Time to quit bullshitting myself. I am alone now. Eric is gone and I know it.
I just want to die now. I want to be with him. I don’t know what to do without him. My world is over. How is this even possible?
Out of all the people in the world, my brother had to be the one to be taken. What have I done to deserve this? Is this some sort of vendetta?
No, it can’t be that. We have no real friends, only colleagues. Besides, those people are much older than us and they keep us healthy.
While I am drowning in my petty and idiotic feelings and tears, there is a knock at the door. I lift my head slightly. Is it who I believe it is? The C.T.O.?
I will kill every last one of them. I stand up and fall to my knees. I reach under his bed and pull a chest out. I open the chest and take out Eric’s Japanese Arisaka Type 38 Cavalry Rifle. I lookand see that it is fully loaded.
A heartless smirk crawls on my face as I sneak towards the door. Before exiting, I jump back to the chest and pull out a tiny box of ammo. Just in case.
I push off my shoes silently and stalk to the door, feeling like I am a lioness hunting its prey. The thought of men with big bulky suits with menacing glares and huge machine guns sitting on their hard square shoulders make me shake with anxiety and nervousness. I try my best to push it away, but it makes me so nauseous.
I have never wanted to kill anything or anyone before. But this very time, I am bloodthirsty. I feel my grief-blackened soul turn into a bottomless pit, needing to be filled with human blood. No. Not just human blood. These people are monsters! These people were made and chosen by the government. They and the government belong in hell with the demons.
The stranger keeps on knocking and looking inside. I jump out of the hallway and aim the gun at the stranger. The person apparently thought it was smart to open the door. He holds his hands up in surrender.
He lives in the streets. How did I know that? Words appear on the sides of his body. No family. No pets. No friends. I glance at his arms.
ChemiTerrorist. Even though I can feel pure courage running through my veins, yet I am shaking with fear.
His name? Will.
Last name? Bones.
I shake my head and the words disappear. My head is aching and I feel a lot like I am going to hurl. “Marvelous job, Alice. Now instead of being intimidating, I am going to puke all over his shoes.” Wait… That doesn’t seem like a bad idea now that I think about it.
The boy is wearing a loose black silk shirt with leather cuffs and black trousers. He gets even better the more I look.
His rich chocolate hair has a tousled griminess that promises finesse. He has strong arched brows and eyelashes so thick that they should be illegal. And then his eyes – they are deep and catastrophic, a vivid baby blue as a great body of water that softly melts into a milky green. This close, I can see the flakes of silver in his eyes. He has distinct cheekbones and an angular jaw and his pale skin makes him lookdevilishly handsome.
I shuffle my feet nervously. He isn’t exactly whom I am expecting. He is a terrorist. I thought I would see the people who keep them in order. My breath quickens as he smirks at me with a devilish look.Who does he think he is? Is my anxiety breakdown entertaining to him?
“Who are you?” I say with a high-pitched voice. I inwardly punch myself for sounding so puny.
The handsome boy chuckles and replies, “I think you might already know that.” Even is voice is so handsome.
I growl and clutch the gun tightly. His good looks shan’t distract me. “You’re trying to distract me.” I growl through gritted teeth.
He shrugs and says, “Pretty smart for a petite girl.”
My mouth forms into an “O” shape as I stare at him. I close my mouth and say through gritted teeth, “I’m not petite. I might just be smarter than anyone in this whole city.” I hold my head up high and ignore my nervous insides making my stomach acids swim.
The stranger lets out a musical laugh and says, “Quite arrogant, huh?”
I look away; He tricked me. “You ass. You knew I was going todefend my intelligence so I would sound fatheaded.” I state. After a moment of silence I mutter, “Impressive.”
“Now, how ‘bout you put the gun down and”
I clutch the gun again and take a step to him with the gun resting on my shoulder while aiming for his head. He pops backwards, surprised at my reaction. “Don’t worry; I am not going to hurt you. I just want to help.” He says.
