Takeover

Chapter 4

I peer out the window to see a working congregation of boys, some I recognize and some are less familiar. They're all the boys that vanished in the night. They're all here! Did they run away? The thought strikes me as nearly hurtful. How could they abandon their family, their friends, their loves? I imagine what Marcus could look like after all this time. Maybe I'll see him again. I shake the hopeful thought out of my mind. I've spent far too much time hoping for something good to happen.

I notice a plastic bottle of water, condensation dripping down its flimsy ridges, sitting on the table between the driver and passenger seats. Beside it are a few aspirin pills, no doubt for the pain. I swallow them immediately, desperate to numb myself.

After observing the grown civilization, I open the creaky door and step out cautiously, on the lookout for faces I remember. I carefully lean against the truck, attempting to not put any stress on my leg. I glance left and right, scanning the crowd. Then I find him. The one my heart longed to find. My heart skips a beat as I stare at him in awe. How he's grown. His appearance is about 4 inches taller, more muscular, and more handsome than I recall, though I'm not sure how that's humanly possible. I look a little closer and examine his prominent features. His haircut is exactly the same way it was all the way back in 6th grade. It's thick with gentle waves, swooping to the side as it lightly covers his forehead.

Then I look at his eyes. They may appear the same to anyone else, but to me, they've changed. His eyes seem to hide his soul rather than acting as a window to it. He's grown colder and more reserved just by observing him.

Back when life was normal and good, I had a frequent habit of staring when deep in thought, often leading me to lose focus or zone out. Well, this was one of these moments. I didn't realize him sneaking up right in front of me. 

I'm still standing unaware of his presence when he speaks, "Ash." He says it with a very surprised tone in his lower voice. I blink quickly and look up at him. It's humbling to realize that we were the same height when we last saw each other. I remember that day. The last time I saw him before life started crumbling around me.

"What movie do you wanna watch? We have the Conjuring and the Fault in Our Stars," I explain as I plop on the couch with a smile.

"Uh, actually I don't want to watch a movie today," Marcus responds nervously.

I frown suspiciously, "Okay...then what would you like to do?"

He grits his teeth for a moment before suggesting, "I just want to be with you." He turns to glance at his brother who stares up from his phone with glossy eyes, "While I can."

My brow furrows, "Are you going somewhere?"

He gulps hard through the daunting silence before reaching in to kiss me, no doubt to change the subject. I let it happen. I didn't pry for answers to many burning questions. That's one of my biggest regrets. Not being smart enough to figure out what was going on. I could have changed the later events or at least lived easier knowing where he was instead of wondering if he was even alive.

I stared blankly, my past haunting my crowded brain.

"Are you alright?" he asks, clearly concerned.

His question broke me; cracked the dam I built over time. I fling myself into his chest and begin to sob. For the first time in a long while, I allowed tears to roll down my cheeks onto his ragged shirt. He made me cry so much last year that I had completely forgotten how to and now he reminds me how to. I cry because all the pain that I've experienced is finally over and the hopeful thoughts of my most vivid dreams were not in vain.

He holds me tight as he strokes my back. I don't say anything. I just want to be with him and make up for all the time I've spent missing him. I lift my head, silently scolding myself for leaving a soaked spot on his shirt. I pull away to look at his warm smile. I step back to wipe my tears when a spike of pain shoots up my leg. I grimace sharply as my leg gives out. Marcus acts fast and grabs me before I hit the ground. He looks at me intently as I stand up, putting my back to the truck.

He keeps a hand on me, asking, "Are you okay?"

"Umm," I mutter, my voice shaky from the pain, "it's my leg." He looks down at my torn jeans, proceeding to pick me up and sit me on the side of the truck's bed. He takes one peek at the wound and turns away, taking a deep breath.

"How did this happen?" he asks, angry like he already knows the answer. Tears flood my vision when I think about last night. I stare at the summer ground.

"Ashlynn," Marcus grabs my attention, "you can tell me anything." 

Then I told him everything.