Transformers - Beyond What Meets The Eye - A 1215 FanFiction

4

This hurts. My arm hurts, like hell, and my head hurts from thinking so much, from going against what I always knew. My heart hurts from being betrayed, from being the one to betray someone else I should have been able to help. I'd always been strong, always been told I was strong and a quick learner and a great fighter. Now I wasn't.

Now I wasn't sure what I was.

I gave myself a moment, just a tiny moment to stare one last time at that tile that looks like a smiling dog, before stumbling up to my feet to grab the first aid kit. I pulled out the gauze and wrapped the entire roll tight around my arm.

I let the blood stain the floor and forgot about cleaning the rest of my arm off, slipping on my old jacket that was still too big for me, and hauling the duffle bag over my good arm.

I picked up a jug of gas from the back shed, and ran it back inside to pour all over the basement. I stepped into the cellar one last time, pouring a circle of the last of it around the table. Picking up my old flip phone that somehow still worked, and would be one of the few things without a device in it for my father to record my phone calls, I called the military base number in Jasper Nevada.

I told them who I was and when I'd be arriving, and they professionally agreed and said they'd stand at the ready.

This could be my last day, I thought as I set the phone down, pulling out my box of matches. But... It's his now too. Jack and his mother are dead now because of me, so I shouldn't expect a warm welcome.

-

When I arrived at the meeting place, about a hundred feet from the military base on the outskirts of this desert town, I was met with two trucks and two squads of loaded men. When they realized I was truthful and had come alone, they lowered their arms and a man and woman came to meet me.

"Step off the vehicle." He called first, and I did so, stumbling lightly. My head was getting fuzzy, probably from the blood loss.

"What's in the bag?" He asked.

"Uh, files, journals, pictures and uh... a map."

"Any weapons on you?" The girl followed.

I swallowed, "I have two knives, also in the bag."

"Remove the bag from your body and set it on the ground."

I did so slowly, struggling with my left arm. I dropped the bag and then took two steps back.

They ran forward, the man picked up the bag and opened it, checking for bombs. He confirmed my honesty and the girl moved to put me in cuffs.

"Anything else I should know?" She asked.

"My left arm is injured." I coughed out, exhausted, "It's poorly wrapped, and I'm feeling nauseous."

"Okay." She turned to the man as he stood, placing the bag on his shoulder, "Call for a medic."

"How old are you, kid?" The man asked as he pulled out his phone.

"Sixteen."

They both froze for a second, before nodding to each other and walking me to one of the trucks.

"Um, my bike..."

"It'll be confiscated for the time being." She replied, helping me into the back of the vehicle and sitting me down.

Another soldier ran on just before we took off with a first aid kit, sitting down beside me. He gently pulled down the jacket and removed the gauze, grabbing a cloth to wipe away some of the blood. I held my lips shut tight, swallowing back the painful discomfort.