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Chapter 4: History

Chapter 4: History

-E L L I O T-

“Payne! Slow ‘em down!” That sentence cues the sigh of relief from everyone in the crowd. The voice of saints comes from a car behind us. The Clone, “Payne,” gives whoever is in the car a thumbs up before slowing his horse. The other soldiers follow suit.

My heart beats painfully in my chest and my lungs heave for air. My skin is slick with sweat but my mouth his dry. My legs ache and the long grass whipping against my bare legs isn’t helping. My stomach is gurgling loudly, my throat is burning. I can tell that the people around me are having the same symptoms from jogging with no water, food, and a serious lack of sleep in the relentless sun for no less than ten miles. The skin of the man in front of me is an angry shade of pink. Not to mention we are all still very confused about where we are going and why. The physical combined with emotional exhaustion leaves our limbs quaking in fatigue.

I have never done this much physical exercise in my life. And I never expected that I would be able to. Because what I have done in my life time has never required more than a quick jog across the street. Oliver and I used to raise down to Selections, but I would usually tire after a few yards and fall behind. But with adrenaline buzzing my brain and my life being held at gunpoint I have run at least ten miles without a minute to catch my breath. 

The slower pace doesn’t offer very much relief. In fact, it makes the adrenaline lessen. My calves and lungs continue to burn. My legs are begging me to stop and to breathe but the guns aimed in my direction make me push on.

Without the faster thumping of feet everyone’s breathing seems so much louder. The woman walking next to me grips her throat and breathes heavily through her nose. A child a few people a head of me drags his feet and hangs his head as he cries quietly. His mother emotionlessly pats his head, providing no real comfort because I’m sure she is comforting herself. A teenage couple are holding hands behind me and are whispering things to each other that are totally inappropriate for this situation. Whatever helps them cope…

“Thank God.” Oliver pants. His arms are quivering with strain. Holding Leo while jogging for the past two hours has taken its tole. We– me, my mother, Blair, several people around us, and even Leo himself have told Oliver to take a break and take care of himself. Each attempt has been met with a snappy refusal.

“We are walking now Olive.” My mother croons, touching his shoulder. “You can put him down. You are going to hurt yourself.”

Oliver doesn’t even look at her, or any of us for that matter. He stares ahead with a stern expression, lips pursed. He pulls Leo tighter to his heaving chest, pushing forward with a stubborn and stern stride. But his strength flickers, his left foot heavier than his right with a slight limp. “I’m fine. I can carry him.” He wheezes breathily.

Nobody says anything while we continue to march forwards. I have to look away when Oliver trips over the long grass, the sight making me sick. My mother continues in trying to convince him to put Leo down. Oliver continues to coldly shoot down the idea. I tune out the conversation completely when Leo begins to beg Oliver to set him down. 

I am scanning my surroundings in hopes of distracting myself when something besides miles of fields catches me eye. I unsteadily walk on my toes, struggling to see over the sea of heads in front of me. I think for a moment that the heat must be getting to me. The dehydration must be messing with my head. I hope, for a second, that this is all a dream. But I’m not the only one who notices it– the sore thumb in miles of eternal grass.

“Do you see that?” Blair pokes my side excitedly. My heart jumps in my chest. She sees it too. 

“See what?” Oliver grunts, craning his neck to look over peoples heads. The pace makes it difficult for all of us, especially being near the rear.