Jean’s situation.

“Sure,” She laughed, “It seems that my brother takes more care of me than them. I mean sometimes he can be really dumb but they blame him for everything. Besides when he beat you up, that was horrible, it’s just that he’s been pushed over lately.”

“No, I totally understand and I don’t blame him.” Louis put his hand on her shoulder. Her cold hand patted over his affectionately. The two stared into each other’s eyes. For a moment, Louis found ever curve of her face, how her eyes were soft like rippling waves of water.

Just then, Claira, along with Aaden, walked back from the bathroom, sitting across the dull room. Louis took off his hand from her shoulder. Both looking away from each other as if nothing had happened in the room a few seconds ago. At this time, Miles opened his eyes, yawning while stretching. He looked at the four of them in the room, sleepy eyed still.

“What did I miss?” He asked.

“Nothing Mr. Wilson.” said the police man who stood at the door entre to the rest of the police station. Something in his voice made him too happy as if he was lying to them. Everyone turned to him with questions on their minds. In the distance, they could hear the yells of Jean’s parents, arguing over a room. The cop looked back, then stepped out into the waiting room, closing the door quietly behind him, sitting down. Louis realized what he was holding his his hand; Louis’s sweater that was covered in blood.

“Is Rick okay?” Claira asked him as he turned.

“Yes, just a few scratches.” He respond.

“What about my brother?” Jean pipped in.

“He’s okay too. I just came here to tell Claira and Miles,” He started to say, looking at the both of them, “that your Aunt and Uncle will fly in here tomorrow afternoon. As for the rest of you, Aaden more specifically, tomorrow your parents will come tomorrow morning. Louis, your mom is right on her way. You kids stay out of trouble, anymore will give you a price to pay.” Louis, who kept his eye on his sweater, afraid of speaking up as he got up like an old man would, “Oh and yes! I almost forgot.” He cleared his voice, making Louis flinch slightly, “Louis, I believe this is yours.” The police man tossed it over to him, sending it in the air; Louis catching it midway, sliding his arm into one sleeve hastily.

They all watched the policeman turn around, going back into the police station where they heard more angry rants, but they were coming near. The policeman jumped back, letting Jean’s enraged parents come through with her brother following behind them. He looked at Louis sharply in the eye, hurt yet distraught. Louis felt the imenssed glare at him, feeling as though he was hit with a ball to his chest. He stared down at his worn out shoes that always gave him pain whenever he had them on his feet and sighed.

“Jean.” Her mother called in a high-pitched accent. This time, her wrinkles seemed to be popping off her face more and her nostril hairs were dragon-fire, bursting out flames of smoldering smog, “Let’s go!”

“Yes mother.” Jean little voice whispered. Her vowels were very precise in Louis’s ear. She got to her feet, walking off with her family, out of the waiting room. A rush of warm May wind whirled in on them. The door being hold open for a few more seconds when the dim-yellow lights revealed Ms. Marlee jogging inside, out of breath with her diner’s outfit on. Louis swallowed the spit behind his throat, creating a larger lump that felt exposing.

His mother’s expression was puzzling. She wasn’t a bursting firework as if she was his father or Jean’s mother. But nor she wasn’t too fond over her son for being in the police station at 11 o’clock at night when the cicadas and the crickets started to sing in the wonderful purple sky. Ms. Marlee stood in front of her son, still with his head down to the ground, ashamed. She lowered herself down, getting on one knee to the next. Slowly she lifted Louis’s head up, showing his swollen face. She showed a flat side smile and laughed softly.

“Mom I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sneak off like that. I didn’t think I’d end up here.” Louis explained to her with guilt in his black beady eyes.

“I understand Louis. At least you apologized and you’ve learned your lesson from tonight. Next time tell me.” She told him delicately, staring into his his eyes, “You kiddos, are staying over at our house for the night. So,” She sighed, “let’s bail your friend out of here so we can get going.” Ms. Marlee stopped herself over by the check-in counter. She started talking to the lady sitting behind it.

Claira and Aaden stopped talking and looked up to their surprise as the door widely opened to Rick, beat and bruised with his lip bleeding badly, yet he smiled. The jaded policeman escorted him outside, passing them without a word of acknowledgement. The three of them looked back at each other with pure confusion.

“Kids,” Ms. Marlee said, turning away from the counter, “Please go in the car and wait for me there. I’ll be out in just a minute and I’ll take Miles with me.” The three of them stood up simultaneously, obeying the command Ms. Marlee gave them. Louis fully was surrounded by the cool summer air. The mountain was were shaded in darker against the violet night sky glazed with the tiny stars.

Rick’s shadow was outlined in the car. He put his forehead against the window, fogging it up. He looked depressed in a way, but the spirit kindling in his eyes told them he was laughing inside.

“Hey Rick.” Claira said, closing the door of the car as they settled in.

“Hey.” He said turning around exhausted. All of them were worn out. The clock on the radio read, 11:42 in bright green text that glowed, making a slight buzzing sound.

“What happened over there?” Aaden asked.

