Verman

4. Girl

July 25, 2055

The sun's rays shone down to an old ragged bed, dirty and infested with who knows what. I stretched, opened my eyes to the world around me. The blood from my wound had dried all around me. I must have moved around in my sleep.

I got up and walked over to a concealed hole in the ground for food storage, stretching my legs. It was running low since I'd needed to rest more lately, what with my wound.

Soldiers, soldiers, soldiers, I thought. They are always finding ways to "improve."

I sighed. It's hard being a Verman, not knowing who to trust. I flexed my hurt leg, and a shot of pain rose through me. I stretched it again and walked over to my bed, sitting down. I inspected my leg; it was dirty in some places, with dried blood and mud around the scrape. I knew it wasn't that bad, but what if it worsened? Would I need to turn myself in? I heard that any Vermans they catch are tortured for information. Maybe they cut off your arms and legs too, I mused.

The sound of a plane in the distance brought me back to reality. Worse had happened to me, I was just being a drama queen.

I sighed. I'd need to take shelter underneath my bed. This plane could be dangerous, and Vermans only take risks if it's to their advantage.

I crawled under the bed, moving aside the assortment of old plants, trash, dead insects, and dust.

The plane roared by, leaving me unscathed.