Saving Chloe

Chapter Five

"Accidents happen, I know." The same raspy voice fills the room, the same voice I'd been listening to for a few days now. He talked a lot about the Arrival, the Invaders, and his opinion on the Wave, the Crazies, and the latest one: the Elderly and Special Needs. "But when they continue to happen, someone is clearly not learning from their mistakes."

"Why the hell do you even bother listening to this moron?" Calen asks, appearing behind me magically. I didn't even hear his footsteps. At least the cuts all over his face from the plane accident were beginning to heal. He still had a few bandages on his arms and legs though. Mine were also beginning to heal, well the majority of them. Apparently, from what Calen told me, I had used my own body to protect Chloe from flying objects. Doesn't she just have the best older sister ever?

Calen brings me back to the present by giving me this weird disgusted look. I ask, "Why the hell do you keep bothering me?"

Shrugging, he turns and glares down at the radio. Martin, who he claims to be, continues his speech. Calen doesn't say anything, just listens for the moment. "Another incident happened. The youngest one to be known to have this disease is fifty years old. The doctors are waiting for more news from other hospitals. It seems the phone lines aren't just dead here, but everywhere else. So I'm told, that is. How are we to know if Israel doesn't have their cell phones when we can't contact them?"

"Genius alert," Calen mutters.

"So I've been asked a lot lately about this latest disease that can't be cured. Seriously, doctors tell everyone that. There's no medicine. There's trial and error but no cure. Nothing works. No one has died from it yet, but symptoms appear in almost every single person ages fifty and up along with people who have disabilities.

"A lot of people are blaming the Invaders, which we have yet to see. The president most definitely blames them for every little thing, including the loss of his control over retaining the Crazies. A few people have been captured by the remaining police, or people who've put on suits to pretend they're trying to do good for the population. Who knows what they do when that badge is off."

"I should ask that of him," Calen mutters before plopping down on my bed, which isn't inhabited by Grams anymore. She can't make it up the stairs anymore, so her new bed is the living room couch. Mom tends to her because she's basically bleeding out of every crease and crevice at any moment's notice. The hospitals rejected her; apparently she's not on their top list of priorities. That, and their beds are all full, and they're short on staff. There were a ton of excuses, too many to list. I didn't go though, I just know what Joshua and Mom tell me. We weren't allowed to leave. Mom and Joshua tell us it's for our own good, not like I wasn't looking forward to spending my entire summer feeling like a prisoner.

"Shh!" I hissed. Calen leaned back against the wall as I sat beside him on my bed. My arms wrapped around my silk black pillow, pulling my blankets over my legs to keep me warm. We had to turn off everything that would attract attention, and use as little light as possible. The sound had to remain down to a minimum, as to not be overheard outside these walls. And that's why I was so exasperated by aggravating brother. My radio couldn't be that loud, and he continued to speak over it.

"This guy doesn't even know what he's saying."

"Shut up, Calen."

"... In other news, Mr. President has a new message. He's talking about the Invaders finally making contact with our men. Blah, blah, blah. They're finally ready to take over. But what exactly are they taking over? A world polluted by the humans who inhabit it? Do they plan to take us all out and devour Earth? Purge? Do they even plan to kill us? After they kill us, what will happen then? Why are they here? What do they want?"