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Eight

The headquarters, apparently, is just an abandoned building that has chunks of concrete ripped out from its sides, looking as if it may topple at any second.

Blackened debris covers the whole area from the headquarters to where I stand.

How do we cross over? The smell the debris gives out makes me scrunch up my nose. It seems dangerous.

Dirty Blonde, whose name I still don't know, leaps effortlessly between two pieces of debris, before hopping into another small space a short distance ahead.

She moves like a dancer, her legs and movements graceful. How is she related to Dustin? His cousin?

Dustin stares at me for a while, deep in thought, and I think I see a flicker of emotion cross his face before he shakes his head and the cold expression that's so familiar from him appears once again.

He hops after Dirty Blonde, and calls out, "Carmen!"

Dirty Blonde turns around, and he points at a piece of debris that's on fire, looking like a coal. Oh, so that's her name. Carmen stands dangerously close to the burning 'coal'.

Carmen sends Dustin a nod, before moving away slightly from the flames, and continuing to make her way towards the headquarters.

"Corinne, you coming?" Dustin looks over his shoulder and I scowl at him, before tentatively lifting my leg and stepping over a piece of debris.

The smell that comes from the black mass almost makes me want to double over in disgust. It reminds me of the gas from the pod, but worse. So this is what they call a wasteland.

But still, I continue to move in a pattern, towards the top right corner, then the left, in a zigzag formation.

And then I trip.

Falling forwards, I let out a yelp, about to bring my hands forward to break my fall. The smell of toxic smoke fills my nostrils.

Before I know it, I've landed on the burning debris. The yell that I let out makes my bones shake and pain blasts throughout my body, all the way to my eyes sockets. The pain doesn't stop there, one wave after another hitting me, hard. The pain intensifies each time and takes away my consciousness bit by bit. I am on the ground now, after having pulled back from the flames.

I press my hand to my face drowsily, feeling something wet, but I don't want to look. A deep ache spreads through my skin.

"Corinne!" Dustin yells, clearly worried, hurdling over several pieces of debris to reach me.

He slides one hand underneath my knees, the other around my back, lifting me up bridal style. My whole body burns so hard I can't keep my eyes open. My salty tears come into contact with my wound and I sob harder.

Dustin hops over some blackened masses. My strength is draining. My eyelids flutter. Where are we going? I feel so safe in Dustin's arms, but of course not as safe as when I'm with Chance...I...

"Corinne," Dustin says, his voice as deep and soothing as a lullaby, "you can't close your eyes. Not now. We're reaching soon,"

Reaching where? I want to ask, but drowsiness pulls me under instead, and I slip away.

He's missing, I think as I run around the playground, calling for my best friend.

Where is he?

Panicked, tears sting my eyes. If Chance was here, he'd pull me close and tell me everything was alright, that he'd give me a crayon so that I could use it to draw a picture, or write down in my journal what had happened that day.