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

by R S J Gregory

  I rise up from the ground while Pamela picks up the other rifle and the bag of ammo. Santiago picks Pamela up from behind, then follows me as I rise above the buildings.

  I aim for the setting sun, as the top half of the now red sun slowly disappears beyond the horizon.

  I accelerate while Mitchell and Georgia dangle from my arms, and bank slightly to my left and fly around an immense hill, before levelling out again. I see the water ahead shimmering; and stretching out on both sides are lots of resorts and small villages. I aim for an area of vacant beach near an ocean liner, which lies on its side half way up the beach.

  I land near the hull and set down my passengers on to the soft sand.

  “Hey, there’s an island.” Georgia says, pointing to the land mass opposite.

  The island is less than a mile away, and between the beach and opposite shore, there must be a hundred small boats bobbing on the surface, while only several hundred feet to my left, the rear of a nuclear submarine juts out of the water. The twin propellers are covered in seaweed, and barnacles are just visible as the waves lap at the black hull.

  I sniff the air experimentally, and recoil.

  “Ugh, what’s that stink?” I mutter and look around.

  “Well, that’s something you don’t see every day.” I hear Santiago say as he lands behind us.

  “Geez, what died?” Pamela asks as she steps forward and looks at the half submerged submarine.

  “Could be coming from that.” Mitchell says and strolls along the beach and looks at the beached ocean liner behind us.

  “Who knows how much food lies rotting inside?” He says and motions with his head towards the huge tear in the rusty red hull.

  “Or people.” I point out.

  Some sea birds squawk as they flap around above us, before swooping down to the waves. Some emerge a few seconds from behind a wave with something glistening in their beaks.

  “At least there’s fish.” I say and Mitchell smiles, then turns and marches over to some trees.

  Within an hour, we have a campfire going, and the largest fish I’ve ever seen charring over the flames on a makeshift spit. The shiny blue skin is now black, and the smell coming from it is amazing.

  Pamela inhales deeply. “Now that’s better.” She murmurs and closes her eyes.

  The sky is now as black as the fish, and stars glint in the heavens as red embers spark and float up into the air, before they die and float away in the mild sea breeze.

  The clouds had rolled away finally about thirty minutes ago, and now the starry heavens loomed over us, displaying its majesty and glory.

  The waves lapping at the shore is so soothing, that I close my eyes and pretend that the ocean liner and submarine are not here.

  The crackle of the fire, and the hiss, as fat and water escape from the fish and drop on to the flames, add their own music to the night.

  I lie down on the sand on my tummy, and rest my head on my arm, and gaze at the orange flames licking at the huge fish. The spit Mitchell made for it is around four feet long, and the fish takes up most of it. He was gone for a long time when he went fishing, and looked flushed when he emerged from the blue water, grinning with pride. Pamela and I searched some of the restaurants nearby, and found some plates and cutlery.

  “Tell me it’s ready, please?” I complain as I lick my lips and push my plate over the sand toward Mitchell.

  He leans over the fire and squeezes the fish gently with his fingers.

  “Almost. Five more minutes.” He says, and I roll my eyes.

  “Aw, come on. I’m running on empty.” I say and point to my tummy as I sit up.

  “Me too.” Pamela says, then makes a growling noise in her throat. “You hear that?”

  Mitchell shakes his head, then pulls his knife from its sheath and bends over the smoking fish.

  An unearthly guttural roar blasts through the night, cutting through the silence like a chainsaw.

  We all instinctively stand up, with our backs to the ocean.

  “What the hell was that?” Santiago asks nervously.

  Twenty Three

  As the roar echoes through the hills, slowly fading away until I can hear the waves again, I turn on the spot, listening.

  “Which direction did it come from?” Mitchell asks me as I gaze around with my heart thumping a staccato beat in my temples.

  “Hard to say. But whatever it was, it sounded angry.” I reply, and he lets out a nervous laugh.

  “Let’s pop up and take a look around.” I suggest to Santiago. He nods his head and touches Pamela’s arm in farewell.

