The Expatriate-the story of a Prodigy

34. Analyzing the Persona

The plans were completed sooner than Alex Mars had expected somehow, with no unexpected occurrences, such as Thomas with an h breaking a window and secretly slipping into the house to sabotage them all or the Rebels(from now on, let's use this term to mean Lewis' pack of people, excluding the now-separate team, the Raiders) assembled outside their door. But the thing was, Alex wasn't too glad of the plans being finished so neatly and cleanly, for the day was sure to be his last in the Raiders' house.
He had had bad experiences here for a month and a few weeks-getting ignored by Miles, feeling as if he had been betrayed by Lyra Cannes, and lastly, getting both of his hands burned with Martian laser from Lyra, only earlier that day. But, there also had been good times-getting to know the others better, building planes with Miles, discovering about the Martians, training with Martian weapons...
Yes, maybe I mentioned it before, but I will do it once more: even when the person or thing has treated you terribly, you still would miss him, her, or it, if it's separated from you.
And that moment for Alex Mars was the perfect example of such a situation.
He had bravely opened the front door, not fearing Thomas nor the Rebels anymore, and walked to the front of the house to admire and formally give it a mental farewell. Though its exterior hadn't turned one bit from the day he had first saw it-that day when Thomas was closer to him than Miles, he hadn't yet met Lyra nor Melanie, and was feeling depressed, he felt different about it now. As if it knew him well, not just a simple architectural structure comprised of solid concrete and beams.
As he swept his eyes across its exterior like a scanner at the airport, he heard someone step out of the house and place her feet on the grass and for it was a fast, light step, knew right away it was whom he preferred to be seeing for now.
"According to your plans, we have to get in a car and set the tires on the first inch of sand of the desert by 8 p.m., and now, it's already 7: 36, leader," He didn't smirk, for it kind of felt a bit like he was committing blasphemy in front of the reverent house.
"I feel pressured-don't call me by that name. Anyway, you're right. We shall go," He heard Lyra's head turn in the direction of the house, following his gaze. "The house does need some respect, yes," She said, along with her trademark sighs, and they spent the next 4 minutes just staring, staring, and staring at the house. It was only when Alex heard Miles curiously start walking to the front door to see what they were doing that he broke out of his trance, and started walking to the yard in front of the house-he heard Lyra shook out of it behind his back.
"So, which car shall hold the honor of transporting us to the desert?" She called out.
Well, at least, he hadn't made decisions for that beforehand-and thankfully, it was one of the questions that needed little concern nor attention.
Simply, he called out, straight from his brain.
"Mine. I'm going to drive-and for real, this time," He answered.

By 7: 40, the trunk of his car-a van(it was the last car he could find, and itself had taken 3 days before he could unearth it from a pile of trash. He was deadly relieved to find that it still worked, though it wheezed like hell from the second he turned its ignition)-started to be filled with everything the Raiders would need out there. He sat on behind the old, thin wheel, unwrapping his bandages with the utmost care, eyes scrutinizing each luggage the rest of his team brought out of the house-and trust me, they had gathered a lot of things to bring with them: a single but huge gallon of water(yes, the blue kind that people stick into their personal water purifier), 2 huge bags that hikers would give a thumbs-up at, the Polarick box packed with Martian food, another box full of Martian weapons, most of the tools that Miles had used to make his pigeon planes(hammers, screwdrivers, a predictions screwdriver set, et cetera), the planes themselves, a beanbag, some extra covers-
"What's the beanbag for?" He called over his shoulder at Miles, catching him in the act of throwing the beanbag onto the back seat.
"Melanie wants it-wants to 'relish the last moment in contact with the Raiders, with a huge community of humans', though I'm not sure if beanbags would clam her down," A single split second after Miles replied, they both somehow found it funny and Miles laughed, slapping Alex's van, and making its frame tremble in fear under his hand. "She can be annoying-but also hilarious at the wrong moment. Anyway. That's all the things we need," Both their eyes went to the back of the van and found it almost full, the gallon of water threatening to tumble down to the back seat, and Alex Mars cloudless just sense that from his seat that the floor had gotten closer to the sidestep of the car from the weight of the van on its poor, weak wheels. "The van should survive this. But there's another problem after that-you think we'd be able to bring them all? Under the sand, feet on sand? No trolley nor wagon available? Day and night?" He said just as the water tank toppled down with a giant plop, and Miles threw it deep into the back of the car. "We are Prodigies, man. And my ability is just that-I am strong exceptionally, you know. We were, um, born for this," "No, we were born in the wrong era, Miles. We must have been born as Spartans according to your words," Alex was sure that Miles swore behind her back as Lyra got past him and plopped onto the passenger's seat, never minding the vans' old, greasy smell. Melanie, right after her, got in the backseat, cuddled the bean bag and even before Miles could get in next to her, her head had dropped an inch as she snored.
"We turned the lights on in our rooms, and turned the light of the traitor bitch's room-that should allure them into thinking that we're inside," Lyra briefed quickly as Alex Mars brought the van to life, letting its wheezes drown out Melanie's snores, fill up the tight space, and clog up his ears. He quickly Muted his Muters before backing the van out and onto the road.
As Alex drove closer to the Main Street, to the headquarter, to the hole in the fence, to the desert, to the sand, they all lapsed into silence and let the wheezes and sounds of the tires fill up the space completely.