Bonds {TWD}

Prologue {ARIZONA}

Only the clink of my badminton racket against the birdie sending it flying over the net, into the soft green grass on the other side and the low barks of my red golden doodle can be heard in the silence that hangs above me. The long yellow net, that stretches from the red brick wall of my bungalow to a tree on the other side of the clearing in the ten acre of Yukon forest -that is my family's property- sways in the wind.
The short, frilly navy belly top I wear, blows in the breeze, but my black high waisted skinny jeans and faded grey/blue converse all stars aren't fazed by the chilly Yukon breeze that drafts down on me making my tanned skin bumpy with goosebumps.
It also ruffles my straightened dark brown hair and my short bangs into my eyes, I try to brush them away but they are to short to tuck behind my ear, so I bear it right now.
I walk over to the white poll protruding from the ground and pick up my milk chocolate leather jacket that has grey sweatshirt sleeves and a grey sweatshirt hood.
I slip it over my arms and zip it up to keep in my warm and keep out the Yukon cold. My dog circles around my feet and I hear the noise of helicopters echo around me and I look up.
A v formation of seven military helicopters float over my head and fly towards the nearest town of Watson Lake. It's a sight to be seen in the nowhere of south Yukon.
I take the steps two at a time with long strides as I run up the wooden steps and sprint along the dark stained deck that wraps around my house with my dog at my hip.
I jump off on my asphalt driveway just in time to see fire erupt from far away, where I would guess is Watson Lake. Screams can be heard where I stand, about fifty kilometres away. Damian my dog barks and his ears fall flat on top on his head.
I gasp at the terror happening before my eyes, the images of massacre that must be happening flash behind my eyes. I'm saved by the phone in my back pocket vibrating, I take it out and see the pointy faced, long black haired, brilliant blue eyed face of my mom's contact picture.
I hit the green answer button and put the phone to my ear, terrified because I was left at home while I could have gone to the party of my little sister's best friend, or hung out with the adults. But I didn't want to because just before they left they told me it was John's sister, John is my ultimate enemy and I refused to go, if I hadn't gotten ready for the party I would still be in sweats and a t shirt, with my naturally wavy hair in a messy top not bun, now I wish I had gone so as to be with my family as this nightmare unfolds.
"Honey." My mom sounds terrified and on the verge of tears.
"Mom- what's going on?!" I ask frantically.
"Honey we have no time for that, go downstairs, grab the survival kits from downstairs and load them in my car, drive to your aunt's house in Whitehorse, followed by your uncle in Yellowknife then grandma and grandpa's in Regina then your uncle's cottage outside of Arden on Salmon River then if you haven't met me and your father and sister travel to the CDC in Atlanta where your uncle Edwin is working on the cure-" She rambles but I cut her off.
"What cure? And I can't drive, it's illegal! The police will arrest me!" I say in my whiny ten year old voice.
"Honey there are no police anymore, we're in the midst of a apocaly-" The phone cuts out with static and a ground shuttering boom reaches me, but I'm sure the word she was saying was apocalypse.
I gasped but didn't let my wet drops flow, because you can't drive emotional because it'll alter your vision and you have a better chance of crashing, so I rush into the garage and down the stairs into my cement basement to keep my mind occupied.
I rush over to the only item of furniture in the bare room- a red oak bookcase with cans of food, such as beans and soup, and water bottles, on the top of the case are two bags, a yellow hiking backpack and a red Goodlife Fitness bag. I slide both of them off the top and zip open both bags, the yellow bag full of canned goods and dry dog food, the Goodlife Fitness bag with blankets and hidden knives hidden in a zip-up pocket underneath.
Before zipping them back up I pack them with all the water bottles I can fit in the close to none extra space in the bags.
I zip them up and run back up the stairs with Damian on my heels and the bags the yellow bag perched on my back and the red bag tightly clutched in my hand's grip. A steak knife is in the other hand.
I pop the trunk and throw my bags in, I open the back doors and fold the seats down before I let Damian jump in back and I hop in front and feel the car roar under me and I slide into reverse and out of my driveway on the trip of my life, nervously playing with the heavy duty chain around my neck.