Pride.

Chapter 5

I sigh as I sit on the plane to Antarctica. I literally don’t know a single person sitting next to or around me. But they keep on exchanging jokes, laughing, and pointing at me together. I try not to show any emotion, to just sit there and take it all. I know they’re talking about me, how I don’t have a friend; that I’m alone. But they don’t feel bad for me. Instead, the just laugh and point. Just laughing and pointing.

  So far, there are eight of us. Four more kids need to be picked up. Now we just need to arrive in Asia and Australia, then we go to Antarctica. I look out the window of the plane and watch as mountains and the rest of the landscape whip below us.

  There’s a list on the wall that says the names of all of the kids we have to pick up, and the ones we already have. It's long, and I know for sure I'm not going to remember the majority of them.

  I sigh again. I fall asleep for along time, and when I look out the window next, I see a huge land of snow stretching out as far as I can see. I put on my fur jacket and grab my luggage. As soon as I step out of the plane, I feel a blast of cold air against my face. It feels as if I’ve been slapped. I pull my hood down farther and continue to follow the rest of the group.

  As I pass other kids, I can almost see my past flash before my eyes. I see my mother’s head exploding; I see my dad’s terrified expression. I see anything that has made my life harder than it had to be. And it was hard. It was really hard.

  Finally, we make it to the facility, and my memories seem to shatter with glass. Everything seems unimportant as I look at the building we are in. It is huge. The main entrance is the size of a football arena, and I see doors branching off into other huge rooms. I can almost imagine what it’s like to train here with so much space. I see scientists wondering along, reading off of little tablets, looking at holographic images, and examining different objects. From here, I can tell that there’s something that looks like a dark glowing rock.

  “Do you think we may have found it?” one of the scientists whispers excitedly.

  “No, surely not.” 

  They begin to run some tests on the rock. The rock begins to glow with more and more light, but it dies out and is back to its regular self.

  “Shouldn’t have gotten my hopes up,” the first scientist mutters.

  I turned to the man leading us through the doors. I’m pretty sure he was our pilot. I look at the tag on his jacket. Staff Sergeant Muntz, it says.

  “Mr. Muntz?” I ask.

  The man turns to me. “Yeah, kid?”

  “What were those scientists working on just now,” I say, “with the glowing rock and all?”

  “They were testing for a sustainable life source to replace oil and other resources that we have lost,” Muntz tells me. “Apparently, it didn’t pass the test.”

  I walk pass the scientists and see their disappointed, but knowing, looks. There doesn’t seem to be much hope around here. The new Guards find a blinking light on the ground that we were told to follow. Staff Sergeant Muntz tells us to follow it tomorrow morning to come to training as soon as we wake up. It was bright red, and every four seconds turned blue, and then back to red. Five minutes later, we come to a hallway with twelve doors, one for each Guard. I walk into the one labeled Matt R. Miller and catch my breath. Just like everything else in this facility, it is huge. There’s a huge holographic-TV, a nice couch, and a great view of the cold outside world. Another door leads into my bedroom, with a huge bed that is completely unnecessary. I find a kitchen with food stacked inside all of the cabinets. I step back to marvel at my room. All I can keep thinking about is the huge size. Not that I’ll enjoy it for long.