Simulants War: Going No Where

Chapter 2: Coming to My Senses

My cheeks starting to ache from the constant rumble of the glass squashed against the side of my face. Each turn of the wheels attached to the land rover makes it jerk over the fresh woodland surroundings. Every person shifts in their seat, trying to gain some sort of relief in their cramps.

There's an eerie silence, except for the slight rattle of the wind against the loose door handle. No one knows what to talk about, or knows what not to talk about. The discomfort is making my skin itch with the need to be back in the unspoilt air; able to walk and circulate the blood in my body. I need to get out of the confines of being closed in with people who at this moment of repetition don't want to be anywhere near me. Without me their lives would be so much easier, not having to worry that if they got caught with the experimental hybrid, would they be crushed on the spot.

Looking closely at the trees passing by, I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the window. Dread settles deep in the features of my face. Bags underline my blue eyes, making them stand out more as my pale skin darkens slightly against it's own lightness. Lightness that still shows fear. Lengthy black hair surrounds my chiselled cheekbones and slightly defined jaw, travelling down, so wisps tickle the flesh of my legs; slightly hidden by the shorts wrapped around my thighs.

Turning my head ever so slightly, I take in everyone else's appearance. Shoulders are slumped, heads staring in every direction but at the people around them. Emotions of hopelessness and sorrow slip from their faces. No one is hiding exactly how they feel about what is going on; right here now and around us.

One of the more stronger members of our group; Charlie, has his head held low trying to hide his anger. Being slightly shorter than everyone else I'm able to see his face however; eyebrows scrunched up, frown lines indenting his forehead, eyes not blinking but glaring at the bag that sits on his boots. Moving to watch his frame, I find his olive toned knuckles, turning white, as they tighten into fists. Muscles twitch in his arm, making me wonder how long he's been sat like this and why am I only just noticing it. Before I have the chance to turn back towards the window, his fist shoots out from his side and smashes into the back of Alex's headrest.

Not one person in the vehicle flinches from the harsh movement and the sound of his fist hitting the metal rods. Not one person says a word as Charlie sits back in his seat head now looking up and out of the sun roof, hands lazily situated on his lap. Not one person misunderstood his reaction, we all know why he did it. He blames himself.

Peter was Charlies world, his family, his little brother. Charlie vowed to protect and take care him, ever since their mother's death. It wasn't easy trying to escape their father after he had brutally murdered the one women in all their lives that meant everything to them. It's not clear what happened to their father. We don't question it and we don't want to know. It's part of the past that we have all decided to forget about, as it won't help any of us. If we bring up all our wrong doings now, no one would be able to cope.

As soon as Charlie found out about peter, he broke. He lost the last person who he could truly ever call family; part of him. Worst of all peter was murdered for what he did and Charlie blames himself for not figuring out what he was up to and where he was going when he wondered out in the middle of the night. He hates the fact that he couldn't stop him and persuade him to not do something so foolish and reckless.

It's starting to get dark outside and it won't be long before it will be impossible to see through the darkness. One thing we have not managed to gain is working bulbs for the vehicle, when we were on our quick getaway. This means we are going to have to stop for the night and set up camp in the middle of nowhere. Somewhere that none of us have an idea of what's lurking around us.

Coming to a halt, I fling open the rusty door and stretch my legs out in front of me. Fresh air enters my lungs removing the stuffy feeling in the back of my throat. Taking a few steps to release the throbbing in my body, I lift my arms into the air. A simple movement that has caused my top to rise just above my belly button, showing of a strip of my toned stomach. I feel eyes on me, observing me; my own eyes scan back over the group but no one is even peaking this way. I just shake of the unnerving feeling.