This scene comes almost directly after the last, so you haven't missed much. I've edited it down a lot, because it comprises almost an entire chapter, but I couldn't really find a good place to separate it into individual scenes. Sorry! Stick with me. :) This means that it's extra long, but it's worth it, I think! I had the most fun writing this scene and even more fun rereading it. Here's what you've missed: They gang goes searching for Marc in the field, but cannot find him. So for several days Dakota sits on the back porch waiting for Marc to come back. Eventually, this is what happens:
I sprang to my feet, whipping my head from side to side. The sun peaked over the edge of the field, melting the violet light to pink. Twenty feet in front of me, where the shadow woman had appeared, a ghostly white fog floated almost invisibly. I sucked in a breath, gripping the banister of the porch, and Marc popped into existence, kneeling on the grass in front of the fog.
Screams filled the air, jagged and blood curdling. His eyes were squeezed tightly shut, tears leaking from underneath his blonde eyelashes. He scrambled away across the ground, clawing at his skin as if to remove some clinging substance. He screamed savagely into the dawning morning, the terror in his voice turning my blood to ice. He drew deep, ragged breaths, only to cry out more desperately again. He clawed at his arms, raking long, red lines into his skin. I scrambled forward toward him, his screams cutting through the air. I grabbed his shoulders and he lashed out, the heel of his hand connecting with my jaw. I staggered back but swooped down again toward him. This time I locked my arms tightly around his middle, holding his arms down against his sides. He didn’t fight, but went limp against my body, sobbing into my skin. I rocked him in my arms, my own tears streaming into his hair. Haylee and Peter stood white-faced in the distance as Marc cried himself hoarse and drew raw, gasping breaths as he clutched franticly to my shirt, my skin, my hair. Peter lifted him heavily over his shoulder and carried him to bed.
All that day and night I sat with him, whispering to him over his cries and laying my trembling hands against his face. A long time later, when a second dawn was breaking outside, he fell silent, his chest rising and falling with the blessing of an equal rhythm. I crawled under the covers and wrapped my arms around him, humming softly and pressing my lips against his neck. Soon after, I fell asleep.
We watched and listened as the streets below were filled with vicious war cries. The shadow people filled the streets, tearing at each other and screaming out against the sky. The city lay in ruins, trampled and torn apart by the insatiable violence of these beings. They ripped apart the world and consumed everything around them. Marc’s voice raced across the wreckage, firm and strong, Spirits, rest. The shadow people grew still, a ghostly fog creeping over their shimmering bodies, and they were gone. The city built itself up and the world knew peace.
We stood at the edge of a mass grave, the fortress of a prison rose into the gray sky behind it. In the ground beneath us, body upon body lay stacked in the night. These criminals and wrong doers knew no peace in this place, guilty or not. Their presence remained, unable to move forward, incapable of passing on. Their sins flashed against the sky, an imprint of their crime, repeated forever until they could find the way forward. Marc whispered into the night, his voice tender and sad, Spirits, rest. The bodies disappeared, the imprints faded, their souls sped off to whatever awaited them, finally able to leave their broken lives behind.
Marc stood at the edge of a river, a content peace in his eyes though his forehead remained creased. Flowing between the banks behind him, the same ghostlike mist surged through the night like water. He wore thick brown shoes with golden wings attached at the ankles, softly beating against the cool air. He looked out across the banks and the words filled my soul.
As it once was, so it will begin again.
His name was like a song, a prayer, a promise. It whispered through the night with the assurance of safety and sleep after a journey through the deepest parts of the world.
Mercury.
When Dakota wakes up, she is initially terrified that Marc isn't there, but is quickly informed by Haylee that he is alright and taking his third shower of the morning. When he's finished, he and Dakota have a very interesting chat.
“What happened?” I demanded. He took a deep breath.
“When I touched her, we vanished to the underworld.” I blinked, stunned.
“Run that by me one more time,” I spat out. He laughed again.
“As soon as my hands touched her, we disappeared. It went dark for a second and then I opened my eyes. We were standing on the bank of this huge river and then she kind of... sank into the mist. I walked in the other direction for a while, down this path. There were flowers everywhere and everything was quiet. Then the path opened out into this huge meadow. I could hear voices talking and laughing. I couldn't see any people, but I knew they were there. The air was full of wonderful feelings and thoughts and memories. It was joyful and peaceful. At the end of the valley there were two thrones. They were both empty, and the bigger one was blank. That one must be for Hades, whoever or wherever he is, because he wasn’t there. But the littler one was for me, because it had my name on it. Well, not my name, but-”
“Hermes,” I finished. He smiled with pride.
“Well, Mercury, actually. The Roman name. The god who guides the spirits to the underworld. He’s the only one who can pass between both worlds, because he’s so fast. Except... not all souls need guiding.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“The good souls know how to get there. It’s just the... other ones. The ones who have gotten confused and lost. They just remain here if they can’t figure it out on their own. Some want to stay, they want to continue to wreak havoc as long as they can. But others... they’re stuck. They want to repent but they can’t move on and they can’t find peace. They're unable to leave their sins behind until they pass over.” He shivered. “It’s horrible.”
“What about Hades?” I asked.
“He’s supposed to keep order. To make sure the right people go where they're supposed to. I don’t know what will happen if he doesn’t come soon. The river was already getting out of control.” He furrowed his brow.
“The river?” I asked. It was amazing how easy and normal this conversation seemed for him. It didn't seem real, yet he was so sure. After everything that we had all seen, I wondered if I would ever feel the same easiness about it.
“Remember what I told you about the meadow?” I nodded. “Well, the river is the opposite. That woman went into the river because she was an evil, violent soul. It’s where the bad memories go,” his face was dark and cold, “all the terrible things. Every hardship and pain, it ends up in the river. It’s mist or fog, not like regular water. It’s like... thoughts and experiences. They float along and remain there, trapping the evil souls at the bottom. But the souls try to come back up. I can’t stop them, I have no authority there, and until Hades comes...” he trailed off, his voice low. I shivered at his expression, he stared off into the distance. I was terrified of what he saw there. “I tried to get myself back. I touched everything in sight, trying to vanish myself again into this world. I touched the throne, the grass, the trees, the path. And then... and then I touched the river.” He shivered and hugged himself together. “I heard voices in my head. Memories and terrible thoughts. On the other side of the bank, the mist parted and I saw the corn field. I saw the way back. I saw you sitting on the steps waiting for me. I knew... I had to swim.” He closed his eyes and continued in a rush, the words flowing out of his mouth in a pained urgency. “ I jumped in and started swimming. I can swim fast, too, but it wasn’t fast enough. I could hear and feel all of the horrible things trapped there. The thoughts clung to my skin and my clothes, dripped from my hair. I tried to brush them off, but they wouldn’t leave.” I remembered him in the yard, clawing at his skin. He had taken three showers to try and wash away the memories. “I heard... I heard my dad and felt all of his grief at my mother’s death. I thought that I would die. I almost hoped I would. I thought that I would never make it across. I suppose a normal person wouldn’t have, but since I’m so fast... After what felt like years, I pulled myself up on the other bank and fell back into this world.”
He opened his eyes and looked at me for a long time, his face twisted in pain and sadness. It was impossible, the things he was saying, all of this. It wasn't real, it couldn't be. But suddenly, it didn't matter. It didn't matter if it was all a dream, as long as he was here. He lifted his hand and brushed it against my jaw where I was sure a bruise had bloomed from his attack the day before.
“I’m sorry I did this to you,” he whispered. I took his hand.
“It doesn’t hurt,” I said truthfully, touching my jaw.
“Not just that. All of this. I’m sorry that I left you and made you afraid. When I saw you sitting on the step, waiting... You were so afraid. I’m so sorry to have hurt you.” I brushed my hands through his hair.
“I forgive you,” I promised him. “As long as you give me a ride on those sweet winged shoes.” He threw his head back and laughed, his eyes sparkling. As he squeezed my hand, a scream split the air from the barn.
We jerked our heads in the direction of the sound, but were drawn to the end of the yard instead. Pouring through the edge of the cornfield, ten shadow people strode toward where we were sitting. Peter and Haylee stood frozen in the doorway of the barn, their eyes wide in their pale faces. The shadows didn't pay them any attention, but continued toward the house. We were outnumbered. Marc pulled me up and placed himself protectively in front of me again. They halted, pausing in the middle of the yard. They stared at Marc with hungry, red eyes, seeming to evaluate him. “They know,” he whispered, terror in his voice. A big man in the middle held a long stick of wood in his hand. As I stared, I realized that it was a baseball bat. He placed the rounded end in his palm and dug his nails into the wood. A groaning screech split the air and wood shavings fell from his hand to the ground. He had sharpened the end into a deadly point. He thumped it against his open palm ominously.
“What do they want?” I choked in a whisper.
“They want to make sure I can’t send any more of them back,” Marc replied. From the corner of my eye I saw Peter step forward from the door of the barn.
“Don’t, Peter!” Marc called as two of the shadow men snapped their heads toward his movement. “There are too many,” he said in a whisper to no one in particular. The sun shone through a cloud and the group before us seemed to dance and shimmer in the light. Marc stepped forward.
“No!” I cried, and reached out toward him, trying to pull him back. A little fire sprang up on the porch in front of me, blocking my way.
“Thank you, Haylee,” Marc whispered gratefully and took another step toward them. They seemed to shift slightly, forming a half circle around him as he approached. “They will be distracted by me, and you will all run,” he said as he inched still closer.
“No chance,” Peter said from several yards away. He had made his way over to a hose and was flipping the spigot on. Marc seemed to understand and did not argue.
“When I say go.” The shadow figures closed their circle around him. He lifted his palms up in front of him as if in worship. “One,” he said. The shadow man in the middle raised his bat. “Two.” The shadows closest to him seemed to crouch forward as if ready to spring. “Three,” he whispered. A body on either side of Marc leapt forward and he threw his hands out. Their forms slammed into his palms and vanished. The sound of rushing water filled the air. The big man holding the bat knocked a smaller woman backward, trying to clear a path to Marc. A solid wall of water crashed into her, crushing her against the ground and dragging her back toward the cornfield. Two more shadows sprang toward the center of the circle and vanished. Only half remained. A stocky boy in the rear ranks burst into flames and fell to the ground. The big man swung the bat with terrifying force, parting the air. The wood connected against Marc’s calf with a ear splitting crack. He fell to one knee. The air was still for one moment before my screams split the sky. Two more shadows attacked. Marc caught one by the throat, vanishing him. The other swiped at Marc’s chest, leaving a deep gash against his skin. Marc grabbed the shimmering wrist as he lifted his hand to strike again. The angry face flickered and disappeared. The fire surrounding me had died, but all I could do was fall to my knees, crying out.
The last remaining woman backed away slowly, her red eyes wide with fear. The flaming shadow figure was crawling back into the refuge of the cornfield and she raced off after him. Only one remained. The big man swung the bat at Marc’s face. Marc jerked his head away at the last second, but it was too late. The pointed edge of the wood caught the soft skin of his neck just under his jaw. Blood poured from the wound, soaking his shirt and spilling across the grass. He crumpled into a ball on the ground. The man cocked the base of the bat toward the sky, aiming the sharp point over Marc’s heart. The air shivered, my sobs pounded against the field and echoed back with strangled mockery. My pulse slowed in my veins, turning to ice. My palms tingled as I clenched my hands into fists. My tears burned my skin and a soft breeze lifted my hair. A voice whispered on the wind, not yet.
