by Kevin Jusino
I can tell Mom senses it too. “Where exactly are you taking them?”
“I’m not at the liberty to say, but it’s somewhere far safer than here. Trust me, your child will be in much better hands, especially in the days to come.”
I swallow hard at his words; what was that supposed to mean? Do they know something we don’t? Of course they do. They have to. Or else, for what other reason would they be trying to rip us apart?
“And if I refuse?” Mom says, her hands clenched so tightly into fists I can see the whites of her knuckles.
The soldier standing behind the first steps into clearer view, the rifle he grips gleaming in the sunlight: a clear message. None of this is up for negotiation. What type of government decision is that?
“We have orders, ma’am, every child under eighteen. Mandatory,” the soldier answers. “The extent of your cooperation decides how difficult this will have to be.”
Mom sighs, and I see the fight go out of her along with her breath. “I understand.”
No! I want to scream. We can fight!
But I know its no use. We wouldn’t make it ten feet, and then what? They gun both of us down? We try to fend for ourselves in a world gone mad with nothing but a gun stuffed inside a teddy bear and a few meager supplies?
“You should say your goodbyes now,” the soldier finishes.
She squeezes me tighter than before, and this time I really have trouble keeping the tears from coming.
“I love you Zoey,” she whispers. “Remember that, above everything else. You’ve always been our number one.”
I nod, too choked up to reply with anything else but, “Love you too.” Then the guard with the rifle steps inside, signaling that our time is up. I want to scream, to thrash around like Cacy, to do something other than accept this quiet defeat as I walk to the bus. But I know it’ll do nothing. I’d just end up like her brother: unconscious, and in no shape to fight back. Still, the final warning Mom gave to me before we were separated for good rings in my ears:
“Don’t trust anyone.”
CHAPTER FOUR
THE GUARD STANDING at the door to the bus stops me before I can climb in. At first, I had thought it was some kind of city bus brought back to life, but upon further inspection I realize it’s something different. No logos or advertisements crowd the shiny black sides, and the windows are so tinted all I can see is my reflection when I try to peer inside.
The soldier holds out an arm. “Bag.”
I feel my pulse kick up a notch as I hand it over, hoping she can’t see the nerves on my face as she holds it upside-down and shakes it twice, effectively dumping out everything inside. I wince as the items clatter to the ground, my eyes trained on the teddy bear as she sorts through the items with her foot, pausing at the stuffed animal for a gut-wrenching moment, before saying, “All good.” Forcing myself to keep from sighing in relief, I quickly scoop up the packets of food and bottles of water before climbing inside.
“Zoey!”
A burst of joy ripples through me at the sound of Cacy’s voice, but it’s short-lived when I see her huddled in the very back, desperately trying to shake a very-unconscious Henry back to life. I quickly hurry through the center isle, glancing at the scene within. Apparently, the soldiers have yet to visit every house, because I only count six other kids inside the bus. Most of them seem to be no older than fourteen, all with the same dazed and frightened expression on their faces, but I notice one boy who can’t be older than ten huddled in a seat, bawling his eyes out. I make a mental note to return to comfort him once I’ve helped Cacy.
“I thought they killed him,” Cacy says between sobs once I arrive. “Th-the sound it made when they h-hit him. They can’t do this, can they Zoey?”
I don’t give her an answer, knowing it’ll probably make her even more hysterical. I can’t blame her, though; Henry’s slumped against the window, and if I couldn’t see the slight rise and fall of his chest, I’d think he was dead too. Slowly, I grab Cacy’s wrists and peel her hands away from his arm so I can lean in closer and inspect the wound. There’s a small lump behind his left temple, a few trickles of dried blood running down from the gash. I don’t exactly know if that’s good or bad: could it mean he has more damage within? I want to ask for help, but something tells me the soldiers won’t have much to provide.
I wish I was Mom, with her never-ending knowledge of what to do during situations like these, and how to do it right. Knowledge I never bothered asking about, because I always thought there was no use for it. After all, what are the chances of there apocalypse during someone’s lifetime?
I thought my odds would’ve been a little bit better than that.
“Is there anything we can do?” Cacy asks, her face wet with tears.
I force myself to take a deep breath and focus on what I can do. Digging through my bag, I take out a plastic red box buried at the bottom and open the lid. An array of medical items fill the inside: bandages, alcohol wipes, medical tape, pain pills, and ointment.
“I’m just going to clean the cut, so it doesn’t get infected,” I say, ripping open a pack of alcohol wipes.
Cacy just nods, staring at the box with wide eyes. Gently, I take Henry’s head with my left hand and start to wipe away the blood with my right. It takes a few wipes to clean it completely, and I can’t remember if I’m missing any steps, but it’s the best I can do. Once I’m done I cover it with a large, square bandage, my stomach churning as I watch a few droplets of blood still seep through. It has to be better than nothing.
“That should stop some of the bleeding,” I say, packing up the kit. “Once he wakes up we can give him the pain pills. Hopefully, the most he’ll get is a killer headache.”
“Thank you,” Cacy whispers, hugging herself. “I…I can’t believe they’re doing this to us.”
