Hero - Book One - Journey To The East

Chapter 7: Nunya

Hero

The sky goes from dark blue to pretty pink when I look towards the horizon. Months have slipped away after I lost Blaze.

Unfortunately, Mr. Giggs also passed away from a lung infection.

All the people who I care about end up dying.

____

The morning creeps in slowly, with pale light barely breaking through the dusty air. I stretch out in Falcon's front seat, the aches in my body refusing to ease after another night of restless sleep.

The screams, explosions, burning tents, and bodies... so many bodies.

Blaze's blood-stained face keeps haunting me every time I shut my eyes.

I brush off the thought by rubbing my eyes and get out of the car.

The camp ahead is already stirring. People move about, setting up their tents, scavenging for what little remains.

I make my way down toward the centre of the camp.

"There he is..."

"The one who got Blaze killed..."

"Even Griggs died, who will be the next?"

"Always shows up when trouble happens..."

"There is the Freak magnet."

I grit my teeth, pretending I don't hear them. They think I don't know. They think I'm not aware of how they look at me and how they avoid me like I carry some kind of curse. But I know. Even when they don't say a word, I can sense it. Their eyes, damn me.

I head to the water supply tent, my throat dry from the dust and the heat, but I can't escape it even here. The guy operating the water station barely glances at me as I approach.

"Could I have some water?" I ask.

He doesn't look up. "We're rationing today. Come back later."

I frown. "But there's plenty in the tank—"

"Later." His voice is cold and final, as if the conversation had already ended.

I turn away, fists clenched at my sides. It's the same every day. No one wants me around; no one trusts me. I thought it would get better with time, but it only feels worse.

I pass a group of men working on a broken-down truck, its engine sputtering and coughing smoke. Usually, I'd offer to help—maybe show them the trick my dad taught me for fixing coolant leaks—but I can already feel the tension as I approach.

Reed, this guy who I help fix cars, gives me a mean look from under the hood. "What do you want?"

I gesture to the engine. "I noticed some damage. I could take a look—"

"We don't need your help anymore," Reed snaps. He wipes his greasy hands on a dirty rag. "We're good."

I go to say something, but how he's looking at me like I'm a Freak makes me choke on my words. I give a stiff nod and back off, acting like I don't give a damn.

But I do care. I care more than I want to admit.

I make my way to the edge of the camp and sit on a rocky outcrop overlooking the wasteland. From here, I can see Falcon parked at the top of the hill, the only thing still feeling like mine in a world constantly trying to kick me out.

My hands tremble as I pull a canteen from my pack and take a long sip of stale water.

I hope it blows over soon.