Ingect

CH 1 INGECTED

The cold needle sliced into my neck. If it's going to be world war three, I really didn't care if I died. We were all going to.

Perfectly timed screams rang through the camp. It must be twelve, time for the executions. The needled slid out of my neck, and I felt every well built muscle in my body relax. It was a death camp. That's where we are at. Death camp 423, smack in the middle of the states. The colonies were in no better than us. It's "America" v.s. "America"

America took over the rest of the world, and well, we're at a civil war, if that's what you would call it. Nuclear bombs raged across the right half of the states, and was claimed unlivable. 700,000 presumed dead. The Colonies of America, which was the rest of the world, were all teaming up, and last I heard, there were 45 teams raging against each other.

I was from Tennessee, and I saw the Japanese bombs fall from the sky. One landed next to me. All that was happened was, all my hair was singed off. But no worries, it all grew back. Abnormally fast.

I felt my eyes sleepily shut, and I couldn't move. I realized, they weren't killing me, the were sedating me. Why? I don't know.

Gabe, who was next to me, dropped peacefully, softly snoring. Sloan was staring at something, and, that something was staring at her. I grinned.

My resistance to drugs made it to where I didn't pass out, but I sadly stayed loopy. Two hours later, Charles came out of the room that Misha, leader of most of the camps, with her hair more messed up and her shirt on backwards.

"Do you like him?" I whispered, when she sat down across from me.

"What?! No... Well, are you going to remember this?" She whispered, hushed.

I shook my head. I picked up a pen from across the table.

"He's, well... He's-"

"Do you think it would hurt if is stabbed this pen, through my hand?" I asked, loudly.

She gave me an unbelieving look. "Nooooo," she said sarcastically.

I took the pen in my right hand, and jammed it through my left. I giggled. It tickled. Pain didn't quite effect me like it should. It hurt, but barely.

"You lied to me Sloany," I said, creasing my forehead, "It does hurt." The pen was a small matter. I looked at her.

Then something clicked. There was a pen in my hand. I stared at my hand. I screamed. Not from pain, but the way it was. It looked like it was a dead car with a stick in it. Make the cat smaller, and pushed the stick all the way through. Right smack-dab in the center of my hand. Yep, that sums it up.

I looked at Sloan and whimpered. I grabbed one end of the pen, and pulled. The pen slid out with a sickening sucking noise.

"Come here little girl. We have instructions to keep you alive," a gruffly man said as he grabbed my arm. He took me to the doctor room.