Rogue

3

~William~

The night sky hangs over my head as I stare up at the stars, waiting for something interesting to happen. I don't much expect it to, though. Sometimes we go months without a night raid. This is usually the worst possible scenario for me. When nothing is going on, I begin to think. I begin to wonder what would happen if I went to find the Sick on my own.

   I wonder if they would change me, turn me into one of their "perfect" soldiers.

   I wonder if it would hurt, having my heart and brain replaced, my bones turned to steel and my skin becoming tougher, most of my blood evaporating and the rest just barely pumping, the clear blood-serum burning as it pumped throughout my veins.

   Sometimes, as I stare up at the sky, I get so tired of this. Sometimes I wonder if changing would be worth the pain.

   This is why I have a need for something to always be going on around me. If there isn't, then I think and my crazy, screwed-up, irreversible ideas start to sound appealing.

   To keep myself from thinking about it further, and to keep myself from actually doing it, I begin shifting my injured shoulder around before punching it as hard as I can with my good arm. The pain shoots through me, and I welcome it.

   Anything to stop thinking.

   The crisp, cool air sends chills down my spine as I shift a little more in my spot, looking over at the place where Elliot lies. He's about ten feet away, curled up and fast asleep on his pale orange heating mattress, dead leaves falling all around him. I'm tempted to just give up for tonight and sleep on my own mattress, especially with the temperatures dropping, but I can't. The risk is just too high, especially since I'm the only one awake at this hour.

   Suddenly, I hear the crunching of dead leaves approaching from behind me. I whip around as quickly as I can, scoping in and ready to shoot. They get closer, and I try not to wince as the pain keeps shooting through my shoulder. Right as my finger is about to squeeze the trigger and shoot the intruder, my brother Nick steps out, holding his hands in the air.

   "Whoa, don't shoot," he whispers, and I put the gun down, allowing him to sit next to me.

   "Sorry, wasn't expecting you here," I say, looking up at him. I don't get to see any of my brothers much. None of them ever joined the military, despite having more interest in it than I did. I guess they just found things that were more of a calling to them or something.

   Nick hasn't changed much. His hair is still down to his ears, still a dark brown color. His face is still the same, and he hasn't developed any gray hairs yet despite being thirty-three years old. In a way, he's never really grown out of looking like he's in his twenties. Which is good for him when it comes to attracting the ladies, I guess.

   "How have things been?" he asks, beginning to trace letters into the dust with his finger. He's gone on a raid recently; he's gotten new-looking poison-spiked gloves, appearing to be one of his rarest possessions.

   "When do they ever change?" I ask, looking back up at the sky. "Almost all of the world is dead, everyone is barely getting by, and the troops are going absolutely nowhere in finding the so-called Rogues." I sigh. "How are things going with you?"

   "They're going well. Alicia's pregnant." With these words, I turn as fast as I can and look at him. They've been married for eight years, and they're having a child now? They're honestly going to have a kid when the world is only getting worse? I know that this is the only way to keep the population alive, but I don't know that they're going to be the fittest parents. They live in the worst part of the city, where there are Sick raids weekly. They come in with guns blazing and leave only when they hear tons of dead bodies hitting the floor. I've told them that they probably need to move a million times, but they won't go.

   "That's...great." I try to put as much sincerity in my voice as I can. If it were under any other circumstance, I'd be ecstatic. I wanted to be an uncle when they first got married, and when my two other brothers got married as well. But then the world got worse, and I knew that it wouldn't be the greatest idea. I try to channel the emotions that the ten-year-old me would have, but I can tell that Nick isn't buying my false cheer.

   "You're worried," he says.

   "I'm always worried. I worry about you, about Craig, about Harvey, and Elliot, and everyone else." I shrug with my good shoulder. "What's new?"

   Nick shifts uncomfortably. "That's not the only thing that I came to tell you." He pauses, sighing and pulling at the large hole in his t-shirt. "I think that Jane's getting worried about where she's staying. There...there was a raid at her apartment the other day. Mr. Lowood was killed, and she barely made it out. She's thinking about moving soon, I think. Not just away as in a few hours, either. I think she's moving out of state."

   My heart sinks into my stomach. My best friend, the only person who I can talk to about anything, is going away. I don't blame her; after something like that, I'd want to move to. But out of state? As far as I know, this state is where I'm stationed. This is where I'm going to stay, maybe even for the rest of my life. I don't want her to go.

   Though it probably doesn't help that I'm always gone, anyway. She's always worried about me, too. She wants me to come home when I can, but I can't. Ever.

   I lie back on the cold, partially frozen ground, turning onto my side. "Do you ever wonder what it would be like if everything were normal? If the robots never existed, never turned on us? Do you ever think of the fact that we could be living a normal life right now?"

   "Sometimes I do," he says. "Other times, I know that there's nothing we can do about it. This is normal, whether we like it or not."

   I rest my head on the ground, against a few leaves. My nose begins to itch, but I ignore it. I think it'll be safe for me to sleep now. I know Nick, and I know that he's going to take watch, whether I want him to or not. So I might as well get a little rest. I don't know when I'll be able to get some again.

   All is silent for a few moments, and then I hear the blast of a gunshot.

   I sit up straight. I swear that came from right under us. "Nick!" I whisper. "Did you hear that?"

   "Hear what?" he asks.

   "That gunshot. It sounded like it was coming from right under us."

   Nick stands up, and I begin to get up too, trying to find my gun. He motions for me to stay down. "I'll be back in just a minute. I'm going to go see what that sound was. Just sit tight, and I'll call you if I need backup or anything."

   I nod, sitting back down. I don't want to just do nothing, but there's no point in arguing with Nick. He'll always win in the end. So I take my position under the tree again, pressing my ear against the ground and wondering if I'll be able to hear anything else.

   But there's nothing.

   I shake my head. I'm probably just imagining things because of my exhaustion. Elliot is right, I do need to sleep more, even if I don't want to.

   But right before I get up again, I hear something. It's the faintest sound, but I can still hear the words, sounding like they're coming from a young female. They send a chill down my spine.

   "Two hundred and thirty-four."