  I rise up slowly from the sand and gaze up at the starry heavens. The breeze coming from the ocean is mild, and my long white hair stirs gently against my back as I rise above the ocean liner and the tree line. Santiago joins me after a few seconds, and when the campfire is nothing more than a speck of yellow, the ungodly roar erupts from out of the darkness again.

  “That sounded like it came from the ocean.” I observe and rotate in the air and look out over the dark shimmering water.

  “Whoa. Do you see that?” Santiago says, pointing.

  “Holy shit.” I blurt out when I see what he’s pointing at.

  Something that I haven’t seen in a very long time. Power.

  “Lights. Those are lights.” I say excitedly and point as well.

  “Stay here. I’ll be right back.” Santiago says, then drops like a rock towards the beach.

  I concentrate with my eyes and zoom in, and the hazy light crystalizes and comes into sharp focus, as does the surrounding buildings.

  Amidst a thick forest of pine trees, a tall square concrete building rises two hundred feet, towering over the rustling trees. Beyond the colossal structure, I can just make out a large flat area, which glints darkly in the moonlight coming from the thin crescent moon, which rises behind me above the mountains. The yellow light is coming from windows, which look like tall thin slits, like the kind you find in a castle.

  Because of the trees, we couldn’t see it from the beach, but it’s on the island across the water from where we set up camp.

  The forest and structure is near the back end of the island, and near the front, there is mostly just sand and an abandoned airfield, which has been taken over by a pack of wild boars and pelicans. The boars grunt as they run for the hangars, while the pelicans take wing and head out towards the ocean. I hear an inrush of air, then Santiago glides to a stop next to me with Mitchell dangling from his right arm.

  “That has to be the place.” Mitchell gloats.

  I blink and look at his beaming face. He looks around, and points at the airfield.

  “We’ll set down there, and continue on foot. Let’s go.” Mitchell says and I nod and follow Santiago back down to the beach.

  Santiago let’s go of Mitchell’s arm, and he quickly kicks sand over the fire and grabs the bag of ammo.

  “We’re going over there.” Mitchell says, pointing towards the dark island.

  I touch down and hold out my hand to Georgia and Pamela. Georgia takes my hand and I pull her up from the sand, while Pamela grabs a rifle and checks that it’s loaded. She slings it over her left shoulder then grabs my hand. Mitchell passes the other rifle to Santiago, then holds the bag of ammo as Santiago grabs Mitchell under the arms and rises slowly off the sand.

  Georgia’s breathing quickens and she glances up at me as I glide through the air above the sails of the boats, as they bob up and down. In a few seconds, we have sand under us again, and I aim for the cracked runway.

  Georgia and Pamela’s grip tighten on my arms as I pass two of the dark hangars. I hear a couple of grunts and squealing coming from the hangars, and a few eyes peer at us from the shadows.

  I land gently and release the girls, while Santiago lands in front of me and sets Mitchell down. He kneels and unzips the holdall. He pulls out a couple of magazines of ammo and hands them to Santiago, who then tucks them into his belt.

  “Hustle.” Mitch
ell calls out quietly and holds up three magazines of ammo.

  Pamela blurs as she races forward, and stops near Mitchell and takes the ammo. Santiago and Pamela remove their long semi-automatic rifles from their shoulders, then hold them up to their shoulders. They step forward warily, looking at each other briefly and nodding. Mitchell pulls the remaining two magazines and slips one in each jacket pocket, before discarding the now empty bag.

  He looks back at Georgia and me, then motions with his head and stalks after Santiago and Pamela.

  I take a deep breath and follow, avoiding the large cracks and animal droppings. The smell we encountered on the beach is more intense on this side of the water. After a few minutes, we find ourselves coughing, and we’re forced to cover our mouths with one hand.

  After a few more minutes, we come to the end of the concrete runway, and the edge of the forest. The wind is getting stronger, and the trees whisper as they sway in front of us. We stop briefly and listen. Santiago and Pamela keep their rifles raised as they stare into the darkness.