The ground began to shake. The shadow man stumbled, lowering his weapon. Several feet away, in the shade of the apple tree, the grass exploded and dirt rained down over the yard. Huge, thick roots rose into the air and swung wildly. One reached out and wound its way over the top of the big man’s baseball bat, yanking it away from his grasp and shattering it to pieces. All around Marc’s body the grass rose in thick waves, guarding him from view. The shadow yanked desperately at the rapidly spreading grass, ripping his way toward Marc. A tree root shot out and slammed against his back but he did not waver, only dug further through the green walls. I glanced to the trellis at my left where the roses climbed toward the sky. The vines unlaced themselves from around the bars and raced off across the yard, sharp thorns glinting in the sunlight. The roots wrapped their thick limbs around the shadow man’s feet, pulling him toward the ground. The grass around him shot up, spreading like moss across his shimmering skin. The rose vines wound their way around his arms, digging deeply into the ground to hold him firmly. I turned to gaze at Marc’s fallen body, blood pulsing through the wound on his neck, his blonde hair matted with dirt and sweat. I snapped my eyes back to the shadow man struggling against the earth. Anger and hatred surged through my veins and the ground trembled more violently. Suddenly, the earth beneath him ripped open. The roots and vines pulled him deeply into the dirt. A outraged scream ripped through the air and the ground closed above him, grass quickly enveloping the scarred dirt. Then, the air was still. The roots slinked back toward the shade of the apple tree, sliding beneath the grass. The vines inched back toward the house, climbing the trellis and falling still.
I choked a sob and scrambled forward toward Marc. I heard Haylee and Peter thundering behind me. I gathered him into my arms, laying a hand over his neck. I could feel the hot blood pulsing slowly through my fingers. I laid his head against my chest and rocked him slowly. He wasn’t breathing. Silent sobs shook my shoulders and I buried my face in his hair. “I love you,” I whispered desperately. “You must not die. You must not die. You must not die.” A breeze rustled in the trees, lifting the tall grass that surrounded Marc and I, making it dance and bow against our skin.
“Dakota,” Haylee choked. I looked up at them and they were both staring down at Marc, their eyes wide. I followed their gaze. The blood that stained his neck and chest was slowly inching back up his skin. I lifted my hand from his wound. Beneath my touch, the long gash was closing. The blood soaked back into the cut as the skin pulled itself closed. A moment later, a long, pink scar stood out in the shadow of my hand. I looked down at his chest. Where a deep gash had been before, only a tiny scratch, barely visible, interrupted his tan skin. I surveyed his legs. The one that had been bent at an odd angle now lay straight and whole against the kneeling grass. He opened his eyes. Wild flowers rose from the dirt and bloomed around us. He stared at me, a little smile in his eyes.
“I’m back in the meadow,” he whispered. “Are you an angel?”
“No,” I replied, running my fingers through his hair, “I’m just another happy memory.”
“The happiest,” he said, winding his fingers through my own and laying a hand against my cheek.
Sunday, October 12, 2008
Friday, September 12, 2008
in the Garden
after the last scene, Marc and Dakota spend a day in the loft of his barn, talking and watching the sun sink into the corn field. they have an absurdly long conversation, so i cut most of it out here. :) i didn't want to bore you with two romantic scenes in a row. a few important and/or interesting facts: Marc talks a lot about his brother Haden (who Dakota feels guilty for not asking about previously), we find out that Marc is twenty five (Dakota nearly chokes, since he looks so much younger), Dakota talks more about her inability to communicate successfully with men, etc. mostly all that fun, flirty small talk. :) so with all that out of the way, enjoy the next scene.
My shoelace slid beneath my sneaker and I fell forward, Marc catching me by the waist as I crashed into him. I landed with my back against the ladder, inches from his face once more. He grinned a little shyly. “We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” he whispered. He was so beautiful, his eyes gleaming, his hands firmly on either side of my waist. I felt dizzy, my palms tingling. I wanted to hold him, I wanted to be brave. I lifted a shaking hand and brushed my fingers through his hair. I could feel his breath sliding against my skin. I stretched slowly up onto my tiptoes to move closer to him. He closed his eyes and leaned toward me. My heart jumped into my throat and my blood pumped thickly against my skin. He wasn't running. He wasn't jerking away in disgust. He wound his arms around me, pulling me against his chest.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw a small red shape fall through the air. A moment later, another red ball blurred toward the ground, striking Marc on the shoulder. He pulled back and looked up just as many more streaks whizzed through the air and landed with a thud against the hay. One struck him across the face and he staggered back. A second later and the air was still again, twenty big red apples lay at our feet. Marc looked from the fruit up to the tree branches hanging down over the damaged roof above us. He picked one up, which only minutes ago had been tiny and green upon its stem. He looked at me, understanding dawning in his eyes.
"Dakota," he said, handing me the apple, "I believe this is yours."
Blood began to trickle down his face from a little cut on the bridge of his nose.
"You're bleeding," I choked, staring back at the apple. He lifted his hand to his face and took it away, examining the blood in his palm. He came forward and kissed me lightly on the forehead. "Please," he begged into my ear, "don't move." He turned and jogged toward the house. I turned the apple in my hand, my shocked face reflected in its gleaming surface. It wasn't possible. I had seen the tiny green bulbs on the branches with my own eyes. They could not have grown and ripened this quickly. But was it any more possible that I could have done it? Suddenly, I remembered standing at the porch of the shack, a branch of ivy climbing up my hand while I watched Marc bathing in the river. Had I done this? It had been the same feeling, the same tingling in my palms and clearing of my thoughts, the same cooling in my veins. The ivy winding through my fingers, flowers yawning to the sky. The apples swelling and blooming red as Marc held me close against his chest. The voices on the wind when the braches swayed in the breeze. It was me.
Unbelievably, I wanted to cry. I had been waiting and wondering this whole time if I could also possess some power, some element of protection for my new family. Peter's control of water, Haylee's hold over fire, Marc with his speed and uncanny ability to protect us from the shadow people. It turned out that I did have some ability, and it was completely useless. I could... grow things. I laughed out loud and threw the apple roughly to the ground. I was more useless now than I had ever been before. How could I protect them the way they had protected me? What could I offer in payment for the burden that I had been? I could give them apples. It wasn't fair.
I stumbled through the opening of the barn and fell to my knees in the grass. I gazed at the house in the distance, the place that was my home. I could almost see Haylee cleaning Marc's cut while Peter studied various myths. These people were my family and I was too ashamed to face them. If I could control the growth of plants, I willed the grass beneath me to open up and suck me into the earth. Nothing happened. The corn rustled behind me in the breeze and I defied it, hating every element of nature.
A few minutes later, Marc came through the back door with an icepack in his hand. I looked up and saw him halt where he was standing, staring off behind me. As I watched, the color drained from his face and he clenched his fists. The ice pack flickered and disappeared. “Dakota,” he said, his voice low, “don’t move.” He took a step toward me and stopped again. Slowly, I turned my head to look behind me. There, standing twenty feet away at the edge of the corn field, the shadow woman stood gazing hungrily at me, her red eyes burning, a sharp wooden dagger clutched in her pale hands. My heart stopped and then accelerated into my throat, desperate to keep beating. I heard Marc step closer behind me. As he did, the woman stepped forward too. Marc leapt forward, yanking me from the ground and pulling me behind his back. The woman jumped forward, shimmering in the falling sun, only ten feet away.
It happened in one breath. Marc lunged toward her, arms extended with his palms out in front of him, as if to push her away. She kicked off from the ground and flew at him. They met in midair, the heal of his hands colliding with a thud against her chest. They flickered and were gone. I screamed, rushing forward and raked the yard and field for them to reappear, but all was quiet. I collapsed to the ground, calling out for what felt like hours. Finally, I felt footsteps behind me and was lifted from the ground. Peter and Haylee were dragging me toward the house. I couldn't go, I had to wait here. Marc would come back. Any moment he would reappear, brushing his fingers through his hair, smiling at me. I couldn't leave. I clawed at the ground, pulling myself away from their grasps. On every spot of earth that my hands touched, the grass withered and turned brown. Peter's arms tightened around my waist. A moment later, everything was going dark, and I knew that I was fainting. I had enough consciousness left to reflect on how useless I was, and then the darkness closed above me.
My shoelace slid beneath my sneaker and I fell forward, Marc catching me by the waist as I crashed into him. I landed with my back against the ladder, inches from his face once more. He grinned a little shyly. “We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” he whispered. He was so beautiful, his eyes gleaming, his hands firmly on either side of my waist. I felt dizzy, my palms tingling. I wanted to hold him, I wanted to be brave. I lifted a shaking hand and brushed my fingers through his hair. I could feel his breath sliding against my skin. I stretched slowly up onto my tiptoes to move closer to him. He closed his eyes and leaned toward me. My heart jumped into my throat and my blood pumped thickly against my skin. He wasn't running. He wasn't jerking away in disgust. He wound his arms around me, pulling me against his chest.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw a small red shape fall through the air. A moment later, another red ball blurred toward the ground, striking Marc on the shoulder. He pulled back and looked up just as many more streaks whizzed through the air and landed with a thud against the hay. One struck him across the face and he staggered back. A second later and the air was still again, twenty big red apples lay at our feet. Marc looked from the fruit up to the tree branches hanging down over the damaged roof above us. He picked one up, which only minutes ago had been tiny and green upon its stem. He looked at me, understanding dawning in his eyes.
"Dakota," he said, handing me the apple, "I believe this is yours."
Blood began to trickle down his face from a little cut on the bridge of his nose.
"You're bleeding," I choked, staring back at the apple. He lifted his hand to his face and took it away, examining the blood in his palm. He came forward and kissed me lightly on the forehead. "Please," he begged into my ear, "don't move." He turned and jogged toward the house. I turned the apple in my hand, my shocked face reflected in its gleaming surface. It wasn't possible. I had seen the tiny green bulbs on the branches with my own eyes. They could not have grown and ripened this quickly. But was it any more possible that I could have done it? Suddenly, I remembered standing at the porch of the shack, a branch of ivy climbing up my hand while I watched Marc bathing in the river. Had I done this? It had been the same feeling, the same tingling in my palms and clearing of my thoughts, the same cooling in my veins. The ivy winding through my fingers, flowers yawning to the sky. The apples swelling and blooming red as Marc held me close against his chest. The voices on the wind when the braches swayed in the breeze. It was me.
Unbelievably, I wanted to cry. I had been waiting and wondering this whole time if I could also possess some power, some element of protection for my new family. Peter's control of water, Haylee's hold over fire, Marc with his speed and uncanny ability to protect us from the shadow people. It turned out that I did have some ability, and it was completely useless. I could... grow things. I laughed out loud and threw the apple roughly to the ground. I was more useless now than I had ever been before. How could I protect them the way they had protected me? What could I offer in payment for the burden that I had been? I could give them apples. It wasn't fair.
