<div class="floatleft">(http://i1087.photobucket.com/albums/j480/Erion2451/jennifer-lawrence-2013-10298.jpg?t=1357523177)</div><strong>Name</strong>: Allison Taylor<br/><strong>Location</strong>:<br/><strong>Wearing</strong>: Red T-shirt, hip-hugger jeans, white sneakers<br/><strong>Tagged</strong>: Open<br/><hr/><br/>The black alarm with large red numbers flipped over to 5:00 a.m. and began to emit an annoyingly constant buzzer that filled the room and woke the peacefully sleeping Allison who groggily turned it off, laid in bed for a moment longer, and then quickly tossed back the blankets covering her and swung her legs over the side of the bed.  A moment later Allison pulled down the hem of the extra large Avalanche hockey jersey she typically slept in and crossed the room to where her dresser stood.  She quickly removed a red tee with a fashionable design and her third favorite pair of jeans before she left the room and tiredly stumbled down the hall to her bathroom.<br/><br/>The counter of her bathroom was cluttered with hair styling tools.  She pushed the curler, straightened, and crimper to the corner of the counter and placed her clothes for the day on the newly cleared spot.  It was nice that she had her own bathroom, even if her mother constantly told her she needed to organize it better.  It was only the two of them, mom and her, and since her mother had a bathroom off of the master bedroom, the entire bathroom situation had worked out pretty well.  As a teenage girl, what more could Allison have asked for?<br/><br/>The young blonde moved through her normal routine as she got ready for the day.  Shower, shave, exfoliate, tweeze, tease, apply, brush, and accessorize were all done by 6:15, at which time, Allison made her way to the kitchen, looking nothing like she had when she rolled out of bed, and poured herself a bowl of Frosted Flakes.  It wasn’t abnormal not to see her mother in the morning.  From the time that Allie had been old enough, and trusted enough, to get on the bus by herself, her mother had worked the seven to seven shift.  What was abnormal was to find her mother’s Subaru Forester in the garage alongside Allie’s ten year old, purple Toyota Corolla.<br/><br/><strong>”Mom?”</strong>Allison shouted as she reentered the house.<strong>”Mom,”</strong>she shouted louder as she walked down the hall to the master bedroom,<strong>”you’re going to be late for work.”</strong>She paused briefly to knock on her mother’s door.  Beyond the door, Allison could hear the radio of her mother’s alarm playing static.<br/><br/>Inside, Allison could see her mother as she lay quietly upon the queen sized bed.  She held her breath for a moment as she watched quietly for a sign of life.  It was silly and she scolded herself when her mother’s chest rose and lowered as she breathed.<br/><br/><strong>”Mom, wake up!  You’d never let me get away with this,”</strong>she spoke loudly as she made her way to the bedside.  When her mother failed to respond, Allison shook her shoulder gently.  When that failed Allie tried again and again.  Each time more forcefully.<br/><br/>Her phone was out of her pocket and 911 was dialed without a second thought.  She expected someone to answer within a few rings, but when the phone rang a dozen times and no one had answered, she knew something was wrong.  It was then that she noticed the texts she’d been sent in the last hour.  There were too many to count and they all were asking her what to do because something was wrong with their parent, parents, or older sibling and 911 wasn’t answering.<br/><br/>Anger was Allie’s first reaction.  How was she supposed to know.  What the hell could be going on that could cause everyone’s parents to be unresponsive?  The static from her mother’s alarm clock radio was only adding to her stress.  The damn radio should’ve been some help but all it was doing was playing static.  Shouldn’t it have been doing an emergency response thing if this was as widespread as it seemed.<br/><br/>Twenty minutes later, she’d been on the road.  There’d been no response at the fire stations closest to her home.  It was eerie driving with little to no traffic.  The few other vehicles she’d seen were being driven by people close to her own age.  The hospital had looked like a graveyard with only a bunch of teenagers, who knew as much as she had, in the parking lot and within the ER’s waiting room.  A few nurses, in their early twenties, were too overwhelmed to help.  Their advice had been to return home and monitor her mother for changes.  They said they’d let people know as soon as they could, but Allison had been around medical professionals often enough to know when they were trying to put a positive spin on things.<br/><br/>She’d been away from the house for a little over an hour when an old blue Dodge pickup smashed into a telephone pole right in front of her.  Without thinking, Allison had stopped and went to help.  The man in the driver’s seat was wearing a Loaf ‘n Jug uniform, and was most definitely the oldest person she’d seen that day.  He was unconscious, but the airbag had deployed and he was wearing his seatbelt.  Like her mother, he didn’t respond to verbal or physical cues and knowing that 911 wasn’t going to be of any help, Allison was at a loss for what to do.  If he had hurt his neck, moving him was the last thing she should do.  His vitals seemed normal, but it was possible he could have internal bleeding, yet there was no way for her to know unless she got him out of the car.  The fact that he was unconscious didn’t help any either.<br/><br/>She hadn’t been outside the pickup, wringing her hands, for long before a black SUV pulled up.  The SUV pulled up alongside the pickup and the passenger side window slowly rolled down.<br/><br/><strong>”Everyone okay?  You need help?”</strong>was asked from within.<br/><br/>Allie turned back to the accident,<strong>”yeah, I don’t know who this guy is but we need to get him out of the truck while supporting his head.”</strong><br/><br/><strong>”You a nurse or something?”</strong>was asked from behind her.<br/><br/><strong>”No, my mom is.  I know what I’m doing though.  Can you please help?”</strong><br/><br/>Allison glanced over her shoulder to see the two passengers get out of the SUV.  The driver hadn’t moved and seemed to be looking for something.  The SUV was still running.<br/><br/><strong>”Don’t think there’s much you can do for him.  The hospitals aren’t any good,”</strong>one of them said.<br/><br/><strong>”Yeah, ain’t like you’re a doctor.  All you’re doing is wasting your time.  You know how to do CPR, or set an IV, or anything”</strong>another commented.<br/><br/><strong>”As a matter of fact, I do.  Can you please just…”</strong>she began as she rounded on the two guys who seemed more content to decide that nothing could be done instead of actually helping only to find one of the boys was close enough to kiss.<strong>”help?”</strong><br/><br/>His arms wrapped around her waist and a moment later her feet were off the ground as he tossed her over his shoulder.<br/><br/><strong>”Don’t hurt her.  We’ll need her if she knows half of what she says.  Check her car for a medical bag,”</strong>came instructions from the driver.<br/><br/><strong>”Found one,”</strong>she heard one say.<br/><br/><strong>”Hurry, open the door.”</strong><br/><br/><strong>”Stop!  You can’t do this,”</strong>Allison began to protest as she clawed, kicked and tried to bite the guy carrying her.<br/><br/>The hard metal frame smashing against her back three times did more than knock the air from her lungs.  She was still being held up or she’d have fallen to her knees there and then.  She wished she could fall to the floor.  Maybe then she could roll under their car and try to get away.  The grip on her arm, however, was vice like.<br/><br/><strong>”Dude, I told you not to hurt her.”</strong><br/><br/><strong>”Shut up.  Man, it’s easier this way.”</strong>Something was wrapped around her wrists after her arms were painfully pulled behind her and then, after slamming her against the car one last time, she was tossed inside the SUV.<br/><br/>