HeartBeat

Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Ava

"So what number are you?" I look over to see blue orbs staring at me. The boy smiles. I stay quiet. He raises an eyebrow, his eyes growing mischievous.

"Fine don't tell me." He scoots over, next to me, and leans on the quacking walls. I narrow my eyes. He smirks, his eyes gloating, as if he had achieved something.

"I'm number fifty-eight. Nice to meet you." I stare blankly at him, before turning away, to stare into the darkness of the interior of the moving truck.

Even though it was really dark, I could still see all the other children. I had already counted. It was twenty-five of us in this truck. I listen closely, hearing the other trucks driving in front and behind us. I wonder which one Emma's on. I hunch further, pulling my knees to my chest. I rub my ears, the noise too loud, trying to refocus on the sounds inside the truck.

"Yeah. Mines hurt sometimes too. Its cool hearing stuff from far away and see things from far away. But it hurts." I look over, noticing those weird glowing eyes are focused on the truck's ceiling. That smirking face of his turned upwards. I follow his gaze, wondering what he was staring at.

My eyes widen, as I notice a large, patterned drawing in deep swirls of colors. I tip my head back, my mouth opening in surprise. Even in the dark, I could tell it was beautiful. I got dizzy tracing the design.

"You like it?" I turn my widened eyes on him.

I watch the arrogance and pride shine through his eyes, and his pupils grow before my own. I look away quickly, looking back at the swirling colors above my head. It still freaked me out, how our eyes were becoming as weird as the rest of us.

"Yeah. I like it." I say softly. I glance at him, noticing how truly smug he was.

"You did this?" I ask quietly, as low as the few hushed whispers I could hear among us.

"Duh." I ignore his smugness and turn again to face him with narrow eyes.

"How?"

The boy shrugs. I'm good at drawing and painting stuff. I'm good at art. I wanted to be an artist you know. I learned about non-figurative art a few lessons ago, and I have trouble sleeping." He shrugs.

I blink at him for a moment. It was still so strange hearing large words like that and knowing what it meant. It was strange thinking large words too. None of the survivors had trouble understanding adult sentences anymore. We learned things faster now. We were all so different, that it was becoming harder to remember how we were when we first came here.

"And how did you get it into this truck." Number fifty-eight smirk widens, and a manic glee shone through his blue, glowing orbs. It should have scared me. Instead, it made my heart pound and my eyes hurt. It made my ears flood with noise. It made me want to run, or jump, hit and punch. Move.

"I can't tell you all my secrets. Anyway, you haven't even given me your name."

"It's Ava. I mean number one." I snap my mouth shut, my eyes widening in fright. I look around, my breathing heavy.

Everyone's eyes weren't on us, instead they were all entranced by the ceiling. They had heard our conversation. Did they hear me use my name?

We weren't to use our born given names anymore. It was just numbers. If someone asked for a name, they had to say their designated number. To do otherwise meant punishment.