I stumbled through the opening of the barn and fell to my knees in the grass. I gazed at the house in the distance, the place that was my home. I could almost see Haylee cleaning Marc's cut while Peter studied various myths. These people were my family and I was too ashamed to face them. If I could control the growth of plants, I willed the grass beneath me to open up and suck me into the earth. Nothing happened. The corn rustled behind me in the breeze and I defied it, hating every element of nature.
A few minutes later, Marc came through the back door with an icepack in his hand. I looked up and saw him halt where he was standing, staring off behind me. As I watched, the color drained from his face and he clenched his fists. The ice pack flickered and disappeared. “Dakota,” he said, his voice low, “don’t move.” He took a step toward me and stopped again. Slowly, I turned my head to look behind me. There, standing twenty feet away at the edge of the corn field, the shadow woman stood gazing hungrily at me, her red eyes burning, a sharp wooden dagger clutched in her pale hands. My heart stopped and then accelerated into my throat, desperate to keep beating. I heard Marc step closer behind me. As he did, the woman stepped forward too. Marc leapt forward, yanking me from the ground and pulling me behind his back. The woman jumped forward, shimmering in the falling sun, only ten feet away.
It happened in one breath. Marc lunged toward her, arms extended with his palms out in front of him, as if to push her away. She kicked off from the ground and flew at him. They met in midair, the heal of his hands colliding with a thud against her chest. They flickered and were gone. I screamed, rushing forward and raked the yard and field for them to reappear, but all was quiet. I collapsed to the ground, calling out for what felt like hours. Finally, I felt footsteps behind me and was lifted from the ground. Peter and Haylee were dragging me toward the house. I couldn't go, I had to wait here. Marc would come back. Any moment he would reappear, brushing his fingers through his hair, smiling at me. I couldn't leave. I clawed at the ground, pulling myself away from their grasps. On every spot of earth that my hands touched, the grass withered and turned brown. Peter's arms tightened around my waist. A moment later, everything was going dark, and I knew that I was fainting. I had enough consciousness left to reflect on how useless I was, and then the darkness closed above me.
Friday, August 29, 2008
by thy gracious self
i really, really loved this scene when i wrote it originally, but felt like there was something missing. i thought about it for a long while and added some more to it last night, and i think it's getting there. but it's new, so i'm still not sure. :) after the last scene, Marc tells Dakota that he's basically going to become her shadow to insure that nothing bad happens to her again. he feels insane with guilt for assuming she was out of the flaming shack when she was actually still trapped inside. so he's following her everywhere, despite her obvious embarrassment, because as he says, "I cannot lose you. It would be too much to bare.” so, this scene follows when it's time to go to bed. enjoy!
Ten minutes later we were standing in his bedroom glaring at each other with our arms folded firmly across our chests.
“You are not sleeping in that chair,” I said through gritted teeth. He crossed to the chair next to the window and sat down, pulling a blanket over his chest.
“Watch me,” he said, closing his eyes.
“You are being completely absurd!” I stomped my foot.
“That may be, but just for a little while until I can make sure that you’re safe, you’d better get used to me here.” He gave a dramatic yawn and sat still.
I stomped over to the light switch, slammed it off, and threw myself under the covers without another word. I seethed into the darkness for a long time, staring at the ceiling. I thought about what he had said in the living room. He had seemed incredibly pained and guilty about what had happened in the fire. Still, there was certainly no need to follow me around and baby-sit me. But how would I feel if the roles were reversed? I tried to picture myself pacing the edge of a burning house where I knew Marc was trapped inside. The image flooded my mind of his face twisted in pain, choking on smoke, the bright flames lapping at his white blonde hair. The idea caused my heart to throb painfully against my ribs. I sighed and rolled over to look at him. He was in the same position, his hair gleaming beautifully in the moonlight filtering through the curtains. My heart accelerated in my chest and I turned over, pinching my eyes shut.
Every time that I felt myself drifting near sleep, Marc would toss loudly in his chair, readjusting himself. After nearly an hour of this, I was feeling tired and very guilty at his obvious discomfort. He yawned and shifted in the chair. I held my breath for a moment, gathering courage, and then scooted to the edge of the bed, against the wall.
“Just get in,” I sighed in his direction, my voice shaking a little.
“What?!” I heard the blanket slide to the floor.
“Get in bed, you’ll never get any sleep in that chair.” I couldn’t believe I was doing this.
“I... it’s... you don’t have to do that...” He sounded embarrassed.
“Marc, please. You’ll be cranky if you stay awake all night.”
“I... ok...” He got up and walked to the edge of the bed, blocking out the moonlight. He stood there for a moment, shifting his weight from foot to foot. I pulled the blanket back for him. “I can sleep on top of the covers, if you’d like,” he whispered.
“It’s cold,” I said. I felt immediately embarrassed by how rejected I felt. He was quiet.
“Dakota, are you sure it’s alright?” I couldn’t make out the feelings behind his voice.
“Yes,” I said, almost soundlessly. He waited for a moment and then climbed in.
We both laid there awkwardly for a long time, the sides of our bodies pressed up against each other, staring at the ceiling. I could feel my heart pounding in my throat. I took a deep breath and he sighed. He shifted uncomfortably, brushing his bare feet against mine.
“You’re feet are freezing!” he said, startled.
“They’re always like that,” I whispered. He rubbed the soles of his feet against my toes.
“Better?” he asked after a minute.
“Yes,” I breathed. He took his feet away. The silence stretched on. I took another deep breath. Suddenly, I could feel his body shaking with silent laughter. I blushed, sure that I had done something already to embarrass myself.
“What? What’s funny?” I asked him.
“This is so wonderfully awkward!” he choked.
“I’m glad you’re having such a great time,” I grumbled.
“I’m sorry,” he said, catching his breath. “It’s not very often that I lie in bed with a woman, I don’t exactly know the protocol for this.”
“Oh, and I do?!” My face was hot.
“Don’t you?” he asked seriously.
“No!” I almost yelled. He chuckled again.
“Fair enough,” he said, and we were quiet again. “Really, Dakota, it’s alright. I’ll go back to the chair,” he said after a long time.
“No, it’s ok.” I didn’t want him to go.
“You don’t have to feel guilty.” He shifted as if to climb out of the bed. Without thinking, I rolled onto my left side and held him in place with my right arm around his waist. He froze. I put my head down on his chest, always forgetting when he was far away how wonderful he smelled. “You don’t really want me here,” he whispered.
“Yes,” I breathed into his neck, “I do.” He shivered. After a moment, he rolled toward me and pulled me against his chest, wrapping his arms around me. He was so warm that I felt instantly comforted, hardly afraid at all. He rubbed my back slowly and I nestled my face deeper into his warmth. He chuckled again, his chest rumbling against my body.
“What?” I whispered.
“I know that this means something different to me than it does to you,” I could hear him smiling, “but I’m not sure that I care at the moment. If you’re leading me on, feel free to do it forever.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“And you’re wonderful,” he whispered into my hair. He reached down and took my hand, twining his fingers between mine. He held our hands up in front of him, examining them in the moonlight. He traced shapes and swirls along my skin with his thumb, breathing evenly. "Your skin is incredibly soft," he whispered against the darkness. I smiled and nuzzled the warm skin of his neck with the tip of my nose. He shivered again, so I stopped.
"Does that tickle?" I asked, feeling embarrassed that I couldn't return any affectionate gesture correctly. He chuckled.
"Not exactly. I have... a neck thing."
"A neck thing?" I laughed with him.
"You're mocking me!" he cried in fake horror. He turned toward me and slid his face down my hair until his skin touched my neck. I could feel his warm breath along my collar bone. His lips moved against my skin.
"You're telling me this does nothing?" he murmured. I tried to lay perfectly still, suppressing the twisting of my stomach and the racing of my heart. I failed, trembling slightly. He pulled away quickly, dropping my hand. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice low, "that was inappropriate."
"I really didn't mind," I choked.
"I have trouble, being this close to you," he whispered. I opened my mouth, but closed it again, unsure of how to respond. After a second I reached out and took his hand again. He squeezed it for a long moment. I pulled myself closer to him and he wrapped his arms around me once more. A comfortable silence filled the darkness.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been so comfortable,” I said, wishing I could squeeze myself closer to him somehow, “I don’t know if I’ll ever move.”
“Stay forever,” he breathed into my ear. I meant to say something to him, but I was asleep before I even realized that I was tired.
Ten minutes later we were standing in his bedroom glaring at each other with our arms folded firmly across our chests.
“You are not sleeping in that chair,” I said through gritted teeth. He crossed to the chair next to the window and sat down, pulling a blanket over his chest.
“Watch me,” he said, closing his eyes.
“You are being completely absurd!” I stomped my foot.
“That may be, but just for a little while until I can make sure that you’re safe, you’d better get used to me here.” He gave a dramatic yawn and sat still.
I stomped over to the light switch, slammed it off, and threw myself under the covers without another word. I seethed into the darkness for a long time, staring at the ceiling. I thought about what he had said in the living room. He had seemed incredibly pained and guilty about what had happened in the fire. Still, there was certainly no need to follow me around and baby-sit me. But how would I feel if the roles were reversed? I tried to picture myself pacing the edge of a burning house where I knew Marc was trapped inside. The image flooded my mind of his face twisted in pain, choking on smoke, the bright flames lapping at his white blonde hair. The idea caused my heart to throb painfully against my ribs. I sighed and rolled over to look at him. He was in the same position, his hair gleaming beautifully in the moonlight filtering through the curtains. My heart accelerated in my chest and I turned over, pinching my eyes shut.
Every time that I felt myself drifting near sleep, Marc would toss loudly in his chair, readjusting himself. After nearly an hour of this, I was feeling tired and very guilty at his obvious discomfort. He yawned and shifted in the chair. I held my breath for a moment, gathering courage, and then scooted to the edge of the bed, against the wall.
“Just get in,” I sighed in his direction, my voice shaking a little.
“What?!” I heard the blanket slide to the floor.
“Get in bed, you’ll never get any sleep in that chair.” I couldn’t believe I was doing this.
“I... it’s... you don’t have to do that...” He sounded embarrassed.
“Marc, please. You’ll be cranky if you stay awake all night.”
“I... ok...” He got up and walked to the edge of the bed, blocking out the moonlight. He stood there for a moment, shifting his weight from foot to foot. I pulled the blanket back for him. “I can sleep on top of the covers, if you’d like,” he whispered.
“It’s cold,” I said. I felt immediately embarrassed by how rejected I felt. He was quiet.
“Dakota, are you sure it’s alright?” I couldn’t make out the feelings behind his voice.
“Yes,” I said, almost soundlessly. He waited for a moment and then climbed in.
We both laid there awkwardly for a long time, the sides of our bodies pressed up against each other, staring at the ceiling. I could feel my heart pounding in my throat. I took a deep breath and he sighed. He shifted uncomfortably, brushing his bare feet against mine.
“You’re feet are freezing!” he said, startled.
“They’re always like that,” I whispered. He rubbed the soles of his feet against my toes.
“Better?” he asked after a minute.
“Yes,” I breathed. He took his feet away. The silence stretched on. I took another deep breath. Suddenly, I could feel his body shaking with silent laughter. I blushed, sure that I had done something already to embarrass myself.
“What? What’s funny?” I asked him.
“This is so wonderfully awkward!” he choked.
