Ruin - By N.M. Martinez Page 0,5

life. The way school made it sound, the entire territory had been populated with cities that had been decimated when the Experiments from the labs took over in the Revolution.

I shiver. The man who's driving the car is older than most of my teachers. He's older than my mother which means that he's probably one of them. He's an Experiment.

They say that the people who were experimented on in the labs have powers. Some hidden potential was unlocked when the people here were experimented on. It was how they were able to revolt thirty years ago and cause the Revolution that destroyed this land and created the Wildlands.

I glance ahead at the younger man leaning back in his chair. In the side view mirror, I can see his eyes closed, but he doesn't seem to actually be asleep. The planes of his face are smooth, making him look younger than he appeared in the judgment room. If the older man is an Experiment, then he's old enough to be the child of an Experiment, so he probably has powers too.

The younger man opens his eyes narrowly. With his head tilted back, he doesn't have to open his eyes much to see ahead. His hands are folded over his chest.

The older man's voice scratches out the question, “You're awake?”

"I'm not asleep." The younger one says, unmoving, his eyes staring forward.

"Good. We're close."

Their voices are quiet, but it's impossible to not hear. My stomach clenches again, painfully pulling on my insides. In the hazy distance, I can see the shadows of tall buildings against the sky.

There's movement in the front seat. The side view mirror shows a glimpse of elbow and forearm as the younger man slides his arms into his shirt and then leans forward to shove it off his stomach. As the shirt goes over his head, I see a dark skull staring back at me on the pale skin of his back. It's surrounded by an intricate design that reminds me of flames.

I can't help staring at him as he tosses the shirt to the floor and sits back in the chair. The light from the sun bounces off his skin and seems to get absorbed by my cheeks. I notice the scars on his arms. Some are faded with age while others are newer, discolored smears on his lightly tanned skin. There's no pattern to them. They are even on his shoulders, but I notice very few on what I can see of his back. The first thought in my head is that he's a fighter. It's said that's how they live in the Wildlands-- they fight. He's gotten in enough fights to have scars and lived to tell about it.

He sits up as we get closer to the buildings and runs a hand through his silky brown hair. "You think they'll want her?"

I peek around the duffel. The older man sits in his seat without saying a word though the younger one has his eyes on him. He grips the wheel, his small eyes narrowed as he looks ahead. The younger one sighs before turning back to face the front.

It doesn't take long before we're at the city line. The buildings rise high into the air, but not wanting to get even closer to the window, I don't follow them up to the sky. Instead, I just watch as we drive past them. On the first floor, most of the buildings have broken windows with shards still hanging in the frame. The paint is peeling from the exterior, and in a few cases I can see plants growing from the inside, their limbs poking through the broken windows.

My grip on the duffel loosens. This is what they had talked about in school. It's been thirty years since the Revolution when the people who were experimented on broke free and over ran the land. The last reminders of civilization are crumbling buildings that have been abused by the local residents. Some of the buildings have writing scrawled on them and then writing scrawled over that, both faded with time and exposure to sunlight so that whatever they said isn't legible anymore. There are a few buildings that look like there were fires set on the inside. The scorch marks from the flames mar the windows frames and the walls making the room look even blacker on the inside.

Gray Eyes catches me again in the mirror. There is a dangerous sharpness to his eyes. "Get down. You look like