Marionette (A 'The 5th Wave' Fanfiction) [COMPLETED] #wattys2017

5. Light; Chapter II.

    Before I board the yellow bus the soldier checks everything in my bag to make sure I didn't trick him or something. In a moment he nods and lets me pass him to the step. ️️“Don't worry. You're safe now. Perfectly safe,” he says again, clarifying.

    Wordlessly I watch the rows of kids. They don't pay me that much attention. Most are asleep. The bus starts up and throws me forward. I stagger to the back. A little boy sits there and opposite him is a girl with big owl-like eyes. I always had a weak spot for kids. Probably because they can't hurt me—fatally. “Is that seat taken?” I ask, contemplating whether he can hear me over the roar of the engine.

    Answering my unspoken question he shakes his head and scoots closer to the window. I sit down and drop my rucksack at my feet, always keeping hold of one strap. I chose to trust these people but that's where the risking ends. Hopefully.

    The soldier with the cross on his arm is handing out chewy gummies in the shapes of dinosaurs and juice boxes. I took some and nibbled on them because I'm still trying to be polite. He sits infront of us—next to the skinny girl—and talks with the kid at my side.

    We're going to a place called Camp Haven, the by-far safest place with not-very-good food and a force field. The soldier's name is Parker. He's a medic.

    Parker takes out a small metallic device and presses it to the little kid's forehead. A light flashes red. The kid receives a red smiley-face stamp. That means he's healthy.

    The girl got a green one onto the back of her palm. Then he rests the cool slab against my forehead. Billions of eternities pass and the light flicks a red. Red smiley face. Healthy. He continues up the aisle.

    The little guy takes a sip of his juice. “What's your name?” he asks.

    It takes me a moment to realize he's talking to me. I put aside my dislike of introductions. My voice is raspy. “I am Rose,” I answer. He nods, his little goldish locks bouncing around his chubby face. “And you?”

    “I'm Sam. Everyone called me Sammy but Cassie called me Sams,” he says, hugging his skinny arms around his body. Is he cold?

    "Who is Cassie?" I wonder instead.

    "Cassie is my sister. She had to stay at Camp Ashpit with Daddy. They're coming soon," he explains. His eyes search me curiously. "Do you have anyone left?"

    I shake my head. "I am affraid not."

    "Oh. Where are you from?"

    "I'm from London in Britain."

    "London . . . with Big Ben, the London Eye and London bridge?"

    Or what's left of it. I don't say that. Instead I nod. "That London."

    His eyebrows knot together. "Did you eat fish and chips a lot?"

    I smile a bit. "Not a lot. I like fried eggs and bacon more."

    "Your accent is weird," he notes. My grin widens slightly. This kid is precious. "Why did you come here?"

    "To Canada? My Grandma wanted to."

    His concentration eases and so does my smile. Back to neutral for both of us. Then he's back at it. "What shoes are those? Were they popular in London?"

    My ballet shoes look nothing like they have a year ago. Besides the mud, grass and dust there are some ivy thorns. The sight makes me want to cry.

    I will myself to pull it together. For Sammy. "No, they are not. I used to do ballet and after my other shoes got lost these were all that stayed," I explain.

    Sammy nods and rubs his fist over his eyes, suppressing a yawn. In a different world that might have seemed beautifully cute, but now it just makes my heart shrink, my chest tighten.

    He shouldn't have to be in this situation. His place is at school with his friends and at home with his family.  At least he had this Cassie, even though, somewhere deep inside, a place that truly scares me, I know little Sammy is holding onto false hope. I don't think there is much of a possibility that she survived. Very unlikely.

    I won't tell him that. He has the right to believe in the impossible, to hope, even if it crushes him. At least he will be crushed by something that's worth it. His sister. I'm not going to take away his faith. That's time's job.