“Help? I don’t even know you! And you’re a criminal. Robber, a thief! Terrorist! How can I trust a thief?” I automatically regret saying that, even though I don’t know him. Yet somehow, I feel sorry for him. How pathetic of me.
He just looks at me and exclaims, “See, you already know who I am without me even saying anything.”
I just shrug. He doesn’t believe me. “Just leave or I will put a bullet in your head, terrorist.” I mutter darkly.
He raises an eyebrow,and then laughs. “Thought you might want to know what happened to you last night, TERRORIST.”
“I am not a terrorist. I just had a reaction to those people last night. Nothing else. How did you even know?” I am confused and frightened. Is he stalking me?
“I really know everything. But, that doesn't matter right now. I think you might want to know what really happened to your brother. And you, you really are a terrorist. You are elite. Most of us only can meld their flesh to their desired shapes, but you…. You also can control fire. I know, don’t ask how. There are more elites, just like you. And they all control fire. Maybe there are other elements. Haven’t seen anything different.” He says with a careless shrug.
My face pales, how can he possibly knowabout Eric? And I know what happened.
“Show me your arms, terrorist.” If he has the same markings as me, then I might listen to him.
“Fine, whatever you say, princess.” He mockingly says and shows me his arms, and there, what I see takes my breath away. Exactly the same black veins. Calmly pulsating with weird blue light, unlike the red one of mine. And he has whip marks all over his arms. I ignore the whip marks, even though they make my heart climb up my throat.
“What, same marks? Just some more proof of you being a terrorist.” He chuckles. I keep the gun pointed and say through gritted teeth, “How do you know about my brother?”
He shrugs carelessly, “Just passin’ by your apartment last night when I happened to see a C.T.O. truck sitting in front of an apartment. I didn’t care at first, but then I saw them come out with a boy in their arms. He was thrashing like crazy but I got a good look at his face. They gave him a shot of something and he passed out automatically.” He watched my reaction, then continued, “I actually thought about doing something, but there were just too many C.T.O. bastards surrounding him. Why would there be so many of them just for a little human?”
My chest starts to heave as I stare at him in shock. “Shot him?” I whisper with a small voice. I lower the gun slowly. I cannot believe this. “Wait, how many were there?”
“Lots. Don’t ask me why, I have no idea.” He shrugs. He cocks his head and says, “How about I tell you everything, every tiny detail if you just listen to me. I will even help you figure out what they might want with your mundane brother. You’re a ‘ChemiTerrorist’ now, princess, whether you like it or not.”
“No. Get out. I can handle myself. Besides, why would I accept help from a stranger?” I say quickly.
“But” He raises his hands in his defense, but I raise the gun again to aim. “I SAID GET OUT OR THIS BULLET WILL BE YOURS!” I yell while cocking the gun.
He raises his arms again and walks out. As he is leaving he yells at me, “If you ever need me, just turn around, terrorist.”
I let out a sigh, and throw the gun down to the ground in irritation. I slowly walk back to Eric’s room and carefully tiptoe over to his bed, careful, not to step on anything precious. I collapse on the soft bed and pull the blanket over my shivering body. Time
to sleep. Time to see if this whole mess is real.
Time to see Eric again.
“Just close your eyes,” I tell myself. When I do, all that comes to my head is the image of Eric walking around frantically. Suddenly he trips over a bullet shell and falls down. Suddenly a uniformed C.T.O. officer aims a bulky gun at Eric and shoots him up to Swiss cheese.
Eric groans and stands up. Black blood is all over Eric’s chest but he manages to get up. He now is somehow a Chemi-Terrorist as well. He grabs the officer by the neck and smashes him to the ground. “YOU CANNOT KILL ME!”
“Yes we can. And we will,” A strong, calm masculine voice says from a megaphone nearby.
“WHERE IS MY ALICE?! TALK YOU BASTARDS!” Eric yells at the officer’s face at the top of his lungs. But the officer is already cold.
The officer’s head was too weak to hold against a Chemi-Smashing of his head to the ground, along with all the weight of his body.
