Cosmic Girl: Lost & Found: Superhero series for young adults - Book Three.

by R S J Gregory

  “Yes, sir?”

  “We’ll need two sniper rifles, equipped with infrared scopes, and a dozen clips of armor-piercing rounds.” Mitchell tells him.

  “Right away, sir.” And he blurs as he races away.

  “You didn’t tell me you had a son.” I say as I look up at his proud face.

  “Does it matter?” He answers gruffly, then turns to Santiago. “We need transportation that you two can carry.” He says, gesturing to Santiago and myself.

  “No problem. I got just the thing.” Santiago says with a wink at me.

  Mitchell’s son returns a few seconds later with two long rifles, and a holdall. Mitchell grips his arm, and presses his forehead to his son’s, then he grabs the bag and the two rifles.

  “Let’s go.” Mitchell says, and Santiago begins walking towards the airstrip, as Georgia materializes again.

  Nineteen

  Santiago found an old aircraft. It was covered in dust, and its two propellers had long since rusted in place. Georgia, Pamela and Mitchell climb on board, while Santiago and I take hold of the plane. Santiago grabs the front of the aircraft, just under the cockpit, while I take the tail, and together we get the old bird off the ground.

  As we climb to a few thousand feet, Santiago tells me to level off.

  “How will we know?” I shout out to Santiago over the roar of the wind. “Who’s navigating?”

  “Bill gave Mitchell something.” Santiago shouts back over his shoulder. “G P S or something.” He adds.

  The wind changes direction as we fly west, and I have to alter my grip on the aircraft and fly up slightly to compensate.

  Due to the fragility of the aircraft, we can’t go too fast, which Santiago keeps complaining about as we fly sedately through the clouds. The half-moon, and the torchlight coming from inside the plane, are the only light I can see as I help fly the plane through the inky night sky.

  I stifle a yawn and look down at the clouds as we sail overhead.

  After a few hours, I hear static on Santiago’s radio.

  “Yes?” He answers, and waits. “Okay.” He says and puts the radio back on his belt. “We’re going to make a little pit stop.” He shouts over his shoulder.

  I feel the nose of the aircraft dip, and so I begin to descend with Santiago, following his lead. As we descend through the clouds, I think about Abigail.

  I wonder if she’s asleep right now.

  I smile as I remember her face, when I gave her the doll. Then I look down, and see some small residential areas, schools, banks, fast food restaurants, and a trailer park. Beyond that, all I can see is blackness.

  I focus my eyes, and when the world turns green, I see the ocean. It stretches from left to right as far as the eye can see. I begin to hear it, as we descend lower. A rush, then a boom, as it pounds the rocks just off shore.

  “Heads up. We’re landing on the road.” Santiago shouts over his shoulder, then the plane stops in the air.

  I hover, before we both descend gently to the asphalt, and set our cargo down. I walk to the left wing, as the door opens from inside, and Mitchell emerges holding a torchlight.

  “We need to find something sturdier. I feel like this thing’s about to break apart at any moment.” Mitchell says as he hops down, followed by Georgia and Pamela.

  “I saw a bank not far from here.” I offer, as Mitchell reaches inside and pulls out the holdall and rifles.

  “Lead the way.” Mitchell says, and I start hovering towards an intersection before climbing up to a hundred feet.

  I fly over what’s left of a post office and a pharmacy, and see the parking lot outside the bank. I wave below and point, then swoop down and land outside the Bank of America. There are a number of convertibles and SUVs collecting dust and rusting away, but a larger vehicle catches my eye. Mitchell races over and looks at the red and white armored car, and begins grinning as he walks around it. He wipes some dust off it, and peers through the passenger window.

  “Perfect.” Mitchell says and pulls on the door handle. Something snaps, with a metallic ping, then the door opens.

  He drops the rifles and holdall, then climbs inside. A couple of skeletons fly from the open passenger door, followed by a couple of shotguns.

  “Let’s go.” Mitchell says as he sticks his head out.