“I’m glad you’re having such a great time,” I grumbled.
“I’m sorry,” he said, catching his breath. “It’s not very often that I lie in bed with a woman, I don’t exactly know the protocol for this.”
“Oh, and I do?!” My face was hot.
“Don’t you?” he asked seriously.
“No!” I almost yelled. He chuckled again.
“Fair enough,” he said, and we were quiet again. “Really, Dakota, it’s alright. I’ll go back to the chair,” he said after a long time.
“No, it’s ok.” I didn’t want him to go.
“You don’t have to feel guilty.” He shifted as if to climb out of the bed. Without thinking, I rolled onto my left side and held him in place with my right arm around his waist. He froze. I put my head down on his chest, always forgetting when he was far away how wonderful he smelled. “You don’t really want me here,” he whispered.
“Yes,” I breathed into his neck, “I do.” He shivered. After a moment, he rolled toward me and pulled me against his chest, wrapping his arms around me. He was so warm that I felt instantly comforted, hardly afraid at all. He rubbed my back slowly and I nestled my face deeper into his warmth. He chuckled again, his chest rumbling against my body.
“What?” I whispered.
“I know that this means something different to me than it does to you,” I could hear him smiling, “but I’m not sure that I care at the moment. If you’re leading me on, feel free to do it forever.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“And you’re wonderful,” he whispered into my hair. He reached down and took my hand, twining his fingers between mine. He held our hands up in front of him, examining them in the moonlight. He traced shapes and swirls along my skin with his thumb, breathing evenly. "Your skin is incredibly soft," he whispered against the darkness. I smiled and nuzzled the warm skin of his neck with the tip of my nose. He shivered again, so I stopped.
"Does that tickle?" I asked, feeling embarrassed that I couldn't return any affectionate gesture correctly. He chuckled.
"Not exactly. I have... a neck thing."
"A neck thing?" I laughed with him.
"You're mocking me!" he cried in fake horror. He turned toward me and slid his face down my hair until his skin touched my neck. I could feel his warm breath along my collar bone. His lips moved against my skin.
"You're telling me this does nothing?" he murmured. I tried to lay perfectly still, suppressing the twisting of my stomach and the racing of my heart. I failed, trembling slightly. He pulled away quickly, dropping my hand. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice low, "that was inappropriate."
"I really didn't mind," I choked.
"I have trouble, being this close to you," he whispered. I opened my mouth, but closed it again, unsure of how to respond. After a second I reached out and took his hand again. He squeezed it for a long moment. I pulled myself closer to him and he wrapped his arms around me once more. A comfortable silence filled the darkness.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been so comfortable,” I said, wishing I could squeeze myself closer to him somehow, “I don’t know if I’ll ever move.”
“Stay forever,” he breathed into my ear. I meant to say something to him, but I was asleep before I even realized that I was tired.
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
reincarnate
this scene comes right after the last, so there's nothing to fill you in on. that's probably how a lot of the next few scenes will be, it's a tad bit action packed from this point on. :) so read and enjoy!
I felt a soft bed beneath me as I surfaced heavily back to consciousness. A familiar scent filled the air and I felt a warm hand brush against my face. I opened my eyes to find myself back in Marc's bed, staring at the open window in the corner. My head spun for one deafening moment as I tried to grasp what had been real and what had been a dream. Images flooded back to me; the smell of smoke, voices calling to me from the darkness, Haylee beside the fire with a child in her arms. I glanced next to me and saw Marc slumped in a chair with his eyes closed. One hand propped up his head, burns still red along his forearms, and one hand rested on my pillow lightly touching my cheek. He looked haggard and worn. I heard Haylee laugh from somewhere in the house. Relief flooded through me and replaced the last sickening image of her unconscious in her brother's arms, the dying flames reflected in her pale face.
"Marc?" I whispered. He jumped, his eyes flying open, and I felt my head drop sharply several inches and land against the mattress.
"Oh! Dakota, I'm sorry!" he cried. I felt beneath my head where the pillow had been, but it was gone.
"Did you just vanish my pillow?"
"I'm sorry," he repeated sheepishly, "you startled me."
"I liked that pillow. It smelled like you." His raised one eyebrow.
"I'm...s-" he began.
"If you apologize, I'll hit you." We smiled at each other for a long moment until I could feel the blush creeping against my skin.
"So, Haylee..." I started.
"Is downstairs pouring through every mythology book that I own," he smiled fondly.
"I don't know anything about Hestia," I said, remembering the last vision.
"The goddess of the hearth."
"Also known as the goddess of fire," Haylee said, coming through the hall into the room, beaming. Peter followed her.
"Do you know what a hearth is? I didn't know what a hearth was," he said, shaking his head.
"The fire of a home?" I asked.
"Showoff," Peter muttered.
"It's the heart of the family, it brings them comfort and life," she said smiling.
"Isn't it sickeningly appropriate?" Peter said, mussing his sister's hair.
"I still don't understand..." I trailed off. Peter flopped down onto my bed.
"It means that we're gods and you should worship us," he said with a smirk. Marc pretended to bow to Haylee and she gave a little curtsy.
"But how is that possible?" I asked.
"Possible?" Peter laughed. "Have you been paying attention to any of the crazy shit that's been going on? Haylee literally sucked a whole house fire into her skin!"
"It went into my veins, actually, but that's beside the point," she added.
"Into your veins?" he asked in amazement. "But didn't that... hurt?"
"Yes," she said quietly, absentmindedly hugging herself tightly.
"Wait," I interrupted, "so are you... what? Descended from the gods?"
"Dakota," Marc spoke in a low voice, "I think they are the gods."
"That can't be," I said, sitting up. Peter looked affronted.
"Why not?" he asked harshly.
"If the gods were real, then they already existed. You would have to just be related to them because they would still be around, wouldn't they? Immortality and all." A cool breeze floated through the open window, it lifted the curtains and brushed across my skin. A small voice whispered into my ear, They have been forgotten. I froze. "What did you say?" I asked, my voice cracked. I looked at each one of them, but they all appeared just as confused as I was.
"No one said anything," Marc responded, his forehead creased. I was losing my mind. I must have lost some serious brain cells from inhaling so much smoke. I pushed it away.
"But what happened to the first gods? The gods of the Greeks and Romans and whoever else?" I asked, desperate to distract their concerned stares.
"Maybe they died," Peter shrugged.
"And we're some sort of... reincarnation?" Haylee asked. Peter nodded, eager to accept any explanation. We all sat in silence, lost in our own thoughts.
"We'll find out, I guess," Peter finally said.
"How do you mean?" I asked.
"Well, we'll see what happens when Marc fights the corn field. If the same thing happens and we dream he's a god, too... I think that's too much evidence for it to be a coincidence. If nothing happens... I don't know, maybe Haylee and I are just nuts."
"And what about me?" I asked. The three of them exchanged a brief glance and I was almost sure this was a subject that had already been discussed behind my back.
"We think that you can do something, too," Haylee said, still looking at the others.
"Oh yeah," I laughed, "I forgot to tell you, all the times that I fall down and get in the way I'm really having a supernatural episode."
"You just don't know what it is yet," Peter said, patting my leg encouragingly under the blanket.
"Has it crossed your mind that maybe I just can't do anything?" I asked. They glanced at one another again.
"We think..." Peter began, his face concerned, "that if you couldn't do anything... you wouldn't be alive." I looked at them. It hit me.
"You think there are more of us," I said in a whisper. It wasn't a question.
"Yes," Marc answered.
"How many?" I asked.
"Ten besides us," Peter said.
"There are fourteen gods," Marc said.
"So you think that the only people left alive are all... gods?" I couldn't wrap my head around it.
"We think it might be a possibility," Marc looked at Haylee and she nodded in agreement, gauging my reaction.
"And like I said," Peter broke in, "I think we'll find out when Marc goes into the corn field."
"I'm not going until Dakota is well," he said, avoiding my gaze.
"In that case," Haylee said, laying a hand on my shoulder, "let's have some dinner."
That night passed in much the same way. We sat over dinner and continued our conversation of explanations, not really offering any new information. Marc kept his eyes on me through dinner and into the evening. Peter and I played an uneventful game of chess in the living room while Haylee poured through Marc’s library for mythology books. At one point she gasped and looked up to glare at Peter.
“What’d I do?” Peter asked without meeting her gaze.
“Please don’t ever turn yourself into a horse to chase around women, it doesn’t turn out well for you.” Marc stifled a laugh.
“I won’t...” Peter said, moving his knight illegally for the third time in a row, “as long as she’s not hot.”
“Peter!”
I felt a soft bed beneath me as I surfaced heavily back to consciousness. A familiar scent filled the air and I felt a warm hand brush against my face. I opened my eyes to find myself back in Marc's bed, staring at the open window in the corner. My head spun for one deafening moment as I tried to grasp what had been real and what had been a dream. Images flooded back to me; the smell of smoke, voices calling to me from the darkness, Haylee beside the fire with a child in her arms. I glanced next to me and saw Marc slumped in a chair with his eyes closed. One hand propped up his head, burns still red along his forearms, and one hand rested on my pillow lightly touching my cheek. He looked haggard and worn. I heard Haylee laugh from somewhere in the house. Relief flooded through me and replaced the last sickening image of her unconscious in her brother's arms, the dying flames reflected in her pale face.
"Marc?" I whispered. He jumped, his eyes flying open, and I felt my head drop sharply several inches and land against the mattress.
"Oh! Dakota, I'm sorry!" he cried. I felt beneath my head where the pillow had been, but it was gone.
"Did you just vanish my pillow?"
"I'm sorry," he repeated sheepishly, "you startled me."
"I liked that pillow. It smelled like you." His raised one eyebrow.
"I'm...s-" he began.
"If you apologize, I'll hit you." We smiled at each other for a long moment until I could feel the blush creeping against my skin.
"So, Haylee..." I started.
"Is downstairs pouring through every mythology book that I own," he smiled fondly.
"I don't know anything about Hestia," I said, remembering the last vision.
"The goddess of the hearth."
"Also known as the goddess of fire," Haylee said, coming through the hall into the room, beaming. Peter followed her.
"Do you know what a hearth is? I didn't know what a hearth was," he said, shaking his head.
"The fire of a home?" I asked.
"Showoff," Peter muttered.
"It's the heart of the family, it brings them comfort and life," she said smiling.
"Isn't it sickeningly appropriate?" Peter said, mussing his sister's hair.
"I still don't understand..." I trailed off. Peter flopped down onto my bed.
"It means that we're gods and you should worship us," he said with a smirk. Marc pretended to bow to Haylee and she gave a little curtsy.
"But how is that possible?" I asked.
"Possible?" Peter laughed. "Have you been paying attention to any of the crazy shit that's been going on? Haylee literally sucked a whole house fire into her skin!"
"It went into my veins, actually, but that's beside the point," she added.
"Into your veins?" he asked in amazement. "But didn't that... hurt?"
"Yes," she said quietly, absentmindedly hugging herself tightly.
"Wait," I interrupted, "so are you... what? Descended from the gods?"
"Dakota," Marc spoke in a low voice, "I think they are the gods."
"That can't be," I said, sitting up. Peter looked affronted.
"Why not?" he asked harshly.
