Keep on Fighting (The 5th Wave)

Part TWELVE

Evan's POV

I lift Cassie in my arms, leaving my brother and his friend to crouch cowardly in the corner in fear of me. How ironic. They kidnap Cassie and I'm the one they're scared of.

Cassie is so limp, I can feel it while carrying her. Her pain is clear each time she groans, making me feel even worse than I felt when she went missing, but not as bad as I did when I found her in this dreadful state.

It's only five minutes later that we make it back to the house where the rest of the squad are sitting on the front lawn, playing some intense games of cards. Even Sam is attempting to participate.

Ben is the first to see me approach the lawn, with a beaten Cassie in my arms - his mouth falls open and he springs up from his spot on the grass, jogging towards me.

"What happened?! Is she... how hurt is she..?" Ben asks with a fear in his eyes I have only seen when little Teacup got hurt. He obviously cares about her - which I don't mind. I'm growing to trust him more every day, and if he would do anything for Cassie, she just has extra protection.

"Are they dead? Whoever did this?" Ringer asks, almost too instistently.
I simply nod my head. Better to let them think it was just some crazy guy who was driven insane by his fear of the Others. What can I say? That my big brother kidnapped my girlfriend just because he wanted to know that I was okay? Maybe he is just insane. I know he must have started out with good intentions, but something about him has changed since I last saw him. Since I thought he was dead, that is.

My line of sight falls upon Sammy's worried expression, that makes him look so fragile with his eyes wide and sorrowful. My gaze is still for a few moments before I carry my limp Cassie through the hotel door and lay her gently on the nearest couch.

- - -

Cassie's POV

For the most part, my body is numb - I think it must be my brain blocking out the pain. All I can feel is Evan's hand on my cheek, and his other hand brushing through my hair. It's so comforting.

"Are you okay, Cassie?" Sammy says from his spot on a chair beside Evan. He sits there with his arms wrapped around the stuffed animal I know to be Bear. His comfort in most times if stress and anxiety.
"I'm okay, Sam. Don't worry about me, okay?" He nods.
I don't know what to do other than lie here, my eyes half closed lulling me back into sleep. It isn't long before they succeed..

THE NEXT MORNING

Any kind of movement causes me pain but I drag myself from the couch to the door and into the dining room. I didn't have time to really explore this place before I was taken, and it is just now that I notice the size of the dining room. It is a vast room packed with so many tables I bet you could fit at least twenty families in at once.

I try to imagine what breakfast would be like at this hotel, waking up at 9am and sitting around one of these with Sammy beside me, stretching his mouth into the cutest yawn I'd ever see; our parents sat opposite us, Dad chomping on a giant breakfast burrito and Mom barely managing to finish her toast. When I realise I am just daydreaming, I stop. I don't want to remind myself of what I've lost.

I notice a bandage wrapped around each of my wrists, wondering who put them there and when. It must have been while I was sleeping, since I don't remember a moment of it, though it only felt like a very short nap. My pounding head must have played a large part in that. I lift my shirt to see a terrifyingly large purple and blue bruise that covers my entire side, and I can feel it throbbing as I stare at it in horror.

I hear an unexpected voice behind me. "It shouldn't take too long to heal, according to Dumbo. We just need to keep an eye on those wrists." I turn my head to see Ringer.

"I don't know much about infections but I know from the movies they don't go down so well." It's true. All I know about injuries is what I've learned from watching TV. I'd never broken a bone in my life, or even had a nose bleed until the Waves.

"Well, I'm pretty sure Dumbo knows what he's talking about, since he's the smart one." I laugh at this. It's so ironic that his name (the only name I know of, anyway) has the word 'Dumb' in it, since he is the smartest guy I know.

I pull my shirt back down and wince as the fabric hits my skin. This is the worst I've ever been injured; I may seem like a baby, but that's the main reason. I never even knew what pain was, emotional or physical, before the waves.

"We're getting something to eat - the fire's already set up and the guys manager to get some food from nearby. You coming?"
I nod and follow ringer into the kitchen.

- - - 

Ben's POV

It seems simple enough when I say that we're the lucky ones - maybe we are. But maybe the dead are the lucky ones; they found peace, while we're trapped here, fighting for our lives, struggling to find a reason to live. Maybe there isn't one, a decent one anyway. We have each other, but that's pretty much all we have. We have ourselves, to look after and be looked after by. How can you love when the only person you can trust is yourself?

Every time we gather to eat a meal, a pile of food that has been lay out on a mat for all of us to gawk over, I think: why are we doing this to ourselves? Why don't we just give up searching for food and let ourselves die out? But I seem to be the only person thinking it. Everyone else seems so happy, so gracious, and I'm reluctant to take even one bite out of the food we searched so long and hard for.

I'm just going to pretend to be content for little Nugget. His smile is what really counts right now - the only proof that a child's innocence can still exist in this cruel and treacherous world.

- - -

Ringer's POV

I hear his words loud and clear. He doesn't ever want to see me again. I know he wouldn't actually say this if he was sober, but my dad is never this stern with me. He has never said anything quite as hurtful as this before.

It doesn't make any sense. All I did was forget to take the garbage out last night.

"Get out of this house, you little bitch!" The scream travels straight down my ear hole. I run to the door, grabbing my coat from the hook and swinging the door open to jump outside. It is cold. So cold. And dark. The middle of winter in my hometown is a terrible time to be outside at night. I sit on the doorstep, wrapping my coat around myself and winding my fingers together in an attempt to warm up.

I'm outside for an hour before I decide to creep back into the house. There is my dad. On the couch. His head tilted back in a way that looked inhumane. Drool travels down his cheeks and through his grizzle beard. That man hasn't shaved in months. That man looks like a monster. "That man is not my father", twelve-year-old Marika would say. "My father died years ago."

- - -

Dumbo's POV

Always the smartest kid in class. Always the one people would rely on to answer all of the questions in class. Always the one people would ask for help. People would say, "Do you wanna come over and hang out?", when they only want me to because they suck at mathematics and are desperate to improve their grade. People look up to me, rely on me, yet don't respect me. What's up with that?

I have to keep my eyes open, make sure all of our surroundings are perfect before we proceed in anything. It's more pressure than most would expect; mostly with how the kid, Nugget's, tiny smile becomes a trembling look of fear each time we encounter something unknown or dangerous. He's just a child, forced into a world of danger without any idea how to react to it. None of us knew, really. But we had already watched hundreds of action and science fiction movies before the waves. We knew how these things usually went.

Alien invasion, check.

Manipulating an army, check.

A bunch of kids fighting for their lives. Obviously, check.

What is next? 'The humans fight back and take back their planet'? Or does that only happen in the movies?