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

6. Light; Chapter III.

    I don't realize I fell asleep until Sammy's little hands shake me awake. Parker is telling us orders. Reds should follow lieutenant Bob. Don't run. Keep with your group. Listen to your group leader. Greens stay on the bus and will be taken to the medical department.

    I follow Sammy out of the bus to the point when a hand grabs his bony wrist and stops him. It's the little girl with the black hair and giant eyes, wearing flip-flops, a T-shirt and beach shorts. I'm resistant to most negative temperatures but seeing her wild look and the goose bumps on her skin makes me shiver.

    Sammy looks just as stunned as I feel. "Megan, you can't go," he tells her gently.

    She shakes her head sharply, her head whipping at her shoulders. "Don't leave me here," she pleads, her hand tightening on his wrist.

    "You'll be safe," Sammy promises. "They'll take care of you." I don't know what to do so I stand there like a moron till Parker manages to free Megan off of Sammy and takes her to the back of the bus. I can hear the screams after the doors close. Judging by the look on Sammy's face he feels the same miserable and guilty way. There's a red loop forming around his arm where Megan held him.

    They instruct us to take a card with a number and tell us to wait in a vestibule, in one of the red circles on the floor. A lady in a megaphone calls perspective numbers and the kid with the said number is escorted by two soldiers through a giant set of double doors. The kids never come back.

    I'm always keeping an eye on Sammy. I get attached too easily and this is perfect proof of it. Not to mention the little kid from the plane wreck. I have a weakness for the fetuses. More than other kids, since kids have that innocent air to them that just gives you this instinct to protect them. Mine was the average multiplied by twenty-three. The number is random.

    His name was Aaron. He was from Canada an was close when the plane fell. He survived its crash. His parents didn't have that pleasure. They were supposed to go to Italy as a late holiday.

    At the airport, Aaron saw a playground and ran to it. His parents stayed at the car to take out their luggages and bags. The plane fell and the force of it pushed the vehicle over, trapping his parents beneath it.

    He was lucky that the iron bars of the playground didn't impale him like a few others—only hit him hard enough on his arm to break it. His arm, not the bar. I still feel quilty, as if it's somehow my fault the plane crashed.

    Logically, it would have happened anyway in the First Wave. It makes no sence why I blame myself, but I do. I'm surprise I don't take the blame for the invasion itself, though it has occured me that the Others could be some form of cruel karma on my behalf. Ridiculous.

    The lady's voice calls a number and Sammy gets up, obviously relieved to be on his feet again. No surprise—I'm also completely stiff. How much time passed? An hour? More? Less? A year could have gone by for all I know.

    I watch with a heavy heart as Sammy's figure with soldiers at each side shrinks into the distance until the doors shut behind him and the guards or soldiers or whatever the bloody hell they are stood watch infront of the doors that separated me from Sammy and the others.

    For a while I wonder about Megan. I hope she's okay. I feel awful about what happened, but if she's sick it's in her best interest to get better. I believe she will. I bet she's a nice girl.

    God-knows-how-long later my number is announced. I stand erect and let the soldiers escort me to to the doors. They check my card to make sure and tell me to turn left at the corridor. The doors close.