The Expatriate-the story of a Prodigy

12. Andrew

 He went to work the next day. but he was full of anger and worry of what would await him that day. 

 General Fawkes was surprised when Alex climbed onto the drive'rs seat himself. 

 First, there was disbelief. Then amusement.

 "Well, didn't knew you can drive, Mars. If you don't and still insist to drive, I can easily report it as soldier resistence of his own genera or punish  you myself," Alex didn't look at the general-since he was sure his hand would just race forward to punch the man to the ground easily if he did. "No offense, sir. But I roughly know how to drive, and I don't want to follow you into the prison. I was a bit sick and nauseated there," The general glanced at the shiny steering wheel, then at Alex, who was never looking back at him. 

 Finally, he nodded. 

 "I have no hard feelings towards you, Alex. Ok, just let me ride shotgun next to you,"

 Alex loathed the time he wasted as the general slowly got in and put a cigar in his mouth, then remembered after a minute to hand Alex the keys. So hasty, Alex thought. His suddenly-blooming hatred towards the general made his eyes strange-he saw every feature of the general a default and he growled tens of times in his head. 

 Alex pushed the keys roughly in and slowly and smoothly, pulled the car out of the parking lot. He, this time was so veiled with anger that he didn't care about making his drive hasty on purpose to fool the general. Anyway, he had plenty of possible lies in his head to cover up that problem. 

 "So where did you learn driving? You were underage when you came here," Th general asked in a raspy voice. Alex picked out one lie. "You Tube, from explaining my father," Alex suddenly felt an unprecedented will to go back home on the road and see his dad again. And the Martyr. Just one flick of the wrist and the steering wheel would lead back home. But he knew that the general was still a good fighter and he didn't want to fight he general single-handed, the car getting out of control and then getting dumped onto gravel. The car was too valuable for that, not that he was afraid of a fighting with the general. 

 He instead took the road the general had taken to go to the jail. 

 The general, with only the task of puffing out smoke out of his nostrils, minus the task of driving, seemed to want to take on an easy conversation. He opened the window, sent soot away, then closed it again. 

 "So, do you find any of your friends suspicious?" He asked after coughing up soot a bit. Alex winced when the general couldn't see him. This general was obsessed with killing Prods more than I thought, he summarized. "Well, not in particular. Well, do you have a person you have doubts of, sir?" He hated himself as he asked the question-but it would be useful since he would know who to warn before the general acted. The general puffed out smoke once more before answering. "Well, there's a few, yes," The man stared at the steering wheel where Alex's hands were on. Alex stared back. "Well, not you, Alex. At least for now, I believe you. But I have one question for you. Just be honest as always," The general leaned in a bit, though there had to be no cameras on his personal Jeep. Alex's hands on the wheel tightened. 

"Does Andrew Stewart act so-poorly like that all the time? Even in you guys' dorm, I mean," 

 Oh. Andrew. 

 Still being falsely doubted as a Prod. 

 "I don't know what you mean sir-by 'poorly'," He answered. The general smirked, then rubbed soot away. "I mean, he isn't a very good fighter. But then how did he came here? Just curious," "I'm not sure, sir," Alex said, trying to defend his friend. The general rubbed his nose absent-mindedly. "So what does he normally do as a hobby in the room?" Gee. That question was easy, no harm to Andrew. "He reads sci-fi books and sleeps. That's all, sir," 

 Unfortunately, focused on driving, Alex Mars never as able to notice the general's dreamy eyes sharpen with a sudden sense of purpose. 

 Alex stayed on the Jeep as he had promised. He thought about Andrew and how to save him, and if he had done well to avert the general's attention to kill Prods form him. He hoped he had.  Well, my friends, he hadn't. 

 The general and Brown appeared with a horde of convicted people, today lesser than yesterday. But Alex didn't look at the details of the people. Some might be his kind, Prodigies who had been unfortunately been detected. He once more felt as if-betraying his people. 

 The general, oblivious, climbed onto the passenger's seat beside him again and Alex drove, sighing mentally, taking the people to their death and slavery. 

  Alex Mars had never felt uneasy-at least for more than an hour. So this was his record as he lay in bed, fists clenched under the covers. He had asked discretely if there were any Prods in the back of the Jeep, and the general had disappointingly shook his head. Good, Alex thought, no deaths once more.  But that didn't tranquil his stomach down. He felt nauseated and wanted to throw up just like yesterday. 

