Lazaretto (Camren)

T W E L V E

"A hero cannot be a hero unless in a heroic world." –Nathaniel Hawthorne

LAUREN

The past week had been good between Camila and me. Although from time to time she would sneak off with Austin to who knows where, I tried not to let it get to me; acting like it didn't faze me. But it did...a lot.

On the days we would practice knife throwing she would train with Austin, and on the days we would practice self-defense she would practice with either me or Keith. After our fight last week that ended in her kicking me across the face, Camila told Max she wanted to start fighting against the guys more, stating it would benefit her since most of the guards in the facility were men. Max agreed, but only if she fought against the girls at least a couple times in-between. The women at the facility were highly trained as well and wouldn't be an easy win. And I had to admit, Camila was getting pretty good at fighting. She may have been quiet earlier on when she first arrived at the warehouse, but she was a fast learner. Now when we fight against each other, I have to actually defend myself. She challenged me, which I liked. She was quickly becoming one of the best fighters at the warehouse, and people were scared of going against her. She was quick and relentless. She had this fire inside of her that couldn't be doused. This day, in particular, was a very grueling and very interesting training day.

Derek took us all on a run through the woods on a trail. We were jumping over rocks and fallen trees. It was early in the morning and a light fog clouded the forest, making it hard to see at times. It was cold, being the second week of November. As we all ran up the tumultuous terrain, everyone's heavy breathing caused what looked like little clouds of smoke to escape their mouths. Derek kept the pace up front, followed by Keith and then myself. I would have been surprised if I didn't expect it, but Camila was right behind me on my heels. We had to stay in a straight line because the trail was so narrow. A couple of times I felt her place a hand in the middle of my back, pushing me forward so she would have more running room. I turned around to see her smirk, her cheeks and nose shaded a light pink from the cold. Like I said, she was always challenging me. I met the gaze of Austin peering at me from behind Camila and I turned back around to the trail, rolling my eyes.

I had been at the warehouse ever since I was twelve years old. After I witnessed Val shooting her boyfriend, my father decided he wanted to bring down the facility once and for all. But, he couldn't do it alone. He and Derek had been good friends for most of their lives, growing up together. They sought a safe place to house people who were against the facility and their rule and were willing to wage a war if need be. They found the warehouse and purchased it from a local farmer, adding on rooms and bathrooms as well as a cafeteria. It was hard finding people to join them, but eventually people started to join little by little. My father handed over command to Derek because he couldn't be as involved anymore without my mother asking about his whereabouts.

Once he brought me, I never left. My mother never caught on, and neither did Val. They both thought I would go to various sports practices after school, never knowing where I actually ended up.

After all of the times I had been on wilderness runs since being at the warehouse, I had never been on this trail. We ended up in an enormous open field. The grass was brown and nearly knee high at all the years of neglect. The sun was starting to rise behind the trees, and it was refreshingly peaceful. Over all of the heavy breathing, I barely noticed Captain sitting in a chair reading the newspaper.

"How did you get here?" I asked, trying to catch my breath. My hands rested on my hips, my shirt spotted with sweat.

"I brought my truck." He put the paper down and pointed to an old beat up truck on the opposite side of the field. "I'm too fast for all of you, anyway." He folded the paper back to its origins and held it under it arm as he stood up from the rickety lawn chair. His statement elicited a few laughs from the group as he made his way over to us, carrying a bag that was sitting beside the chair.