The Sunshine in My Veins (Peterick) ➳ Book 1

Four

Joe sighed in defeat as they scoured the final floor of the Henderson Insurance office building. Neither of them had known the name of the orange building until they had stumbled across a storage supply closet filled with free pens and business cards.

Jokingly, Pete picked up a few pens, but Joe knelt down and pulled out a packet of paper. He took out a sheet and penned Patrick a short note.

"In case he comes back," Joe muttered. "He'll know I'm okay."

Pete didn't argue. He knew what it was like to get separated from someone that was important. That's why he rarely let people in anymore. In this world, death was more common than the flu.

"How'd you meet?"

"Oh, um. We were both looking for food in the same area. I saved his ass and we just decided to stick together."

"He's not gonna be any trouble, right? Because I don't have time to baby two people. Bronx can take care of himself if he has to."

"Of course he can," Joe said dismissively. "I wouldn't have stayed with him if he couldn't."

And Pete though that was a good way to put it. You wouldn't want incompetent individuals in charge of preserving your life.

"So what do you think is in Chicago?" Joe wondered aloud as they headed back towards a waiting Megan and Bronx.

"Not sure. Maybe something better than this."

Joe knew what he meant: the despair, the desolation, the destruction. The towns on the outskirts of major cities were hit the hardest during the initial takeover. There was maximum coverage in the middle of nowhere, so the Arkkarredians were quick to seal off all escape routes. Then, building by building, prisoners were taken.

"I don't think it can get any better than this," Joe reasoned. "I hope I'm wrong."

"For everyone's sake, I hope you are too."

"You don't happen to know how to hot-wire a car, do you?" Joe asked after a few minutes as his eyes scanned the abandoned roadway.

"Not really."

Joe sighed. Yet another reason why Patrick had been such a useful companion. Sure, the kid didn't have the dexterity to actually hot-wire a car, but he could reel off the steps in seconds. Joe assumed someone had uploaded the Internet to Patrick's brain when he was a baby.

"I guess it's by foot for now. God, I hope we run into Patrick."

"Tell me about him. What's he like?"

"Well, first thing anyone should know about him is that he's a genius. He remembers everything. So he might not be the best at combat, but his memory and knowledge makes up for it. He once told me those things attack in patterns."

"What d'you mean?" Pete asked as he tossed Bronx over his shoulder, causing the boy to squeal in delight.

Megan had her eyes transfixed on the road before them, a gun held loosely in her hands. "Doesn't that mean they kick five times and punch seven and then repeat or something like that?" she asked.

"Exactly. Usually he'll stay back and figure out the pattern, but once he does there's no hope for them."

"Wow. Anything else he figured out?"

"A few things here and there. He always admired them. Said they were a superior race. I never understood what he meant."

"Well, they're not," Pete snapped. "And if we ever find him I'll be sure to prove him wrong."

*

"Chicago?" the red haired, heavily tattooed man Brendon had introduced as Andy asked. "What the hell's in Chicago?"

Ryan shrugged his shoulders. "Patrick's friend seems to think there's something."

"And we're going on his whim because?"

"Because Joe's smart. Joe would've though through every option before making a decision to leave. Obviously there's something going on here that might get us killed," Patrick all but growled. "Didn't you hear that explosion last night? Things are changing. And I don't think they're for the better."

Andy stared at Patrick for a long moment before nodding. "Just let me get my stuff."

All three of them watched in amazement as Andy jogged out of the room, silent as anything.

Brendon let out a low whistle. "Damn. How do you do it?"

"Do what?" Patrick asked.

"Persuade people like that? It's kinda hot."

"Brendon," Ryan hissed. "Stop it."

"Aw, did I hurt your feelings? Want me to kiss it better?"

"No. This is not the time for your flirting antics."

The two continued to bicker back and forth as Patrick looked on. There was a feeling settling into his bones, a feeling of despair and danger. He wasn't lying when he told Andy something was changing. Anyone who was anyone could easily feel the shift in the air. What were those aliens planning?

"Ready?" Brendon called as Andy slammed a door shut.

"Yeah. Who's leading?"

All eyes locked on Patrick.

"No, not happening," he said quickly. "I don't lead."

"Why not. We're her because of you. We're blindly following your friend."

"I-I'm not g-good with this."

"How the hell did you survive without Joe?" Brendon asked.

"Not sure," Patrick whispered. Flashes of memories danced across his vision, blocking out whatever was happening in the real world.

"Whatever. I'll lead. We need to get going anyway," Andy finally muttered.

He heaved his backpack higher up on his shoulders and started walking. Brendon quickly followed, pulling Ryan along before the latter could wrap an arm around Patrick in a comforting hug.

They walked until dusk, exchanging stories and jokes as the day went on. They talked about themselves and their previous lives. Andy used to be a drummer; Brendon was a land surveyor; Ryan aspired to be a musician; Patrick had been a nobody. Then narrations of friends and families began. Happy tales of wonderful childhoods and blossoming teen years. Patrick contributed very little to the topics. Neither his time as a child nor teen had prospered anything but abandonment and depression, a depression Patrick was still trapped in today.

When dusk began to fall, Andy suggested they hide in the woods to lessen their chances of being spotted. The found a clearing, made themselves comfortable, and set a watch schedule before turning in.

It was just as the final rays of light vanished from sight. A beam of blue shot past Ryan's unsuspecting head, startling him. He picked up his own weapon and nudged Andy with his foot. The latter jolted upright.

"Something blue," Ryan muttered.

Andy immediately understood. He woke the other two quickly.

"Listen, kid. Go hide. We'll get you when this is over," Andy commanded, his eyes focused on Patrick. Another bolt of blue rammed into a tree.

"But—"

"Run!"

And he did.

In seconds someone was following him. Was it human or alien? Patrick couldn't tell. He could hear his heart beat in his chest, pounding wildly as it begged for rest. His lungs were taking in as much air as possible. His body was failing.

Collapsing to the ground, Patrick put his hands over his head. "Don't shoot," he pleaded. "I'll do whatever. Just don't shoot me."