:REAL: Shaylon sat on the edge of his bed, looking down at the familiar rifle in his hands, fingering the bulks at its sides. He sat there pondering if it was a practical joke, his father would pop out apologizing for scaring him, but that was impossible. His father never joked around when it came to guns, and handing him one for a joke hardly seemed an idea his father would come up with. He had found the rifle stuffed deep under his clothes in one of his big drawers. If Shaylon wasn’t determined to find it, he would’ve never thought of finding it there. He stayed awake for a long while. If his father had given it to him now, it would mean whatever was happening was close. As he peered down at the rifle, his silver dog tag got in the way of the trigger. He fingered the chain necklace. Engraved on it was his name and nothing else, as if his future was going to be readily imprinted on it as soon as he creates a legacy worth engraving like his father’s tag. His was much better, he had his rank, he even had a title. He was a hero. Part of the foundation of the oval city. A good friend of the president. To Shaylon, he hardly believed he could be a Johnathan “Eagle-eyed” Mathens. × Maura awoke at the sound of one of the wooden steps of the stairs’ creak. It was only through the hallway. Her room was at the end of the stair’s hallway, and two more rooms on the wall of the hall, one was her Uncle Charlie’s room and the other was supposed to be a room for her sibling, but she was an only child. She brushed the sound off as a normal sound that somehow an old house made, until there was another sound. It was louder. A heavy creak, an accidental step from the outside. Britt sat up straight in bed, her blanket pushed down from her chest. Her eyes widened as she puzzled, that often happened when she thought, it was as if it helped her concentrate. Maura thought it could’ve been Charlie, but he wouldn’t walk peculiarly slow, unless there was another surprise, but he would probably be tired, he had cooked everything himself and that was not an area of expertise when it came to him. But another thought came in mind, Charlie had eaten too much cake, and the heavy feeling in his gut and in his chest could result in walking slowly to keep from throwing up. Maura smiled and got out of bed, switched into some jeans and a black tank top. Last time she had a mini birthday party, everyone was there in the middle of the night, her friends. Of course she was younger then, but who knew what Uncle Charlie had deviously planned. If she were to be seen by other people, she might as well be wearing some clothes instead of her pajamas. She looked forward to opening her door as she walked towards it. She had already imagined her friends dressed up in cute pajamas, getting ready for a sleepover that Uncle Charlie had planned for the girls while he slept off everything he ate. That would explain the slow walking. As she opened the door, “Uncle Char-“ But it wasn’t him. It was a tall figure shadowed in the dark. It wore some thick dark uniform and had two more just like him. Maura stared up at the one facing her. “W- who, who are-“ The figure’s large gloved hands grabbed the back of her head and muffled it over her mouth before she could scream. She kicked and struggled so hard that the figure no matter how big he was built, couldn’t control her. So instead of holding on harder, the figure was handed a pack by one of the two behind him. The figure groped inside the pack and revealed a metal syringe. The figure showed it to Maura, her eyes grew in fear, clawing at the hand. But before she could get any progress with her struggle, the syringe was stabbed into her arm. She let out a yelp, but it wasn’t heard. The man’s hand was too big for sound to get through. There was pain as the syringe was inserted unsubtly, but then it faded, whatever it contained slowed and turned the world blurry. Her body went limp. “Back to the jeep quick.” He ordered, putting the limp girl over his shoulder gently. They made it out of the house successfully, undetected and in the night. The girl was placed in the back, one guarding her with a rifle poised in his arms like a baby, the other two inside. The figure looked at the rearview mirror at his eyes. “This is wrong.” He said, His comrade replied, “Well, you know there’s nothing you can do about it. As long as these kids will contain the cure, I’m fine with it. Just . . . I hope they ain’t takin’ them for no reason. What the president told us was legit though.” He looked at his friend who drove the jeep. “How are you doin’? I mean, knowing this is what’s going to happen to Shaylon and all.” Johnathan sighed, and tightened his hold on the steering. “I made a deal with Jefferson, if he can defend himself, he’s free, if he can’t, well . . . let’s hope he can, he’s my son. He’s a Mathens man.” His comrade shrugged, “Well, at least it’s not you that’s gonna be doing it. Let’s hope B Company doesn’t shake him up too much, huh?” He looked to Johnathan but he continued staring rock-faced at the road ahead them. “What’s the difference?” He said, “This young lady doesn’t deserve this.” His eyes drifted to the rearview mirror, looking to the soldier in the back watching over Maura’s tranquilized form. “They should’ve deserved a choice.” × Shaylon remained quiet. His mind was blank. Despite his father’s warning he remained vulnerable, not fleeing or trying to hide. He heard footsteps out in the hall. His normal mind would be alarmed, but the mind that has heard his father say himself that he might not return couldn’t care at all. Soon enough, his door was opened and multiple tall figures in uniform walked in casually, staring down at Shaylon. They stood puzzled, the boy was not frightened or startled. Soon, Shaylon decided to stand, staring back at the figures. “Here,” He tossed his rifle to the men. The first one caught it expertly. “I don’t need it.” One couldn’t help but ask, “Why aren’t you scared?” “He told me you would come.” Shaylon stated, his eyelids low and heavy. “Who told you?” The man that caught the rifle asked, Shaylon blinked, “My dad,” “Listen, kid-“ One started, “I know, I know,” Shaylon put his hands up in surrender. There was no fight in him. His father was his whole world. Standing there surrendering he thought for a second that maybe he was wrong. Maybe he should have fought. That would’ve made his father proud. But what if he made it alive and his father . . . did not? And there his decision was decided. His feet remained planted where they were. He locked his fingers together behind his neck. “You’re lucky, kid.” One of the men said, taking a long slender silver rifle. “This ain’t gonna hurt.” He aimed the tranquiller gun at Shaylon’s chest. Shaylon inhaled and exhaled and opened his eyes widely. It seemed all too quick, the sting of the syringe on his chest didn’t even have time to register as the fluid was put in him. But the world moved oddly though, his vision was suddenly clouded with black dust. It didn’t take long for him to lose consciousness. He fell onto his back and passed out. Images of black boots coming towards his unmoving body faded. The world he knew was gone.
Posted on: Sun, 18 Aug 2013 02:44:17 +0000