Wake up. Its that time again. Stan said softly, shaking Kyles arm every so carefully. The boy stirred a bit.
Im so sleepy Kyle whined quietly
Come on, Its 6 in the morning. We need to head out, before they go to find us.
Fuck it, I dont care anymore. Theyll just find us all eventually.
Dont say that, they wont. Theyre not going to hurt you, not while Im here. As he said that he noticed Kyle Starting to tear up. Kyle? Whats wrong? The boy said nothing and sat up, Keeping his eyes averted from Stans. Stan reached up to touch his friends cheek. Please, tell me. Whats up? Again he said nothing, instead he wrapped Stan in a tight hug, clinging to the back of his jacket. Stan jolted a bit, surprised at his action.
Were never going to get out of here, not alive at least. Why even try? We cant do anything
The cold wooden gym floor was filled with hundreds of children and teenagers. It was around midnight and half the mass had fallen asleep. The other half, laying dead silent in sleeping bags. No one on the outside could know where they were, though some were already captured. What had happened would change them all. With just a blink of an eye terrorists had some in with a blood thirsty spell, capturing children and young teens, brainwashing them and turning them into killers or just killing them for themselves in a horrific haze. They would take them at nights, leaving no place safe. The young ones stayed together, all sleeping in the now cramped gym, that luckily had not been looked through quite yet.
Sixteen-year-old Stan Marsh lay facing his best friend, Kyle Brofloski, who was sleeping soundly. They shared a sleeping bag, to provide the other to somebody that did not have one. They didnt mind this, they were best friends, so the inch of space between them was not a