Young Writers Society

This is the second part of the story. Please read Part 1 first or you won't understand this one.

Link-http://www.youngwriterssociety.com/work.php?id=99805

Thank you!

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“Is he dead?”

It was a girl’s voice, high and anxious.

“Nah, I don’t think so. Look, he’s breathing.”

This voice belonged to a boy, his voice nearing the deeper one of a man. “He got beat up pretty bad, though.”

James felt a hand touch his head.

“But he’s so cold!” persisted the girl. James blinked his eyes open and let them adjust to the light.

The first thing he noticed was her eyes. Large blue-green orbs, staring worriedly down at him. She was younger than he had expected, maybe only six years old, with brown curls framing a dirty face.

“Look, he’s awake!”

James felt his head begin pounding again, felt that same pain threaten to overtake him again. His eyes burned like fire, and he wanted to shut them again but he stopped himself. He wouldn’t let the darkness consume him this time. He had to escape, run far away and find Father, find him before the Retsnom did.

Everything ached. He felt like one of his old metal toy soldiers, rusted and creaking with every movement but he didn’t dare let this weakness show.

He held back a groan as he painstakingly sat up and looked around the room. The walls were white, or had once been, but now they were a mixture between a sickly yellow and a dirty gray. The floors were wooden, rotted and wet, with a hole in the center of the floor. Water seemed to dripping into it, making a pitter-patter sound which sounded remarkably like footsteps. He looked up to see a hole in the ceiling.

“Where…am I?” He rasped. Every word sent fiery pain down his throat. Water, he thought. I need water.

They seemed to realize that. The girl rushed out of the room and seconds later she returned with a pail in her hands.

“It just rained,” she explained, as if in answer to where the water had come from.

“I can see that,” He said sarcastically, and tried to nod at the broken ceiling but his neck hurt so much that all that came out was a groan.

He gulped down the water like a starving animal, not caring how he looked, ignoring the water dripping down his chin like an uncivilized mutt, ignoring the pain in his throat, the daggers sliding down with each sip. The rainwater tasted old and sticky, like moldy, wet socks. He ignored that too. All that mattered was to get better and find Father.

“You’re in an abandoned building,” said the boy in answer to a question James couldn’t remember asking. “It used to be an old lab, the place where the Retsnom were created, actually. It was abandoned when the Retsnom escaped. They took out everything, all the equipment and formulas.”

James didn’t bother asking who they were. He was more concerned with the Retsnom. Those filthy, abominable creatures. They had been Father’s creation. Father’s greatest masterpiece, his gift to the United States. They should have been the greatest soldiers of all time, protectors of the people.

But it had all gone wrong.

All they wanted was control. They couldn’t stand to have rules, to have a mere human like Father tell them what to do. They wanted Father dead.

Father was the only one who had a chance at stopping them.

He felt tears streaming down his cheeks, warm and salty, cleansing his face. He wanted to scream, to cry, at everyone. At anything. A different sort of pain was in him now, a pained that fueled him, that pulled him off the floor and made him howl;

“Father!”

I never even told Father I loved him.

“Father, where are you? Father, I need you!”

The pain of grief and anger filled him with an energy he had never had before, and now he howled Father’s name as though his life depended on it, staring at the dripping ceiling. He felt broken, torn in two. He suddenly became aware of two pairs of eyes on his face and it was the boy and girl, standing there awkwardly and looking like they very much wished they hadn’t saved him.

“How did I get here?” His voice was stronger now. Even to his own ears it sounded cold and hard.

“We saved you,” It was the girl this time, and her voice held a tone of wonderment, almost as if saying, don’t talk to us like that. You should be thankful. He realized she was right.

“I’m sorry.” James said, but the grief and anger was already leaving, replaced by despair and emptiness. He sounded beaten and worn.

“They were attacking you. They left after you passed out. I guess they thought you were dead.” She stopped and looked shyly at the boy, as if for permission. “But seriously- I never saw anyone fight like you did! You were awesome!”

Awesome. As if awesome could be used to describe what had happened, used to describe the pain and anguish, the fear. The feeling of abandonment and despair he had felt when Father had gone ahead without him.

