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The urge to take my shoes off washed over me as the engine roared to life. Some part of my subconscious knew that I wasn't supposed to wear my shoes in the main part of the building. I sat on the cold floor and untied my shoes. Memories were hitting me like tsunamis. A woman's voice gently reminding me to put the laces in the shoes so they didn't get tangled. A man's voice yelling frantically to hurry. They intertwined then faded. The sputtering roar of the engine pulled me from my memories. I stood and slowly walked out into the corridor.

My fingers traced the smooth indentations of the walls. Kid drawings of blue people holding hands still stained them despite the dust that covered them. A kid holding hands with two older blue people, then a long line of other blue children. It nearly stretched to the end of the hallway. As I counted them, it was as if I could hear them all screaming in the background. Twenty-four voices of kids. Forty-eight feet racing through the halls. Sixteen boys and nine girls mashed together under one roof. An older blue person at the end. My heart kicked my sternum at the sight of them. An ornamental headpiece adorned their head and intricate red clothes, even in a small kid's drawing, showed that they were important.

The clamor of bottles startled me from the drawings. Melanin. It'll hide the color. Just, put it on. It takes a few months to take, but you'll be able to go to school like you want, Sal-- I stepped over the bottles into what was once a living room. Three couches surrounding what looked like a flatscreen TV. More drawings were forgotten on the floor. The blue people had turned brown, but it was the same family. Zosime was written on the bottom corner of most of them, though a few more names stood out. Zo... My little Echion. The voice was old yet powerful. The bones of a dog, collapsed on the floor near the drawings, were long dusted and webbed over. Next to it was a dark, long-forgotten trail. Blood.

Mama! The gunshots immediately began to reverberate around the room again. The dog's barking was extinguished quickly, followed by the frantic footsteps. Ten little feet running for their lives. Instinctually, I followed them. Someone older was pulling me along. Nike maybe, or probably Praxiteles. Praxiteles. That name has rung out in my mind for forever and now it had a place. The trail of blood ran past barrack-like bedrooms filled with forgotten toys and handmade clothes. Into a large room. A large bed lay in the middle, covered with dust and decorated with animal bites and cobwebs. As I neared, I heard a growl. My blood froze, and I turned to my left to see a mother black bear asleep with three cubs curled onto her. I looked around the room again before backing out.

As I was nearly out, my foot was caught by something and I fell backward. The ground was darkened with ancient blood and the headpiece from the pictures was lying at my feet. Giapous. The gasp came back into my mind. The youngest kid was standing in the doorway of the bedroom, amidst the bullets, staring in horror. The fallen elder was whispering softly to him to run, but couldn't quite convince him. Then-- My breath was shallowing and my skin was crawling. The men in white had rounded the corner, looked this little kid in the face, and pulled their triggers at once. The forcefield provided protection for long enough for the man to grab the boy and toss him from the window.

I remembered the run the most. My little legs carrying me far and fast. The scraping from tree branches as we climbed as high as we could. The man's voice. The woman's screams. The darkness covering us being disrupted by the evil orange glow of the men in white looking for us. Red stained their sheets and followed them as they walked. They walked the woods for days searching. We sat in the trees, eating dry Wheaties and drinking Cokes that someone, maybe Kyri, had stashed from the kitchen. The coast soon was clear, and we slid down the trees and crept through the woods until we came across the reservation. They asked no questions. We became Comanche that night.

I didn't catch my breath again until I was outside in the sticky Texas air. The engine was still softly running. I sat on the grass across from it and looked at it. An inconspicuous hut sitting on the outskirts of town. It sounded like someone was running the air conditioning. I looked down at the ornamental headpiece in my hands. My fingers traced the bumps that ran over it. The family history, that ancient voice whispered in the wind. This details our whole family lineage that stretches for eons. From fighting black holes to riding comets to leaving Neptune and basically going on a road trip with your eighteen kids like my idiot son. We'll teach you to read it one day, Squirt. Tears were clouding my eyes. I folded it carefully and tucked it in the elastic of my gym shorts. Then, after a few minutes of rest, I got up and retrieved my sketchpad, stashed beneath the familiar-looking tree that led me to this place, and headed back towards home.