AUGUST IS A FEVER

24

The black faded into... more black? Although everything remained dark as you opened your eyes, you knew you were awake from the loud sounds of helicopter blades cutting through the thin air to remain up in the sky. It was hard to breathe, your chest feeling tight whenever you tried to gulp and gasp for more oxygen.

You tried to lift your arms up to remove whatever was on your face that prevented you from seeing, only for you to realize your hands were cuffed together and behind your back. You continued to struggle, the sound of hand cuff clattering caught the attention of a man behind you. A PSF most likely.

"Quit it." He said, kicking your back, hitting your spine. You bit back whimpers. That would definitely leave a bruise. Listening and being obedient was once again your only option.

The pain of the bullet that rested deeply in the muscle of your thigh reminded you of what happened before you passed out. It was a wonder to you on how you were still even alive. You honestly thought you would've died right then and there. You felt so weak and helpless as your mind was going a million miles per hour.

Where were you going? Why are you in a helicopter? Who are these people behind you? What is going on? You were overflowing with questions that were to be left unanswered.

You felt your own hot breath against your face, it wafting back into your face uncomfortably as it couldn't escape whatever was on your head. Trying to think of possibilities of what exactly was on your head, shielding your eye sight, you searched your memories.

A memory clear as day immediately resurrected itself in your mind. It almost played out like a movie, you remembered exactly what happened. It was when you were eleven years old, getting off the bus, and the Orange boy made the PSF eat a bullet. The same branding and type of weapon Lady Jane had used on you whenever you were last awake. How long were you out?

You remembered after the Orange boy did that to her, he was tackled and the other PSFs put a black cloth bag over his head. That's what was on your head right now. However he was killed on the spot right after that, out of sight. In your case, you had no idea where you were headed.

The black cloth bag was hard to see through. You almost didn't know when you were blinking. Even when you were blinking, you weren't sure if you were dozing off or not. You were clueless to the world around you as well as your own body.

Maybe you could melt the cuffs with your fire? You began to focus your abilities on your hands, them already beginning to feel hotter against the metal of the restraints. Once again, the nostalgic feeling of a muzzle of a rifle was felt on your head.

"Don't even try it, Red." Said the guard behind you. His voice was monotone. You couldn't decipher if it was from exhaustion or rather boredom. He surely had done this hundreds of times. Probably boredom. Eventually he pulled his gun away and back to his side.

Your hands were shaking again like how they would back in Thurmond. The feeling of your hands uncontrollably twitching and jerking wasn't as painful as it was when you were on your way to being emitted into the prison that is Thurmond. Before, the thing and sharp plastic edges of the zip ties cut into and dug into the skin of the wrists it held together. These restraints were a lot more forgiving with a lot more wiggle room. The pain in your wrists was almost non existent. Even if you felt pain, the feeling of a bullet in your thigh surely overpowered it.

An annoyed groan accidently slipped through your lips. The man behindyou laughed at how helpless you found yourself. At least he was entertained by it. You decided on trying to search your thoughts to entertain and distract yourself during this ride.

And of course your mind wandered to Clay and George of all people. Specifically Clay. You wanted to throw up. You should've stayed with them but instead you ended up getting kidnapped for President Gray's Operation Jamboree. Tears spilled from your eyes as you shook not from the cold, but from fear. Large wet patches were left on the bag because of your tears.

You felt cold fingers touch and brush against yours comfortingly. There was someone next to you, they were trying to get you to stop crying. That was probably a smart idea.

Their hand was cold from the wind, but if they were here for Operation Jamboree too, that means their a Red as well. You managed to find comfort in knowing you weren't completely alone in this. Their fingers intertwined with yours. Seems they were in need for some comfort as well. And that you would happily provide, for you knew how they felt. The twitching stopped.

"5740, stop trying to feel up on her." Said the PSF behind you both, kicking the person next to you's hand away from yours. You almost cried harder as their hand was stripped away as well as the sliver of comfort they were kindly delivering to you. The twitching of your hands continued. Then it hit you. The PSF knew their ID number, they've been here before.

You wished Clay was here. You could almost feel the ghost of his body hug yours lovingly. He was what kept you motivated to stay alive in moments like these. Between life and death, you'd always choose Clay in this moment in your life.

Right now you just needed him. Needed to feel him, but the memory of him would do, you supposed. Part of you focused on Clay whilst the other part of your mind wondered where you were even headed. Wondered if you would see his face again. Wondered if you would even live to see tomorrow.

Your feelings for Clay kept you going. It was all that kept you going, the thought that one day you might see him again no matter how far that day seemed. You knew it would come eventually. You trusted it would.