The puddle of fresh blood flows and continues to grow surrounding the stranger's lifeless body. We both stand over the pale body, frozen in shock in what has just happened.
He saved me.
"Thank you," I barely manage to mutter.
He doesn't respond, his face clearly showing that he's in shock. His eyes are fixated upon the body. "I'm gonna look for Jonas," I whisper.
He's not gonna move anytime soon.
I turn away and begin to walk around the house. It's not very big, or spacious either. It takes me 3 minutes to do a full sweep of the house. Yet, it takes me another 30 minutes to register that Jonas isn't inside the house.
The only other place Jonas would've gone was by the creek, but we were just there.
My stomach churns at the thought of my missing brother. Where is he? What if they killed him? No, my brother isn't dead. He can't be. A chill runs down my spine as I ask myself these questions. He's not dead, I keep reassure myself every few seconds. I walk into his room and scan the area. "Jonas," I yell out. But I know it's hopeless. He's not here.
I sit down on my mattress covered by the blue bed sheet. A whirlwind of thoughts run through my mind as I look at the bed with a blank stare. My eyes drift off to the three-legged table that touches my bed. A Polaroid picture in a frame outlined in black metal leans on it. Jonas, dad, mom, and I. All of us smile happily at the photographer. Even 3 year-old Jonas who tugs at my leg, with snot dripping down his nose. Back when everything was normal. Before mom became sick. Tears began to flow down my cheeks and onto the frame. I was 11 when she died. Jonas doesn't remember her, but I vividly remember every inch of her face; her smile, her mannerisms, and her voice. Once she died, dad was never really the same. He didn't joke anymore, and he rarely ever laughed. Now he's not here, and neither is Jonas. I'm all alone.
"Amber, come over here!" a voice yells. I sit there frozen for a few seconds, tightly holding the picture frame with both hands. "Amber," it yells again. I shake myself out of my daze and let go off the frame. I walk towards the kitchen and hear L.W say "348," as I walk through the corridor. "What are you saying?" I ask as I see him crouching over the dead body. His eyes are wide open and he begins to smile. He stares at me and says "I got it." My eyebrows raise, I cross my arms and I look at him puzzlingly. "What are you saying?" He ignores my question and shifts his gaze to his palms.
He's gone ****** crazy. He's insane.
He stays silent for 30 seconds, until I run out of patience. I open my mouth, but he quickly says "348 Dyckman St."
"What?"
"Amber come look at this," he says while sticking out a small slit of paper. I reluctantly walk towards him and snatch it from his hand. It reads 'Meeting point 348 Dyckman St, New York.'
"What does this mean?" I ask while I stare at the handwriting.
"I found it in his pocket," he says crouched over the body.
Suddenly, I realize why he was excited. Jonas could be there...
YOU ARE READING
A World Reborn
Science Fiction(Rank #149 in Sci-Fi) In the year 2041, the first bombs were dropped. Countless nations engaged in total warfare and the end result was the destruction of everyday life. Riots and looting became common as people began to loose trust in one another...
