by Amy Miles
I shake her off with disgust and try not to notice that the white shirt she’s wearing today does nothing to hide the fact that she’s wearing a lacy black bra. Did she plan that? I bet she did, the little witch.
I was right to be wary of her. She is just pretty enough to get away with anything if she bats those eyelashes, but she is far from the damsel in distress. If she weren’t looking at me with those same doe eyes, I’d almost appreciate her cunning.
“Look,” I grab onto her arm and pull her off to the side once we reach the second floor. “I don’t have time for your game. Just tell me what you want.”
“I want the truth.”
“About what?” I rub my temples, feeling one hell of a headache brewing again. It’s becoming a daily occurrence now. All of this attention is driving me up the wall. Do these people not grasp the concept of what “loner” means?
“About why you are still here. We both know you hate this place and you can obviously take care of yourself,” she lowers a pointed glare to where my hand is squeezing her arm. I release her and shove my hands into my jeans pocket instead. I don’t like how easily she gets to me. “I get that you want to help your mom, I really do, but there’s more to it, isn’t there?”
“So what if there is? It’s not exactly any of your business, is it?” I maneuver around her, wishing that there was a fire alarm that I could pull so she would be carried away by a human flood instead of following after me to continue her badgering.
“It’s ok to admit that you’re scared.”
I round on her so fast she smashes her face into my chest. She pushes back on my stomach but not before I detect a slight hitch in her breath when she feels the rigid muscles that lie beneath my shirt that comes from years spent training. I smirk and find myself enjoying how flustered she becomes.
“I don’t scare easily.” I stretch out a hand to brush my finger down the length of her arm. Damn, if she isn’t nice to look at, with her flushed cheeks and rapid breathing that draws my eyes to the outline of her black bra once more. “Maybe there is another reason why I stuck around. Maybe I wanted this to happen.”
Pushing her back against the wall, I tower over her, staring into her eyes and enjoying her reaction as I press into her. She swallows hard and starts to speak but can’t quite seem to find the words.
“Or maybe not.” I pull back mere inches from brushing against her lips. “See you around, Ember.”
When I feel her eyes glued to my back as I walk away I smile. Two can play this game and it’s one I don’t intend on losing.
Perhaps a part of me should feel bad but that girl needs to learn something real quick: I’m not the type of guy a girl takes home to daddy. I’m rough around the edges for a reason and I sure as hell am not one of those bad boys who turn out to have a heart of gold buried beneath layers of sarcasm. I don’t care about her. I’m in this for me and my mom. That’s it.
Over the next three hours I suffer through a Physics test that is all greek to me, a history test that seems insanely pointless since our country pretty much no longer exists, and another episode of “Let’s prove that every guy in the world is not as romantic as Shakespeare.” By the end of lunch, I am on edge and find myself surrounded by no less than twelve people, with others encroaching space around the outer ring.
I am forced to meet Darby, who reminds me far too much of a chipper chipmunk with puffed up cheeks and a squeaky voice to take her seriously. Gracen has a decent figure, dirty blond hair and is obviously infatuated with Austin, who appears to be about as clueless as a Dead Head. Roderick Strauss proves to be quite the character. Wide rimmed rectangular glasses perch high on his thin, straight nose, making his eyes seem bigger than they should be. He sits like he’s had a board shoved down the back of his shirt with his hands clasped primly in his lap. One look at him tells me that he is a certifiable know-it-all. If he says one word I will happily rearrange his teeth for everyone’s benefit.
Bex and Sammy join the group as well today but I’m pretty sure that Sammy is there only because he’s still drooling all over Bex. And when I followed Bex’s covert glances I would wager she is only there because of Camari Jung, an asian girl that I’ve seen before but never cared to pay much attention to. Either way, ole’ Sammy or any other guy will never stand a chance with Bex.
