Year 12 (First Draft)

-Chapter 1-

  I pull the gun close to my chest, waiting until the sound of the truck's engine is no longer in my hearing range. I stand up slowly, ignoring the tears blurring my vision. Charlie is dead. Kane's gone. My heart feels like it's pounding madly in my chest, while also feeling like it's coming to a complete standstill.

  I stick my head around the corner, sticking as close to the brick wall as I can, ignoring the sting of the cement blocks against my cheek. With uncertainty, I step out into the alley, trying my hardest to not gape at the crimson spread on the ground ahead of me. I keep my eyes aloft, focused, ready to run if anything out of the ordinary happens. My mind is still reeling, and I feel hyper aware of everything around me. My nerves are put on edge by even the slightest movement. The wind in my hair, the sprinkling of rain coming down from the overcast sky.

  I pick up my speed, worried that if I linger here much longer someone will discover me. It's crazy to think that the last time I was running through alley ways, dead set on finding Kane Porter and his men, I was against them. I didn't have a price on my head, I hadn't seen my brother in nine years, and I was unsure where I stood.

  Here today, the Government is searching for me, hoping to snuff out Kane and his attempts to change our society; his attempts to bring us back to a time when things were where they were meant to be.

  I peek around the corner, surprised to see only a few Beggars out and about, most of them packing up their belongings to head back to their makeshift shelters. My heart goes out to them, because not long ago I was one of them, never knowing where I was going to sleep at night. I've become spoiled since living with Kane. I always have food, and I always have a bed to sleep in.

  I see a bus just down the road, and for a split second I consider hopping on and riding until I am a walking distance from the Headquarters. A thought strikes me, and I run my hand along the skin behind my ear. The UCP is still there. I rush back behind the brick wall, press lightly against the device, and watch as my image is restored to the young woman I embodied earlier this morning.

  I step back onto the street, shoving my gun into my back pocket, hoping it doesn't show through on my person. The bus comes to a screeching halt, and the doors fling open, allowing people to exit as they please. I step forward after the stream of people slows down, and begin to walk up the steps.

  "Where are you headed?" The driver asks, taking in my appearance. I tug my jacket around myself even tighter, swallowing the lump in my throat. "I'm headed towards Redfollow drive if that helps any," he adds.

  "Perfect," A woman behind me says, her voice reticent. I spin around to face her, and am surprised when I see Andrea standing directly behind me. She smiles. "And I have the money."

  She hands the driver a wad of cash, and pushes me further into the bus. I stumble past unfamiliar faces, committing some to memory. An older woman, her glasses perched on the end of her nose, her hands busy with her knitting needles. A young boy, a baseball cap pulled low over his face, a model train clasped tightly in his hand. Andrea and I stay silent until we reach the back of the vehicle, taking a seat in the very back with hopes of going unnoticed. Confusion blooms in my mind, and it takes all I have not to burst into a fit of questions.

  I scoot closer to the window, and exhale slowly as the bus pulls away from the bus stop. I try to stay patient and wait for Andrea to speak, knowing that she will, but so far she hasn't uttered a single word since entering the bus. So many questions are perched on my tongue, burning the skin, waiting for her to allow me to ask them. How did you get away? What should we do?

  "I'm sure you're really confused," Andrea says, after a couple more minutes, wringing out her hair, water droplets racing down her forearms. "I hate to tell you I don't have the answers."