The joke’s on me. He’s not lacking there. Not at all.
I should be fighting this. I know I don’t want this. There was someone that I was supposed to remember, but at this moment, it all goes to the wayside because I am lost in this kiss. His soft lips contrast with the urgency I feel from him. It’s as if it is the last moment of the last second of the last everything before the end of the world and we are both trying to make it count. I bring my hands up to his face, cup his cheeks and run my fingers over the stubble while our tongues intertwine in graceful strokes that are becoming softer and more purposeful with each passing moment.
Okay, so the world is not going to end, but now that I have been kissed by Spencer Donnelly, my outlook of it might. This is a life-changing kiss, something that I have not felt in all of my twenty-seven years. My life will forever be split into before the kiss (BK) and after (AK).
My ridiculous thoughts and our mouths are stopped by the sound of the rest of our group approaching the car. I jump away from him as if he has just bitten me (I guess he kind of has) and look down as if there is some important detail that I just can’t get enough of on my boots.
Our party is silent as they reach the car and begin piling in. Yep, they were definitely privy to at least some of that tonsil hockey. Awkward.
I’m thankful that it’s dark and the tomato color that has no doubt enveloped my face all the way to the tips of my ears is not evident. Still finding my boots fascinating, I hear Spencer’s low chuckle before he says, “Get in the car, Ophelia. We’ve got a riot to attend … that is unless you need more honesty from me. In that case, the riot can wait.”
I don’t even give him the satisfaction of a dirty look. I just steal into the car, grateful that I was left the seat behind the driver’s so that I can slink down low, look out the window, and try to be invisible for just a little while.
The drive over to the entertainment district is a silent one and although it’s an uncomfortable silence, I’m thankful that I’m not forced to speak to anyone. My voice tends to go up into the higher octaves when I’m nervous, mad, or embarrassed, and I know that right now I’d probably sound like Minnie Mouse sucking on a helium balloon.
As we draw nearer to our destination, the number of people out on the streets stuns me. They all look to be rushing to the same place as us, and I’m reminded of old footage of demonstrators during the Vietnam War. The sound of shouted chanting permeates the quiet interior of the car. Spencer pulls into a parking spot in front of the Globe Theater where my mother and I saw a performance of Phantom of the Opera a few months before her death.
The scene today is full of frenzied activity. There are hundreds of people blocking the street and crowded into the theater’s plaza around a huge fountain that I remember throwing pennies into as a child. The fountain has storybook characters displayed at its base, all looking up at a huge stone pair of hands holding a book with water flowing out of its center and down in front of them.
A young woman is perched on the fountain’s ledge, standing in front of The Walrus and The Carpenter from Through the Looking Glass. She holds a megaphone up to her face, leading the crowd in a chant of what I can now hear to be, “Truth for the people! The truth will set them free!”
As I watch, I can’t help but think of the oysters in Through the Looking Glass, the way these people are hanging onto her every word, she could very easily be The Walrus talking of shoes and ships and sealing-wax or cabbages and kings, for that matter. Whatever this is all about, she has the audience in her palm.
“What the hell are they talking about?” Spencer questions, his voice a gravelly whisper as all ten of the Mages in our group come to stand at the back of the parked cars and watch the goings on.
I take a closer look at the crowd and notice that all of the protesters, including the woman up front, are wearing face paint. Their faces are done up to give them the appearance of brightly decorated skulls. They vary in look from gruesomely frightening to intricately beautiful. It gives them all an otherworldly air, as if they are a group of the undead, an eerie congregation of wraiths.
As Spencer draws us all together to give directions, I can’t help but let my eyes wonder throughout the scene, trying to see if I can locate Reece, Cass, or any of the others who are supposed to be in the area. There are just too many people, and even though it should be easy to spot another group like us without the face paint, I can’t see any of them.
“All right, this is what we’re going to do. Do you see the NWO officers gathered at each corner of the plaza?” Those of us who hadn’t spotted them before turn our heads to ascertain their whereabouts and then back to Spencer. “I want you to sweep out in groups of two as inconspicuously as you can. Keep your primary focus on them while looking out for members of the other group. I’ve tried to radio them, but, for some reason, they aren’t answering. Each pair has a radio, so keep it ready and report to me if you find any of our people. It doesn’t look as if the NWO is going to do anything against this crowd, and we don’t want to start a fight when there are so many commons about, but keep vigilant, watch over each other, and try to remain undetected. If an officer spots you or if this scene escalates, I want you to fan out from the area and take cover wherever you can find it. Radio me from there and I’ll give you more directions. In the event that I can’t be reached by radio, wait two hours after fleeing; if things have died down, make your way back to meet up here at the cars.”
With a nod of his head, we all break off into groups of two and depart. Spencer gives me a stare that tells me without having to say a word that I am to follow him. As everyone else moves around the perimeters of the crowd, Spencer walks directly into it towards the woman at the fountain and I have no choice but to follow his lead.
He gets to the very center of the crowd and continues closer to the fountain until we are standing mere feet from the woman, transfixed by what she is saying.