Isa sits sideways on Tyrel’s lap with her arms wrapped around his neck. I try not to look their way in case I might vomit as she giggles in his ear and strokes the small opening in the first of his shirt. Teegan sits close enough that she can hear without making it look too obvious. She is the only one that I am happy to see. Kinsley makes sure to sit front and center so that everyone can get a good eyeful of her low cut top but she spends the entire lunch hour filing her nails like the prima donna I know her to be. Still...I don’t mind the view.
Looking around the assembled group, I have a sinking feeling that if I were to stand up to go take a piss I would have a swollen entourage following behind.
“So, what’s the plan?” Flynn asks and everyone falls silent as they look to me.
“Plan? Who said I have a plan?” I shove back my half eaten MRE and am not the least bit surprised when Vaughn pounces on it. The guy doesn’t have an ounce of fat on him but he eats like a freakin’ cow. I snatch it back with a warning glare even though I have no intention of finishing it. It’s the principle of the matter.
Flynn looks at the assembled group before speaking. “You seem to be the only one around here who knows stuff.”
“So?”
“So that means we need you.”
“For what?” I lean back in my chair and stretch my arms up over my head. I notice Ember’s sideways glance at my exposed abdomen and smile. Yeah, she liked what she felt earlier, but I am firmly denying that the feeling is mutual. “None of you know how to survive, you don’t open your eyes to the obvious and you would just slow me down. I don’t need you and I sure as hell don’t need your help.”
“Then why are you still here?” Tyrel speaks up as he shifts Isa in his lap.
“I keep asking myself that and I’ve yet to come up with a good reason. But while I’m here all I want is to serve my time and be left alone.”
“Tough.” I look up in surprise to see that it is Coleman who spoke. He wears a stocking hat pulled down low enough to hide his unruly hair but not the bruise that has taken over his right cheek.
“What the hell happened to you?” Normally I wouldn’t care but I kinda like the kid. He has a mind for strategy and that could come in useful. These other sheep are nothing more than a casualty waiting to happen, but he has potential.
“Got smart with one of the guards at the testing center.”
I grin back at him. He took the beating like a man and that is something I can respect.
“Sergeant Waterford?”
“Nope. Sargent Bonneville. The one with the mustache that looks like a caterpillar curled up on his lip and died.”
I chuckle. “Yeah, I know the one. Smells like black licorice.”
“That’s the one.”
“Do his injuries amuse you, Roan?” Tyrel’s sharp tone cuts through the light-hearted mood with a precision that instantly sobers me.
“Amuse me? No, but they are a reality that all of you will face soon enough.”
“Like hell, we will.” Everyone turns to look at Kensley, shocked that she’s actually joined the conversation. “What? Not all of us think that the soldiers are a menace.”
“That’s because you’ve slept with most of them,” Bex snickers.
“The point is,” I interrupt before a catfight breaks out, “is that if you go searching for a truth that no one wants you to discover then you’re going to be met with resistance. That resistance doesn’t always look pretty. If you think you are prepared to walk down that path you need to know what you are getting yourself into. You have to ask yourself if this is really what you want.”
I pause to look each person in the eye. Most stare right back
though a few look away and I know that they will be the first to go when the crap truly hits the fan. “This isn’t a game that you can call a timeout on when things get rough. Those soldiers have a job to do and those guns are very real. No do-overs. No going back. No extra lives to bank on.”
“We know,” Flynn says, leaning in close as the others try to feign disinterest when one of the teachers walks by and calls out that there are five minutes remaining before classes resume. “That’s why we need someone like you around. Someone who knows what he’s talking about.”
I tap my fingers against the table, weighing out my options. Either I can tell them to take a long hike off a tall cliff and hope they don’t get in my way when things fell apart, or I could weed through them to find talent and enlist them to help me. If they get hurt or killed along the way...well, they did volunteer after I warned them of the danger.
“If we do this, and I’m not saying that I’m agreeing, I need to know that you will follow my orders. This is not a democracy. You either do what I say when I say it without question or get out of my way.”