  Pamela grabs the rifles and hand them to Mitchell, as Georgia picks up the holdall and heads to the rear.

  “Why don’t you get some rest, I’ll take this.” I tell Santiago, and land next to the side of the armored car.

  “You sure?” He asks and I nod.

  He passes me a radio and a headset, and I attach it to my belt, as he slides the headset over my white hair.

  “You look like Madonna.” He smirks, as he adjusts it.

  “Who?” I ask and frown at him.

  “Never mind.” He smiles and steps back. “Let me know if you get tired.” He says, then heads to the rear of the armored car.

  I crouch down and crawl underneath between the wheels. I hear the two doors at the back open, with a crunch, then the van rocks on its suspension as they climb in. I wait until I hear the doors close above me, then I lie on my back and press up with my hands. The vehicle rises shakily off the ground. I will myself up from the hard ground until I’m able to stand upright, then I rise into the night sky.

  I look down at the dark buildings as they grow smaller, then raise my head and gaze at the dark ocean, glimmering under the moonlight.

  “Head towards the ocean.” I hear Mitchell’s rumbling voice through the headset.

  “Yes, sir.” I reply sternly, before giggling.

  “Please don’t call me sir.”

  “Okay, boss.”

  “Stop it.”

  I chuckle to myself as I leave the beach behind us and sail high over the dark water.

  “What’s his name?” I ask as I adjust my grip.

  There’s silence for a few seconds.

  “Richard.”

  “How old is he?” I ask as I enjoy his voice in my ears.

  “Sixteen.” Then he sighs. “His mother...” He says quietly.

  “Was it the blue freaks?” I ask, and I can picture him closing his one good eye, as I hear him grind his teeth through my headset. There’s static for a while, then it goes silent.

  “Mitchell?” I say into my microphone, but all I get is silence. “I’m sorry. Please? We can talk about something else.” I say, but all I can hear is the wind as it blows in from the west.

  “Hey.” Georgia’s voice comes through the headset, sounding worried.

  “Is he okay?” I ask, closing my eyes. Idiot! I berate myself.

  “Hard to tell. How are you holding up? It must be strange, being up here, away from your friends.” Georgia says softly.

  As I look up at the bottom of the armored car, watching the wheels turn sporadically as I fly, I let out a laugh.

  “Actually, this feels kind of familiar.” I tell her.

  “For us too.” She whispers through my headset. “It brings up a lot of memories.” She adds, then sighs. “Although, I remember you flying faster.” She says playfully.

  “Hold on to your butts.” I reply and grin as I start to accelerate.

  The wind becomes a steadily increasing roar as I fly the van faster over the ocean. The bulky van isn’t exactly aerodynamic, though, and as the wind increases, it tries to blow it sideways. I bank to the left, leaning into the wind, and make a slight course correction until the low half-moon is in front of me again.

  “Now, that’s a little more like it.” She laughs through my headset. “If only Stuart and Paul could be here.” She says fondly.

  “Did I know them?” I ask, and look down as a whale breaches, spraying water high into the air below me.

  “They were part of your group.”

  “My group?”

  “You were our leader. As Cosmic Girl, you did so much. I wish you could remember.”

  I close my eyes and bite my lip.

&n
bsp; “Mitchell was never the same after you vanished. After Devlin........well, we went our separate ways.” She says sadly.

  “But you found each other again.” I say and look up at the bottom of the van.

  “Area 51 seemed like a safe place to go.” Georgia says, and I can imagine her shrugging right now. “But, so many didn’t make it.” She says and I hear a sniff. “We looked for them, Britney. We tried, we really did. You have to believe me.” She starts crying, and I stare at the half-moon, frowning.

  “My family are.....” My voice breaks, and I can’t say the words.

  “Everything happened so fast, Britney. There was an emergency broadcast just a few minutes before they struck.”

  My chest hurts.

  “If the wormhole is still there, then maybe we can change all of this.” Georgia says, and I close my eyes.

  Please. Be there!

  The van feels heavy suddenly, and I drop a few feet. I blink and take a deep breath.

