Keep on Fighting (The 5th Wave)

Part ELEVEN

Time skip: 3 days

The past few days have been half decent, allowing us some time to rest, eat leftover food that we found in the abandoned gas station, and just be. For once.

We are all scattered around the third floor, just enjoying ourselves. I'm sat on a couch, eating potato chips - how traditional - staring around at the paintings that seem almost majestic. On them are images of exotic vacation islands with vast, golden beaches covered with people, tourists enjoying the weather, sprawled across towels and sun beds. Children build sandcastles and swim in the shallow parts of the sea.

On the wall across from me is a painting that really catches my eye. Its of a bird, probably an eagle, stood on a post at the peak of  the beach, glaring at the people with watchful-eyes. Kind of like it's ready to pounce when something bad happens. It's Evan, I guess.

There is a sudden smash that brings me back to reality, loud enough to startle me but quiet enough to only be heard from this room. A gaping hole has appeared in the glass of a window to my right, as a football had been pelted through the window. Nothing had landed inside the room, however, so something must have hit it from the outside, held by someone...

I stand abruptly and walk towards the window, not thinking about what the consequences might be.
I feel a force yank me backwards and almost stumble to the ground until I come in contact with an object. A person? Evan?

A hand slaps against my mouth, pressing against it so forcefully it pains me; this isn't Evan...
I know for a fact this isn't anyone from our group.
The smashed window must have been a decoy, a risky one, to distract me from what was happening behind me as someone snook into the room.

I'm too busy focusing on the hand over my mouth to notice a man approach from in front, gun in hand, as he swings it against my head. My vision blurs, everything fades to black.

- - -

I feel dreary and light-headed as my eyes flutter open, overcome by a fierce pounding in my head. The room I am in is dim and dank. The stained carpet is the first thing I see, which is stained crimson red. Is that my blood? I can barely focus with the alarms ringing in my ears.

I hear a faint voice, sounding like a mumble but clearly spoken loudly judging by the tone of voice.
"She's been by Evan's side since we started trailing him. She can't be much of a threat if he trusts her." Says a man, who, when I look up, has a scar across the entirety of his cheekbone, and what remains of his clothing is slashed and beaten, thick layers. He must have been through some shit.

"We have to make sure. I can't leave until I know my brother is safe." His brother? Is he.. Evan's brother? He told me all of his siblings were dead.

I raise my head higher to see his face, seeing the curves of his nose so similar to Evan's, and the same glimmering eyes. However, I instantly regret it when he notices my movement in the corner of his eye, glaring at me as though he could murder me and hug me at the same time.

"You. I have some questions." It's only now that the pounding in my head resides and I notice the clasp of rope, attaching my wrists to the leg of wooden furniture. I'm unable to turn my head, so I have no idea what exactly I am tied to. I wriggle slightly at the thought of being held hostage, in an unrealistic attempt to escape, but lose hope quickly when my muscles start aching and I am hit by yet another migraine.

"You're supposed to be dead." The words simply slip out of my mouth. At this moment, I don't care about why I am here, I just need clarification about how Evan's thought-to-be dead brother is talking to me right now. As soon as I speak, his eyes widen.

"He'll be here any second." I don't even bother saying Evan's name, knowing his brother will know exactly who I'm talking about.

"I had no intention of harming you-"