“Well the chief went babbling on and on how wrong it was for me to beat him up. Then he mentioned how bad it was too for Jake or whatever the hell his name was for beating up Louis and it's all just balone.” Rick explained.

“And that took about three hours because?” Aaden said sarcastically.

“Because Aaden, the damn report stopped us every minute because he needed every single detail.” Rick told them, putting quotes in the air, “Honestly they all waste time.”

“And that was it? No consequence?” Claira asked.
“Oh, there was a consequence. I have to pay a 100 dollar fine and Mr. Whatever The Hell He's Called does too. So stupid. I’m just trying to protect my friend but they still give me this.” Rick slouched back in his seat, looking out the window to see the cop starting his car for the trip back to Louis’s house. Ms. Marlee started walking out with Miles from the police station, helping him in the back. Louis hopped over a seat, sitting in the back, back by himself.

Louis gazed up at the brightly lit stars that reflected on his genuinely black eye. He was on his roof, curled up in a blanket, silent. Just wind blowing on his hair and against his face, tearing him up a little and the crickets chirping a melody in the air. He had seen stars like these, but only when he was together with his friends. He though hard and long about how it all came down to be like this. Never have he had such a voyage like this in his life and he wouldn’t take it back. It was the most love he ever felt; and just realizing it now made him feel guilty inside.

The window opens behind him, causing a loud screeching noise hurting Louis’s ears. Claira crawled through on her knees, sitting on the singles of the roof next to Louis. She handed him a surprise coffee that steamed vigorously. Louis wrapped his hands around the warm cup, letting it melt his cold fingertips down before taking a sip of the bitterness.

“Sorry about the skreicking window.” She said.

“It’s fine, really. It does that everytime I do it too.” Louis responded, still having his gaze transfixed in such beauty. Claira looked up to, her book at her side.

“Have you ever seen my sketchbook completely?” Claira asked. Louis looked at her confused.

“No. Why?” Louis shook his head.

“Because I imagined this once when I was on my bed on day during winter when I didn’t know what was there in that blank picture.” Claira said, staring back at the mountains. Her sandy hair waved against low breeze, “And now I know what lies there. Endless lands, skies with more beauty. Doesn’t all seem big?” She asked, shrugging her shoulders.

“Yeah, a little bit.” Louis told her.

“What are you two lovebirds talking about?” Rick asked, getting on the roof with them. Both of them smiled at him.

“The world.” Claira said to him.

“What about the world?” He asked again looking at the sky also.

“Doesn’t it seem big?” Claira told him.

“Well yeah. It’s like we’re aliens that have to adapt to this new world almost like.” Rick shrugged.

“Well this world sure isn’t nice.” Louis blurted. Claira and Rick fell silent.

“Why Louis?” Claira said, looking into his eyes.

“I don’t know. Everyone thinks I’m some freak that everyone's afraid of.” Louis explained. Claira pursed her lips, then sighed.

“I get them same feeling.” Claira said.

“Everyone knows who I am. I think they know me better than I do.” Louis trembled but didn’t cry. He took another sip before looking at Claira and Rick.

Rick leaned back, “But were not freaks.” He said, “We’re human as much as they are. We’re just, lost. Like, like…” Rick stuttered looking for the word he wanted to use.

“Strays.” Claira intervened. Rick put on a side smirk, nodding his head.

“I like the sound of that. Strays.” Rick said again.

“How about we find our way first. I mean all stars go their separate ways. We won’t see each other as often as we use to but, maybe being a stray will teach us how this world works.” Louis said, looking out in the distance.

“So you’re saying?” Rick asked.

“I’m saying we each come back here, all of us, when we're ready to find our origins again. It doesn’t have to been now, but we know it’ll be later on down the road.” Louis finished.

“Deal.” Claira said, looking at Rick.

“Screw it, deal” He said, throwing up his arms with a big smile on his face.

Epilogue

On West Street, Daniel Willis searched through old, crumbling Vinyls lined up in order in a milk crate after stepping inside to an old vinyl shop. The smell of vintage with a hint of cigarette smoke whirled up to his nose. The rest of his friends walked inside, following him.

“Louis!” Exclaimed an old Henry Drake in the same calm, slurred voice e always had. His hair was a dirty grey that was outgrowned and greased, almost unwashed. In the background, the speakers over the counter was blasting the new hit of 2006 on the radio. In the middle of it, Henry changed the radio station to old throwback songs. It currently played, Mr. Blue Sky, happily. His granddaughter put down her teen magazine, mad about the change of song. She threw her hand up in the air with displeasement of the song change.

“Come on Grandpa.” She said, chewing her gum obsessively.

“Taylor, I’m not have this argument again. Plus why don’t you listen to real music for once.” Henry told her. She slouched back in her seat, rolling her eyes, “Now, Louis, long time no see! It’s been so long.” Henry came from behind the counter, hugging Louis tightly.

“The shop hasn’t changed one bit.” Louis said, looking around, grinning.

“Are you guys going back today?” He asked.

“Yep. I’m pretty nervous to go.” Louis told him.

“I’ll get the mixtape. Take a look around” Henry said, going to the backroom while the rest of them looked at all the new appliances. Claira met Louis over at the old crates of vinyls, flipping them one by one.

