Rogue

11

~William~

"What do you think this is gonna mean for us?" asks Nick, looking over at me when Jane finishes recounting the story to him.

   "I don't know," I reply, shrugging. "We've been considering the possibilities all day." Night has fallen, Nick showed up half an hour ago, and our squadron is still quietly discussing which actions they think would be the best to take. Half are saying that taking out the Sick should continue to be our top priority, while the other half wants to find the people or Rogues or whatever they are, though we don't exactly know if we're dealing with a hostage situation, a chance to make allies, or a trap. The General still hasn't decided anything, but it never hurts to place bets or hold discussions while waiting.

   Jane looks around at all of us, and I'm not able to tell what she's thinking. On the other hand, I have no trouble with Elliot. His smile hasn't left his face all day, and he's still grinning at the ground. It's slipped a little, though, and I wonder if it's because of Jane's expression or because of the discussion, and I hope that he hasn't lost hope because of simple things like that.

   Then I hear the crackling of the fire outside of the tent and realize that they're all having dinner now, that none of them are going to tell us about it.

   Another thought hits me as Elliot bites his lip. I was out for a while, but I don't know exactly how long. When was the last time he ate?

   Jane seems to notice the small change in his demeanor as well, because she gets up from the foot of my bed and kneels down next to him. "Elliot, are you alright?" He doesn't answer, just looks at the side of the tent where the noise is coming from. The motion seems to be enough for Jane to understand. She places a hand on his shoulder. "Do you want me to go out there for you?"

   Elliot shakes his head, laughing a little. "That's alright. We don't need any more snapped bones." I laugh as well, remembering the day that Jane went off on the entire squad for not obeying the food rule. When a couple of them started yelling at her, she got in their faces. One slapped her, so she grabbed his arm and snapped it. The arrogant jerk didn't want to admit the fact that he got his arm broken by a girl for not following rules, so he surrendered the food and told the General that he fell from his post. To this day, I still think that the General knows that Jane did it and just hasn't ever said a word. He treats her like one of us, and that's why I'm terrified of her asking to enlist.

   If she does, he'll allow her to without a second thought.

   And I wouldn't be able to live with myself if that were to happen.

   It's not that I don't think she can do it, because I know that she can. She's one of the very few who isn't afraid of a fight, who doesn't seem to be afraid of anything at all. Because of this, I'm afraid that she'll throw caution to the wind and become another casualty.

   An image flashes through my head, an image of my best friend on her knees, her chest filled with gaping holes from bullets shoving their way through. Blood pours from her mouth, pooling as she looks up at me with a wide stare, moving one crimson-slathered hand from the wounds and reaching for me.

   Shuddering, I shake my head as violently as I can. The image fades away, but the memory burrows its way into my brain. My eyes flit around quickly, trying to find her. I know that she's alright, but I just have to see her. I have to let that gruesome, screwed-up, morbid part of my brain know that Jane is alive and well. But she's not here, and neither is Elliot. I look over at my brother, who is standing next to the tent flap and looking at something in the distance with his arms crossed over his chest.

   "Hey, Nick, where did they go?" I ask, trying to sit up a little more. Nick turns to look at me, and then shoots me a harried expression.

   "No, no, no, you can't get up," he says quickly, rushing over to me and holding out his hands in case I fall. "They're just going out there to eat and talk with all of the others."

   "About what?" Poor Elliot can't even get near a lot of the members of our squad without panicking, and I've had to restrain Jane before. It's not like them to try to have a normal discussion with the squadron.

   "I don't know," he shrugs. "Probably nothing important." There's an odd look on his face as he says it, though. I can't place it, but there's something inside of me that thinks he might be lying or trying to cover something up.

   Jane's voice suddenly floats through the night air. "You really think so, pal? I think that there should be money put on this. Fifty bucks says you're wrong."

   A deep voice responds, one that sounds like George. I don't know him personally, but he's quite the avid gambler. A perfect match for Jane. "Seventy-five says I'm right."

   "One hundred says I'm right," she bargains, and I have to stop myself from getting up and stopping this. Jane is a woman of her word, which can be a good thing or a terrible thing. When it comes to her slight gambling addiction, it usually turns out to be the latter most of the time.

   "One twenty-five."

   "One fifty."

   I shut my eyes, knowing that I can't afford to listen to this anymore. It'll drive me crazy if I do. When Jane gets herself into these situations where she begins spitting out crazy amounts of money, I'm usually there to yank her out of them. But I'm confined to this crappy bed for the time being while her bet-loving tongue is free to talk all it wants.

   Slowly, I begin slipping back into the darkness, knowing that I'll be asleep in just a few minutes. My thoughts start to drift as I think of all the people that mean a lot to me. Jane, Elliot, Nick, Alicia, the baby...

   Thinking of the baby sends a variety of emotions through me. For one thing, it's a new life beginning, a new wonderful person that will walk the Earth. He or she could wind up essentially changing the way that things are. Maybe not drastically, or maybe so. Anything would help. On the other hand, though, there are so many dangerous things that could happen. The world is more disease-ridden than ever before. People are living in horrid conditions thanks to the Sick raids and their own miserable selves. The crime and mortality rates have skyrocketed in the past few years because of mistrust and the bad seed that is rooted in the backs of peoples' minds. I wouldn't want a child to have to come up in a world like this. Of course, it wasn't all sunshine and rainbows when I was growing up, either, but it was a whole lot better than this.

   Screw those Sick soldiers, and screw the man who thought them up.

   My mind skips back to a few days ago, in the woods right before the wall of flames engulfed everything. The Sick robot with the blood-serum covered knife won't get out of my head, and I don't know why.

   Thanks to today's evidence, I'm not completely sure that it was a Sick spy anymore.

   Right before I drift off to sleep, I hear another voice, one that shakes me wide awake. "Tell Will the news now!" I haven't ever heard Elliot's voice so urgent in the time that I've known him. My heart begins to race in my chest as Jane bursts through the tent flaps, crashing into Nick. She pushes herself up and brushes herself off while giving him an apologetic look. Then she dashes over to my bedside and grips my hand.

   "Ow, Jane. Burns," I remind her. She lets go quickly.

   "Sorry. But there's something I have to tell you."

   "What is it? And don't you dare tell me that you lost a hundred and fifty bucks to George, or I will get out of this bed and knock some sense into you."

   "No, no," she says, shaking her head. "I haven't won or lost anything yet." She stops speaking, trying to create some more tension. It's working, and if she doesn't start talking soon, I think I might strangle her.

   "Then what is it?" I ask. "Please tell me now."

   She bites her lip, allowing the words to come out slowly. "The General just called everyone over. Well, everyone that was able, anyway." She pauses once more, then looks me in the eye. "He's finally made his decision about the Rogues, Will."