Immune

New and Old Faces

None of us move right away. Isaac is behind me, his hand clamped tight around my forearm. My right hand is still poised on the gun strap as I stare up at the giant, ready to swing it around.

Not that I could actually do anything, but the thought of having something to threaten someone with comforts me.

It's as if the giant man senses how tense we are, and he takes a step back.

"Name's Stephen," he says, nodding, "This is Zeus." The muscle mass that is the dog sits down, his tongue falling out of the side of his mouth. "You should come in. Ollie will want to meet you."

He turns and opens the door the rest of the way, walking on inside. Slowly, I follow, left hand going over Isaac's hand. He jumps, taking his hand off. I smile, and he follows behind loyally.

Inside, there are rows of shelves. To our direct left is a huge empty space, sleeping bags lining the floor. There's barely any room between the bags for someone to walk. On the right is clothes racks with different shirts and things hanging on them. Some of them are empty, and others are dripping water onto the white tile floor.

As we walk ahead, we pass row upon row of food, still on the shelves. Some aisles are messy, food strewn all over the floor. Other aisles are completely empty, more sleeping bags in those. We pass a baby section and a section with paper supplies. A sharp right, and we are passing rows of TVs, phones, radios, and old movies. These aisles are much messier, little round silver disks thrown everywhere.

The giant comes to a stop, turning right again where several couches have been laid out in a circle. It looks like a meeting place, shelves scooted out of the way to make room for the seats. Folded chairs are behind the couches. There's probably enough room to sit twenty or more people. Right now, though, only six people sit in the circle.

"Hey, Ollie," Stephen says, crossing his arms. A girl with short brown hair looks up from the papers she is reading. Stephen jerks his head towards the two of us. "Look who showed up." Ollie sits up, slowly standing as she stares us down.

She's extremely tall for a woman, standing almost as tall at Stephen. Her frame is slim, though, muscular. Wearing a leather jacket and dirty jeans, she doesn't seem like the kind of person to be in charge. The other people behind her glance up.

"Jaelyn?" she says, reading the name on my uniform shirt.

"How do you know my name?"

It's all I can think to say, and the same questions that's been burning my mind for days.

Ollie takes a deep breath, pushing back her hair. It stands up on her head at odd angles, looking wild and uncontrolled.

"That's a question I can't answer," she says, adding, "Yet. The answer will come from someone else. I should introduce you to everyone."

She turns, fanning her hand out at the other people. Stephen has taken a seat next to a young boy who is playing with a small engine of some sort.

"You've met Stephen," Ollie says, pointing at the man, "That's his son, Jackson. Stephen's the brawn of this operation." She moves to the next person. "That's Belle. And you've met her dog, Zeus."

Belle is all of 10 years old. Her black hair is pulled back in pigtails, and she's cleaning a pistol, barely looking up at us. Her eyes are so familiar that I could swear I've seen them before. The paisley skirt she wears reminds me of the little girl who I tried to save.

"That's Clare and Justin," Ollie continues, pointing at a couple sitting on the floor by Belle. Clare's head is half shaved, a nasty scar stretching from the back of her head, down her eye, and through her lip to her chin. It looks like she was clawed by a bear. The man sitting beside her is middle aged, whittling away at a piece of wood. Neither one of them bothers to look up at us.

"And that... That is... well."

The way her voice falters catches my attention, and I look away from Clare and Justin. Sitting behind a table, which has maps and papers spread everywhere, is a woman with wavy, blonde hair. She's looking up at us, unblinking, her mouth slightly open. I can see tears brimming her eyes.

She looks so familiar, and it's on the edge of my tongue. Yet, I can't place it.

"Jay," she whispers, barely. Isaac's next to me again, hand on my arm.

"Do you know her?" he whispers, just loud enough that I can hear him.

"I don't think so."

"You sure, because she looks like she could be your twin."

My eyes go wide as I realize he's right. It's like I'm looking at a mirror image of myself. She has the same blue eyes, thick eyelashes and light eyebrows. Her cheekbones are strong, collarbone even stronger on her chest.

"There's no way," I whisper, taking a step back. Isaac holds my arm firm, not letting me back up too far. "No."

"Jay, calm down," the woman says, standing up suddenly. The sound her chair makes as she stands up scares Isaac, and he lets go of my arm, giving me enough time to take a few more steps back.

"What's your name?" I say, quietly.

Stephen is back on his feet. Everyone is staring at me.

"What's your name?" I repeat to the woman, my voice louder.

"Please, calm down," she says, walking towards me.

"Tell me your name!" I scream, hands going up to frame my face. My breathing is short; my head is spinning. She opens her mouth, taking a deep breath before she answers.

"It's me, Jay," she whispers, calmly, "Mandy Price."

The room spins around me. This can't be happening.

I can feel Isaac's arms around me. Mandy's still talking.

"I'm sorry, honey," she's saying, but her voice is distant, like I'm hearing her through glass.

It's my mom.

Everything goes black, and the only thing I can feel is the cold tile on my back.