Discoveries
This is part 10 in a series. The other nine should be read first for maximum enjoyment and understanding.
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9
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I squint at the strange light and try to shield my eyes. The stranger's hand knocks mine away from my face so that the light is in my eyes again. If I weren't so disoriented, I would be angry right now. Angry, and scared. Who are these people?
“Hey!” I object.
A gruff voice answers. “Who're you, bitch, and what are you doing with one a' them freaks?”
I have no idea what “bitch” means, but I don't like his tone. “Excuse me, sir?”
The man's companion addresses him. “I thought all the mutants were dead, Carl.”
Jake mumbles, “'m not dead.”
Carl examines Jake with a look I really don't like. “This one ain't dead, Rick. Think about what the Compound'll say when they find out.”
Compound? I wonder. I don't like these people at all, but they might be our only hope for shelter. I decide to ask, “What's the Compound?”
Carl answers, “None of your business, Missy.”
Rick nods in agreement with his statement. Well, that doesn't bode well.
Leaning over Jake, Carl asks him, “Say, what's your name, freak?”
I don't think our nap did Jake much good, because he hardly whispers his next words. “I'm Jake.”
Carl laughs. “Funny name for a mutant, isn't it?”
I don't want to admit that's the first thing I thought when Jake told me his name.
“That's my name,” Jake says.
Rick asks, “Is it really important what he calls himself? Either way...”
Carl glares at him. “Shut up. Let me handle this.”
In my opinion, he's not doing a good job of “handling this,” but I try to keep my mouth shut. Carl reminds me a little of Mayor Grayson. I hope I don't end up punching him because, while he's not friendly at all, we still need him. We certainly can't go back to the settlement. I hope I can convince Carl to tell me what this Compound is and get him to offer us shelter. Otherwise, Jake and I are in real trouble.
Focusing his attention on Jake, Carl asks, “Did ya know we've been lookin' for ones like you?”
Jake shakes his head. How would he have even known these people were searching for his kind? Carl wasn't really looking for an answer, though, was he? It hits me: if these people have been trying to find mutants, what do they want with them? My stomach clenches. Something about Rick and Carl just doesn't feel right.
I speak up, unable to help myself. “Why have you been looking for mutants?”
Carl's voice is hard. “As if that's any of your business, girl.”
Girl? I am not a girl. “I'm 23 years old!”
It's hard to see Rick's face, but I think he's leering. “She's definitely a woman.”
My skin crawls. That's not any better than being called “girl.”
In oily tones, Rick asks, “What's your name, honey?”
Honey? Is he serious? If we didn't need shelter from these people, I would be sorely tempted to punch them. No, I would be sorely tempted to run. They're giving off some bad vibes that seem to be only getting worse the more they speak. I want to give Rick a fake name, but I can't think of one. Besides, I'm not sure that's wise if we need them to help us, so I give my actual name. “I'm Vivienne,” I say.
Carl grumbles, “Now's not the time, Rick. She's no use to us.”
My heart starts to pound, because if I'm “no use” to them, how am I going to convince these people to give us shelter? My mind races in useless circles as I try to think up something.
Carl takes a step towards Jake, leaning over him in a way that scares me. “You, on the other hand. We could use someone like you.”
Judging from Jake's body language, he's not any more comfortable with Carl's position than I am. He's even trembling a little. Hesitantly, he asks, “Use me for what?”
The man laughs again. Ugh, I hate his laugh. “Not gonna tell ya that.” He looks over towards Rick. “Help me take 'im. Don't think he'll put up much of a fight. Looks half-dead t' me.”
They drop their still-on flashlights and step towards Jake. On instinct, I roll out of the way, heart pounding harder than ever. I want to punch them, want to do something, but I have no fight in me. When I need it, I don't have it. I shake my head and force myself to snap out of this trance. I try to charge them. It's too dark, so I trip. I trip and fall onto my back. Jake just sits there. He lets the men grab him by the shoulders. I watch, helpless.
Desperation ringing through my voice, I shout, “Jake, do something! Come on, fight them!”
He does. Jake pushes at them. There's a strange darkness surrounding his hands. It's blacker than the dim light of the hall. When Jake touches the men with his darkened hands, the two of them fall.