“Who out here tonight is tired of being lied to?” She begins and continues to the raucous confirmations of applause with each question. “Who else has noticed the disappearance of a neighbor or friend with no explanation? Who is tired of the systematic dealings of misinformation by our Chancellor elect? If you’re out here tonight, you probably already know about these things, but our fellow citizens … that includes your parents, coworkers, and siblings, none of them have the decency to pull their head away from their state-run television programs and the safety of their humdrum existence to see the truth!”
The crowd erupts in cheers of “that’s right” and “open their eyes” at this statement. I look to see Spencer surveying the mass, and a slight uplift at the corner of his lips tells me that he’s enjoying what he sees.
“This is why we’re here,” the woman continues, holding up a white flag with a black skull and cross bones at its center, an inverted pirate flag. “We can come out on nights like this and perish with our numbers, or we can spread the word and watch our Army grow! I’m asking you tonight, spread the word and watch the SSA grow! We want truth, we want answers, we want every citizen on the same page! Spread the word, Skulls!”
As she says these last words, nervousness enters her voice and her head swivels in the direction to our right. I follow her stare and although I see nothing at first, I can hear something coming. The ground begins to vibrate as if we are experiencing a small earthquake, and there is a droning, electrical sound coming towards us. I keep my eyes trained on the street to our right and feel Spencer’s hand on my shoulder the minute I see it.
“Oh shit,” Spencer whispers.
Oh shit is right. I’ve never seen anything like it. Gliding down the street as smoothly as a bullet is an enormous ship-like thing. It looks like the love child of a tank with its black armor and a wingless airplane by the cylindrical shape and curved nose. It’s riding down the street on a thin strip of wheels, but as it nears us, it stops and the wheels fold up, bringing the body of the thing down to the ground. The nose begins to fold apart with a
swift mechanical sound and soldiers begin pouring out of it, not attacking, but lining up in neat rows in front of the crowd.
One more soldier comes out after the others alone, wearing the same uniform armor as the others, a beetle black shell-like suit that covers all of their skin except for over their mouths and their eyes which have bug eye-like goggles pulled over them. He comes to stand in front of the formation of soldiers. The crowd around me begins to edge back, as if all it would take is one person making the move to flee and they will all break loose like water from a busted dam. The soldier moves in quick robotic jerks, but his voice is all human when he pulls a radio up to his mouth and begins to address the crowd through speakers that come out each side of the tank/plane thing.
“You are in violation of mandate eight and breaking the curfew laws already set in place under mandate two. The penalty of breaking a mandate is immediate arrest and punishment as detailed in mandate one of the New World Order Regulations and Statutes. Chancellor Brand has given you a reprieve of penalty under the condition that you disband immediately and remove yourselves from the premises. Any further attempt at protest or unlawful congregation will be met with immediate action. You have ten minutes to depart from this area before we will be forced to use action against you. Disband and depart or face the consequences of your actions.”
The crowd stands in stunned silence, everyone looking from face to face. What is wrong with these people? They need to get out of here. Why are they just standing around? The question is answered when the woman, whom I now have no doubt is their leader, lifts the megaphone to her face.
“Now,” she says with clear composure, as if she has been waiting for this moment to arrive.
In a flash, the people in the crowd begin to pull out little purple balls from satchels and backpacks and before I can give them much perusal, they begin to fling the balls at the soldiers and the big armored vehicle. The scene reminds me of David and Goliath, some of the Skull people even have heavy-duty sling shot apparatuses attached to their arms that I didn’t notice before. Some of them are hurling the balls using slings. It’s almost comical until I look over at the soldiers and see what the balls are doing.
Every time one of them comes into contact with a soldier or their strange mother ship, it bursts open like a water balloon and the liquid inside begins to eat away at everything it touches like highly corrosive acid. The soldiers are screaming in pain and I cannot only see the burnt flesh peeking through their armor, but I can smell it too. The beginning onslaught from the crowd is so vast and it’s enough of a surprise that the Skull people seem to be significantly damaging a high portion of the troops.
The soldier who gave the opening address, however, must have remained unscathed because within a matter of moments, he has rallied the remaining unharmed soldiers and they begin to fire on the crowd. This is the moment that all hell breaks loose because the soldiers aren’t only using their rifles as weapons; they’re also hurling Binds left and right.
“They’re Mages!” I yell at Spencer. But he is grabbing my hand and pulling me through the retreating crowd, his eyes zoned in on the direction we’re now headed. I collect my thoughts and questions and store them away until I can get to a place where it is safe enough to bring them back out and draw my weapon in self-protect mode. As we weave through the throng of people, I begin to see why Spencer is pulling me this way. The woman in charge is running in the same direction, hastily giving orders to a group of people around her. I realize that Spencer’s objective is to get to this woman for some reason.
“Spencer, we have to make sure everyone is all right,” I try to plead with him, but he is so focused on his goal that he barely glances at me when he responds.
“We need this girl.” His eyes point back in her direction as he tries to get through the maelstrom of people being shot with bullets and hit with Binds that cause them to immediately go limp like a rag doll and fall to the ground. Bodies are beginning to pile up around us. I’m terrified of what might have happened to the Mages we came with, and my heart is filled with worry for Reece when I see something out of the corner of my eye.