I sigh and take a seat next to her, wiping away the sweat on my forehead. With a squeal, the bus starts to move.
“Me neither. Did they say anything to you about something coming up in a few days? Almost like a warning?”
She pauses, as if to think, before replying, “Yeah, they did. I think…I think they said, ‘It’s either collection by us, or by them’. I don’t know who they meant by them, though.”
I let her words sink in, fear blossoming in my chest again.
“Do you think they were talking about the aliens?” Cacy asks, her voice small.
“I don’t know.”
There’s nothing we can do but sit in silence and watch as the bus moves on. More crying and yelling fills the air as the vehicle picks up more and more kids, their faces always ghostly white once they climb up the steps and take a seat. Some of them carry their own supplies like me, but most have nothing but the clothes on their back. I wonder if this place they’re taking us is truly safe, like they say. After all, if they can get the bus to work again, doesn’t that mean there’s still hope that things may go back to normal?
An hour later, Henry comes back to life with a groan, startling both of us. By nowk we’ve scoured through most of the neighborhood, the bus about three-fourths filled with passengers. Cacy grabs his shoulder, gently shaking him until his eyes flutter open.
“Shit,” he grumbles, leaning back into his seat and holding a hand to his head, hissing when he touches the wound. “What happened?”
Cacy fills in the gaps in his memory while I pull out the medical kit again, twisting open the bottle of pain pills and pouring two into my hand. He takes them silently and takes two sips of water from one of my bottles, wincing with each gulp.
“They got you, too?” he asks, looking at me with pained eyes.
“Yeah,” I say. “It all happened so fast, I don’t know what else we could’ve done.”
He sits up with a grunt, and Cacy has to hold onto his shoulder to keep him from falling over while he peers into the aisle.
“Wonder where they’re taking us,” he mutters, resting back against the window.
I notice his ban
dage needs a change and pull out a new strip. “Somewhere safer than here, is what they said.”
He grits his teeth as I peel off the old one and clean the gash with another wipe before applying the fresh bandage. “Better be a damn haven if it means getting bashed in the head for it. What kind of rescue is that? Showing up at our front door, saying everything is ‘confidential’?”
I shake my head, my mind filled with as many questions as his. I can only hope there will be answers at our destination—wherever that is.
I hear Cacy inhale sharply and snap to attention, my gaze falling outside the tinted glass windows.
“Look, we’re leaving,” she whispers.
The copy-and-paste houses of the suburbs slowly start to melt away as the bus takes us deeper into town. Strangely, no cars litter the center of the roads here; instead, they rest haphazardly on the curbs, placed at weird angles as if larger vehicles have swept them aside. What else has been restored without our knowledge?
“It’s like a ghost town,” Henry mutters.
He isn’t wrong. All around, the small shops and restaurants that once made our ever-so-small hometown at least a little bit lively look like they haven’t been touched in years. What makes it worse is the damage: windows have been smashed to shatters, litter floats freely from unmaintained garbage cans, small corner shops have been looted dry, and more. It’s almost unrecognizable.
“This is the end of the world,” Cacy says softly, her face blank with terror.
Chatter erupts around us as the other kids flock to the windows, mouths agape as they take in the scenes around us. Above the rest, I hear the boy from before crying again. I peer over the seats and spot him huddled in the same position as before, still all by himself.
I place my backpack on the seat next to Cacy and carefully hide the teddy bear halfway behind it. “I’ll be right back.”
Dodging a few feet and backpacks that stick out in the aisle, I quickly make my way to the boy. He doesn’t see me at first, too blinded by his tears, but eventually looks up at me with large, brown eyes.
“Is it okay if I sit next to you?” I ask.
He seems to process this for a minute, probably deciding if my words are deceptive like those of the soldiers, before nodding silently. I sit down, keeping a smile on my face.
“What’s your name?” I ask. “I’m Zoey.”
He sniffles. “Corey.”
“That’s a cool name! It’s nice to meet you, Corey.”
He says nothing, only staring at me with those large eyes. Crap, talking to kids is a lot harder than I remember. What am I supposed to talk about? The fate of our impending doom?
I decide to try something else. “So, what do you like to do for fun?”
He shrugs, hugging his knees tighter. “Read, I guess.”
“Well, that’s a great hobby to have, it means you’ll be all smart when you’re older. What’s your favorite book?”
He tilts his head and stares at the ceiling, pondering, before replying, “Narnia.”
I nod. “Hmmm, you do look like someone who would enjoy a good Turkish delight,” I say in my most regal voice, poking him in the arm.
A smile appears on his face and he releases a small giggle. Progress. Maybe I’m not so bad at this as I thought.
“Do…do you know when we can see our Mom and Dad again?” he asks.
And right when I thought I was doing so well at keeping him from crying again.
“I’m not sure, Corey,” I say.
His smile fades, but the tears stop.
“But I promise nothing bad will happen to you,” I continue. “I’ll make sure of it. And then you can see your Mom and Dad again, for sure.”
His eyes light up again, just slightly. “Really?”
“Promise.”