"If the gods were real, then they already existed. You would have to just be related to them because they would still be around, wouldn't they? Immortality and all." A cool breeze floated through the open window, it lifted the curtains and brushed across my skin. A small voice whispered into my ear, They have been forgotten. I froze. "What did you say?" I asked, my voice cracked. I looked at each one of them, but they all appeared just as confused as I was.
"No one said anything," Marc responded, his forehead creased. I was losing my mind. I must have lost some serious brain cells from inhaling so much smoke. I pushed it away.
"But what happened to the first gods? The gods of the Greeks and Romans and whoever else?" I asked, desperate to distract their concerned stares.
"Maybe they died," Peter shrugged.
"And we're some sort of... reincarnation?" Haylee asked. Peter nodded, eager to accept any explanation. We all sat in silence, lost in our own thoughts.
"We'll find out, I guess," Peter finally said.
"How do you mean?" I asked.
"Well, we'll see what happens when Marc fights the corn field. If the same thing happens and we dream he's a god, too... I think that's too much evidence for it to be a coincidence. If nothing happens... I don't know, maybe Haylee and I are just nuts."
"And what about me?" I asked. The three of them exchanged a brief glance and I was almost sure this was a subject that had already been discussed behind my back.
"We think that you can do something, too," Haylee said, still looking at the others.
"Oh yeah," I laughed, "I forgot to tell you, all the times that I fall down and get in the way I'm really having a supernatural episode."
"You just don't know what it is yet," Peter said, patting my leg encouragingly under the blanket.
"Has it crossed your mind that maybe I just can't do anything?" I asked. They glanced at one another again.
"We think..." Peter began, his face concerned, "that if you couldn't do anything... you wouldn't be alive." I looked at them. It hit me.
"You think there are more of us," I said in a whisper. It wasn't a question.
"Yes," Marc answered.
"How many?" I asked.
"Ten besides us," Peter said.
"There are fourteen gods," Marc said.
"So you think that the only people left alive are all... gods?" I couldn't wrap my head around it.
"We think it might be a possibility," Marc looked at Haylee and she nodded in agreement, gauging my reaction.
"And like I said," Peter broke in, "I think we'll find out when Marc goes into the corn field."
"I'm not going until Dakota is well," he said, avoiding my gaze.
"In that case," Haylee said, laying a hand on my shoulder, "let's have some dinner."
That night passed in much the same way. We sat over dinner and continued our conversation of explanations, not really offering any new information. Marc kept his eyes on me through dinner and into the evening. Peter and I played an uneventful game of chess in the living room while Haylee poured through Marc’s library for mythology books. At one point she gasped and looked up to glare at Peter.
“What’d I do?” Peter asked without meeting her gaze.
“Please don’t ever turn yourself into a horse to chase around women, it doesn’t turn out well for you.” Marc stifled a laugh.
“I won’t...” Peter said, moving his knight illegally for the third time in a row, “as long as she’s not hot.”
“Peter!”
Sunday, August 24, 2008
the family in the hearth
this scene comes right after the last, so there's not too much to tell. they all have fallen asleep at the end of the last scene and now start a new cycle of dreams. this one is a little more action, a little less love. :) read and enjoy!
We dreamt.
The car came to a stop in front of a familiar yellow house with white shutters. We climbed out and made our way across the yard, passing the little mound of dirt with a bouquet of wilting daisies laid across its head. We stopped where the grass of the backyard ended and the huge cornfield began to stretch itself into the distance. A breeze rustled the corn stalks, bending the stems away toward the sun. We held our breath, waiting. Finally, movement in the distance caught our attention. As we watched, something seemed to be passing through the corn not far from where we stood. Then, a figure rose into the air from the field and hovered above the plants. Marc floated on the wind, smiling down at us, his palms pointed out in front of him as if he were pushing away the air on which he was drifting. Dakota, he whispered.
The dream darkened. The air felt heavy and thick. I tried to breathe, but my lungs locked in my chest. I felt heat searing all around me. I could hear my name floating over a roar of crackling and hissing. I tried desperately to pull myself into consciousness, fighting through the smoke that now seared my throat. I tried to breathe, tried to cry out, but I was frozen. Dakota, Marc's voice broke through the noise, come back. My eyes shot open. All around me, fire licked angrily at the air. I could make out the back door to my left, but a huge piece of burning roof lay blocking the way. I turned toward the front door and saw that it was also blocked with burning wreckage. The moonlight filtering through the doorway and the woods outside allowed me to make out three figures pacing anxiously, staring at the flaming shack. I sighed with relief; at least they were out. Nothing else mattered, as long as they were safe. My family. I could make out Haylee's face against the darkness, lit by the flames, tears racing down her face as she bit her lip furiously.
"Haylee!" Peter screamed over the roaring of the flames. Marc ran over and grabbed her shoulders, shaking her viciously.
"Help her!" he sobbed. Peter pulled him away, restraining him.
Haylee turned toward the burning building and closed her eyes. My vision started to swim, I could feel my consciousness slipping away. I love you, I love you, I love you, I willed into the darkness. I stole one last look at Haylee. Her face was hard and determined. She stretched her arms out in front of her, palms up. Her eyes shot open and her face was fierce, her hair whipping around her head in the heat of the flames. First, the air cleared of smoke and I gasped desperately, filling my lungs. I watched in awe as the smoke raced through the night into Haylee's waiting hands. Then, she stepped forward and the fire raced into her palms, disappearing from the wood all around me. Fire, like bright yellow and orange snakes, slithered away from me on every surface. I jumped to my feet and watched as the last flame in the fire pit sped across the air and slipped beneath her skin. She smiled at me and her eyes closed. One second later, she fell to the ground.
I stumbled forward toward her but Peter got there first. Marc rushed forward and pulled my arm behind his neck, taking my weight.
"Is she alright?" I choked, my throat searing with pain.
"Yes," Peter said, feeling her pulse and watching her chest rise and fall, "she's alright."
"Dakota?" Marc called from far away, "Dakota?" But I was already gone, racing away into unconsciousness Through the heavy darkness I felt the car seat slide beneath me and heard the door close.
"I think we should sleep for a while," Marc called from somewhere nearby.
"Alright," Peter said, his voice worried. I heard the doors close and drifted away again. A long time later, when Peter finally closed his eyes, we dreamed.
We watched as the fire blazed through the forests and plains, consuming every life it touched. The trees smoked and crashed to the earth. The fields blackened and bent to the force of the racing flames. All life ran from the smoke until it couldn't run anymore and was lost. The fire consumed everything, unstoppable. Haylee's voice whispered through the smoke, Fire, know peace.
Flames raced through a village, lapping at the little homes. Screams filled the air and the sun was blotted out by the smoke. The fire knew no end, but consumed the village in its impossible hunger. In the wake of the fury, ashes and bones stood out glistening against the light of the flames. Fire, know peace, Haylee breathed, a sadness in her voice. The village rebuilt itself before our eyes. Children played in the streets, laughing and smiling. The fire was not gone, but now it crackled happily in the center of each home. There, Haylee stood beside it, watching over as the families warmed themselves and ate in peace beside the flames.
As it once was, so it will begin again.
Haylee reached her arm down gently, halting a little toddler who was wandering too close to the flames. She smiled and gathered him into her arms.
Hestia.
We dreamt.
The car came to a stop in front of a familiar yellow house with white shutters. We climbed out and made our way across the yard, passing the little mound of dirt with a bouquet of wilting daisies laid across its head. We stopped where the grass of the backyard ended and the huge cornfield began to stretch itself into the distance. A breeze rustled the corn stalks, bending the stems away toward the sun. We held our breath, waiting. Finally, movement in the distance caught our attention. As we watched, something seemed to be passing through the corn not far from where we stood. Then, a figure rose into the air from the field and hovered above the plants. Marc floated on the wind, smiling down at us, his palms pointed out in front of him as if he were pushing away the air on which he was drifting. Dakota, he whispered.
The dream darkened. The air felt heavy and thick. I tried to breathe, but my lungs locked in my chest. I felt heat searing all around me. I could hear my name floating over a roar of crackling and hissing. I tried desperately to pull myself into consciousness, fighting through the smoke that now seared my throat. I tried to breathe, tried to cry out, but I was frozen. Dakota, Marc's voice broke through the noise, come back. My eyes shot open. All around me, fire licked angrily at the air. I could make out the back door to my left, but a huge piece of burning roof lay blocking the way. I turned toward the front door and saw that it was also blocked with burning wreckage. The moonlight filtering through the doorway and the woods outside allowed me to make out three figures pacing anxiously, staring at the flaming shack. I sighed with relief; at least they were out. Nothing else mattered, as long as they were safe. My family. I could make out Haylee's face against the darkness, lit by the flames, tears racing down her face as she bit her lip furiously.
"Haylee!" Peter screamed over the roaring of the flames. Marc ran over and grabbed her shoulders, shaking her viciously.
"Help her!" he sobbed. Peter pulled him away, restraining him.
Haylee turned toward the burning building and closed her eyes. My vision started to swim, I could feel my consciousness slipping away. I love you, I love you, I love you, I willed into the darkness. I stole one last look at Haylee. Her face was hard and determined. She stretched her arms out in front of her, palms up. Her eyes shot open and her face was fierce, her hair whipping around her head in the heat of the flames. First, the air cleared of smoke and I gasped desperately, filling my lungs. I watched in awe as the smoke raced through the night into Haylee's waiting hands. Then, she stepped forward and the fire raced into her palms, disappearing from the wood all around me. Fire, like bright yellow and orange snakes, slithered away from me on every surface. I jumped to my feet and watched as the last flame in the fire pit sped across the air and slipped beneath her skin. She smiled at me and her eyes closed. One second later, she fell to the ground.
I stumbled forward toward her but Peter got there first. Marc rushed forward and pulled my arm behind his neck, taking my weight.
"Is she alright?" I choked, my throat searing with pain.
"Yes," Peter said, feeling her pulse and watching her chest rise and fall, "she's alright."
"Dakota?" Marc called from far away, "Dakota?" But I was already gone, racing away into unconsciousness Through the heavy darkness I felt the car seat slide beneath me and heard the door close.
"I think we should sleep for a while," Marc called from somewhere nearby.
"Alright," Peter said, his voice worried. I heard the doors close and drifted away again. A long time later, when Peter finally closed his eyes, we dreamed.
We watched as the fire blazed through the forests and plains, consuming every life it touched. The trees smoked and crashed to the earth. The fields blackened and bent to the force of the racing flames. All life ran from the smoke until it couldn't run anymore and was lost. The fire consumed everything, unstoppable. Haylee's voice whispered through the smoke, Fire, know peace.
Flames raced through a village, lapping at the little homes. Screams filled the air and the sun was blotted out by the smoke. The fire knew no end, but consumed the village in its impossible hunger. In the wake of the fury, ashes and bones stood out glistening against the light of the flames. Fire, know peace, Haylee breathed, a sadness in her voice. The village rebuilt itself before our eyes. Children played in the streets, laughing and smiling. The fire was not gone, but now it crackled happily in the center of each home. There, Haylee stood beside it, watching over as the families warmed themselves and ate in peace beside the flames.
As it once was, so it will begin again.
Haylee reached her arm down gently, halting a little toddler who was wandering too close to the flames. She smiled and gathered him into her arms.
