Follow The Buzzards

III

  The sky was a dark blue but a thin line of yellow peaked over the houses across the street. It was sunrise. I don't think I slept more than two hours before we evacuated his house. As we jumped the chain link fence to a field, our ears were filled with sirens. Helicopters and jets zoomed over head. A large squad car pulled up to our left. We weren't suppose to be outside at this time so we hid behind a small group of bushes.

        Peaking trough the leaves, we saw families being pushed out of their houses by guards. Women falling to their knees in the street, men being dragged by their arms, children carried forcefully over the guards' shoulders. By the dozens, they were thrown in to the back of large trucks like animals. We heard gun shots and we looked to our left to see a boy being shot down for resisting to follow orders.

        My mind stopped working, I couldn't process what was going on. This boy was just killed by our own guards for refusing to be pulled down the street by his legs.  In a moment of shock, a spotlight from a helicopter shone down on us. Blinded by the light, we were both scooped up and tossed in the back of a truck.

        We were cramped shoulder to shoulder with our neighbors. Barely any room to breathe. I still was with Dean so I figured whatever happens, at least I won't be alone. The loud sirens were covered by echoing screams of people bouncing off the walls in what seemed to be a shipping truck. There was at least seventy of us back here but with how tightly we were compressed, maybe a hundred. Babies, kids, parents, elderly. Everyone confused. I overheard a woman telling her husband that they were taking us to some facility to stay safe. I didn't know what to think.

       "Ellie! Come here!" Dean shouted from the back of the truck.

         I pushed and jabbed my way to the back, passing by my parents who I'm glad never saw me. I reached the back and Dean pulled me towards the crack between the doors. The doors were old and bent, leaving a gap, less than an inch to see through. I pressed my face against the cold steel and saw trucks lines up with people dealing the same fate. Dead bodies lined the sidewalk. Probably more rebellious ones. Who knows? Had I not been blinded, I could have been laying in a pool of blood as well.

        The truck shook as it began moving. Everyone struggled to get a good footing. Though it was dark, I could tell there was an odd mist filling the truck. People began coughing. Before long, one by one, they collapsed. I could not understand what was happening but I knew I did not want to breathe that. Immediately I pressed my lips over that crack in the truck doors trying to fight for fresh air. The gas burned against my eyes, and slipped through my nostrils without struggle. A few coughs in, I felt dizzy and I face went cold with the floor of the truck.