“You don’t know what it was like!” he growled, and now all of the anger and hurt came bubbling back to the surface, bursting from his mouth in that one small sentence. “You don’t know anything.” He put as much loathing as he could into that last word, a final reminder of the emotions he felt churning inside. How dare they.

When his anger had finally died down, he stood, panting heavily, and glared at them. Only the girl lowered her gaze. The boy watched him, his gaze fiery and defiant, and after what felt like an eternity James finally lowered his gaze too.

The girl spoke. “I’m Amy, by the way. This is my brother Chris.” Her face broke out into a tentative smile.

James tried to smile back, but all he managed was half a grimace. “I’m James.”

For a moment there was an awkward silence, as if none of them could think of what to say. Finally Chris broke the silence.

“They’ve taken over the city.” He said this in the same matter-of-fact tone one would use to describe the weather. James didn’t even need to ask who they were. “There’s destruction everywhere, they’re killing people left and right.”

“How long was I passed out?”

“About a week.”

The same uncomfortable silence was back. James’s mind churned with the news. When would it end? The despair washed over him again like waves, and for a second he was reminded of the beach, with its gentle waves lapping at the shoreline.

The beach.God only knew if there was ever any hope of seeing it again.

“We actually have an idea of what to do,” said Chris. “But it’s kind of far-fetched. We thought that maybe if we could just manage to get the city to unite, we’d have a chance of fighting the Retsnom. ”

“And then we could save your father!” added Amy hopefully.

Ho could anyone be hopeful now? James just shook his head. He felt the tears well up again and he tried pushing them away at first but they overwhlmed him. The tears fell in earnest, a rainfall into a sea of hopelessness, wetting his face and turning the lights into rainbows. He wanted to scream, to yell, to-

“Oh, stop crying already!” yelled Chris. “All you’ve done is cry! We’re trying to think up a plan, trying to fight! Just stop it!”

You don’t know what it’s like! My own father created the Resnom. My mother is dead. They’re chasing me and I’ll probably be dead by tomorrow! Don’t you dare tell me I can’t cry!

The words were like thunder in his head, so loud that he thought he had said them. Instead he said nothing. There was nothing to say.They didn’t understand. He stood straight and tall, his eyes like daggers, conveying the message he would never say.

“We have a plan, stop blubbering and listen! I know your life was probably daisies and cupkaces before, but it isn’t now! Stop being a spoiled brat! We saved you, be grateful!”

Daisies and cupcakes? Is that what you think? You don’t know anything! You don’t know that Father never even looked at me, he raise me only because he loved Mother! I was just a toy to him, another one of his precious trophies. And by the way, I’m allergic to cubcakes!

“Answer already!” Chris was practically screeching. “You’re just standing there, staring at me with that stupid expression on your face! At least you’ve stopped crying. You know I’m right, you aren’t denying it.”

Aren’t denying it? Denying what, that I have anger issues? It isn’t very smart to insult my self-control, you know. I’m so angry that I’m just about ready to kill you, and you’re insulting the fact that I managed not to utter a single insult?

He felt his hands clench into fists but he forced them to stay at his side. Ignore Chris. Ignore Chris. Ignore…. He repeated it again and again, like a chant.

He barely managed to prevent himself from leaping at Chris. In the end, he settled for an icy glare, breathing deeply in and out the way he had taught himself to when he got too worked up. He tried counting to ten.

One.

That moron!

Two.

Good-for-nothing idiot!

Three.

Sadistic beast!

Four.

Ugh, counting isn’t even helping! I hate him and counting won’t change that!

He stopped counting. The angry fire inside him was hotter than ever, bubbling and seething inside of him, threatening to leap out with his words.His head was pounding again, the pain making him even more furious. He gnashed his teeth together and tried to hold it in, to pull himself together before Chris could find another excuse to insult him.

Think of the plan, he chanted to himself now. Think of the plan, get it together.

Chris was wathching him again, his eyes narrowed defensivly. James forced himself to look at the ground. Chris finally spoke.

“Listen, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. We have to work together if we’re ever going to get anything done. I think-“

“Save it, okay?” The voice that spoke didn’t sound like his own. It was a crude replica, cold and cruel, laced with venom behind each word. James relished it.“We’ll follow your plan. But we’ll follow it my way.”