like I was reading the directions off a bottle of painkillers.
“Then there’s still hope. Change your clothes and take whatever you need,” Lyle said and dragged me away from the bed in to the hallway. “Does your father have a gun we could use? I still have mine, but no ammo.”
I nodded and pointed back to a dresser in the bedroom before leaving for my room down the hall.
I stood there for a moment, thinking about if this was all a bad dream. After washing up in my bathroom as fast as possible, I grabbed clean clothes and changed into them. This can’t be happening , I kept telling myself. I’m going to wake up soon. I just have to play along until it’s over. I went to my closet for an old backpack from high school and began throwing in clothes.
The sound of growling and gunshots from my parents’ room interrupted my packing. I got up and ran out of my room. In the hallway, I could see Lyle exiting their room and closing the door behind him.
“What happened?” I tried to push past him, but he blocked the door.
“You don’t want to go in there,” he said quietly. “I had to make sure they wouldn’t be coming back. I’m sorry.”
He was splattered all over with black blood now and the gun in his hand was shaking. “We need to go,” Lyle prompted, still guarding the door.
I returned to my room to finish, but my sense of overwhelming sorrow was making it difficult to concentrate. Looking around the room I grew up in was only making things worse. A baseball bat with a significant layer of dust stood propped up in the corner. It was there more as homage to my childhood than anything else. For years, my dad took me to the batting cages on the weekends. He wasn’t particularly athletic, but I always had the feeling he thought it would be some sort of an ideal all-American father-and-son bonding moment. He was the type of dad that would still dress up as Santa long after I found out Santa wasn’t real, just because he thought it was the thing all good dads should do.
Something new on the wall above my bed caught my eye. It was the license plates from my first car, and they were in a frame. I had sold the car to someone in town when I moved to New York. Everybody in the city uses public transportation and I needed the extra cash, but it had killed me to give up the car after working through high school to save up for it. I didn’t even realize until now that I had left the plates with the guy I sold it to. My parents went out of their way to get them back and frame them for me. This must have been the surprise my mom said they had waiting for me when I came home for the Fourth of July.
I couldn’t take it anymore. Maybe it was the thought of what my parents’ happy faces must have looked like while they were hanging the plates, or maybe it was the fact that they would never get to see their thoughtful surprise come to fruition. I couldn’t fight off the feeling of emptiness creeping up inside me. I had no home, no family, and nowhere to go now. I dropped my bag on the floor and sat on the bed with my head in my hands, fighting the urge to cry. I could hear footsteps approaching my room, but didn’t look up.
The footsteps paused at the doorway before continuing inside.
“I’m sorry.” It was Lyle apologizing again. He took a seat next to me.
Hearing Lyle tell me he was sorry made me wonder if there was anything really left for me to lose after this. “I’m going to stay here.” I kept my head down, not wanting him to see me with tears in my eyes again.
“You can’t, it’s not an option,” he said, and picked my bag up off the floor.
“I thought it was over when Noah killed those people in New York and let me go. The Archios would take care of the mutants, my parents would have all the answers for my infection, and life would go back to normal. But he was right. I’ll never escape this life now,” I mumbled, pulling away from him as he tried to drag me by the arm.
“I know it must
“Then there’s still hope. Change your clothes and take whatever you need,” Lyle said and dragged me away from the bed in to the hallway. “Does your father have a gun we could use? I still have mine, but no ammo.”
I nodded and pointed back to a dresser in the bedroom before leaving for my room down the hall.
I stood there for a moment, thinking about if this was all a bad dream. After washing up in my bathroom as fast as possible, I grabbed clean clothes and changed into them. This can’t be happening , I kept telling myself. I’m going to wake up soon. I just have to play along until it’s over. I went to my closet for an old backpack from high school and began throwing in clothes.
The sound of growling and gunshots from my parents’ room interrupted my packing. I got up and ran out of my room. In the hallway, I could see Lyle exiting their room and closing the door behind him.
“What happened?” I tried to push past him, but he blocked the door.
“You don’t want to go in there,” he said quietly. “I had to make sure they wouldn’t be coming back. I’m sorry.”
He was splattered all over with black blood now and the gun in his hand was shaking. “We need to go,” Lyle prompted, still guarding the door.
I returned to my room to finish, but my sense of overwhelming sorrow was making it difficult to concentrate. Looking around the room I grew up in was only making things worse. A baseball bat with a significant layer of dust stood propped up in the corner. It was there more as homage to my childhood than anything else. For years, my dad took me to the batting cages on the weekends. He wasn’t particularly athletic, but I always had the feeling he thought it would be some sort of an ideal all-American father-and-son bonding moment. He was the type of dad that would still dress up as Santa long after I found out Santa wasn’t real, just because he thought it was the thing all good dads should do.
Something new on the wall above my bed caught my eye. It was the license plates from my first car, and they were in a frame. I had sold the car to someone in town when I moved to New York. Everybody in the city uses public transportation and I needed the extra cash, but it had killed me to give up the car after working through high school to save up for it. I didn’t even realize until now that I had left the plates with the guy I sold it to. My parents went out of their way to get them back and frame them for me. This must have been the surprise my mom said they had waiting for me when I came home for the Fourth of July.
I couldn’t take it anymore. Maybe it was the thought of what my parents’ happy faces must have looked like while they were hanging the plates, or maybe it was the fact that they would never get to see their thoughtful surprise come to fruition. I couldn’t fight off the feeling of emptiness creeping up inside me. I had no home, no family, and nowhere to go now. I dropped my bag on the floor and sat on the bed with my head in my hands, fighting the urge to cry. I could hear footsteps approaching my room, but didn’t look up.
The footsteps paused at the doorway before continuing inside.
“I’m sorry.” It was Lyle apologizing again. He took a seat next to me.
Hearing Lyle tell me he was sorry made me wonder if there was anything really left for me to lose after this. “I’m going to stay here.” I kept my head down, not wanting him to see me with tears in my eyes again.
“You can’t, it’s not an option,” he said, and picked my bag up off the floor.
“I thought it was over when Noah killed those people in New York and let me go. The Archios would take care of the mutants, my parents would have all the answers for my infection, and life would go back to normal. But he was right. I’ll never escape this life now,” I mumbled, pulling away from him as he tried to drag me by the arm.
“I know it must
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