Subject A250: The Flame (COMPLETED)

Twelve: Snail's Pace

Or maybe she'd get eaten alive by three-thousand angry, psychotic cranks. Either way, it'd be exciting.

It was about 6pm when she reached the village. She could see then that there were seven houses, all looking rather empty and neglected. So, they looked pretty much how she felt. How fitting.

She walked through the centre of them, down a sort-of makeshift track. There were no roads leading in or out of the place, though Trace supposed they could have simply been worn down or covered over time Now there was nothing to guide anyone to their location at all.

"Stop."

Trace did just that. She felt something cold and press against the back of her head and froze in her tracks. There was no mistaking what was right behind her now, and she doubted it was a watergun. Although she could really do with one of those right now.

"Move and I'll shoot," the voice said, pressing the barrel of the gun harder against Trace's skull. She gulped.

Whoever it was, they sounded young. Maybe eleven or twelve years old. A girl. Still, Trace didn't doubt for a second that this kid would shoot her in a second. She sounded tough.

"Why are you here?" the girl asked, not releasing her grip.

Trace thought about what to tell the girl. She decided, at this point, with a gun pressed to her head, that the truth couldn't hurt.

"I came from WICKED," she said. The girl gasped. "They've sent me out here to test me and a few others. To help them find a cure for the Flare."

To be fair, it definitely wasn't the truth, but it was as much as Trace and the others were supposed to know and she didn't really think it was a good idea to reveal to this kid that she might actually be a fictional character in a fictional world.

"You came from WICKED," the girl repeated.

"Yes."

"Are they with you now? Are you spying? Did you come to take me?"

"What? No! They're testing me, not you. Trust me, I wouldn't send an ant their way, let alone another human being." She felt the tension on the back of her head lessen, but didn't dare move, just in case. The gun was still there.

"Hm," the girl considered this. "What are they testing? Where are these 'others' you speak of?"

"They wouldn't tell me that they're testing exactly, but they call them 'Variables'. The others are south of the mountains over there. They're heading this way. We're supposed to meet at the Safe Haven."

"Safe Haven?"

"That's all I know."

The girl pulled the gun away, and Trace heard her tuck it into the hem of her pants. "Alright," she said. "You can turn around. I believe you."

Trace hesitated, but eventually she turned to face the girl. She looked younger than she sounded, with long brown hair, bright hazel eyes and freckled cheeks. She stared up at Trace in what she supposed was concealed bewilderment.

"What's your name?" the girl asked. "How old are you?"

Trace smirked a little at the second question; she had no solid answer to that one. She also had no idea as to what her plans were or if this girl would ever meet the others, but she thought she'd better play things safe.

"My name is Ava," she said. "And I suppose I'm about sixteen years old, although I actually have no idea."

The girl frowned. "How can you have no idea? Did nobody ever tell you how old you are? Haven't you ever had a birthday?"

Trace smiled sadly. "Well, not one that I remember. WICKED took my memories. All of them. All I have left is my name."

"Wow. That's crazy! I can't even imagine not knowing my age!"

"Yeah, well it sucks. How am I supposed to have any birthday parties now?"

The girl grinned. "We can have one at my house."

"Your house?" The idea of someone living in a house in this weird scenario was apparently enough to surprise Trace.

"Yeah, my house. It's my house now. I live there with Bertie and Spots." The girl leaned in to whisper to Trace. "They're my toy dogs, but I like to pretend they're real sometimes. Otherwise I get lonely."

Trace's heart broke a little at that comment, and she just had to ask the question: "Just you three? No adults? No other kids?"

The girl shook her head. "Just me. Grandpoppy left a long time ago. He went a bit funny. So did the rest of the town. Now they're gone. They left. It's just me, Bertie, and Spots now."

"What's your name?" Trace asked, sensing the girl didn't want to talk about why or how they left. Trace understood enough of it as it was.

"My name's Rose," the girl smiled. "And I know my birthday. It's the 12th of July. I'm ten years old."

Trace smiled back at Rose. "Well, it's lovely to meet you, Rose."

She received the cutest grin she'd ever seen in response. "It's lovely to meet you too, Ava. Let's go have a birthday party for you at my house. We can even have cake!"

That alone was enough to shake Trace out of the strange stupor she'd been in. The promise of food was almost too good to be true.

But she'd take her chances.