  “Better go infrared.” Mitchell whispers in Santiago’s ear.

  “Scopes.” Santiago whispers to Pamela, and they press a button on the side of their scopes and remove the caps.

  I close my eyes briefly. Thermal.

  I open my eyes, and the world turns to black and blue, while body heat radiates as white, orange and red, as Mitchell pats Santiago on the shoulder. Santiago’s glowing red head nods, then he starts walking slowly into the forest with Pamela several feet on his left. She walks slowly and lifts the rifle to her glowing red head, as we head into the black and blue forest.

  Tiny spots of yellow cling to the blue trees, while others move slowly across the ground. I look up at the branches and spy some amber spots up high near the tops of the trees. One of the birds lets out a small chirp, and I see it move to another branch, before it settles back down again.

  Loose twigs snap and crunch underfoot, and we all stop to listen, instantly alert and ready. Pamela and Santiago’s rifles move from right to left in slow arcs in front of Mitchell. After a few seconds of just the swaying trees and the buzz of insects, we all take a deep breath and continue, stepping carefully over roots and fallen pine cones. The adrenaline is pumping through me now, and my breathing is starting to quicken as I step around a blue tree, and brush past a branch. Mitchell’s glowing red head is constantly rotating left and right as he follows Santiago, stepping where he stepped and ducking some of the lower branches.

  The smell from the pines doesn’t really take the edge off of whatever is making the ungodly stench, but at least the trees shield us from the wind, which carries the smell.

  After another ten minutes, I feel uneasy. Waves of heat ripple out from my chest throughout my whole body, and I break out in a cold sweat.

  I lose my focus, and the world returns back to normal.

  I follow Mitchell as he steps over a thick branch, but I notice something else as my foot hits the edge of an indentation in the leaf strewn floor.

  “Guys?” I whisper, as I look down at the ground.

  Mitchell taps Santiago on the shoulder, and turns to look back at me. I wave at Pamela as she looks over her shoulder, and point down at my feet. Georgia catches up with us as Mitchell steps closer, frowning.

  “Look.” I urge them and continue pointing down at the ground.

  Mitchell crouches down and touches the ground, feeling the indentation in the earth. I step back so he can see the whole footprint.

  “Geez.” Mitchell mutters and stands back up, then walks the length of the imprint, counting his steps out loud. “....five...six...seven...eight.” Then he stops and looks at me in disbelief. “Eight feet.”

  “Eight? What the hell has feet that big?” Santiago asks nervously and looks around, rifle at the ready.

  “I don’t want to know.” I answer and look up.

  Thermal.

  I look past the glowing forms of my new friends to the black and blue forest, and glance around uneasily.

  “How big do you think it is?” Georgia asks timidly as she looks at Mitchell.

  He looks up at the trees, and I follow his gaze. Branches are snapped and broken on either side, while some trees have been uprooted completely. We all exchange a worried look.

  “It looks like they came from that direction.” Mitchell says, pointing to our left. “And they go off in this direction.” He adds and starts walking, following the gargantuan footprints, as they lead deeper into the forest.

  Blue trees lie splintered and snapped in half, as we follow this new path.

  “Do you hear that?” I ask them as I realize something.

  They stop and look around.

  “I don’t hear anything.” Santiago replies as his glowing red head looks back at me.

  “Exactly. I don’t hear any insects, birds, anything.” I reply.

  “Make sure the safety is off.” Mitchell tells Santiago and Pamela. Mitchell taps Santiago’s shoulder, and we start moving again.

  After another ten minutes following the giant’s path through the pines, I start to hear the ocean again as it crashes against something. But I also hear something else, and it sounds closer. Half a dozen squeaks, and the sound of tiny claws scratching something hard. As we near the edge of the woods, I can see their glowing orange and yellow bodies scurrying round a pile of something black.

  Infrared. I think, and blink.

  The world turns to shades of green, and then I see what the rats are scratching at.

  “Oh my god.” Georgia says as she covers her mouth and turns away.

