The Forgotten

Chapter 1: Chaos

Pain tore through my leg as the bullet lodged itself in my thigh. Another struck my shoulder as I dove behind an upturned minivan for cover from the rain of shots. This was it.

This was the end.

Not the end of the world or anything. It was the end of structured humanity. The day everyone stood by themselves. No laws, no responsibilities, and no order.

Just chaos.

The world would soon be cowering, fighting for every last breath. We would live and die at war. Children, if there was even time for that, would live without knowing of peace or happiness or even silence.

Only war, and bullets, and hate.

The bullet. It was barely visible through my torn capris and the rushing of blood. I tear a strip of cloth from my shirt and tie it just above the bullet hole like a tourniquet, "Shit." I probe my shoulder with my fingers, gritting my teeth through the pain. The bullet had gone through the muscle at the top of my arm, "/Shit./" Luckily it wasn't bleeding too badly so it wouldn't be too much of an issue.

Yet.

~I have to get back to Base 6 or else I will die.~

Five and a half miles south is a crumbling warehouse. To Normals it looks completely abandoned, but deeper it becomes Base 6. The home and training center of the rebellion. We're the ones who caused this.

We're trained like military. Hand-to-hand combat, long distance shooting, assassination. But no one knows about us. We're dead.

We are the Forgotten.

All three thousand six hundred and four of us don't exist to the government. We were killed in car crashes, died from sickness. Others' stories are darker than those.

Our birth names are forgotten. We get new ones when we "die" and no one speaks of what happened when we "lived".

My Base name, Annabeth, was given to me my the soldiers in my bunker. They said it was the name of some demigod of war in a book I've never heard of. They said I was like her. I was a good fighter and I was one of the most skilled. I was a the most accurate marksman in my squadron. I never missed a shot and that terrified everyone.

Plus the fact that I slept with a gun.

Six hundred of us were sent to start the chaos.  The American President and her officials were shot. The kings and queens of the world were poisoned. Every dictator was bound and hanged. Within hours the world was crumbling. Without their leaders everything fell apart.

And we loved it.

Another shot hit the minivan, shattering the windshield and i ducked inside. I'd have to wait until more people were gone before I could go home. Awesome.

I waited thirty-two minutes for the hail of bullets to end. An earie quiet settled around me. The only noise was a constant electrical hum.

In my pocket my cell pinged, destroying the quiet. With blood smeared fingers I tapped answer. A dull beep repeated. I counted each. Eleven... Twelve... Thirteen...

Fourteen. Fourteen dead. That could be my whole squadron. They could be in my bunker.

 No. I pushed the bitter thought from my head. Of course its not them.

~I need to get back to Base.~

Pulling myself from the van was the worst part. My leg was totally gimp. Useless. I'd have to pull myself off the road. I groan internally, "Freakin' hell"

Fifty-three minutes later they haul me into the infirmary for blood and stitches. Looking around the room its mostly empty. Three cots down sits a petite, red headed girl ghostly pale, almost transparent. Her big eyes and lips are the only thing I notice other than her bright hair. Her eyes are the size of the moon as she looks from me to my leg to the blood dripping onto the floor back to me. A young nurse is replacing the bandages around Red's stomach. She still stares at me.

Across from me lay four figures, covered in blood and grime. The two on the right I can tell are both boys. They all lay immobile, their breath shuddering.

~That could've been me.~

The doors of the infirmary burst open as Mouse, my bunkmate, storms in barefoot, blood oozing from her collar and matting her platinum hair. A nurse trails behind her, bandages and a suture needle in his hand.

"You ass!" she shouts at me, startling Red, "You are an absolute prick! I swear to Zeus you're trying to get yourself killed," a smile threatens her lips at her dumb demigod reference as she plops down on my cot, batting away the nurse, who huffs and retreats out the door, "Are you trying to get away from me or something." She starts rambling about how Tom, another bunkmate, had to hide in some river but I'm not focusing. My eyes are on the boy unconscious in front of me, barely breathing.

~What if I was like that?~

"Hello? Earth to Asshole. Are you even listening Ana? Tom nearly lost his-"

I interrupt, "His thumbs. Yes I heard you." I tear my eyes from what's in front of me in look at her.

She studies my face, "Are you okay?"

I ignore her question, "You should probably get that sewn up," I gesture to the gash on her collar,"I've gotta sleep. I've got the worst freaking headache. I swear my brain is trying to bust out of my skull." She still looks concerned, "Plus, that nurse was really cute. And I think he's single," I wink at her.

At that she brightens, "Then I guess I'd better go find that boy." She giggles and stands, "Come find me when you feel better." With that she turns and half skips half limps out the infirmary door.

My eyes drift hesitantly to the boy in front of me. He still hasn't moved.

~I could be like him. Or worse?~

I couldn't keep the thought away. If I hadn't gotten out of that van when I did I might not have made it back. I could be dead. Making fourteen into fifteen. Bled dry on some random street miles from the Base.

The boy's fingers twitch. My breath catches in my throat. His toes curl and his eyes flutter open. Groaning he coughs, then rolls over to vomit onto the floor. As he pulls himself back up we lock eyes. Something about them looks so familiar. So sad and so- afraid? His eyes widen and he somehow gets paler. Those too familiar grey eyes turn the color of ash as tear threaten to spill down his cheeks.

"N-Noel?"