  “Are you okay? Do you need a breather?” I hear Santiago’s concerned voice come through my headset.

  “No. I’m okay.” I reply, then take some more deep breaths.

  “We’ll make another stop, as soon as we get to Japan.” Santiago says, and I grit my teeth and speed up.

  As far as the eye can see is nothing but dark rolling ocean, so it’s hard to gage my speed. Then I hear a rumble ahead of us.

  “You might want to climb higher.” Santiago tells me. “Unless, you want to find out what getting struck by lightning feels like.” He adds dryly.

  “Hmm, tempting.” I reply, then begin to rise through some thick clouds.

  Once through, I can see the huge bank of dark clouds far ahead of us. They light up brilliantly, when lighting flashes and forks through from cloud to cloud. I lean back and climb at a steeper angle, before levelling off once I’m above the storm. The sound of thunder is so loud and crisp as I fly over.

  My breath fogs when I exhale, and icicles start forming on the wheels and axle above me. Once the thunder begins to fade, I pitch forward and start to descend.

  “Okay. Japan is coming up.” Santiago says cheerily.

  “Take us down.” Mitchell’s calm voice comes through on my headset, making me smile.

  We pass through two layers of thick clouds, then in the distance I can see some mountains rising up from the ocean.

  As the mountains become larger, I slow down and stare down at the crashing surf. I focus my eyes, changing the darkness into shades of green, and look around for a good place to set down.

  I fly over the harbor wall and swoop down towards a patch of mud, between two desolate looking double story buildings. I set the front down and then step backwards, feeding the vehicle through my hands before lowering the rear.

  This all feels very familiar.

  I smile as I turn around, listening to the ocean pound the harbor wall.

  I yawn and stretch as the doors open, and Mitchell and Santiago climb out.

  “We’ll rest here tonight.” Mitchell says and hands Santiago a rifle.

  Santiago accepts the rifle, then rises up and flies to the roof of one of the buildings.

  “Get some sleep.” Mitchell says kindly, and gestures to the back of the armored car with his rifle.

  “I’m sorry, about before.” I say quickly and step towards him.

  He looks down at me, and a smile spreads across his face.

  “I forgot how impulsive you can be.” He says, and closes his one good eye for a second, before letting out a low groan.

  “You’ve no idea how hard this is.” He says, turning his back to me. “I mourned you. You were dead.”

  I reach up and place my hand on his thick forearm.

  “It’s been tough for me too.” I say.

  He turns his scarred face towards me, as I step around to look up at him. I reach up to place my hand on his disfigured cheek, but he quickly recoils and steps away.

  “I didn’t leave you, I was taken.” I tell him, as his broad shoulders heave up and down.

  “So much has been taken.” Mitchell says angrily, and turns to me, as tears flow down the right side of his distraught face.

  I stride forward quickly and wrap my arms around his waist.

  “If Georgia’s right........if it’s even possible......” I say as I press my cheek to his trembling chest.

  He wraps his big bear arms around me, and strokes my head gently.

  “If she is right.” Mitchell says softly. “Then we need to discover how this all began.”

  I look up with blazing blue eyes, glistening with tears.

  “We will.” I tell him.

  Twenty

  Georgia and Pamela make a small camp fire with some dry branches they find lying on the ground. A lot of the trees around here have been flattened or ripped up, so there’s no shortage of fire wood.

  “I’ll be back.” Mitchell says as he picks up a long slim branch, that he ripped from a larger one earlier.

  I watch, transfixed, as he removes his army jacket and white t-shirt. His back muscles ripple as he strides towards the harbor wall. But it’s the scar tissue on his left side that I find myself looking at. The pink flesh looks like aged leather in the moonlight. I sit down on some cinder blocks as Pamela builds the fire up, while Mitchell heads into the water to do some spear fishing.

  “What happened?” I ask Pamela and nod towards Mitchell, just before he disappears into the dark water.