I can tell a few in the group don’t like my terms and make a mental note of each of them. They will be the ones to wimp out or throw me under the bus when they are pressed to act. “Think it over and let me know. It’s no skin off my back if you all just bugger off and leave me be. In fact, I encourage you to do that.”
Two soldiers open the mess hall doors and the teachers call out that it is time to head to class. I rise first and head for the trash can. Chucking my partially eaten MRE through the air, it hits the side of the plastic can and splatters the back of Sergeant Tompkins head, where he sits eating.
He slowly raises his hand to wipe the smear of tomato sauce from his buzz cut his. “Sterling!”
“What?” I shrug as he shoves his chair back and turns to glare down at me. I’m a pretty well-built guy but Tompkins towers over me by at least three inches and fifty pounds. Not all of that is muscles, thankfully. I settle back onto the balls of my feet. “I think it’s improvement. The red really brings out the color of your eyes.”
I brace for the impact when he lunges but he hits like a wrecking ball and knocks the wind straight out of me as we plummet the floor. All around me, I see dozens of shoes racing forward to form a circle while a chant of “fight, fight fight,” drowns out the teachers’ demands for a return to order. Fat chance of that happening.
My head slams to the side as I take a right cross to the jaw that leaves that whole side of my face numb. I stumble back but quickly regain my footing and sidestep the second punch. Tompkins is thrown off balance but his wild swing and I quickly gain the advantage of speed over meathead Tompkins. He lumbers toward me with his arms held wide but I duck under his swinging arms and slide across the floor on my knees.
“Get back here!”
Pulling myself upright, I turn and brace myself against one of the dining hall tables and wait. The instant he comes into range, I lift my legs and slam my feet into his stomach. With a loud groan, his knees buckle and he goes down, clutching his belly.
Grabbing hold of his head, I slam my knee into his chest but he is prepared for my attack and shoves me off. I hit the ground hard but use the momentum to roll back to a crouch. As he grabs for a chair to hurl at me, I kick out my right foot and take his legs out from under him. He roars as he slams to the ground.
The crowd goes wild around me but I don’t allow myself to feel anything more than trepidation. I’ve just poked a very angry bear and to celebrate now could be my downfall. I have to be careful in how I proceed because if I mistakenly allow Tompkins to get his hands on me, I’ll be up shit creek without a paddle.
“Roan! Roan! Roan!” Shouts of my name rise around me as Tompkins feigns a dead leg and grabs onto my foot. He snags his fingers through my laces and yanks me off my feet.
I twisted and turned as he tries to gain a hold on me, his weight bears down on me from above. Curling inward to protect my ribs, I suffer through his well-placed punches and wait for my moment. The instant it comes, I hit him with an uppercut to the jaw that sends him sprawling backward. He shakes his head as I roll up to a crouch and wait.
“I told you Road would fight dirty,” Vaughn crows from somewhere behind me but I ignore him. Distraction is the last thing I need right now.
A second later I see Tompkin’s hand reaching for his gun and I dive forward, taking him off guard with a shoulder to the gut. I drive him to the floor with enough force to knock the gun from his hand. It spirals between the feet of the onlookers.
“Move!” I roar as I shove legs out of my way as I crawl toward the gun. I have just looped my finger through the strap when Tompkins latches onto my leg and yanks me back. With my free leg, I aim a kick at his nose and feel a satisfying crunch followed by him releasing his grip on my ankle.
By the time he has his hands clasped around his bleeding nose, I have the muzzle of the gun pressed to his temple.
“Give me a reason,” I grow through a fat lip that has begun to swell. I will feel that in the morning. I’m also forced to favor my right side where the soldier managed to land a couple key punches but I try not to show it. He might be a meathead but he has a wicked punch that tells me at one time someone taught him how to street brawl.
“Alright son,” a voice calls from my right and I turn to see Tompkins’ partner looking down the sights of his gun at me. “Drop the weapon and back away.”
