Decrepit///Ben Parish

Chapter 2

We arrive to Wright-Patterson in a little less than 20 minutes.

I step off the bus and I'm hit with a gust of frigid air that feels like a slap in the face. A guy is standing outside the bus and is handing everyone a dog tag with a number on it.

"Take a number and go stand in the red circle," he repeats. I take the metal tag he hands me.

485

"Number 471, 471," the guy with a bull horn calls out. This won't take that long. They are flying through the numbers fast.

I look around and see four other red circles full of kids, and another bus is pulling up. I didn't realize there were this many people left. I must admit, after being alone for so long, the idea that I could be one of the last people alive was on my mind. Well, at least until that crazy guy shot at me. This place is huge. There is one very big building, and about five other buildings lesser in size.

"485, 485, 4-8-5," the man repeats that two more times before I remember that's me. I raise my hand then walk forwards. I get a closer look and see that the guy calling out number's uniform says the name Vosch. Vosch points toward another man in uniform a few feet away. Both men have straight faces.

Wow I feel so welcomed.

"Right this way," he says. He leads me into the building walking at a pace that I struggle to keep up with. I mean I get it they have a bunch of kids coming, but considering my height, I think it's impossible to keep up with this guy.

We take a left and end up in a corridor with many doors along it. We walk half way down the dim hallway, then he stops in front of a door, and opens it.

"Please sit on the table and wait for Dr. Pam." I walk inside the room and he shuts the door. The table reminds of the kind they had at the doctor's office I went to before the Waves. Everything in the room is white, and I feel heat rise to my cheeks when I see the muddy foot prints I left on the shiny, white floor. 

I've a waited for a solid 15 minutes and I'm starting to lose patience. I hear the echo of heels clicking against the cement floor outside which is followed by voices.

"So, this one a girl or a boy?" says a gruff voice on the opposite side of the door.

"I have no idea."

"Do you at least know their number? Or if they have any serious injuries?"

"Sorry Reznik, I have no idea."

"Well damn Dr. Pam we may need to brief these sons of bitches again. It's not hard to at least drop in a word with you if the patient has any injuries."

"I've gotten little bits of information about most of the other patients. He probably just got in a rush, we've had several bus loads come into tonight. I have other kids I need to see to, so I need you to do this one's full report while I give them their checkup."

"That's fine. Let's go figure out our mystery child." The door swings open abruptly, making me flinch.

A man in a uniform enters with a woman with straight, dark hair wearing a lab coat. "Hello, I'm Dr. Pam, and this is Sergeant Reznik. I'm going to be giving you a checkup while he asks you a few questions."

"Okay," my voice comes out scratchy. I haven't talked in months, I feel like I forgot how to talk to people. I always thought that social skills was something that you never forget, like riding a bike. Maybe I was wrong. Dr. Pam puts a cuff on my arm to check my blood pressure.

"Okay, what's the number they gave you when you got off the bus?" Reznik asks. He's holding a clip board and pen.

"485."