Caught On Fire

CHAPTER 4

I'm sitting inside the Box again, ankles locked, wrists cuffed behind my back, eyes closed, back hunched. My whole body is an ache, a throb. My body is pulsing with pain. My new definition is hurt.

The blood dried on my skin makes it weird to speak, or move my face. I wonder why we haven't left yet. It's so hot and there's no wind. The car is turned on: I can hear its hum.

I hear shuffling at the door, and I open my eyes. Green is looking at me, his lips pressed into a thin line.

"You're in pain," he says. I shake my head.

"I'll live. Well, I hope I'll live."

"You will," he says and he walks into the Box (he has to slouch since he's so tall) and sits on the bench in front of me, knees touching.

"Johnson send you back here?" I ask him. He nods.

"I made him look bad when he was going to kill-" He clears his throat. "Execute your friend."

The Box door closes and we begin moving forward.

"So, this is your punishment?" I ask him, and straighten my back.

"Well, for him it is," he smiles at me. "For me, not so much. I kind of gave him the idea."

"Is that so?" I ask nonchalantly. He nods.

"While he was thinking of what punishment to give me, I casually looked at the Box with a worried look, and he said something like 'you get to watch over her.'" I raise my eyebrow.

"He did not use that word," I say.

"What word?"

"Her."

Green looks away.

"No, he did not," he says.

"He said it," I smirk. He nods. Then looks at me.

"What's your name?" He asks me.

"I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours," I say.

"You already know mine," he blinks.

"Okay, then my name is Frisson," I close my eyes and lean against the metal.

"Okay," I can hear his smile. "My name is Alex." I open my eyes.

"You look like an Alex," I say.

"What about you?" He asks.

"Do I look like an Alex?" I crack a smile. "I'm not sure."

"No," he chuckles quietly, "I mean your name. What's your name?" I look at his eyes.

"Amber," I finally say.

"You don't look like an Amber," he says and leans back.

"So they say," I close my eyes again. I'm suddenly aware I'm wearing my pajamas: shorts and a tank top. I blush.

"You're blushing," Alex says. I open my eyes.

"Well, it's not exactly cold, you know," I raise an eyebrow.

"True," he smiles. I glance outside the window.

"Where are we going?" I ask him, my voice small. He sighs.

"Honestly? I have no idea," he says and shrugs. "I only just got this mission, and partner. I've only been enrolled as a Soldier for two years."

"How old are you?"

"Just turned 20," he says. "I enrolled as soon as I turned 18." He furrows his eyebrows and looks out the window. "My father died when I was 12, and we got the Family Help. You know, the thing where they give families with need food and clothes. Well, it wasn't enough. I have four brothers, plus my mom. The Family Help gave us enough for three people. So we lived day to day until I was 17, old enough to get a job. I sometimes went days without eating so that my siblings could eat."

"'Equality For All', right?" I scoff.

"Yeah," he says. "I couldn't get a job anywhere, so when I turned 18, old enough to be a Soldier, I had no choice but to enroll."

"That sucks," I say.

"Well," he bites his lip and shrugs, "at least they get to eat now."

"You did good," I assure him.

"Sometimes," he says, and then he looks into my eyes, "I can't say it's worth it." Then he looks at the blood on the side of my face, and looks away.

•••

I doze off about an hour later, after watching endless sand dunes out the window. I'm woken up by Alex Green touching my knee softly.

"Hey," he says. "We're here." My eyes shoot open and I sit up straight, then whimper and slouch when pain strikes my body. Alex furrows his brow. "Easy," he says.

The Box door opens, and Johnson is standing outside with two other men behind him. The men have their faces covered with some kind of tinted glass helmet, but they're tall and well-built.

"Rise and shine, baby," Johnson says before he steps to the side and the two men grab me by my arms and pull me out of the Box roughly. I wince, but don't scream.

I look up and see a tall and wide building in front of me. It's completely closed off except for two doors: No windows, no glass, nothing. It looks like one huge brick. Even the doors are made from what seems to be a strong thick metal. It looks like a prison. I look around, and we're still surrounded by sand.

The two men holding me by my arms pull me towards the door, and I make an effort to move my feet, but the effort is futile. They're dragging me through the sand to the door.

When we get to the door, Johnson punches in a code to a small keyboard to my right.

The door hisses open.