 He felt hopeless. And Alex Mars was never hopeless. 

 He finally decided to quit his job that night. 

 However, when he made the losing walk to the generals' office from his room, he just...couldn't do it. No one else had every held such a position at a young age, and the general wanted him, in particular, to do it. Though Alex's feelings toward the general had gone from satisfaction to hatred, being the appealed of a respected general was very important and a rare, and everyone, even people not in the military, knew that. And Alex had achieved that so easily...

 For once, his greed won over his ethics, and he retreated back to his room and buried his face in his hands, defeated at last.

Andrew Stewart woke his friend up in the middle of the night. Alex didn't thought it was him, since Andrew never woke up at night but rather drew maps on his pillow with drool. But when Andrew poked and prodded his shoulder, he had to open his eyes to take in an image of a frightened Andrew.  

 "Hrmm?" He grunted, unhappy to be disrupted in his own fitful sleep. Andrew looked apologetic, but clearly wasn't regretting it. "Sorry, but I kept hearing...strange stuff out there," Alex sniffed, eyes opening wide. "Sounds?" He let his ears prick alert and put a hand on Andrew's finger which was about to prod him painfully once more than waited for 5 seconds. 

 There was running, then walking. Not normal, either-solid, measured sounds of soldiers. 

 "Maybe the night duty guards were asked to see if anything's wrong," Alex said, sleep threatening to take over. "Yeah, I guess. I just felt scared, and you're the guy to stay with when things happen. Sorry if I overreacted. Erm, go back to sleep," Alex nodded and watched Andrew's finger slip away on the covers to disappear beneath. he heard his friend slip into bed and pull up the covers up to his chin for sleep. 

Right after, he was in for sleep himself. 

 Alex woke at 5 in the morning as usual and rubbed his eyes out just as his mom used to do from when he had been born. But when he swung his legs directly over the wooden board to drop himself to the ground as usual, he immediately knew that something was wrong. He didn't feel the usual presence fo Andrew, his sleeping snores, his heat. 

 He was right-Andrew was gone. 

 The sheets were twisted and piled on one side of the bed. No drool even on the pillows. Alex jumped down and crashed down onto the floor from his extra-high bed. Mark and John's eyes snapped open and they jolted up in a start. Alex was up in seconds, and he stared at Andrew's vacant bed for seconds. To be exact, 7seconds.         

 Mark yawned. 

 "Where's he?" Alex almost shouted, voice cracking once. Mark's eyes grew big. "We did nothing! Where'd he go? Johnny, you know?" "No," John said calmly. Alex was infuriated by their tranquility. A growl tore from his throat, and John and Mark cringed back a bit on their beds, eyes alerts. Alex, in a flash, was at he door of the room and banged it open, confused and frustrated. Andrew migt be bad at training and fighting, but he was still seldom bad at staying in bed till at least 5:30, and he knew the route from most of the places on the base back to the room. 

 Alex ran throuh the halls to the generals' office which he had not made it to yesterday. He banged open the door. There was no one inside-even the generals were yet to be on duty at this time. Though it would irritate them, Alex knew this was an emergency, especially to Andrew, who could get in trouble daily and so easily, was worth it. He climbed the stairs to where he had discovered where the generals slept-well, he had discoevered it secretly the week he had arrived at the base-and knocked on the door. Luckily, the generals all shared the same room, so there was no need to knock on at least 6 times to find out where Fawkes or Hale was. 

 He kept banging on the door until he heard some uneasy and slow footsteps on the bare floor-he observed that they were bare feet and prepared to not look surprised or mocking to the generals. 

 So he hid his amusement when General Hale opened the door with his bare feet, crinkled hair and wrinkled uniform, glaring at Alex with the energy to propel him into space. 

 "What, Mars?" He spat, face a bit embarrassed, then stern. Alex rubbed his knuckle together. "I have a problem, sir," He said, and the line on Hale's lips went completely straight. "At 5?" "Yes. Do you know where Andrew is?" Hazel scratched his beard, eyes going to heaven for a moment. "Stewart?" He seemed to be restraint himself from cursing since the shade on his face went from pale to purple, then back to pale. 

