Max and I eat dinner alone, because Shera is conked out. We lie under the stars and talk for what seems like forever after eating our pitiful supper of granola bars and Mountain Dew. Finally, much to my dislike, Max has to go home to his sister (Angela) and mother. I roll over so I am beside Shera, and all hell breaks loose.
A black car grumbles by and I think nothing of it. Then it stops. I see it has government license plates. A butterfly flutters in my stomach. A man in a grey suit saunters over to us. I sit up abruptly. "How can I help you, sir?" I keep calm and polite. To my great shock, the official looks frightened. "She talks," I hear him say below a whisper under his breath. Part of being a resurrected freak is you can hear like a bat. "I talk," I reply calmly. "I am human, you know." "You are not!" he shouts, and I jump. "I c-came here b-because you're an illegal c-creature," he stammers, shaken by my jump. Or maybe he's scared I'll pull some bloodsucking monster act because he shouted. "I'm illegal? Well, I hate to break it to you, but I can't help being alive," I spit, furious. "You could die," he mutters, but then cowers back at the murderous look on my face. If I scare this guy enough he'll leave. I put on my most evil look and lunge. I'm not going to hurt him, I'm just going to scare him off. I'm extremely fast and he's caught off guard, so I slam him into the ground and wrap my hands around his throat. I'm not hurting him, of course, like I said, just scaring him. He starts to hyperventilate and I lay off him, feeling like the monster I truly am. He whips out a walkie-talkie and stammers into it, "T-taking her to the f-facility now. I know it's a l-last resort, but she's t-trying to attack." My insides freeze. Facility? What kind of facility? Will they kill me there? Worse, will they kill Shera? Even if I die, I want her live. The official clamps handcuffs on me and I kick myself for spacing out. "Wherever you take me, she comes," I fire, jerking my head toward Shera. He observes her still body. "I see she's one of you, whatever you are," he says, finally using some cheek. My handcuffed fists clench. "Well, I don't see any harm in bringing your little friend. But haven't you noticed she's dead?" He continues. "She's unconscious, moron. We can't die again." Or at least, I don't think we can, I say to myself silently. He then takes safety precautions by handcuffing Shera as well - despite the fact she isn't awake. He drags her body into the backseat and I sit in the front beside him. We drive into the night.