The Good Ones: The Dead.

Chapter One.

We kept on running like madmen.

We wove past several streets and alleys: avoiding people who were lining up at McDonald's for a free burger, pushed through the waves of commuters and managed to scare an old lady off her wits.

I was probably the one to blame. I wilted the vegetables she was carrying the moment I walked past.

We finally reach the train station.

"Freed. Stop. W-we may... n-need to rest. Please."

I look and see that it was Liz, panting heavily. It was pretty clear that our little group was an exhausted, haggard mess.

Sid is sweating buckets from carrying all our tomes in his pack, Lizzy's eyes red from crying, and both Aster and Ms. Linley shake so much I'm scared they'll blackout at any minute.

We are superbly, undeniably and MOST DEFINITELY fucked.

"A few minutes, I'll get our tickets." I say, admitting defeat.

They all breathe a sigh of relief and settle on the benches a few feet away from the rails. We must look horrible to the people on the train station.

I proceed to the ticketing booth and fall in line. Oddly enough, the line was silent even though there were still quite a few people on the station.

Aside from the occasional transaction at the register, the area was quiet enough to let my mind scream out its contents. Again.

"Have you done your part?! You've done nothing to save her! NOTHING!"

"Who do you think you are? Who are you?

You're not even my brother anymore!"

"You've become somebody, but you're most definitely not my son."

Those words rattled my whole being the first time I heard them. Hearing them again, even if it was just head repeating them, broke me.

How I wish I could be the boy in the clinic again. To do nothing more than simply be in a library and hope that the world just pass me by until things got better. To simply watch and let life happen like it should.

I can't do that anymore.

The moment Hazel became a part of me was the day that I knew that the world we live in was flawed in matters unacceptably evil.

Funny thing is, they think I'm the evilest one when all I'm asking for is the right to live.

"SIR, WHICH STATION ARE YOU DROPPING OFF TO?" The lady in the cashier says, bringing me back to reality.

I really have to stop going on autopilot in public places.

"Sorry, North Avenue. Tickets for five, please."

I hand her the money which she takes, a bit grudgingly. I have to admit that I can't really blame her in that department.

Weirdly enough, she hands me 5 keycards and smiles. She looks at me with this weird combination of pity and sympathy.

"I hope you have a better day, Mister! Have a cup of coffee at North, it's bound to make you feel better!" She says, catching me off guard.

I catch a familiar wink, and as if on cue, her face loses all the signs of pleasantry she had before. She resumes a more grouchy disposition and says "NEXT!" quite loudly.

She waves me off rudely before talking to the next commuter.

Hazel. That was Hazel, everybody.

I smile to myself. I'd have to stop her from doing that again, but the gesture was nice enough to boost my spirits again.

I make my way back to the group who was in a bit of a better condition than they were a few minutes ago.

They look at me, hoping I could give them some form of good news.

All I can muster was a reassuring smile. There isn't really much to say other than admitting the obvious anyway, which was blatantly bad.

I hand them the cards and rest on the benches beside them. We wait for the train in silence, enjoying our few minutes of silence and peace some more. These types of things are a rarity these days anyway.

The train arrives after a good 15 minutes later and I managed to gain a good power nap in the process.

We get up get our bearings and wade through the waves of people also wanting to get on the train.

All was going well to until I get blasted 40 feet into the air by a white-hot sigil out of nowhere.

I heard lots of people scream and panic, chaos ensues before I black out.

I just told you that peace and quiet was a rarity in my life now, right?