The Summary of Human Existence (Chapter 2)

# Chapter Two

Ruth

Family is blood. Everyone knows that. You are supposed to protect them. Never leave them. Family first. Always. You most definitely do not leave them to die when they tell you to.  Yet I did. I cannot be a good sister, then, can I?

I have to go back. I have to. I failed  Papá and Mamá  . No good hija, daughter, does that. I should go back. I need to go back. I can’t save her-is that a selfish thought?-but I can save more. Maybe I could turn myself in. I deserved that much.

Why would they go after Len? Destroy a whole family? I know, of course, why. Ever since the Red Plague hit, the officials went crazy trying to stop it. Suddenly people were having symptoms of something that was not documented. Whatever they had, it most certainly wasn’t Radiation Poisoning (though there were plenty who did) it was something much worse. Everyone was dropping like raindrops. Pitter-Patter. Drop drop. Puddles of bodies scarred and burned. Then we realized that some people-mostly the young people being born from those who had witnessed it happen in their family-weren’t getting it. Everyone but them.

I never did, but they never thought about me being Immune. My sister, the beautiful Len, born from Mamá  ’s cousins, was immune. It didn’t matter that Len wasn’t my true sister, after Mamá  ’s cousins had been killed in an experiment, we called her our own. Even though the officials came after her next when they realized that meant that she would be immune.

I had to go back.

Footsteps and muttering voices were what shot me up like a bird flying away. I jump up from my perch on a large rock and hid behind it instead. Three people-two male, one female, were walking in my direction. They wore tan outfits and badly sunburned skin.

The female was the one who pauses first. “Did you hear that?” She asks.

I gulp as the male with cornsilk hair replies, “No. What?”

The female glances around, biting her lip. “I heard something. Like, uhh, something scrambling.”

The other male laughs. “Scrambling? Who says that?”

The blond one rolls his eyes. “Shut up.” His gaze went back to the woman’s. “Ashley, are you sure you heard something? It could be a snake. Supposedly there are a lot of snakes in Cal.”

“California.” She corrects him. “And yes, I’m sure.”

I hold my breath. I didn't know who they were or what they were doing. Clearly, they weren’t from L.A.

I hadn’t seen or heard of people outside of California or L.A since years ago. I was seven then-just old enough to understand that I lived in the United States of America, and that there were fifty states. I was in one of the most famous ones.

They were the first outsiders I'd ever seen.

Then my stupid self decided that it would be a good idea to trip on the ground and I plummet to my face. The people rush toward me while I groan in pain because my shoulder wound was now bleeding. Again. And it took so long to stop last time. And the time before that.

The rude male was the one who reaches me first, and hovers over me. I frown in annoyance because his hair was greasy. He didn’t seem to notice this gravitating fact though because he was busy shouting in my face, “Who are you! Are you a spy? I think she’s a spy!”

The girl, Ashley, pushes him out of the way (thank god) and offers me her hand. I glower at her and stood, trying not to wince in pain. Ashley didn’t seem to be offended by that, though. Instead, she crosses her arms and surveys me. “Are you a spy?” She had a southern accent, and was by no means beautiful, but she was pretty, in an american way. Tan skin and brunette hair that matched her name.

“I ain’t no spy.” I told her in a short and direct voice. I copied her posture, crossed arms and feet apart.

“Then who are you?” The other male askes.

“Who are you?” I counter. I didn’t know who these people were. I just knew that my heart was racing and that these people were 100% dangerous.

The greasy-haired guy eyes the other two and shrugs. “I don’t know. I think we should take her back to Camp.”

“No one asked you,” I told him but he didn’t seem to care. The other male sighs and says, “I suppose we have to. Even though we’ve come this far…” His eyes narrow. “Are you from Cal? Which part? San Francisco? Sacramento? San Diego? San José ? Fresno?”

We’d probably be there forever as he lists Californiana Cities but then the greasy dude pulled up a rubber-looking gun and shot me.

↻

The bed was the softest thing I’d lied on for two years. Not that I was going to tell them that, of course.

Another person was in my face. It was a doctor, I think. He was dressed in a medic’s collared shirt. He’d also shined a light in my face, which was stupidly irritating. It’s what woke me up, which was another grievance in my life. I’d rather sleep than see his ugly face in my face.

“Oh good,” He said. “You're awake.”

I roll my eyes. Duh.

He pulls a clipboard out of nowhere and folds it into his stomach, which couldn’t be comfortable. But then again, I didn’t care how he felt. “You reacted well to the tranquilizer. No outbreaks. That’s good.” He smiles pleasantly at me.

I want to say, “Why? Have others?” but I want to stay silent and annoy him so I keep my mouth shut.

“You were found a few miles out of L.A. Is that where you came from?”

Again, I refuse to answer him. It was none of his business.

“This is a Refugee Camp, Ruth-”

I jump. How does he know my name? Impossible! Before I can stop myself, I shout at him, “How do you know my name?”

He only smiles again, and says calmly, “Stay gentle, Ruth. We managed to remove the bullet from your shoulder, but it’s still swollen from a day of no treatment. How did you get shot, Ruth?”

“How did you get certified?” I snarl back at him.

He opens his mouth to reply but the cabin door opens and an intimidating man about six feet tall walks in, talking to someone behind me. His hair is shot gray with silver, and he wears a simple gray uniform. Not a suit, exactly, but close. He addresses the doctor first. “Arthur.”

“Sir Jones.” He gave Jones a short bow for some reason, then stood, his face red. “Sir, she is-”

He waves him away. “I’ll talk to her myself, Arthur.”

“Yes, sir.” And so Dr. Arthur, the shining light he was, left.

I continued to sit up, glaring. I decide to beat him to the chase, and I say first, “Who are you?”

Jones massages his temple, like he was too busy being old and didn’t have time to deal with the fourteen year old girl they’d stolen.

“Don’t play games, girl.” Jones says.“We looked around, L.A put up a notice, Ruth Sánchez.”

I turn to the wall and say, “Where am I?”

“A refugee camp, Ruth. The third largest.”

“Where am I?” I repeat.

“Southern California. Just by the border of Arizona.”

“What do you want with me?”

“We want nothing more than to help you.”

“What’s the catch?”

“Are you agreeing to stay here?”