Are You One of Them?

I’m staring at a girl. She just saved my life. I’m staring at my hands, where a golden glow slowly fades. I’m staring at the body of a dead wolf, with charred skin on one of the flanks, a rotten fleshy smell filling my nostrils.

The girl has short red hair, in a boy’s fade. She's wearing some kind of armor: scaly black clothes, with a sliver belt slung over her hips. Her hands shake, the gun still pointed at where the wolf was just standing. Pointed at me.

I back up, sweat pouring down my head, wanting this to end. My foot slips on a rock, and I fall onto the ground, butt first. The girl shifts the gun to follow me. I stare at her, unable to move.

“Where did you come from, boy? You know you're not supposed to be out without assistance. Or are you something else? Not a boy? A Them?” The girl narrows her eyes, talking in a soft, serpentine voice. She steps closer, and I scramble back.

A Them? And without assistance form whom? And . . . what? . . . what is my name? Daniel? Is it Daniel? I think so. “My name’s Daniel,” I stutter, my hands looking for something to grip. They find my shirt. My bloody shirt. I let go of the shirt, quickly, wanting nothing to do with it.

The girl steps closer, and before I can scramble backward once more, her knee is pressing against my chest, her face an inch from mine. “Daniel? I don’t know a Daniel.” She hisses, leaning closer to my face. I can see the individual crinkles on the side of her mouth, the different colors in her eyes.

I lick my sandpaper lips, and look to away. Anywhere but those bright green and auburn eyes.

The girl presses the gun to my chest. I flinch. “What sector are you from . . . Daniel?”

Sector? Thems? What’s happening. What’s happening to me? Why is she threatening me? Why do I have glowing hands? “I don’t--I don’t--I don't know?” I stumble over my words, dampness coating my back.

The gun clicks and I let out a small scream. “Scared? You should be scared! I know what you are! A Them!,” she barks. I try to move away, but I can't.

My lips tremble, and my words come gushing out my mouth. “Please . . . I don’t know what’s happening . . . I entered a contest . . . won a chance to be asleep for a 100 years . . . and I woke up and everything’s weird . . . and everything's different and . . . bad. Everything's bad. I don’t know--”

The girl puts a finger against my lips. She stares at me, leans in. “I don’t know what your deal is, but I’m going to going to leave you here. If you’d like to get yourself killed, follow me.”

She stands up, and starts to walk away, her hips swinging.

My mind starts to race, and a panicky sensation takes over. “Wait!”

She looks back eyebrows, raised. “What, Daniel? If that’s even your name.”

“Take me with you.”

She narrows her eyes at me, her fingers rubbing the trigger. She opens her mouth, forehead crinkled.

And she says, “Okay.”