Hestia.
Friday, August 22, 2008
Marc in the river
you've only missed a little bit in between this scene and the last scene, so i'll fill you in. :) basically, Marc runs really fast and it's a terrifying experience for everyone involved, except Peter (of course). they end up in the woods where they hike for several house until they come across this old wooden shack where they decide to stay for the night. they all encourage Haylee to start a fire but she can't because everything in the shack is damp from the woods. at the point in this scene where she is sitting in front of the fire pit concentrating, it's referring back to her aggravation at not being able to use her "powers" in this place. it's cold, they're hungry, Dakota and Marc are as awkward as ever, so it's a pretty good day. this scene isn't particularly action packed, but as Stephenie Meyer says, "Love is the best part of every story." so read and enjoy!
When I woke up, it was barely light in the tiny, cold room. I had tossed and turned against my dreams all night, but I felt suddenly wide awake. I lifted myself as quietly as possible from the floor, trying not to wake Haylee and Peter curled up across the room. I stepped over Marc's empty sleeping bag as I made my way to the open backdoor. I stepped out onto the little porch, resting one hand against the ivy-laced banister. A little gleam of orange was creeping through the trees as the sun pushed itself over the edge of the world. I breathed in the clean air, the slight scent of flowers drifting on the breeze. I heard a splash to my right and looked over into the stream. My eyes followed a little trail of discarded clothes, my heart kicked into gear, and my eyes were pulled over to the figure of Marc bathing in the water.
He stood waist deep in the river, the dawn light glinting on his bare skin and through his hair. He rubbed water over his burnt arms and chest, the angry welts still standing out swollen against his skin. My breath caught in my throat. I knew that I should turn around, or close my eyes, or look away, but I couldn't. Everything seemed to slow down. He dropped back into the water and stood again, shaking his hair out. I could hear my heart pounding in my ears as he swam swiftly against the slight current. He rose to the bank and draped his feet into the river. Every drop of water that fell from his jaw, his back, his fingertips, stood out brilliantly, sparkling against the rising sun. My palms began to tingle and my blood seemed to slow in my veins. He leaned back into the grass, his eyes closed, a peaceful smile draped across his face. The green light of the forest danced against his soft skin, across his closed eyelids. Suddenly, every feeling and thought became clear. Every confusion that I had felt through the past days lifted and there was only Marc and I alone in the dawn, breathing in unison and smiling in the sunlight.
Something tickled the back of my arm. I tore my eyes away and glanced down. The ivy from the railing had wound itself around my hand. It twined through my fingers and climbed, twisting, up my arm. Little yellow flowers bloomed along the vines as I watched, tiny clouds of sweet pollen drifted off on the breeze. I gasped and yanked my hand away. The ivy fell and wound itself back around the wood but not before I heard Marc yell and saw him scramble to his feet, yanking his clothes from the ground to cover himself.
The blood rushed like a great wave into my face. I froze where I stood, horrified, unable to move or lift my eyes from the ground. My pulse thundered in my head and I could barely hear Marc's footsteps as he slowly climbed to the porch and stood next to me. Thankfully, he had pulled his jeans on, and we stood in silence while the birds began to wake up in the trees around us.
"Well," he finally said. He sounded utterly embarrassed, which made the blood pound in my face even more furiously, "I guess we're even." I couldn't open my mouth. The silence stretched on. "Were you, um, there... for long?" he asked quietly, I could see him twisting his hands together nervously.
"No," I choked.
"I thought... I thought you'd sleep... longer..." His voice was barely a whisper.
"I'm sorry."
"You don't have to apologize," he said, his voice sad.
"Alright." More silence followed.
"Dakota," he whispered desperately, "please look at me."
"I c-can't," I gasped. The tears sprang from my eyes and I rushed past him toward the stairs. He caught my arm and spun me toward him. I continued to stare at the floor, tears dripping onto the wood. He lifted my chin until I was forced to meet his eyes. Unbelievably, they were round with worry, his forehead creased.
"Why are you crying?" he whispered, wiping the back of his finger under my eye.
"I'm not," I lied.
"Dakota," he begged, laying his palm against my cheek, "please." I struggled to free myself from his grip, but he held my head between his big hands, his eyes pleading. "Please, tell me what you're thinking."
"I don't know how," I struggled against him but he held me firm.
"Stop hiding!" He shook me slightly, "Tell me something real!"
"I can't!" I clamped my eyes closed, shaking my head back and forth.
"Tell me the truth. Were you going to kiss me? In the kitchen?" His voice was desperate.
"I...I..." my throat closed around the words.
"Tell me how you feel!" He was almost shouting.
"I don't feel anything!" I cried. He let his arms drop to his sides. I looked up into his eyes, his face pale and hurt.
"You don't mean that," he spoke in a whisper, his eyes wide.
"Marc..." I reached out to him, not sure what to say or do. He caught my writs and pulled me close to him.
"Every time I look at you my heart throbs against my chest. I have no idea if you feel the same way that I do or if you feel anything at all," he spoke roughly into my face, his voice shaking with anger, "Every single thought is filled with you. What you're feeling. If you're alright. If you could possibly be thinking of me." Fresh tears spilled down my face. "I know that I don't deserve a chance, Dakota, but that doesn't mean that I don't want one." He dropped my wrists and took a step away, his face hard. "When you touch me or smile at me, I burn with shame for thinking of taking my life away before it knew you. Does it make you happy to know that?" I shook my head, raking through my brain for any response. "I pine for you, Dakota. You must see it." I stood where I was, frozen, tears leaking down my face. He sighed and turned down the stairs, disappearing away into the trees. I collapsed to my knees and held my face in my hands.
It was a long day. Marc stayed away for several hours. Finally, at some point in the afternoon, Haylee sent Peter out to look for him. I lay curled in my sleeping bag and Haylee knelt in front of the fire pit, her eyes closed, her forehead creased in concentration. I looked up when the front door opened. Peter stumbled in, panting.
"Did you find him?" I croaked.
"Oh yeah," Peter said, collapsing onto his sleeping bag.
"Where is he?" I asked desperately, looking around outside for him.
"No idea," he said, gasping for air, "he's too fast."
As the sun started to sink beneath the trees, I sat in the doorway of the porch. A light breeze ruffled my hair and I closed my eyes. It's going to rain, a tiny voice whispered in my ear.
"It's going to rain," I repeated, without thinking. Haylee and I looked over at Peter.
"Don't look at me," he said, shrugging his shoulders.
"But, there aren't any clouds," Haylee said, peeking up through the treetops. "Why do you say it's going to rain?"
"I.. it... smells like rain," I muttered.
"No it doesn't," Peter said, raising an eyebrow at me. Just then, the front door creaked open and Marc came sheepishly into the room. He carried his shirt in his hands, filled with berries and nuts. He set them down on the floor and Peter crawled over and started eating them without any explanation. He came slowly over to me and I jumped to my feet.
"I'm sorry that I yelled at you," he said, his tone flat, "there was no reason for that."
"Marc, please..." I began, but he held his hand up to stop me.
"No need, Dakota," he said with finality, "you don't owe me anything." With that, he crawled into his sleeping bag and closed his eyes. Haylee and Peter whispered quietly with their heads together and I sat in the doorway for a long time. Finally, as I had known, thunder rumbled in the distance and rain began to fall. I crawled into my sleeping bag and stared into the darkness.
At some point in the night, while I stared up at the ceiling that was dripping with rain, Peter sat up angrily.
"It's freezing, Haylee!" he shouted. Beside me, Marc pulled his sleeping bag over his head.
"What do you want me to do about it, Peter?" Haylee said harshly.
"Come on, Haylee! My ass is numb!"
"FINE!" She sat up and snapped her fingers. A little light appeared in her hand and drifted toward the fire pit, illuminating Peter's stunned face. It slid into the grate and crackled merrily. Haylee crawled back into her sleeping bag.
"Well..." Peter mumbled, "thanks." A long time later, I finally fell asleep.
When I woke up, it was barely light in the tiny, cold room. I had tossed and turned against my dreams all night, but I felt suddenly wide awake. I lifted myself as quietly as possible from the floor, trying not to wake Haylee and Peter curled up across the room. I stepped over Marc's empty sleeping bag as I made my way to the open backdoor. I stepped out onto the little porch, resting one hand against the ivy-laced banister. A little gleam of orange was creeping through the trees as the sun pushed itself over the edge of the world. I breathed in the clean air, the slight scent of flowers drifting on the breeze. I heard a splash to my right and looked over into the stream. My eyes followed a little trail of discarded clothes, my heart kicked into gear, and my eyes were pulled over to the figure of Marc bathing in the water.
He stood waist deep in the river, the dawn light glinting on his bare skin and through his hair. He rubbed water over his burnt arms and chest, the angry welts still standing out swollen against his skin. My breath caught in my throat. I knew that I should turn around, or close my eyes, or look away, but I couldn't. Everything seemed to slow down. He dropped back into the water and stood again, shaking his hair out. I could hear my heart pounding in my ears as he swam swiftly against the slight current. He rose to the bank and draped his feet into the river. Every drop of water that fell from his jaw, his back, his fingertips, stood out brilliantly, sparkling against the rising sun. My palms began to tingle and my blood seemed to slow in my veins. He leaned back into the grass, his eyes closed, a peaceful smile draped across his face. The green light of the forest danced against his soft skin, across his closed eyelids. Suddenly, every feeling and thought became clear. Every confusion that I had felt through the past days lifted and there was only Marc and I alone in the dawn, breathing in unison and smiling in the sunlight.
Something tickled the back of my arm. I tore my eyes away and glanced down. The ivy from the railing had wound itself around my hand. It twined through my fingers and climbed, twisting, up my arm. Little yellow flowers bloomed along the vines as I watched, tiny clouds of sweet pollen drifted off on the breeze. I gasped and yanked my hand away. The ivy fell and wound itself back around the wood but not before I heard Marc yell and saw him scramble to his feet, yanking his clothes from the ground to cover himself.
The blood rushed like a great wave into my face. I froze where I stood, horrified, unable to move or lift my eyes from the ground. My pulse thundered in my head and I could barely hear Marc's footsteps as he slowly climbed to the porch and stood next to me. Thankfully, he had pulled his jeans on, and we stood in silence while the birds began to wake up in the trees around us.
"Well," he finally said. He sounded utterly embarrassed, which made the blood pound in my face even more furiously, "I guess we're even." I couldn't open my mouth. The silence stretched on. "Were you, um, there... for long?" he asked quietly, I could see him twisting his hands together nervously.
"No," I choked.
"I thought... I thought you'd sleep... longer..." His voice was barely a whisper.
"I'm sorry."
"You don't have to apologize," he said, his voice sad.
"Alright." More silence followed.
"Dakota," he whispered desperately, "please look at me."
"I c-can't," I gasped. The tears sprang from my eyes and I rushed past him toward the stairs. He caught my arm and spun me toward him. I continued to stare at the floor, tears dripping onto the wood. He lifted my chin until I was forced to meet his eyes. Unbelievably, they were round with worry, his forehead creased.
"Why are you crying?" he whispered, wiping the back of his finger under my eye.
"I'm not," I lied.
