Poison Hearts | ✓

Chapter 52

Two days. That's all I had to last. I just avoided snapping at anyone, avoiding eye contact with Asher. Anytime he tried to talk to me I'd go somewhere else. I focused on my studies, stealth in particular. It distracted me and gave me a good way to get my anger out. Athena didn't act differently. What if they always did that, and I just never knew... 

Two days. One day. 

It was time for the overnight mission. 

"Ok." Asher had another meeting with us. "I'm proud of how hard everyone worked this week. I think we'll do really good. Just listen to orders, ok?"

"Yes sir," Marisa and Jack said in strong voices. 

"Yes sir," I mumbled halfheartedly. 

Asher checked his watch. "Come on, then." He lead us outside, scanning his keycard at the entrance, where a different driver was waiting with a huge bullet-proof, hopefully zombie-proof, van. 

We got in. I sat on one of big couches with Marisa. Jack and Asher sat on the other one, watching out the window, Jack narrowing his eyes tentatively. 

I too looked out the window. 

The driver eased us out of the parking lot, past the line of cars waiting, scared people in them, some sticking out their middle fingers at us as we drove by, some pleading for help. They raised their hands in the air, pressing their fingers against the car, some looking starved, some with tear-streaked faces, some young, many elderly. 

I looked away. 

We drove along the freeway, heading the opposite way we had earlier. 

"Getting gas is going to be a pain," Marisa mumbled from beside me. I nodded. 

"So for this, we can use guns, since we have this protective car," Asher said, "And this is a specialized car. If you lift up the pillows, there's some triggers. Don't try it now, but we'll use them later." 

We sat in a tense, uncomfortable. 

"So just remember to listen to commands. We won't be focusing on combat. This is another rescue mission." Asher was trying to fill the silence. He seemed more nervous than usual. 'I wonder why' I thought sourly. 

We rode this way, tense and quiet, for maybe an hour to an hour and a half. Cars lay overturned on the street, ripped bodies lying in the streets. Sometimes they were unavoidable. I winced every time we drove over someone. 

They had families once. They were a brother, sister, aunt, cousin, uncle. It was that grandmother that always fed you well, always bought you new clothes, the loving soccer mom who  drove you all over town for tournaments. The fun aunt who took you bowling, a young child who still had dreams, wanted to be a doctor, a fireman. A young teenager who was going to talk to their crush tomorrow, who was waiting to go shopping with their best friend. A young man, woman, waiting to be engaged, looking forward to their wedding. 

My heart hurt. 

A long time later, or it at least appeared that way, we arrived at our "destination." 

"Ok, keep an eye out for any survivors," Asher reminded us. We peered out the windows. 

"Sir, what's the likelyhood there will be any?" I asked in a low voice, shooting him a partially- aggravated, partially-flat glance. 

"Anywhere from zero to twenty," Asher responded grimly, not meeting my gaze. "Even less for healthy or non-damaged ones. 

"Question sir," Marisa spoke beside me, "Why don't we get people who are waiting in their cars outside the building?"