Suddenly, another officer appears from behind Eric and shoots him straight into the back of his head. With a painful moan, Eric collapses to the ground.
The shell of bullet that hit Eric’s head fell to the ground heavily and bounced off. It started spinning with smoke coming out of it.
Eric disappears along with the C.T.O. bastard. They have left me alone.
The bullet shell keeps spinning. The smoke turns into The Mist.
Everything washes away and the surroundings become hazy.
Everything turns into one big mist. The Mist.
Now, I am alone.
I am now a terrorist.
A ChemiTerrorist.
With this thought I open my eyes and spring out of my dream.
I sit in my bed, sweating and breathing heavily. After a few more breaths I manage to lay down and relax. I close my eyes now and try to put my mind away.
Unlikely Allies
And then the weather warms; Blue skies and forty degree temperatures turn into seventy degree weather along with brisk winds, muggy heat, and rain showers.
The cleansing rain pounds on the ground and makes people stay in their cozy homes filled with warmth. The old, rain-washed late-winter snow that was here just a little before now melts on the highest peaks of the afternoons.
At first there are standing puddles in the streets and the steps of the apartments, the road wet with the sounds of splashing tires and stomping feet, but after a day all the rain water drains and evaporates, leaving the cars to pass as they do on any other day.
A lull in the action - a brief reprieve before the gods of Olympus take up the reins of storm once again. I lie asleep on Eric’s bed, shaking and shivering with fear of what is to come.
The fear slowly washes away into The Mist with all of my thoughts and dreams. I once more fall asleep. Hoping to pass my days quietly and calmly.
…
I am once again normal, and I am sitting on the couch watching TV.
Eric is back.
He walks into my room and plops down next to me with an annoyed sigh. For some odd reason, I cannot move. Just as if The Mist washed off my ability to move.
This reality is what I have been working so much and so hard for but it doesn’t seem to be right. Something is wrong with this picture. He is so silent and so am I. It is as if we are reading from a script. Eric is never silent. One way or another, he is nearly always talking.
“How has your day been so far, Alice?” Eric mumbles darkly to me. He sounds so sad, which is so different than usual. Just like I can move my eyes, I am able to turn my head slightly towards his. “It was okay. What about yours?” I cannot remember anything from my day. Nothing significant happened.
Did anything even happen that day at all?
He snorts. “Great.”
I raise an eyebrow at him. “What is your problem?” “Like you don’t know.” He mutters darkly.
I stare at him in shock. It sounds as if I did something. No, did I do something? “What exactly did I do wrong, Eric?” I ask.
He turns to me and rolls his eyes. “It is not about what you’ve done. It is about what you are not doing. But you should be.”
I cock my head at him. Oh, what have I done? Is this my body trying to show me what an idiot I am for not being rational to the boy?
Suddenly, the doorbell rings before I can say anything else. I watch him slowlystalk to the door. Eric opens it all the way and stares at the stranger waiting. “Hello?” He asks. His voice is flat and sounds bored, it makes me flinch. That is certainly not his real voice. “Are you Eric Nico Lee?” The stranger’s voice is raspy and deep. He wears huge white padded armor and a black helm. There is writing on the armor, but I can’t read it because of Eric’s body. I cock my head to the left,why would he say his whole name?
“Uh, yes. Do you need something?” Eric’s body stiffens when the man said his name.
The stranger doesn’t say anything. The man reaches for his belt and he pulls out a pistol. Without saying a word, the stranger brings his hand up and shoots Eric in the head. Eric gasps and falls to the ground. His body starts to havea spasm attack,as he lies there convulsing. Blood rushes out of his forehead and down the sides of his head.
“ERIC!” I scream. I fall down to the ground next to him, the blood staining my jeans and hands. I pick up his head gently and place it on my lap. Tears stream down my face as I lean down, resting my forehead against his bloody one. “I promise I shall never let you go.” I whisper.
“Are you Alice Rosemarie Lee?” The stranger still stands right outside the threshold of the apartment, with the pistol now at his side.