"Dakota," he begged, laying his palm against my cheek, "please." I struggled to free myself from his grip, but he held my head between his big hands, his eyes pleading. "Please, tell me what you're thinking."
"I don't know how," I struggled against him but he held me firm.
"Stop hiding!" He shook me slightly, "Tell me something real!"
"I can't!" I clamped my eyes closed, shaking my head back and forth.
"Tell me the truth. Were you going to kiss me? In the kitchen?" His voice was desperate.
"I...I..." my throat closed around the words.
"Tell me how you feel!" He was almost shouting.
"I don't feel anything!" I cried. He let his arms drop to his sides. I looked up into his eyes, his face pale and hurt.
"You don't mean that," he spoke in a whisper, his eyes wide.
"Marc..." I reached out to him, not sure what to say or do. He caught my writs and pulled me close to him.
"Every time I look at you my heart throbs against my chest. I have no idea if you feel the same way that I do or if you feel anything at all," he spoke roughly into my face, his voice shaking with anger, "Every single thought is filled with you. What you're feeling. If you're alright. If you could possibly be thinking of me." Fresh tears spilled down my face. "I know that I don't deserve a chance, Dakota, but that doesn't mean that I don't want one." He dropped my wrists and took a step away, his face hard. "When you touch me or smile at me, I burn with shame for thinking of taking my life away before it knew you. Does it make you happy to know that?" I shook my head, raking through my brain for any response. "I pine for you, Dakota. You must see it." I stood where I was, frozen, tears leaking down my face. He sighed and turned down the stairs, disappearing away into the trees. I collapsed to my knees and held my face in my hands.
It was a long day. Marc stayed away for several hours. Finally, at some point in the afternoon, Haylee sent Peter out to look for him. I lay curled in my sleeping bag and Haylee knelt in front of the fire pit, her eyes closed, her forehead creased in concentration. I looked up when the front door opened. Peter stumbled in, panting.
"Did you find him?" I croaked.
"Oh yeah," Peter said, collapsing onto his sleeping bag.
"Where is he?" I asked desperately, looking around outside for him.
"No idea," he said, gasping for air, "he's too fast."
As the sun started to sink beneath the trees, I sat in the doorway of the porch. A light breeze ruffled my hair and I closed my eyes. It's going to rain, a tiny voice whispered in my ear.
"It's going to rain," I repeated, without thinking. Haylee and I looked over at Peter.
"Don't look at me," he said, shrugging his shoulders.
"But, there aren't any clouds," Haylee said, peeking up through the treetops. "Why do you say it's going to rain?"
"I.. it... smells like rain," I muttered.
"No it doesn't," Peter said, raising an eyebrow at me. Just then, the front door creaked open and Marc came sheepishly into the room. He carried his shirt in his hands, filled with berries and nuts. He set them down on the floor and Peter crawled over and started eating them without any explanation. He came slowly over to me and I jumped to my feet.
"I'm sorry that I yelled at you," he said, his tone flat, "there was no reason for that."
"Marc, please..." I began, but he held his hand up to stop me.
"No need, Dakota," he said with finality, "you don't owe me anything." With that, he crawled into his sleeping bag and closed his eyes. Haylee and Peter whispered quietly with their heads together and I sat in the doorway for a long time. Finally, as I had known, thunder rumbled in the distance and rain began to fall. I crawled into my sleeping bag and stared into the darkness.
At some point in the night, while I stared up at the ceiling that was dripping with rain, Peter sat up angrily.
"It's freezing, Haylee!" he shouted. Beside me, Marc pulled his sleeping bag over his head.
"What do you want me to do about it, Peter?" Haylee said harshly.
"Come on, Haylee! My ass is numb!"
"FINE!" She sat up and snapped her fingers. A little light appeared in her hand and drifted toward the fire pit, illuminating Peter's stunned face. It slid into the grate and crackled merrily. Haylee crawled back into her sleeping bag.
"Well..." Peter mumbled, "thanks." A long time later, I finally fell asleep.
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
Poseidon
this scene comes immediately after the last. i'm rather unsure about it, so all the feedback you can give me would be helpful. thank you! enjoy!
We dreamed together.
We watched from a high mountain cliff as ocean waves rose to massive heights and pounded the waiting shores. Ocean, be still, Peter whispered into the night. The water stilled itself, sighed, and stretched calmly toward the horizon.
We watched from the treetops as raging rivers rose and tore through the woods, tearing all life up from its roots. Animals fled before the water and the trees groaned under the burden of the rushing currents. The water spilled over the banks and lapped at everything along the ground. River, be still, Peter whispered through the trees. The water sank back to the bank. The trees bloomed and smiled, the deer drank from the mirrored surface of the river.
We watched from the sky as funnels spun through the land, tearing up the world. Mountains crumbled under the storms, the rocks crashed and shook the earth. The rain poured in torrents, drowning everything. The water rose, higher and higher, until it met the sky and there was nothing but night. Water, be still, Peter whispered through the clouds. The water drained from the earth, leaving it cleaner and fresher than the world had ever know it before.
As it once was, so it will begin again.
Peter stood on a mountain, looking down at the ocean, a cloud racing by above him. He smiled and the word spilled from my mouth before I had even thought it. The name filled the air and quivered on the electricity in the clouds.
Poseidon.
We all woke up with the same gasp, but Peter was already awake, looking between his sister and I with a hand covering his mouth. We stared at him in silence. Marc ripped out of the tent and raced to the car, sliding in beside me, only to continue to stare at Peter. A peel of thunder echoed in the distance.
"I..." Peter began.
"Poseidon." Marc finished, excitement in his voice.
"I don't even know what that means," Peter said in a whisper.
"The god of the sea," Marc said, his eyes wide.
"But does that mean...?"
"I don't know."
"I don't feel like..." Peter shook his head back and forth, "I can't do all that stuff, I'd never be able to do that..."
"Of course you would," Haylee said, "Look at what you did today."
"But that was nothing, I can't even control it! I can't do anything!"
"No, I can't do anything," I cut in. They all stared at me. "What I'm saying is... I don't know what it means. I don't know what 'as it once was, so it will begin again,' is supposed to tell us. I can't tell you how to control it or what to do with it. But it's a gift, Peter, it has to be. You saved Haylee's life today. The dream showed just how much good you could do with it," Peter opened his mouth to interrupt but I went on, "Maybe not right now, but some day." They all looked at me for a long time.
"Nope, I don't want it," Peter finally said, "You can have it, Dakota. I'm no good."
We discussed this way for a long time, each taking turns explaining our ideas and what we thought the dream had meant. Eventually, we talked ourselves into silence. I was thinking through the line again, of what once was would begin again, when Peter broke the quiet with a soft snore. Haylee and I rolled our eyes at each other and she curled up on the seat again. Marc was asleep with his head propped up on his hand. I laid my head against the window, listening to the thunder humming softly in the distance, and finally I fell asleep. We dreamt of a forest.
Our feet made happy squelching noises against the moss on the ground. The light filtering through the canopy was every shade of green, wrapping us in the moist darkness of the leaves. Giant trees stretched into the sky all around. Redwood, Marc whispered in my ear and I realized that we were in the Redwood forest of Northern California. Was it possible that such a cool, wet place existed only a few days drive from the desert where we were? We walked on until we heard a crackling noise approaching in the darkness. Moving through the trees ahead was a bright, yellow light. Haylee? Peter called. A second later, she appeared from behind a huge trunk. She stood several feet away, her hands stretched out in front of her. Balanced in her little palms were two bright balls of fire.
I woke up to the warm air on my face, but as I examined the overcast sky I was thankful that it would not be so hot today. Marc and Peter were both still asleep with their heads rested against the windows. I looked around for Haylee and saw her sitting in the shade of the little palm tree, staring at her hands. I climbed out quietly and went to sit next to her.
"At least the forest is better than the desert," I suggested after a long silence.
"What if something bad happens? Like when we came here?" She stared fixedly at her palms.
"I think we can handle it," Peter said, climbing from the car and making his way toward us. Marc rose from the backseat but kept his distance, his eyes on me.
"I can't put any of you in danger," she whispered.
"Give us a little credit, we'll be alright," I said, putting my arm around her shoulders. "Well," I added, "Give you some credit, I'm totally useless." She smiled.
"I love you just the same," she said.
"We've got bigger fish to fry," Peter grunted, gesturing toward the car, "how are we going to get there?" We stared at the broken vehicle, it's hood still open, yawning toward the clouds.
"I can take us," Marc said.
"What?" Peter asked him, incredulous.
"I can push it," he said, laying a hand against the trunk of the car.
"There's no way you can push it all that way." Haylee shook her head.
"Of course he can," Peter said, understanding dawning on his face, "didn't you see him yesterday?"
"I don't understand what that has to do with anything," she said, looking between them.
"It appears that I am..." Marc began, a smile curling around the corners of his mouth, "very fast."
“That’s what you were doing yesterday? To get away from the lightning? You were running?” Haylee’s eyes were wide. Marc nodded happily.
"No," I broke in, getting to my feet, "no way you're running us up the state."
"I think it's a great idea," Peter said, sliding back into the driver's seat, "hop in, guys!" I stayed in place where I was and Haylee walked over to Marc.
"We're too heavy," she said, her eyebrows pulled together.
"Peter will leave it in neutral and steer, it won't take any effort."
"It will be exhausting," she pleaded. He shrugged his shoulders.
"I'll be fine, Haylee. Please trust me." He smiled gently at her. After a long moment she climbed into the passenger's seat with a sigh.
"No!" I yelled, pounding my way through the sand to stand in front of him, summoning my most intimidating look, "No! I'm not letting you." He raised an eyebrow in disbelief, a huge grin covering his face. It was hard to be firm with him when he looked so beautiful.
"Are you," he grinned wider, "worried about me?"
"You can't control it, you won't be able to do it right," I stood my ground.
"Yes I will." He opened the backdoor for me. I didn't budge.
"You won't be able to stop, you'll crash and kill us all."
"No I won't." He was still smiling.
"Well... You..." I struggled to find an argument, "You'll vanish us!" I actually stomped my foot. He continued to smile and pulled me gently into the backseat, closing the door.
"She has a point there," Peter said, leaning across to look at Marc through the open window.
"I will be fine," he assure us. He leaned through my window and breathed into my ear, "as long as you keep your clothes on." He winked at me and made his way to the back of the car. I suppressed a shiver and kept my arms folded tightly across my chest. Was he flirting with me? No body flirted with me. Didn’t he understand that I was totally impossible around men, not to mention around all people in general? They only times I could even manage to get close to him I was either losing my mind at the kitchen table or comforted by the darkness of the car ride. I couldn’t speak or react. Was he expecting something other than my burning cheeks and shaking hands. My stomach twisted anxiously.
"Seatbelts on," Marc called from the back. We all obeyed.
"Ready?" he called again.
"Wait!" Peter shouted and jumped from the seat, jogging around the meet Marc at the back. I watched them in the rearview mirror.
"I'm sorry," Peter said in a low voice, "for trying to zap you with lightning."
"I'm sorry, too," Marc said, surprised, "I didn't mean that... about your mother."
"I know," Peter said, almost in a whisper. Then he caught Marc in a tight, one-armed hug. "Thank you," he whispered, "for my sister." He hopped into the front seat and pulled his seatbelt on.
