Fallen Stars - H.S

Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

THE WHOLE MORNING I'm tense whilst the rest of the house sleep away. If Danae shifted around in her bed, I had to tell myself the rustle of the sheets weren't the sounds of bullets flying at me, or that the birds singing outside the window aren't my screams that still resonate in my mind. To say the least, the nightmare still clouds my thoughts as I make my way to the admissions building to meet all the trainees before we head out.

I find myself extremely aware of my surroundings once I reach the bridge. Through the early morning fog, I'm relieved to see no evidence that my dream was actual reality. No bullet shells are sprinkled on the dirt, no signs of bloodshed; the only thing remotely similar to the dream is the sound of the rushing water. Thus I'm able to breathe a bit easier walking into admissions.

I don't pause as I nod to a guard who knows I'm training today, and I push through the door to the building, thinking it'd make it easier if I just bust right in.

Inside, about sixty people mingle about, ten of which actually work in his part of Hull, and thirty of which are the guards that will be assisting me to train and watching our perimeter. The remaining wait their turn to go up to a worker stationed behind one of the four restored computers to confirm they are there for training, swipe their card for identification and records, and sign in on an attendance sheet after being debriefed on how today will go.

I walk over to be closer to the guards, but I don't bother entering their conversations. Many of these men and women are night time guards, and have volunteered their hours they use for sleep to come here, only to be able to get a few hours of rest before working later once we're done.

I spend a few minutes observing those who came today, watching the men standing in front of the gun table, pointing at, but not touching, the different sized weapons, and the women talk to each other. Amidst the line to sign up I spot Harry, who stands patiently at the front. I'm not sure if he's seen me yet, but his back is to me now.

With no particular expression on my face, my eyes stay trained on his broad shoulders that strain against the shirt that seems a bit too small on him. Tattoos peek from under the short sleeves, covering his left arm down to the middle of his forearm, but his right arm is bare from what I can see. I momentarily wonder where he acquired them. I see many men and women around Hull with tattoos inking their bodies, but they were gotten before The Affliction. Did he get them all whilst he was staying with a different camp? Or were they acquired at different stops in his journey?

I'm snapped out of my admiring when Harry suddenly moves, have being called to sign in. It's a rather short process—the debriefing taking the longest to explain—and during that time, in attempt to divert my attention I find myself listening to the murmurs of two guards standing close enough to eavesdrop on.

"When did you notice it was missing?" One asks, not specifying what item is apparently missing.

The second person responds lowly, "Sunday morning when I was heading out for my shift. I could've lost it the night of the invasion, though, because I ran outside without grabbing the damn card from the table. I only got back inside from catching the door after someone else already swiped their card and then banged on the room door until my bloody roommate bothered to wake up and let me in. I swear if that bastard stole it to try and be funny, I'll cut his balls off."

The other chuckles at the second's threat. "So if you haven't found it by now, how the hell are you getting around? And why aren't you at your shift?"

"Long story short, but I knew I couldn't go to Zachary because he might take me off guard, but no one in files would make me another badge without permission from a Malik, so I went to the second best thing...Zayn. Luckily, he was happy to help as long I returned the favour. So I'm stuck here for the rest of the week, with the order to watch the Benson chick instead of actually working."