by Jack Parker
The shouts grew louder, the sound of gunfire beating through the air. It was as if they were in a cave, or beneath a microphone, echoing to the furthest corners of her head and causing the searing pain in her forehead to increase and multiply.
A sudden wave of nausea washed over her. A jolt of pain seared through her forehead, causing her to rock to the side. It was harsher this time, and it stung. She fought to keep her eyes open as everything began to blur, her vision shaking, rippling, dancing to the edges and slowly fading away.
And then she blacked out.
* * *
The first thing that she noticed was that she was wet –wet and sticky.
She opened her eyes, slowly, bringing her hand towards them and gently rubbing. Damp eyelashes brushed against the back of her hand, tickling the skin.
Her vision was still blurry, faded. Everything was tinged a pale cream and hundreds of colors dotted her vision, dancing across her pupils and blurring to the sides like specks of paint.
She blinked and rubbed her eyes, again, attempting to clear her vision.
She opened her mouth, about to say something. A firm hand clasped over lips, cutting off her circulation for a moment before it loosened.
"Don't talk."
It slipped away, then fell to the seat beside her and rested there. Jude.
"What happened?"
"I told you not to speak." His voice sounded cold –angry?
It felt like a shard of ice had suddenly shot down her spine. Lia slumped back against the seat and took in a deep breath. She ran a hand over her hair. It was damp –matted with sweat.
"We're in the car-" She was sure that they were. She could feel it move beneath her, its soft hum echoing through her ears "-which means that no one will hear us if we speak."
"Lia, shut-up."
The words cut through her like a knife, sharp and slow, ripping through to the other end and pulling out once again. She opened her mouth, then closed it once again and took in a deep breath.
Lia massaged her temple, a dull throbbing still pounding against her forehead. She felt groggy, cold. She ran her eyes over the occupants of the car, once, twice, then stopped, her eyes widening.
"Carmon!"
She crawled to the side, her body once again rocked with a wave of nausea. Jude grabbed her wrist and threw her back into the seat.
"What the he-"
"Maybe I didn't make myself clear when I told you to shut-up." His grip tightened for a moment, before he let go and looked forward. "We can't go back to the base straight away. It'll look suspicious." The comment was aimed at Leigh, who nodded in response.
Lia shook her head. "He's bleeding."
"He was shot."
"All the more reason to get him back."
"Whose fault was it?"
"Jude!" exclaimed Lacey. "That was uncalled for."
Lia leaned back into the seat and massaged her temple. "It was mine," she whispered.
Lacey shook her head. "No, it wasn't. It was everyone's fault. We all –we should have been more careful."
"What happened?"
"You fainted."
"And?"
"Carmon brought you here."
"And got shot in the process," hissed Jude.
Lia brought her hand forward and looked at it, only just noticing that it was coated in blood. She ran her eyes over the seat covers, which were also stained in a similar shade of red. She looked towards Carmon as he lay on the side of the seat, unconscious, his head in Lacey's lap and a few bandages wrapped around his arm.
"It's only his arm. We can't risk the well being of the mission for such a minor injury," added Jude, calmly.
Lia could feel the fire blaze inside of her. "Who cares about the mission? We need to get him help."
"We're not going to risk the mission."
"But we can risk your brother?"
"We wouldn't have had to risk my brother in the first place if it weren't for you," he bit, icily.
Lia opened her mouth, ready to retort, when she was interrupted by Leigh. "Both of you just shut the fuck up."
They both stared at Leigh, shocked.
"Jude's right, we can't mess up the mission. It's messed up enough as it is. It'll be best if we –we're going to have to sort Carmon out. We can't just leave him like this. But the rest of us - we can't go back to the base. We'll drop Carmon off and we'll hide it out for a little while –go out somewhere. It is the New Year, after all. So it won't look inconspicuous if we go out as a group. Though, you're going to have to tidy yourself up a bit." He nodded towards Lia. "Your hair is quite messy."
"There's a nightclub around this area." Cal's voice cut through the air, calm, dull, passive. Throughout all of the commotion, Lia had forgotten that he was still there. "We could drop your friend off to the base or something and phone them up beforehand so that it can be done quickly. Then we could go there for a while."
"I'm not sure that going clubbing is really the best sort of thing to do in this situation. Especially since Carmon was just shot," hissed Lia, vehemently.
"I don't see you coming up with any better ideas, Leanora."
Someone coughed. "I reckon it's a pretty good idea. It'll give you guys a chance to relax without worrying about me."
Carmon pulled himself up on his uninjured arm, a painful grimace clearly evident upon his features.
