The Grid │ an F1 story

6

I didn't know where he was, I'd lost him even though we'd promised to see each other again. Every day since I'd left, I'd hoped to talk to him again. I bitterly regretted leaving him there; I should have taken him with me when I still had the time. But it was so useful to have him there. He had all the information, nobody had suspected he was helping us, and I thought we were still friends. I think I was completely stupid not to understand that we hadn't been since the morning I'd run away. I missed him terribly. A lot had changed since I was no longer part of the army close to the government. We were like special forces. You had to pass hundreds of tests to get there, and I'd run anyway. This very closed group of soldiers had to be as strong as they were intelligent, and was surely the most important group in the F.I.A. army. It had its advantages: better pay, housing, women, everything suggested that it was the dream life. Still, I fled. I didn't understand our position. When we had accompanied the former president through the dirty streets of Venloria's neighboring towns, seeing those people suffering from the misfortune that was this virus, I knew I was on the wrong side.

I didn't immediately know what I was going to do when I was free. Things would change, that was certain, but I thought I'd do it by his side. I'd seen it in his blue eyes, he was comfortable here, he wouldn't move. Even though we'd been friends forever, this would mark the end of our era. I'd visited him a lot, sometimes with Oscar, sometimes without telling anyone. It was Mark who had surprised me the first time. He'd welcomed me with his group of survivors as if I'd always been part of their group, and they'd loved me as one of their own. Then our numbers grew. First dozens, often people leaving their infected towns, and soon hundreds had joined us. I didn't even know how many we were any more. In my group, there were eighteen of us. I had a right-hand man, like all the others. They would take care of the group if we were to die. Mark had told me I was taking too many risks. Mine was Dennis, we weren't really close, but he reminded me of this friend I'd once known. I liked his long hair and the way he answered me. So I kept him that way. When Mark was captured, I understood how the others felt. Jenson and Kimi thought it was the end of our survival. Then Mark's right-hand man took over his role. On the evening of his departure, after I'm sure Logan and him had cried for hours, even though I wasn't sure what they'd done, Oscar had given the most beautiful speech I'd ever heard. He'd talked about his relationship with Mark, how grateful he was to have saved him and that he'd return the favor. Oscar was smart. I'd seen what Mark saw in him right away, and would have liked to have made him my right-hand man. But Mark was Mark, and he knew what he was preparing him for. It had worked; the Western camp had never been stronger. We'd lost our leader months ago, but Oscar was slowly taking his place, not forgetting the man who'd allowed him to be here in the first place.

I felt like I was betraying him by leaving, but I wanted to make sure he was still alive. So I told Dennis my plan, I hugged Oscar one last time, he might leave too, that night, he surely wouldn't listen to Kimi and Jenson. I didn't even want to try and stop him. I had my missions, and he had his. We knew Mark wasn't there; the kid wasn't stupid. But the GPS coordinates of our trackers had shown us that military trucks went to Ravenmoor almost every week. I figured this was the time to find out. I'd seen him leave with Logan, and the poor boy certainly didn't want to go. Oscar was a hothead, and I imagined that, as I had before, his blond head would reassure him. I hoped to find mine soon.