It’s Cass, about twenty feet away from us. She has noticed me too and is waving her arms frantically, trying to get my attention. When we lock eyes, I can see that she needs me, something is wrong. It doesn’t take much to slip out of Spencer’s grasp and head in her direction. I don’t think Spencer even notices that I’m no longer following him; he’s so single-minded in his quest. The screaming and yelling of the crowd, mixed with the sound of gunfire and marching feet are enough to cover my retreat.
Luckily, Cass seems to be on the outskirts of the storm and far enough away that I’m able to easily maneuver over to her quickly. She hugs me desperately and starts, “God, I’m so happy to see you! These people are fricken’ crazy! We got here just as they started gathering and somehow, I got cut off from everyone except for Reece.”
“Where is Reece?”
“It was horrible, when the skeleton freaks started throwing those ball thingys, one of them hit the ground in front of us and splashed onto Reece’s leg. The stuff ate right through his pants and tore up his knee. Thankfully, he was able to limp away from here, leaning against me. I left him back in an alley, a couple streets up from here, but Ophelia, I’m scared. I haven’t seen any of the others from our group and I dropped the radio when everything started going bonkers. I didn’t know what to do or how to get Reece out of there, so I snuck back over here and watched the crowd from behind a dumpster until I spotted you. We have to get Reece out of there. He was in a lot of pain when I left him.”
My eyes dart up the avenue in the direction that Reece is in and then back to the throng of people who are still engaging in all-out battle. It’s hard to believe, but the Skull people seem to be holding their own. That thought changes as soon as I hear the familiar sound of another one of those monstrous troop carriers and feel the telltale rumble underneath my feet that signifies the thing is very near. With another batch of troops like these on the ground, these humans don’t stand a chance. They have to get out of here. But who to help, Reece and my own people? Or these humans who seem to be out here, unbeknownst to them, trying to help us too?
“I know what we should do,” Cass starts, as if she is reading my thoughts. “You go and take care of Reece. I’m small and should be able to get around all of these people easily. I’ll look for the radio and the others and once I find one or the other, I’ll send help to get Reece out of there.”
“Cass, you can’t go out there alone, what if another one of those balls hits you or one of those soldiers takes you, or worse … shoots you? If you get in trouble, no one will know and no one will be there to get you out. Spencer told our group to run if there is any trouble. We’re supposed to wait and then meet up back here after everything dies down. No … I think whatever we do, we need to stay together. That’s our best chance for getting out of this mess.”
Cass opens her mouth, protest at the ready, but it remains open and no sound comes out as her eyes almost bulge out of her skull at something coming up behind me. Still feeling the vibrations on the ground and now hearing the electronic whizzing of moving wheels and parts, I don’t really even have to turn around and look to know why … and yet I do.
Behind me, coming up the road with the smoothness of a slithering snake is another one of those contraptions, only this one is twice the first one’s size. The thing is so monstrous, it clips the buildings it passes with harsh scraping sounds and smashes the cars in its way, neither slowing it down in the least.
Cass starts taking sputtering shallow breaths and I realize that she is having a panic attack. Her mouth still hangs open, but it now looks to be more of a silent scream.
“Cass, calm down,” I tell her, gripping her forearm and trying to get her to look at me, and come back to me from the place of dread and fear that I know her mind has wandered away to.
A tear escapes out of the corner of her eye as she turn
s her face back towards mine. Her eyes lock with my own in an earnest expression that causes her brow to furrow. “I’m so sorry, Ophelia,” she says. Then she pulls her arm away from mine in one jerking motion and turns to flee into the crowd of people who are now scrambling to get out of the square.
I stay rooted to the spot for a good second of shocked disjointedness. Why did she just take off like that? Yes, this thing coming at us is scary as hell, but that’s no reason to leave me stranded like this. And, what is she going to do alone, anyway? I remember the look of terror in her eyes and my heart starts to soften for her. She was scared … and she’s so young. She probably wasn’t thinking … but, why the apology? I don’t have time to ponder this. I have to get out of here.
I take off in the direction that Cass told me Reece would be and I guess a number of the Skull people have the same idea, as a large group of them are running around me. I can hear the sound that the monstrous vehicle makes setting itself down on the ground, the mechanical hatch opening up and the sound of boots hitting the pavement as the soldiers start coming behind me. I run until my chest begins to catch on fire and then I push myself to continue, gasping for each breath I need to keep me on this pace. I beg my legs not to give up on me.
I’m about five blocks away from the scene and most of the Skull people have either been stopped behind me or have veered off onto side streets. I wanted to search the area for Reece, but I figured that there was a good chance that I might have led the soldiers straight to him if I were to risk it. I keep going, planning to turn at the next corner and head right down the street, hoping to come across a hiding place when I hear someone calling my name.
I halt so rapidly that my knees take a second to catch up with the rest of my body, causing me to almost keel over from a mixture of disorientation and breathlessness. Note to self: if I survive this night, work on my cardio.
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