"Carmon, quit being an ass and get back down. If anyone sees you through the window they'll be able to tell that you're injured and it'll give our position away," snapped Jude.
An emotion flickered across Carmon's face, and for a moment it looked as if he was about to retaliate, but then it disappeared as soon as it had came. He eased himself back onto the chair and closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath. "Take me back, now. It kills."
Leigh nodded. "We're nearly there. Jude and I will take you out and they should have someone at the base waiting for us."
"Okay."
Carmon opened his eyes again and cast his gaze over the car. "Where's Emilie?"
"She was taken in for questioning," replied Jude. "But she'll probably be let out quickly. She was prepared for something like this to happen." His comment was aimed at Lia, she knew it.
She wiped her hand on the seat cover, then wrinkled up her nose in disgust. She wanted to go back and have a shower. Lia stifled a yawn. Her eyes were beginning to feel heavy and she was blinking a lot more than usual.
She looked towards Carmon, their eyes meeting briefly before he spoke. "Are you okay now?"
A light smile quirked the edge of her lips, her insides suddenly feeling decidedly warm. He had just gotten shot because of her and he was asking her if she was okay. She was washed with an underlying feeling of guilt as Jude's earlier words finally sank in. It was her fault that Carmon had gotten shot. They were lucky that it had been in the arm. He could have gotten killed, and then she would be the one to blame.
If Carmon was killed because of her, would she ever have been able to forgive herself?
"I'm fine," she replied softly, before her tone became slightly sharper. "Now go back to sleep, idiot. You were injured pretty badly out there."
Carmon grinned and mock saluted. "Aye, aye, cap'n."
Lia rolled her eyes, then massaged her temples once again.
* * *
After dropping Carmon off, Leigh continued to drive back for a few more minutes, then stopped the car and got out. Cal followed him, his hands dug in his pockets. He had changed his trousers, Lia noticed, or he had washed them seeing as they were no longer drenched in mud. She decided to go for the former. Cal washing trousers was an image which required her to stretch her imagination a little more than she would have liked.
"Here, let me do your hair." Lacey pulled off Lia's bobble, then began to run a brush through her thick, black locks. How Lacey had managed to get hold of a brush in such a situation was beyond Lia. "We're lucky that you blow-dried it after the shower this morning, otherwise it would have been impossible to tame,"
she joked, grinning. She was trying to lighten the mood.
A car door slammed in the background. Lia rolled her eyes –Jude and his grand exits.
"What's up his ass?"
Lacey frowned. "Li, just don't start on him again, okay? Everyone's really tense, so it's not the best time for another argument."
Lia could feel her blood begin to boil. "Why the hell are you telling me not to start? Why don't you tell him? He's the one who's acting like a prick."
Lia felt a sharp tug as Lacey wrenched out one of her knots, harshly. "It's not my place to tell him off."
"But it's your place to tell me off, right?"
"No, it probably isn't. I'm just giving you advice. If you two want to go and have a bitch, then go right ahead. I'm just warning you."
Lacey was beginning to get angry. Lia could tell by the force with which she was brushing. She pulled Lia's hair into a high pony, then proceeded to brush some of the ends.
"I don't need your advice and I don't need your warnings. I'm nineteen years old, not nine. I can handle myself."
Lia shuffled out of the car. She didn't care if Lacey was angry. It wasn't as if she was in the best of moods.
A rush of cool air washed over her, tingling her skin and making her cheeks numb slightly. Her gaze rested on the club for a moment, before she proceeded to follow Jude in.
Carmon was right. This would give them a chance to relax, to wash away all of the stress –the anxiety. And she needed that. She needed to forget, if only for a moment, and enjoy herself.
It was New Years Day, and she was going to enjoy herself.
* * *
Cal twisted the cup in his hand, watching as the liquid swayed to the side, allowing the thick bands of light to rip through its transparency and dull it into a softer, calmer color.
He brought it to his lips and took a sip. It was cold, bitter, but it had an appeal to it. It had a richness which left part of him wanting more, craving for more –the weaker part, the more unstable part, the part which was still dull with the night's events.
He scanned the vast room, his eyes straying over the dozens of teenagers all dancing to a heavy throb of music, a rapid beat, the words of which were unfathomable above the harsh vibrations omitting from the speakers.
"It's a nice place to hang out, isn't it?"
"Yeah." Cal's eyes continued to scan over the hoards of teenagers, until they rested upon a familiar figure.
Leigh followed his gaze. "Lia's pretty hot, don't you think?"
Cal shrugged, nonchalantly. "Her arse is too big."
Leigh arched a brow. "Dude, isn't that meant to be a good thing?"
"She's a Cadlian; nothing can be a good thing."