“Sure,” I spit to the side and taste blood. “You wait until your boy here is on the ropes before you stop the fight.”
“Lower the weapon, kid. I will not ask again.”
The radio at his side crackles to life and those standing closest fall silent. I glance down at it when a voice comes through loud and clear. “Containment breach in Quadrant 5. Lockdown sequence initiated.”
I see fear birth in the soldier’s eyes a split second before pain erupts along my left jaw. My knees give way and I crash to the floor, sending spikes of pain shooting up through my knees just before my head connects with the tile and darkness took over.
6
I REALLY GOTTA STOP LETTING PEOPLE HIT ME.
Long before I open my eyes, I know that I am no longer in the mess hall. The scent of food has been replaced with a thick musk that hangs heavily in the air. My skin feels almost moist and I flinch when a droplet of liquid lands in the corner of my eye.
“Hey! I think he’s waking up!”
I groan aloud, not because of the headache that is currently trying to part my brain into two jagged hemispheres, but because someone had the bright idea of letting Sammy act as my nurse. He is the last person I need beside me when I first wake up from being knocked unconscious.
My jaw feels swollen and as I slowly open and close my mouth, I hear a small click of bone on bone and wonder if it’s been knocked slightly out of alignment.
“Have you ever been hungover before, Sammy?” I press my fingers against my temples to try to relieve the pressure there.
“Uh, no. Of course not. I’m only fifteen.”
“Well, let me clue you in on a little fact. When you are around someone with a hangover or a possible concussion, you do not yell unless you are willing to accept the bodily harm that will be inflicted directly after. Got it?”
“Oh, sure thing, Roan. No more yelling.”
His beefy hand wraps around my arm and helps me slowly to a seated position. I hang my head, waiting for the pounding to lessen before I crack open my eyes. It is dim in the room, a fact which I am most grateful for but the instant I realize where we were, the gratitude vanishes and is replaced by a fear that worms its way through my intestines.
“We’re in the fallback shelter.” It isn’t a question Tyrel and Austin nod all the same from where they sit on cots in front of me. Folded blankets lie on the opposite end of their makeshift beds, along with a folded white sheet and a paper thin pillow.
“Damn,” I groan and clench the edge of my cot. The metal frame digs into m
y legs but I prefer that pain to the one currently attempting to swallow my head whole. “How long have I been out?”
“Six hours, give or take a few minutes.” I recognize Ember’s voice nearby but don’t look up to find where she is seated.
“And Tompkins?” My throat feels like I haven’t swallowed in a while. I need a drink and not of the water variety either.
Tyrel is the one who speaks this times. “Tompkins’ friend got him on his feet and out of the door while we tried to rouse you. The teachers all huddled together in the corner to discuss the radio message but we all knew it was bad. They were really freaked out. Especially when a group of soldiers stormed in and ushered us right down here. They spoke with Mr. Turner for a moment, ordered us to sit down and shut up and then locked us inside.”
I glance over at Flynn. “The radio message said there was a containment breach, right?”
He nods and glances toward where Poppy and Willow sit close together on a cot, with Coleman staring off into the distance. “Coleman’s dad was the voice on the radio. At least that’s what he thinks. I don’t see how that’s possible though since he’s just a janitor. There’s no way a civilian would get ahold of one of the radios.”
“Yeah. Coleman’s probably just overreacting. You know how whacked out he is right now. I hear you hallucinate when you go through a detox. The kid is probably seeing all sorts of things right now,” Vaughn says.
I sit up and stare him down until he flinches and looks away. I slowly look at each of the people around me. Somehow the entire group seems to have remained nearby, though some sit a little further away due to the lack of cots in our areas. “Anyone else want to look at the bright side of things and ignore the obvious?”
When no one answers, I clench my hands together. “A containment breach isn’t something the soldiers would joke around about. You saw what happened. This place went into immediate lockdown and I’d bet my iPod that everywhere else did the same. Something they don't want to know about just happened and we need to know what that is.”