Code Green , ᶜᵃʳᵐᵉⁿ ˢᵃⁿᵈᶦᵉᵍᵒ

CHAPTER TWELVE

The janitors parked the limo at the airport and beckoned to me, climbing out the sides of the cars.

They were often quiet, as as a result of all the work they performed in VILE under the leaders' authorities, of which they possibly abused sometimes- they oftentimes made the janitors work silently as they didn't have time for their idiocy, as they claimed when I first asked them about it. They were simply henchmen, nothing more.

I sharply blow out a puff of breath, shivering and rubbing my arms around my sides. God, it was freezing out here. "What... day is it?" I inquire to them, and try to recall based on the makeshift calendar I had created in my cell, scratching a print into the wall with my fingernail for every day that passed.

I had rounded every thirty, thirty one days or so and marked them as a month. I was captured and thrown in jail in late August, roughly the eighteenth or nineteenth, I believe, so today should be inching towards the end of September of the next year.

"Tuesday. September 21," replied one of the janitorial workers, and we crossed the huge lot, damp wind waving over my face and chilling my bones.

I wasn't too far off in my estimations.

A tiny smile tugs at my mouth at the realization that I had kept track of one thing right.

We approach the jet, which was disguised as a cargo jet, and blended into the lot filled with other that were the same, perfectly. "Get in," said one of the janitors, and I didn't waste a second to think.

It was absolutely freezing for September weather, probably something you'd expect to feel in January, minus the snow.

I rubbed my palms against each other vigorously and hiked up the ramp that was unfolded from the hatch, lifting my fists to my mouth and blowing warm air into them to warm my numb fingers.

As soon as I stepped inside the hatch, the ramp started to close and the janitors were already sitting in the front of the jet, starting up the engines.

There were several rows of comfortable leather cushioned seats with foldable tabletops that you could pull down to accommodate yourself with and even a few mini television screens plastered to the back of the seats.

VILE was incredibly rich and this was one of the perks.

I slid into a seat and quickly switched on the tv, lounging back and stretching my back in relaxation.

I turn on a new movie that had been released while I was still in jail, dialing up the volume and leaning back into the soft pillows. I watch until we finally landed on VILE Island.

My breath caught in the back of my threat as I slowly hobbled down the ramp of the jet, my foot pressing down into the grass and making an indention of my footprint.

The isle hadn't seen my footmarks for more than a year and I just created a new one.

My feet crunch over the dry leaves and undergrowth. I bite down on my lip, unsure what to expect.

A part of me missed Black Sheep and the instructors, as well as the few other casual friends I had made here, but another part feared what new changes I might have missed while I was away.