“So,” Claira started, “How’s Jean?”

“What?” Louis asked, not paying attention.

“Your wife, Jean? How is she?” Claira repeated herself.

“Oh, yeah, she doing good. Still at her job with magazines.” Louis said to Claira.

“And your job?” She asked once more.

“Stable, but slow.” Louis told her, picking up an album from 1985 by Simple Minds.

“Any new cases?” Claira badgered, but Louis kept his calm and answered her.

“Yes, I’ve got a major one down in California. I travel to much that it tangles my head around.”

“You know,” Daniel said suddenly, picking up a Nirvana album from the bunch in the milk crate, “I don’t really remember what happened 30 years ago.”

Everyone looked at him, “Well, if course you wouldn’t. You were only ten when it happened.” Claira shrugged.

“What are you people even talking about?” Taylor said, flipping to the next page of her magazine with her eyes up on them.

“Something that happened a long time ago when we were your age.” Aaden explained to the little girl. She still looked puzzled and cocked her eyebrow, unsure about what she meant.

“What was that something?” She asked again. Rick sighed, rubbing his temples.

“We have a reuniune a our old town. We’re the only ones that are currently living in our town.” Rick testified, “We can’t explain it all but we’re just visiting it after 30 years.”

“Very well.” Taylor shrugged, going back to her magazine. Just then Henry came back with a CD in his hand out of breath.

“Well here it is. I know it’s not the old tape but times have changed, so here you go, mixtape of 1976.” Henry told Louis, handing him the CD in his hand. He examined it, the circular disk shinny and slim it was.

“Thank you Henry.” Louis thanked him, leaving the shop with the others following him, “Ready you guys?” Louis asked them before he got into the car.

“Yeah.” Rick responded, sighing loudly. Louis could tell he was nervous inside. The six of them crammed into the starting car. Before Louis backed out, he opened the CD case, carefully holding the edges between his fingers. He pushed the disk into the slit just below the clock, then hitting the play button, letting the disk spin. The album started to playing softly, Blackbird.

“I haven’t heard this song in a long time.” Claira exclaimed, “Turn it up.” Louis dialed the volume up all the way. It car started to vibrate along with the beat as Louis backed the car out of the parking space, moving onto the old road ahead of them, driving through to familiar Drive-in that was closed for the winter; Louis’s old high school he went to, it was covered in white snow on the roof. Teenagers looked at them at them passing by, heading towards the fogged forest. The trees were a dark pine, almost a shadow in the sky above their heads on the mountains. Claira looked up, over the window, attracted to the point spikes of the trees, frosted with more snow.

The road started to grow upwards. They could see the endless landscape shooting pass them. Claira’s stomach began to churn, causing her to clench onto her hands, fiddling with them sweatily.

“Claira, you okay?” Aaden asked, reaching her hand over to Claira’s lap caringly. Claira smiled weakly at her she trembled sighing.

“I don’t think I’m ready.” Claira announced.

“Claira, we’ve gone so far, we can’t turn back.” Rick told her softly, smoking a cigarette. He rolled down the windows halfway, letting the frozen, thin air pass in the car as he blew out the grey smog. Louis kept his eye on the road. Barely anything was able to be seen beyond them. The mist had covered the pathway ahead, making nothing visible but the white clouds around the car as they went up the mountains and through the tunnel, leading them out to a crossing barrier where nobody could enter.

Louis rolled down his window, turning down the music lower for the security guard in next to the crossing.

“Are you the kids from the 1976 case on Manhattan?” The guard approached the car, taking his toothpick out from his mouth.

“Well, yes but we’re not kids anymore.” Rick jokes. Louis elbowed him in the rib, causing Rick to faintly groan.

    “Sorry, what he means is that we’re are those kids. We just came back to see it once again.” Louis told him with a kind, persuading smile.

    “Very well.” The guard sighed, resting his thumbs on his belt, “open it up boys?” He hollered.

    “Thank you sir.” Louis rolled up his window, driving forward. The guard waved at him, still with a rock stone face. There was more miles of forest beyond the barrier that reached to no extent. They found themselves driving on the dirt road before they knew the regular road had disappeared underneath them. The mist started to clear up, revealing a huge, solid, concrete wall overshadowing them.

“It’s larger than I last remembered.” Rick said softly, leaning forward in his seat.

    “Well, we’re here.” Louis parked the car, unbuckling his seat to get out of the car. He looked up also, fixing his glasses up to the bridge of his nose. The sky was a murky mixture of shaded burnt-out ash and the wall that was shaded in a bit darker, stood almost 40 to 50 feet above their heads. The rest of them all too stood up, looking in silence and awe for a moment. The wave of memories started to trigger back to them again, realizing that this wasn’t a dream, but it actually happened in reality. The soldiers started to open the small entrance to the computer systems that had been shut down for years. Dust had piled over the boxed, curved screen, aging away, no one to program them any longer. The door was set out to a large hallway that only Horton Gilbert would recognize. Together, they followed the soldier to the final entry in a dark room. He opened it, the shattering light leaking through and the presence of an old town that was once left behind, they approached.