Jake stands there, mouth open, eyes wide with shock or maybe horror. His hands go back to normal, but he doesn't move. Neither do Rick and Carl. Everything's frozen. What just happened? I wonder. I'm the first to break the spell cast by Jake's...I don't even know what. I rush over to the fallen men and check to see if they've got pulses. They don't. They're not breathing, and their hearts aren't beating.
I stand up. “They're...dead,” I whisper. “How?”
The how is kind of obvious, but at the same time it's not. I know Jake killed them, he must have, but he's not supposed to have lethal powers. He's a healer.
Evidently, Jake's thinking the same thing because he says, “They can't be dead. Impossible. I can't kill. I won't.”
I avoid his eyes. “But they are dead. No pulse or anything.”
Is Jake crying? He chokes on his words. “I-I'm sorry. I d-didn't m-mean to.”
“I know.”
He whimpers, “What are we going to do?”
Some of the shock wears off, to be replaced by a sick, sinking worry. So much for shelter from those two. What if they had others with them? We are in trouble.
“I guess we should go back to the surface,” I suggest. “Whatever is up there, we really can't stay down here.”
Jake doesn't move. I pick up one of the flashlights. I know it's bad to take from dead people, especially ones you killed, but we need flashlights. Jake can't handle making light for us in his ragged condition.
He looks at me, disbelieving. “You're really going to take that?”
I nod. “Look, Jake, I know this is bad, but we're in trouble and I want to protect you, okay? We kind of need flashlights, seeing as I forgot to pack one when I left Uphill City. We don't have any better options. I suggest you grab the other one.”
Jake doesn't look that convinced, but he nods. Very, very slowly, he reaches down and takes the other flashlight. He stares at it as if it might bite him or something. I don't blame him, but what else are we going to do?
He says, “We should...do something for them.”
“What?” I ask, confused.
“The men I killed. We should pay our respects.”
I wonder, “How exactly are we supposed to do that?”
Jake shakes his head. “I don't know...” He looks at the fallen figures. “I'm sorry,” he tells them. “I didn't mean to.”
“Let's get out of here,” I say.
Without another word, we start making our way back through the facility. We have flashlights now, but the darkness is heavier than when we came in. It must be the death. I go first when we climb up the ladder. I'm not sure what to expect, but it isn't three people with guns pointed at me.
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written for 500themes prompt #323 - "Twilight's Selfish Shade"
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9
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I squint at the strange light and try to shield my eyes. The stranger's hand knocks mine away from my face so that the light is in my eyes again. If I weren't so disoriented, I would be angry right now. Angry, and scared. Who are these people?
“Hey!” I object.
A gruff voice answers. “Who're you, bitch, and what are you doing with one a' them freaks?”
I have no idea what “bitch” means, but I don't like his tone. “Excuse me, sir?”
The man's companion addresses him. “I thought all the mutants were dead, Carl.”
Jake mumbles, “'m not dead.”
Carl examines Jake with a look I really don't like. “This one ain't dead, Rick. Think about what the Compound'll say when they find out.”
Compound? I wonder. I don't like these people at all, but they might be our only hope for shelter. I decide to ask, “What's the Compound?”
Carl answers, “None of your business, Missy.”
Rick nods in agreement with his statement. Well, that doesn't bode well.
Leaning over Jake, Carl asks him, “Say, what's your name, freak?”
I don't think our nap did Jake much good, because he hardly whispers his next words. “I'm Jake.”
Carl laughs. “Funny name for a mutant, isn't it?”
I don't want to admit that's the first thing I thought when Jake told me his name.
“That's my name,” Jake says.
Rick asks, “Is it really important what he calls himself? Either way...”
Carl glares at him. “Shut up. Let me handle this.”
In my opinion, he's not doing a good job of “handling this,” but I try to keep my mouth shut. Carl reminds me a little of Mayor Grayson. I hope I don't end up punching him because, while he's not friendly at all, we still need him. We certainly can't go back to the settlement. I hope I can convince Carl to tell me what this Compound is and get him to offer us shelter. Otherwise, Jake and I are in real trouble.
Focusing his attention on Jake, Carl asks, “Did ya know we've been lookin' for ones like you?”
Jake shakes his head. How would he have even known these people were searching for his kind? Carl wasn't really looking for an answer, though, was he? It hits me: if these people have been trying to find mutants, what do they want with them? My stomach clenches. Something about Rick and Carl just doesn't feel right.
I speak up, unable to help myself. “Why have you been looking for mutants?”