Leigh frowned, then brought his cup to his lips and took a sip before replying. "I don't –there's something I don't get about you, Cal."
"That's nice to know."
Leigh ignored his comment and continued. "I –why the hell did you join us when you hate Cadlians?"
Cal leaned back against the wall and surveyed his surroundings. "Why the hell did you join this mission when you don't like Jude?"
Leigh looked shocked –surprised? "I don't know what you're talking about."
Cal shrugged. "Let's make a deal, Leigh. You don't ask me any personal questions, and I don't ask you any."
"Yeah, whatever."
"Good."
They were silent for a moment, in which Cal continued to skim his eyes across the crowd, his gaze resting on Lia. She wasn't too bad, not too bad for a Cadlian anyway. He grinned. And she looked funny drenched in mud.
"What are you grinning about?"
Cal yawned. "Nothing." He tipped the contents of his cup onto the floor, then placed it back onto the table. "Let's ditch this shit and get something decent. It's the New Year and I want to get drunk."
Leigh grinned and followed suite. "I'm in."
* * *
A light danced above him, twisting, coiling –a rope descending from a mountain, falling from the peak and wrapping over the rocks beneath, holding them, suffocating them, cutting off their circulation and awakening them to every minute detail, every blemish upon the canvas, every grain of sand within the wide expanse of landscape.
Everything seemed so dull, so boring, so warm yet so cold. His grip on the glass tightened, the cool feel of its smooth, damp surface rubbing against his fingertips and sending chills through his palm.
Jack took a sip of the dark liquid, savouring its rich, burning taste. He was tired, tired and sleepy. And he wanted to go home. He had no idea where Damien had run off to, so he had no way of getting back to the apartment.
Damien.
He frowned.
Selfish, self absorbed prick.
He had no idea how long he had been sitting here, bored out of his skull and randomly watching couples dance. And it was all because of Damien. It was all because Damien had decided that he wanted to spend some time with his girlfriend instead of introducing Jack to anyone –helping him find some company.
Jack took another sip of his drink. He preferred to be on his own, though, he reasoned. He would rather have been on his own than be the third wheel for Damien and Melan. Even thinking about them made him sick. And that was the last thing he wanted to do at the moment –be sick.
What kind of a friend left his friend who knew no one all on his own just so that he could hang out with his girlfriend? And what kind of a girl so openly flirted with a guy when she already had a boyfriend?
The solution to the problem: abhor both of them with every fibre of his being.
Jack yawned, again, and leaned back. He ran his empty hand over the plush, red sofa marvelling at its softness, its richness. It was so nice, so comfortable and there were so many of them. It made him wonder, how did Joe's parents become so rich? Or maybe they were just normal people, but they chose to spend their money of luxuries and everything was for show.
Just because someone looked rich, did that really mean that they were rich? And if someone looked poor, had a middle-class house and did not bask themselves in luxuries, did that automatically make them poor?
Who was to say that they didn't store their money somewhere, save it for something?
Jack placed the glass on a small table beside him. It was still half full, he noticed. He hadn't drunk much, but he had drunk enough to make him feel queasy. How strong was this stuff, anyway?
He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand and scoured the room once again, searching for a clock. He was extremely sleepy and hopefully Damien would hurry up so that they could get back and he could have a nice, long rest.
He stood up and picked up the glass, then made his way back to the long table on the side of the room. It would be best if he didn't drink anymore because it would make him feel unwell, so the best solution would be to put the glass back where it had came from.
He reached the table and put it down, then turned to return to his sofa.
"Hey, Jack!"
Damien.
Jack turned and plastered a cheery smile on his face as Damien made his way towards him.
"Hi."
Damien grinned. "Dude, I just needed to ask you something."
Jack wanted to roll his eyes. Why did he have to start off with all of the formalities? If he wanted something, he should have just said it straight out.
"What?"
Damien didn't seem to notice the underlying note of irritation in Jack's voice, or maybe he chose to ignore it. "I just found some of my mates that I haven't seen in a while." Get on with it. "And I was wondering if we could stay for a little longer so that I can talk with them. If that's okay with you, of course."
Stupid, son of a-
"Yeah, sure. No problem."
"Cool. Thanks, man."
And with that he left.
Jack could feel the anger boil up inside of him. Not once did he ask him to come along. He was just perfectly happy with leaving him on his own surrounded by dozens of people he didn't even know.
He turned, ready to return to his sofa and was met with a hand on his shoulder.
"Hello, Jack."
Jack turned to face her, suddenly feeling overwhelmingly self conscious.
"Miss Coles? What a surprise. I didn't expect to see you here. How are you?"