He holds out his right arm, slowly uncurling himself, and extends his pinky. Somehow, that small, innocent gesture is what makes me almost lose it next—the realization of how different things are now—but I hold it together. With a smile still on my face, I hold out my own and we link pinkies, shaking once before detaching.
I’m distracted by a movement at the corner of my vision, towards the front of the bus. A soldier rising to her feet from one of the first seats, her gaze unblinking as she scans over our faces.
“Hey, want to come sit with me and my friends?” I ask him quickly.
He peeks over the head of his chair at Cacy and Henry, who appears to have fallen back asleep. “Is the boy who got hit okay?”
“Yeah, I think he’ll be fine,” I reply. “He just needs to sleep it off for a little bit. Come on, I have some snacks if you’re hungry.”
I hold out my hand and he takes it, letting me lead him to the back of the bus where Cacy greets him with a smile and a high-five, expertly wiping away the panic she wore moments before.
“Alright, listen up everyone!” the soldier shouts just as we sit down.
The chatter stops and most of the kids return to their places, all attention centered on the new speaker. Cacy gently shakes Henry awake, and he sits up with a start.
“My name is Sergeant Day,” she continues. “I’m going to give you a brief rundown of what our mission currently is, and what you can expect to find at our destination.”
A ripple of murmurs goes through the bus, and a few start spouting their own questions. Cacy gives me a look of surprise, but all I can do is shrug my shoulders. If this Sergeant Day hears any of the concerns, she makes no ackownlgedgment towards them.
“As most of you have noticed, we are currently collecting all residents under the ages of eighteen,” she continues. “Under government orders, you have all been granted shelter, free of cost to you and your families.”
More murmurs.
Corey tugs at my wrist. “Zoey, look!”
I turn my gaze towards where he’s pointing, having to squint to see past the almost completely-blacked out tinted glass, before I realize what he’s seen. More buses have emerged from behind the city buildings, all merging into the same streets and following our lead. We’re not the only one’s who’ve noticed, as some of the other kids start pointing out the same.
“The rest of the town’s youth are in those buses as well,” Sergeant Day says. “No one will be left behind.”
“This doesn’t feel right,” Cacy whispers.
Sergeant Day doesn’t seem to feel the same. “We are taking you to a secluded facility five hours away. In about an hour, we’ll be stopping to refuel and restock on supplies, where you will also get a meal and water, as well as any medical attention you might need. At no other point will we be stopping.”
“What’s happening with the aliens?” someone asks.
“Currently, we don’t know,” she answers. “Communications have been incredibly difficult, but as far as we know, their aircraft is headed to the opposite side of the world. Most of the larger cities have been completely overrun, however, and the safest place to be—aside from where we’ll be taking you—is in smaller towns like this one.”
“When can we see our family?”
“Where are we going?”
“When is the power coming back?”
The questions come in faster than she can possibly attempt to answer, and she must realize it right away because she doesn’t say another word, choosing to sit back down instead. The uncomfortable feeling in my stomach doesn’t settle; if anything, her words have worried me even more. The others carry on their protests for a few minutes, but eventually, they fall silent once again.
Silent and still, just like the world outside.
CHAPTER FIVE
I DON’T REMEMBER falling asleep.
One second, I’m having Corey teach me some strange finger-trick to keep him from noticing the crying kids all around us, and the next, he’s shaking my shoulder to wake me up.
“Zoey, Zoey, wake up!” he whispers.
I shoot up from my slumped position, instinctively clutching my backpack and teddy bear—just to make sure
they’re still there—before realizing that I’m still on the bus. I’d been having a nightmare: some shapeless being had been chasing me through some type of abandoned warehouse. I was almost at the exit before I tripped and fell, only to turn around and find the most terrifying shadow hovering over me, rooting me in place. Then, there was nothing but darkness.
“Yeah, yeah I’m up,” I say with a groan, rubbing my eyes. “What’s going on?”
“They stopped the bus,” Cacy answers.
I blink a few times before everything comes back into focus. Looking out the window, I see that we’ve pulled over into what must be the dreariest rest stop the world has to offer. Nothing but a vast field of dry grass stretches on for what must be miles in every direction, only appearing to stop at the base of the large mountains that rise high in the distance. The other buses—I count five in total, and can’t imagine how many are needed for the larger cities—have parked next to us, and I realize that we aren’t the only ones here. The tops of tents peek out over the roofs of the vehicles, and even with the commotion inside the bus, I can hear the sound of chatter from outside.
“You all have forty-five minutes before we take off again,” Sergeant Day announces. “Under no circumstances are you to stray away from the site. Remember: no one left behind.”
And with that, she ducks out the door and steps outside, her boots crunching on the gravel earth. We all sit and stare at each other for a few silent moments, confused as to what to do with our sudden freedom before one kid walks out and everyone else immediately follows.
“Stay close, okay?” I tell Corey as we stand up, his eyes wide with fear. “If you get lost, or need anything, you find either me, Cacy, or Henry.”
He nods and I take his small hand in mine, giving it a reassuring squeeze. With my backpack resting on my shoulders—teddy bear stuffed safely within—we shuffle down the empty isle and into the bright outdoors. I have to squint against the sun, having grown used to the dim lighting within the bus, before my vision adjusts.