Carl's voice is hard. “As if that's any of your business, girl.”
Girl? I am not a girl. “I'm 23 years old!”
It's hard to see Rick's face, but I think he's leering. “She's definitely a woman.”
My skin crawls. That's not any better than being called “girl.”
In oily tones, Rick asks, “What's your name, honey?”
Honey? Is he serious? If we didn't need shelter from these people, I would be sorely tempted to punch them. No, I would be sorely tempted to run. They're giving off some bad vibes that seem to be only getting worse the more they speak. I want to give Rick a fake name, but I can't think of one. Besides, I'm not sure that's wise if we need them to help us, so I give my actual name. “I'm Vivienne,” I say.
Carl grumbles, “Now's not the time, Rick. She's no use to us.”
My heart starts to pound, because if I'm “no use” to them, how am I going to convince these people to give us shelter? My mind races in useless circles as I try to think up something.
Carl takes a step towards Jake, leaning over him in a way that scares me. “You, on the other hand. We could use someone like you.”
Judging from Jake's body language, he's not any more comfortable with Carl's position than I am. He's even trembling a little. Hesitantly, he asks, “Use me for what?”
The man laughs again. Ugh, I hate his laugh. “Not gonna tell ya that.” He looks over towards Rick. “Help me take 'im. Don't think he'll put up much of a fight. Looks half-dead t' me.”
They drop their still-on flashlights and step towards Jake. On instinct, I roll out of the way, heart pounding harder than ever. I want to punch them, want to do something, but I have no fight in me. When I need it, I don't have it. I shake my head and force myself to snap out of this trance. I try to charge them. It's too dark, so I trip. I trip and fall onto my back. Jake just sits there. He lets the men grab him by the shoulders. I watch, helpless.
Desperation ringing through my voice, I shout, “Jake, do something! Come on, fight them!”
He does. Jake pushes at them. There's a strange darkness surrounding his hands. It's blacker than the dim light of the hall. When Jake touches the men with his darkened hands, the two of them fall.
Jake stands there, mouth open, eyes wide with shock or maybe horror. His hands go back to normal, but he doesn't move. Neither do Rick and Carl. Everything's frozen. What just happened? I wonder. I'm the first to break the spell cast by Jake's...I don't even know what. I rush over to the fallen men and check to see if they've got pulses. They don't. They're not breathing, and their hearts aren't beating.
I stand up. “They're...dead,” I whisper. “How?”
The how is kind of obvious, but at the same time it's not. I know Jake killed them, he must have, but he's not supposed to have lethal powers. He's a healer.
Evidently, Jake's thinking the same thing because he says, “They can't be dead. Impossible. I can't kill. I won't.”
I avoid his eyes. “But they are dead. No pulse or anything.”
Is Jake crying? He chokes on his words. “I-I'm sorry. I d-didn't m-mean to.”
“I know.”
He whimpers, “What are we going to do?”
Some of the shock wears off, to be replaced by a sick, sinking worry. So much for shelter from those two. What if they had others with them? We are in trouble.
“I guess we should go back to the surface,” I suggest. “Whatever is up there, we really can't stay down here.”
Jake doesn't move. I pick up one of the flashlights. I know it's bad to take from dead people, especially ones you killed, but we need flashlights. Jake can't handle making light for us in his ragged condition.
He looks at me, disbelieving. “You're really going to take that?”
I nod. “Look, Jake, I know this is bad, but we're in trouble and I want to protect you, okay? We kind of need flashlights, seeing as I forgot to pack one when I left Uphill City. We don't have any better options. I suggest you grab the other one.”
Jake doesn't look that convinced, but he nods. Very, very slowly, he reaches down and takes the other flashlight. He stares at it as if it might bite him or something. I don't blame him, but what else are we going to do?
He says, “We should...do something for them.”
“What?” I ask, confused.
“The men I killed. We should pay our respects.”
I wonder, “How exactly are we supposed to do that?”
Jake shakes his head. “I don't know...” He looks at the fallen figures. “I'm sorry,” he tells them. “I didn't mean to.”
“Let's get out of here,” I say.
Without another word, we start making our way back through the facility. We have flashlights now, but the darkness is heavier than when we came in. It must be the death. I go first when we climb up the ladder. I'm not sure what to expect, but it isn't three people with guns pointed at me.
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written for 500themes prompt #323 - "Twilight's Selfish Shade"