AUGUST IS A FEVER

4

You were finally given the permission to look around the bus itself. The corners of the metal ceiling were rusting and a lot of the other windows were compacted with dust and dirt. It was almost hard to look out of a few of them. The PSFs were having the children walk out, seat from seat, row by row from the front of the bus to the back.

The girl next to you seemed to glance at a boy who was looking at her longingly with a knowing smirk. They either knew something that you didn't or the boy was planning something of his own. The reason you thought that was because he seemed to have an unhinged look in his eyes. You softly jumped back as you saw his dull dark brown eyes became a glowing burt orange, the same orange that glowed in the irises of Damien Connor.

His eyes stayed glowing as he turned to the girl behind him who was in the seat. She was standing up to go walk out of the bus, standing in the isle on her way to pass him before the boy quickly whispered something inaudible into her ear. You couldn't see her face since she was already walking out, down the isle and out the door.

"Get up." Said the PSF from before in a stern voice, the very same one which held her rifle to your head.

The PSF said it to you and the girl who you sat with, the both of you listened. The two of you got up and with your shakey legs and wobbly knees, you walked down the isle nervously. You could practically smell the anxiety that emitted from the children surrounding you in the bus as well as the ones outside of it, waiting for instructions - waiting for their fate.

You walked down the steps of the bus and stood there, waiting for everyone to get out so you could walk single file to wherever the PSFs wanted you to be.

Eventually you saw the boy from earlier get off the bus, and he stood in front of the entrance and exit steps of the bus. His eyes were back to their boring brown for a short moment before they began to glow orange again, the boy looking at the girl he whispered to before. You glanced at her, quickly looking back when you saw her begin to run to the gates in an attempt to escape.

"Go! Run!" The boy with glowing orange eyes yelled. Some of the kids listened, running after the girl in an attempt to escape with her, but most of them were smart enough to know that their best chance of survival was to stay. A few PSFs followed to capture the kids, running after them.

"Shut your damn mouth!" Said the PSF from before to the boy with orange eyes, this time raising her rifle to him, beating him in the face with the butt of her weapon.

His face was beaten red, eyes bruising and skin going flush from irritation. His glowing eyes locked with hers then she suddenly stopped. It was like he was controlling her with his mind. Little did you foolishly regret to know then, that was exactly what he was doing - manipulating her, digging into her mind with his, forcing her to do the tragic thing she did next.

The PSF took a step back and brought the muzzle of her rifle towards her face. Her mouth opened in the same eerie and slow fashion that Damien Connor's did in school. Slow and painful, a little too wide to be free of pain.

When her mouth was finally opened to the brink of unhinging her jaw, she brought the muzzle of her rifle that once sat on the back of your head menacingly, and brought it into her mouth. The boy began to grin uncontrollably as she pulled the trigger of her weapon, shooting a bullet up her mouth and into her head.

Her face immediately became distorted and her body fell dead in an instant. The grim scene was impossible to peel your eyes away from, no matter how much you wanted to. Her eye flew out of her skull, popping out of its socket and hanging disgustingly limp on her cheek. Blood had splattered everywhere and you wanted to vomit from the gorey sight. Her body went just as limp as her eye, and she fell to the floor, leaning against the big and black tire of the bus, the perimeter of them covered with mud from the rain.

The boy saw this as an opportunity to run of his own escape. He dashed as quickly as his tired body would take him, his hands tied behind his back with his own zip tie restraining him. A few PSFs followed, most stayed to keep an eye of the majority of the kids who stood around to witness the murder.

"We have an Orange!" Yelled one of the PSFs into his walkie talkie, informing the others.

The few PSFs that followed the boy tackled him to the gravel that coated the floor below, holding his arms down to the ground tightly to restrain the boy. He groaned loudly in pain as his face scraped against the sharp pebbles. He tried to use his abilities to control the PSFs who caught him, but failed when they put a fabric bag-like covering over his head. One PSF took a spray paint bottle and after he shook it, sprayed a large orange X on his back. Labeling for what he was.

They grabbed him by his arms and brought him out of sight. You had no idea where they were taking him, nor could you see, but you knew they wouldn't do anything good to him - that's for sure. Your mind immediately went to the worst. If the now-dead PSF thought killing you for the slip of a whimper was appropriate, then killing her would most definitely be a good reason to end the situation in the execution of the boy.

If your life was forever going to be this grim and full of danger and guns, would you even survive the first week? Or even just today for that matter?

"Keep moving." Said another PSF in a low voice, ushering you all, pushing you forward lightly with his gun to keep the line of children moving into wherever they were taking you all
It's better to push through, be obedient and behave rather than to try and rebel. Seems rebelling ended in your death. Being submissive to your higher ups was your only chance of survival. You didn't want to die before you got to see a day where you turned twelve.