 Alex Mars immdieialty knew that something serious was up. And that these general dudes were trying to be secretive. 

 Alex nodded, and he sensed the others in the room stop their movements to hear the conversation. 

 "I don't know. But from what I have heard last night from a soldier is that Stewart got violently sick in the stomach and is now being taken care of," As soon as the words came out of the man's mouth, Alex knew that it needed consideration, but it had little possibility. Andrew had come to him at night to report eerie sounds from outside, instead of turmoil in his stomach. And even if he had been sick, Andrew would have woken Alex up, pass out, and let Alex piggy-back ride him to the nurse's office.

 "But that's highly unlikely, sir," Alex murmurred. He looked up to see that Hale had relaxed a bit, pulling out a lighter and a cigarette. 

 "Just find him at the nurse and tell Fawkes how he is," Hale said quickly, then backed up, lighting up his cigar. "I now have to prepare. And now, Alex Mars, do not come knocking at the door forever at 5 again," Hale smiled, then closed the door. 

 As Alex climbed down the stairs to where the nurse and Andrew was supposedly was, he knew that something really peculiar was going on, and the memories of Hale's retreating words and smile made him shiver.

 Andrew Stewart was not there. 

 -as Alex had expected. 

 He asked the nurse about him-she found his name on her list at the end, when Thomas' scandal had caused Andrew to pass out. Alex stormed out and knocked on the door where Thomas and a few girls from his group was sleeping, so hard that the others in the other rooms all woke up to it. But when Thomas finally stepped out of his room, angry and frustrated, he told him that he had been sleeping at the time of Andrew's supposed disappearance. Alex had to step out, frustrated. 

 Not that he hadn't expected it. He just had had some hopes. 

 Though he wasn't still sure where Andrew was, he now had this valuable info: the generals had to do something with this. 

 It was a Sunday where no work but a few field work was required. Alex felt so free and not so free at the same time as he sat at the edge of his bed, feet dangling near Andrew' bed below him. Still vacant. He felt free since he had no slaves to convey to the base, feeling so guilty. And meanwhile felt so not free since Andrew had been wiped off the face of Earth. At least, the face of the dorm, Alex thought. 

 They couldn't have...killed him, he thought. He gagged at the thought itself. Andrew getting killed by thr generals! Impossible, he thought-then, at the least. 

 But sooner or later, Alex Mars would realize that this situation hadn't been solely created because of the evil generals. 

 Frustrated and with so many thoughts swarming like angry bees in his mind, he ran outside to the field where a running track and gun targets always free for use stood. He jogged around on the track some 30 times without stopping, daring for anyone to see him do it, then grabbed a gun from a shelf at a corner. He felt the familiar excitement that was consistent always as its metal body fit perfectly into his grip and he raised the gun without looking at the target exactly 15 feet away from him, satisfied at the good way the bullet made his hand thud a tiny bit and propel itself out of its cylinder in less than a second to sink itself into the target. Bulls-eye. While his ears rang as usual like humongous jingle bells at Christmas, Alex tried more times, always nearing the center-but he wasn't able to grin like other times. Andrew, Andrew, Andrew, came the chant from inside his mental computer, and he cringed. He wanted the stress to go away-and at the same time, wanted his friend to come back. A million possibilities of things happening to him came to his mind, and he wante to break the rules and look for him by any means. He had never felt how Andrew had now become a big part of his life(here, at the base, at least), but now it was evident. How ironic it was that humans can only feel it when the person or thing is gone, Alex thought once more. He just felt as miserable as he had when he had freshly lost his ears. After all those years, a decade and 2 years, they had come back. So how much was Andrew going to take to return back to him?

 He propelled the last bullet in the gun at an angle that made the bullet miss the board purposefully, and watched as it shot out of his vision, over the wall, probably over to the forest. He felt as if he himself was that bullet-so different from the others, propelled further away by the mechanics of the gun, or the government. 

 Dang allusions, Mars thought, then threw the gun back onto the shelf 5 feet away and retreated to his room.  

 After a steamy shower, he got into his original uniform and walked back outside. The sun was just setting, throwing glowing and alive, vibrant shades of fire and red of shadows onto the ground. The soldiers were realxed, joking between themselves and a few tried to hit a chipmunk that looked as skinny as a rat with stones on the forest floor. Alex walked to one of them, feeling relaxed himself. The guard was polishing his gun whoile siting on a cut tree trunk, shining it until the metal would likely wear off, Alex thought. 