  “He went back to look for your father, you know, when it all happened.” Pamela says before sitting down to poke the small burning embers. “He got caught in the blast.”

  “Luckily, he’s the fastest man alive.” Georgia adds as she throws more twigs on to the fire.

  “I ran into him a few years after. I was chasing after some deer, then boom.” Georgia smacks her hands together. “I get smacked by something so hard, I thought it was one of those blue demons.” She says and chuckles at the memory. “But then, I find myself being lifted up from the grass and being spun around.” She smiles and looks sadly at me. “He loved you, you know.”

  “I know.” I say and lay my hands in my lap. “Maybe the old me loved him too. I don’t know.”

  “Do you feel anything now?” She asks as she looks at me curiously.

  “Just a familiarity.” I reply cagily, and she relaxes, gazing out towards the water. But there is something creeping around the edge of my mind. I feel myself drawn to him, physically. I shake my head and look at the rising flames.

  He’s over twice my age now. It’s just too weird to even think about.

  I hear a splash, and look over as Mitchell’s naked torso emerges from the water, his makeshift spear in one hand with a flapping fish the size of a cat impaled on one end.

  I find myself hungry, and not for fish.

  Mitchell strides up the short slope to where we sit, and pushes the branch further through the fish, then places the now still fish on the steadily rising flames.

  Georgia watches me as I study his chiseled arms and chest, before getting up and vanishing.

  I blink and stare at the space where she had just been.

  Mitchell notices me gawping, and laughs quietly as he pulls on his t-shirt before sitting down opposite.

  “Did you see?” I ask, and he smiles before turning the makeshift spit over.

  “We all have our gifts.” Mitchell says, then points at me. “Flight.” Then points his finger at Pamela as she prods the fire. “Teleportation.”

  “Speed.” I finish and point at Mitchell.

  “There were many of us. We tried to fight them, but most of the newbies were too green. They lacked the training and the experience that we had.” Mitchell says.

  “They fought bravely.” He adds after a few seconds.

  I make a mental note. Combat training.

  “She told me you went back for my father.” I say, and he lowers his eye and turns the fish again.

  “On your birthday, he liked to visit your moth
er’s grave.” Mitchell says hesitantly, then clears his throat.

  “The city was overrun when I got there. I didn’t even notice the missile, until it was too late.” He looks at me briefly before looking down at the fish, sizzling over the fire.

  “I hauled ass out of there.” He points to the left side of his face. “But I wasn’t fast enough.”

  “I’m glad you survived.” I say, and he smiles and looks at me.

  “I’m still trying to get used to your white hair and crazy eyes.” He says, and I play with some long strands that hang down over my right shoulder.

  “I like it.” I smile. “The weird eyes come in handy, too. They don’t just glow.” I say and he raises his eyebrow.

  “It’s so weird. You’re so completely different, and yet totally the same.” He says and runs a hand through his thin brown hair on the right side of his head.

  “Maybe, if you hit me in the head really hard...” I suggest.

  “No, I can’t do that.” He says raising his hands. “Besides, you might hurt me.” He adds with a grin.

  “Get a room.” I hear Santiago call out from the roof, and turn to see him dangling his legs over the edge of the derelict building.

  “I thought you were on lookout?” I yell back.

  “I am looking.” He says and grins.

  “The fish is almost ready. You hungry?” Mitchell calls up to him.

  “Let’s put it this way. My boots are starting to look appetizing.” Santiago says, then floats away from the building and descends to the cinder block next to Pamela.

  “Where’s Ghost Girl?” Pamela asks and looks around.

  Georgia slowly materializes out of thin air near Mitchell.

  “I’m hungry.” She says quietly and sits down next to Mitchell.

  Mitchell plucks the hot fish from the fire and tears off some of the white flesh and places it on a large palm leaf, passing it to Georgia.

  I nod in understanding, when I see the way she looks at him.

  She places some white flesh in her mouth using her fingers, and notices me watching her. She smiles, but her eyes tell a very different story.

  I look up at Mitchell as he serves Santiago and Pamela their portion of fish.