The boy settled down next to a playground. Jack sighed, looking at the red cart full of his schoolmates. He checked their pulse every few minutes, they were alive, but their consciousness was having a hard time.
"Didn't expect this to happen. At least it is better than a school day,"
He had been walking for 3-days since they didn't have access to a car - He was doing his best to reach home - but his muscles had become sore, and his head was aching like a retarded dog thanks to the wails following every city.
'Can't blame them... Many lost their children, but can't they keep it down?'
His empathetic thoughts were corrupted. He was more annoyed than sad. He couldn't sleep or escape seeing complaining adults, robbers taking advantage of the situation, and the government lying about what was happening.
"Pandemic, my ass, what virus kills children in an instant? Nothing else happened after it. A virus; is infectious, not poison."
Jack moaned, grunting away his anger; He had a lot piled up, having to roll a cart and walk every day. And the supply he snatched before the teachers woke up.
It was also strange no adults that lost consciousness died: It was only children between 0-17, and at least there didn't seem to be a public case of it affecting adults. Not yet, anyway.
He grabbed the last piece of crackers from his pockets, ripped the packaging, starting to eat his meal, trying to forget about the situation.
He relaxed his shoulder sliding down the tree to the puffy green grass.
He thought about a reason, why was this happening? He was always lost in thoughts, believing he wouldn't care even when somebody died for it to be the truth.
"Maybe living in a lie..."
The way he spoke was raspy and shaky, his lips wanted to cry, but his head refused to oblige. His hand soon followed the lead, unlike the arrogant eyes.
He hasn't lived that long - being 15 - Life liked to mess around with kids. Being male, he had to keep it inside; adults shut him down as a child.
'Teenagers have it easy... What a wrong phrase,'
Being gifted: he was always smoldered up in phrase and expectation, but as he grew and looked back, he wanted to cry.
Everybody was so farther back he was sick of it, and then one day, he thought -'Why don't I become the loser?' the people around him always had an easy life.
"I should get on the road soon. I am pretty close to my house, thankfully,"
...
A scream came from the right, a high-tuned girlish scream.
"WHAT THE FUCK?!"
The girl looked over the bodies as she stood on them with her silver hair. And then, looking forward, she saw the school loner, his eyes sparking with an emerald green outline, a cyan base, and an outer gold yellow. He had chestnut brown hair that flew with the wind and a chiseled body.
"They're not dead, at least not them."
He didn't spare a glance.
"Not them...? What the hell are you talking about!"
She screeched, surprised at the 180 he had taken. But what did he mean by not them? She couldn't stop thinking about the other people,
'People died...'
She had pieced it together and crumbled it down into the cart, her pink eyes became soulless on her face, and she shook understanding of the situation.
"Where are you taking us? A dungeon perhaps - What is your intention, Jack? Tell me!"
She was always skeptical, never actually trusting anybody. It shined at that day.
Jack mischievously grinned, grabbing her pointy chin before leaning closer to her face. He widened his grasp, looking at her crystal pink eyes with a void expression, soon followed by a ghost-quiet ambiance.
"Would you like that, Brianna? If that's what you desire."
She blushed, hearing his words pushing him away.
"Stop joking and tell me what's going on. I don't get where you're taking us, but I don't trust it. Why is your eye glowing, and what's going on."
Jack perked up upon hearing the last sentence.
"Glowing? My eyes?"
His vision was indeed a little more bluish and blurry than before, but that was probably because he wasn't wearing glasses. He thought that, but he could never explain the weird stares he had on him.