 "Hey," The soldier looked up, eyeing Alex down. His eyebrows went up in anger and confusion when he saw the newbie uniform, but then, he recognized the face soon enough. "Mars," Alex nodded, staring at the shiny gun in the man's lap. "So what do you want?" The soldier asked, though never too friendly. Alex licked his lips, though he knew that this would only cause faster and more dryness on them due to evaporation.

 "Do you know where the convicted stay?" Alex forced the words out of his mouth. 

 He waited silently for 5 seconds as the shoe-cleaning soldier and his peers grunted and sized up the thing in their minds. 

 "Why do you need to go there? It can't be on the general's order, he must have told you," A balding soldier who was one of those rare guys who was about in his 40s in the base, asked roughly, hand on his gun twitching. Alex frowned back calmly at him. "Just was curious, sirs. I was just wondering if you get punished by staying there if you do something wrong," "Huh? What do you mean?" The 40s asked. Alex swallowed, serious. "My friend was absent from field work and wasn't even at our room. Though General Hale told me that he was at the nurse's, that wasn't true, so I was just wondering if he did something bad and was getting chastised," Shoe-cleaning soldier rubbed his nose-probably with his hand which would smell of metal of his beloved gun. "We all do know, Mars. But...the generals all hate it. They abhor us from getting near the building, even. Just stay off. Plus, we don't get punished dthat way. At least as far as we know, we are subjected to an entire week of cleaning the whole base and serving the generals with anything they want," The man slid his gin away into his uniforms and touched his chin. "One more thing, Mars. Curiosity never can apply in here. If you are curious and put it into action, you are killed for sure," The man looked straight into Alex's eyes for emphasis. The others all nodded in assent to their friend's words-they all knew that was going to help Alex a lot if he hadn't known it yet from decades of serving the military. 

 But Alex didn't care. He just walked off, cursing his usual lines of stuff he had learnt from his father. Their advice simply weren't going to help him for now. 

 As he lay in bed, soundless but eyes blinking for sure, he stared at the ceiling and did his usual ritual of thinking stuff and choosing what to do/master next. His thoughts of course rolled out to lead to Andrew, and he swore to find him, or at least find Andrew. 

 His best source was going to be during the  ride to the jail, and that meant another dreadful day with the convicted, though he was now getting a bit used to the schedule. 

 "Hello, Alex Mars. I'm so glad you can drive since I shared one single cup with Hale last night, and as you might not know too well of, I'm weak to alcohol," Great, sir-I'll use your haziness to quesiton you on the most sticky stuff, Alex thought as they bounded down the stairs to the Jeep. 

 Alex's slipped in onto the driver's seat and waited for the first time, enthusiastically for the general to climb on hastily. He drove the Jeep to the exit of the base and let the man lead up the conversation up first. 

"Well, Hale's right yesterday, Al. You shouldn't come charging to our room anytime. How smart you were to root our room in particular, out," The man and chewed on the end of his cigar. Smoke flew over to Alex and he held his breathe till the smell was less under his nostrils. "I apologize for that still, sir. But I am really curious where my friend went," He said, leading the conversation smoothly over to Andrew's matter. The man chuckled, then wiped off sweat from his forehead. "He had some problems that night, Alex. He was sick, as Hale told you, but I think he kind of made a mistake telling you. Not the nurse below-but a special firm for the mentally sick. He said that he couldn't get along with military life, and that he was pressured a lot recently. He was also accepting strange, as I told you last time, though you didn't feel that way. He'll be coming back-in a few days," At a red light, Alex stopped and turned on the car A/C. "Mentally sick? But Andrew's not-" "Sorry, but he was diagnosed to be having serious problems. You were insensitive, Al," He cringed at his nickname coming out of the general's sooty mouth so easily. 

 He turned to the general just as he smiled a smile that was grim and nasty at the same time. He recognized it immediately as the smile that came when the man thought of killing Prods. 

 Alex's mind froze to become a huge piece of glacier and-

 He suddenly knew why Andrew had disappeared. 

 It was one of the worst realizations that he had ever noticed, and the most delayed. 

 He had been insensitive afterall.