I look up at him and scream. He takes that as a yes. He lifts the pistol again and shoots.
My body pops up after that. My hair sticks to my face from sweat, and I take in a few deep breaths. A throbbing pain in my chest makes me clutch the bed sheets.
I pull myself into a ball and just lay there, scared that something else is going tohappen.
After about five minutes, I stand and stretch out my back. I want to stay in the bed and just drown out my sorrows, but that is not going to help my brother at all.
Maybe he is still alive.
Looking around, I see that yesterday wasn't a dream. It was the hell called reality.
Maybe what I dreamt of is what really happened. No, if I was there I think I would have done something. I get up and walk to the bathroom. I turn the shower on and let it heat up.
I walk into my room and pull out denim shorts with a black tee. I walk back into the bathroom, strip, and jump into the shower. The water is nice on my aching, sweaty skin. Yet, my skin doesn’t feel the same.
It feels as if I am in a different body. I have a feeling on my skin that feels like a thousand needles are piercing me.
Around five minutes later, I’m out and dressed. Glancing down at my arms, I seethe pulsating black veins once again. I wince at the sight and scowl at them.
They are throbbing with heat, fear and rage.
I don’t want people to come and see the markings; They might think I am a ChemiTerrorist.
I walk back into Eric’s room and open his chest. There is a black swan on the top of it and the rest of the outside just looks black and rusty.
The chest belonged to my mother, and her mother before that. Since Eric is the oldest, he got the chest. I never knew what is inside of it. Might as well look now.
Looking inside, I see many things. Letters – formal and handwritten ones. Pushingthem to the side, I see many old guns sitting on the bottom gathering dust.
But there is still something pushing the guns up. I take two guns out of the chest to see many bullet cases and a mace.
Why would there be a mace? I can understand guns, but a mace? I reach to pick it up, but pull my hand back. For some reason, it doesn’t look very appealing. It is black and on the handle is a spot where my hand fits perfectly on.
The top round part on the mace has many spikes on the top and it has rust on top along with dust. I want to pick it u
p so badly. There is an aura to it that makes me want to pick it up and use it. Yet, it pulses with bad memories but also some good.
It feels as though it has a heart.
Pushing away the thoughts about that, I decide that I should take a gun for safety reasons. I pull out a handgun and shove it in the back of my shorts.
I pull my shirt down as far as it should go, to cover the gun.
What am I supposed to do now? What if Eric is alive? What about that Will Bones guy? Maybe he wasn’t lying. Maybe I am a ChemiTerrorist. But I can’t be.
Through all of the18 years of my life, I have never had any connection with the terrorists. So how all of a sudden I am one? It is weird; Those terrorists that had mugged me were scientists. The people who were apparently exposed to harsh chemicals, yet I wasn’t, so I have no clue why I have all of the symptoms of one.
Maybe, my parents have something to do with this – but no. That is impossible, my parents died in a car accident. Shaking my head, I feel myself shiver.
I wonder if I am one, if Eric would even mind – if he would feel ashamed of his sister. I need to find out if Eric is really alive, but that means finding Will again.
What did he say? Was it something about finding him by turning around? A feeling in my stomach makes me chuckle. I am either hungry, or I want to just turn around to see if Will is actually there. But I really am hungry now that I think about it…
I am kind of scared to go outside actually, after last night with being mugged and all. But if I want Eric back again, I have to take chances. So I get up and stalk proudly to the door. Before stepping out, I grab Eric’s jacket from the hanger. I zip it up and sadly smile. It smells like him, he always wore a colon that smells like the woods.
I lock the door on my way out, and jog down stairs. I walk outside and gaze at all of these normal people. If I concentrate hard enough words about them appear around their bodies.
I’m guessing that one of the symptomsis that you see delusions. I am pretty sure that it is scientifically impossible, to see it all about the people. But the delusions, they are somewhat plausible. At least for most people. After doing it for a while my head starts to ache. I will have to talk to someone about this, I think.
Alice: The Leader Page 4