  “So, that’s the smell.” Santiago states and looks around the area through his scope.

  A pile of bones and half-eaten bodies covers an area the size of a city block. Most of the bodies look like they were boars, bears and various types of shark. The other bodies, well, I ignore those and try not to look too closely. I blink quickly and revert back to normal vision, before I puke.

  “This way.” Mitchell says, coughing, and covers his mouth and points to the large block of concrete, where some yellow light is spilling out from long slits for windows.

  Georgia grabs my left hand, while I cover my mouth with my right hand. I look up at her and nod, and we follow Mitchell as he stalks after Santiago and Pamela. The thin sliver of silver light from above and the yellow light pouring from the building, are the only source of light, and as we walk past the scuttling rats, I’m grateful that we’re not here during daylight.

  I catch the movement of the rats out of the corner of my eye, as we stalk cautiously towards the building. I hear the crunching of bone, and something being ripped. I take an unsteady breath through my mouth and focus on Mitchell’s broad shoulders in front of me as he coughs quietly. Once the grizzly scene is behind us, and we’re in the shadow of the concrete cube, Georgia let’s go of my hand and begins retching. Pamela stops and kneels, raising the scope to her eye. Santiago cocks his head to one side, listening, as I pat Georgia’s back gently.

  “You okay?” Mitchell turns and asks quietly.

  Georgia nods as she spits the last of the vomit out, then coughs and takes a deep breath. She tries to smile, but her face looks pale in the moonlight.

  “Come on. Almost there.” I whisper in her ear and take her hand.

  Santiago continues walking, and taps Pamela on the shoulder then strolls on, rifle held ready at his shoulder. Pamela stands up and begins following, then Mitchell looks over his broad shoulder at us. The beads of sweat around his temples are clearly visible from the yellow light coming from one of the window slits. He nods his head at us, then turns and starts walking as he opens and clenches his fists.

  The pine trees end several feet to our left, and make an oval shaped clearing, with the concrete block at its center.

  The trees start to thin out a little ahead of us, and the corner of the building can now be seen. There’s a lot of light up ahead. Santiago and Pamela step closer to the building, and as they approach the co
rner, they put their backs to the concrete and sidestep.

  They wait until Mitchell catches up with them, and I tug on Georgia’s trembling hand and pull her after me.

  “Let’s take a look.” Mitchell says, then walks in front of Santiago and looks around the corner. He looks back at us confused, then disappears around the corner.

  Santiago follows, then Pamela waves us forward. As we reach the corner, Pamela heads around first, then I pull Georgia after me.

  “What the hell?” I blurt out.

  Twenty Four

  “What is that?” Santiago asks as he points at the rows of glass tubes.

  Each tube is twenty feet tall and six feet in diameter. I check both sides of the cavernous room. There must be a hundred tubes. Each one is filled with a deep green fluid. Except for three of the tubes, they are all empty. I hover over to one of the tubes that has something floating in the green fluid.

  “What is it?” I think aloud as I study the organism.

  Whatever it is, it’s pulsating slowly. Its gray flesh is shriveled and it looks like a huge peanut.

  “Come on, guys. Remember why we’re here.” Mitchell states and marches the length of the room towards some desks and terminals.

  At the end of the room is another tube, and thick black cables connect this one tube to all of the others. The tube lies empty and dry. I fly after Mitchell while Santiago and Pamela stand guard near the massive entrance. The room is vast. The ceiling must be at least two hundred feet above us, and you could easily fit two airplanes in here side by side.

  I accelerate before gliding to a stop near the first metal desk. Behind the desks rise three gigantic metallic cylinders covered in thin silver cables. A cloud of frost hovers around the tops of the cylinders, shielding them in a thin mist.

  “Look at this.” Mitchell says excitedly, and I look down at the desk.

  He blows dust from a black book and opens it.

  “Looks like a journal or diary.” He mutters, then closes it again angrily. “I can’t read it. It must be in Croatian.” He says, and begins to open some drawers.