"Ready?" Marc called again and before anyone could answer, we were flying.
We dreamed together.
We watched from a high mountain cliff as ocean waves rose to massive heights and pounded the waiting shores. Ocean, be still, Peter whispered into the night. The water stilled itself, sighed, and stretched calmly toward the horizon.
We watched from the treetops as raging rivers rose and tore through the woods, tearing all life up from its roots. Animals fled before the water and the trees groaned under the burden of the rushing currents. The water spilled over the banks and lapped at everything along the ground. River, be still, Peter whispered through the trees. The water sank back to the bank. The trees bloomed and smiled, the deer drank from the mirrored surface of the river.
We watched from the sky as funnels spun through the land, tearing up the world. Mountains crumbled under the storms, the rocks crashed and shook the earth. The rain poured in torrents, drowning everything. The water rose, higher and higher, until it met the sky and there was nothing but night. Water, be still, Peter whispered through the clouds. The water drained from the earth, leaving it cleaner and fresher than the world had ever know it before.
As it once was, so it will begin again.
Peter stood on a mountain, looking down at the ocean, a cloud racing by above him. He smiled and the word spilled from my mouth before I had even thought it. The name filled the air and quivered on the electricity in the clouds.
Poseidon.
We all woke up with the same gasp, but Peter was already awake, looking between his sister and I with a hand covering his mouth. We stared at him in silence. Marc ripped out of the tent and raced to the car, sliding in beside me, only to continue to stare at Peter. A peel of thunder echoed in the distance.
"I..." Peter began.
"Poseidon." Marc finished, excitement in his voice.
"I don't even know what that means," Peter said in a whisper.
"The god of the sea," Marc said, his eyes wide.
"But does that mean...?"
"I don't know."
"I don't feel like..." Peter shook his head back and forth, "I can't do all that stuff, I'd never be able to do that..."
"Of course you would," Haylee said, "Look at what you did today."
"But that was nothing, I can't even control it! I can't do anything!"
"No, I can't do anything," I cut in. They all stared at me. "What I'm saying is... I don't know what it means. I don't know what 'as it once was, so it will begin again,' is supposed to tell us. I can't tell you how to control it or what to do with it. But it's a gift, Peter, it has to be. You saved Haylee's life today. The dream showed just how much good you could do with it," Peter opened his mouth to interrupt but I went on, "Maybe not right now, but some day." They all looked at me for a long time.
"Nope, I don't want it," Peter finally said, "You can have it, Dakota. I'm no good."
We discussed this way for a long time, each taking turns explaining our ideas and what we thought the dream had meant. Eventually, we talked ourselves into silence. I was thinking through the line again, of what once was would begin again, when Peter broke the quiet with a soft snore. Haylee and I rolled our eyes at each other and she curled up on the seat again. Marc was asleep with his head propped up on his hand. I laid my head against the window, listening to the thunder humming softly in the distance, and finally I fell asleep. We dreamt of a forest.
Our feet made happy squelching noises against the moss on the ground. The light filtering through the canopy was every shade of green, wrapping us in the moist darkness of the leaves. Giant trees stretched into the sky all around. Redwood, Marc whispered in my ear and I realized that we were in the Redwood forest of Northern California. Was it possible that such a cool, wet place existed only a few days drive from the desert where we were? We walked on until we heard a crackling noise approaching in the darkness. Moving through the trees ahead was a bright, yellow light. Haylee? Peter called. A second later, she appeared from behind a huge trunk. She stood several feet away, her hands stretched out in front of her. Balanced in her little palms were two bright balls of fire.
I woke up to the warm air on my face, but as I examined the overcast sky I was thankful that it would not be so hot today. Marc and Peter were both still asleep with their heads rested against the windows. I looked around for Haylee and saw her sitting in the shade of the little palm tree, staring at her hands. I climbed out quietly and went to sit next to her.
"At least the forest is better than the desert," I suggested after a long silence.
"What if something bad happens? Like when we came here?" She stared fixedly at her palms.
"I think we can handle it," Peter said, climbing from the car and making his way toward us. Marc rose from the backseat but kept his distance, his eyes on me.
"I can't put any of you in danger," she whispered.
"Give us a little credit, we'll be alright," I said, putting my arm around her shoulders. "Well," I added, "Give you some credit, I'm totally useless." She smiled.
"I love you just the same," she said.
"We've got bigger fish to fry," Peter grunted, gesturing toward the car, "how are we going to get there?" We stared at the broken vehicle, it's hood still open, yawning toward the clouds.
"I can take us," Marc said.
"What?" Peter asked him, incredulous.
"I can push it," he said, laying a hand against the trunk of the car.
"There's no way you can push it all that way." Haylee shook her head.
"Of course he can," Peter said, understanding dawning on his face, "didn't you see him yesterday?"
"I don't understand what that has to do with anything," she said, looking between them.
"It appears that I am..." Marc began, a smile curling around the corners of his mouth, "very fast."
“That’s what you were doing yesterday? To get away from the lightning? You were running?” Haylee’s eyes were wide. Marc nodded happily.
"No," I broke in, getting to my feet, "no way you're running us up the state."
"I think it's a great idea," Peter said, sliding back into the driver's seat, "hop in, guys!" I stayed in place where I was and Haylee walked over to Marc.
"We're too heavy," she said, her eyebrows pulled together.
"Peter will leave it in neutral and steer, it won't take any effort."
"It will be exhausting," she pleaded. He shrugged his shoulders.
"I'll be fine, Haylee. Please trust me." He smiled gently at her. After a long moment she climbed into the passenger's seat with a sigh.
"No!" I yelled, pounding my way through the sand to stand in front of him, summoning my most intimidating look, "No! I'm not letting you." He raised an eyebrow in disbelief, a huge grin covering his face. It was hard to be firm with him when he looked so beautiful.
"Are you," he grinned wider, "worried about me?"
"You can't control it, you won't be able to do it right," I stood my ground.
"Yes I will." He opened the backdoor for me. I didn't budge.
"You won't be able to stop, you'll crash and kill us all."
"No I won't." He was still smiling.
"Well... You..." I struggled to find an argument, "You'll vanish us!" I actually stomped my foot. He continued to smile and pulled me gently into the backseat, closing the door.
"She has a point there," Peter said, leaning across to look at Marc through the open window.
"I will be fine," he assure us. He leaned through my window and breathed into my ear, "as long as you keep your clothes on." He winked at me and made his way to the back of the car. I suppressed a shiver and kept my arms folded tightly across my chest. Was he flirting with me? No body flirted with me. Didn’t he understand that I was totally impossible around men, not to mention around all people in general? They only times I could even manage to get close to him I was either losing my mind at the kitchen table or comforted by the darkness of the car ride. I couldn’t speak or react. Was he expecting something other than my burning cheeks and shaking hands. My stomach twisted anxiously.
"Seatbelts on," Marc called from the back. We all obeyed.
"Ready?" he called again.
"Wait!" Peter shouted and jumped from the seat, jogging around the meet Marc at the back. I watched them in the rearview mirror.
"I'm sorry," Peter said in a low voice, "for trying to zap you with lightning."
"I'm sorry, too," Marc said, surprised, "I didn't mean that... about your mother."
"I know," Peter said, almost in a whisper. Then he caught Marc in a tight, one-armed hug. "Thank you," he whispered, "for my sister." He hopped into the front seat and pulled his seatbelt on.
"Ready?" Marc called again and before anyone could answer, we were flying.
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
Peter and the storm
i'm going to post this scene in a few separate pieces because it's such a long section. i didn't want to cut the first few parts out, since i think they offer valuable information for the story later on. but i also didn't want to bore you with 15 odd pages of my rambling. :) so, this scene starts after the group decides to head off to the desert they've seen in their dreams. it's a long drive, so they pass the time "getting to know each other" for lack of a better phrase (a first step they were forced to skip under the unusual circumstances of their meeting). we learn that Peter is only eleven months older than Haylee and that they have lived pretty much on their own since their mother died when they were younger. this bit passes while they discuss it:
"Were you raised by your father then, like me?" Marc asked after a moment, still interested.
"No..." Peter said, hesitating, "Our mom was... seeing a couple different guys at the time we were born, so she wasn't exactly sure who it was." The tips of his ears were red. "But Hal and I looked so much alike that she figured we had to have the same dad, you know?"
"Yeah," Marc said, clearly sorry to have made Peter feel uncomfortable.
"No big deal," he said, watching Marc in the rearview mirror, "we did alright."
they continue to chat this way, talking about their childhoods and the lives they had before everything changed. Dakota finds herself utterly invested in her new life and the people who have become her family:
Soon, I found myself talking and laughing in a way that I couldn't remember having ever done before. I was being myself and I was not ashamed. Faced with the end of the world, hunted by undead beings, surrounded by warped and distorted realities that may or may not include super powers, I had finally learned how to just be myself. It took an apocalypse and three very interesting strangers, but I had found myself in them.
As the clock on the dashboard read 2:15am, I could feel my eyelids closing. Haylee and Peter whispered together in the front seat, and Marc was running his hands through his hair again. I smiled. Whether it was the elation of having such a wonderful conversation, the quiet and darkness of the car, the lateness of the hour, or the fact that I had stretched myself to my limits in the past day, I somehow felt brave. I took a breath, slid across the seat, and laid my head on Marc's shoulder. He jumped a little, surprised, but then I could hear him smiling in the dark. He wrapped his warm arms around me, pulling me closer, and rested his chin on the top of my head. I was nearly asleep when he bent and whispered in my ear, "Dream sweetly, Dakota. Thank you for saving me." I smiled and slipped into an unconsciousness filled with laughter, grass, and strawberries.
but of course, it couldn't all be so simple. what fun would that be? when Dakota opens her eyes, the car is broken down in the middle of the desert, they are completely lost, and they are almost out of water... thanks to Peter:
"Maybe if you hadn't GONE OFF THE ROAD," Haylee shouted angrily to her brother.
"Haylee!" he shouted back at her, "it was a road when I got on it, it just stopped being a road at some point!"
"Well," Haylee called back, "that still makes you an idiot!"
"SHUT UP!" Peter roared. The water bottle that Marc was drinking from burst, drenching him and sending water sizzling into the sand.
"Peter, STOP IT!" Marc yelled. "You've ruined three bottles, we only have one left!"
"Don't yell at me!" Peter bellowed, the last bottle of water sitting in the sand made a painful hissing noise, but did not explode.
so, they decide to try walking. they attempt to get back to the road they came from, but of course, they have no idea where they are. they find themselves in bigger trouble than they thought was possible:
The word "hell" could not even begin to describe the temperature after walking for five hours under the baking sun. We hadn't been led here to learn anything, we had been led here to die. Haylee and Peter had their backpacks slung over their heads to protect their faces and eyes from the blinding sun. Marc had pulled off his shirt and tied it over my face and neck, refusing my protests that he would die of exposure with no shirt on. He walked a few feet ahead of me now and I could see bright blisters already forming on his burnt shoulders. The water was gone and had been gone for a while. We had walked about two hours before finding nothing and deciding that we had to turn back to the car. If nothing else, the car would be protection from the pounding rays. However, as we tried to make our way back, our footsteps had been covered by the blowing sand and the sun was disorienting. We had now gone nearly twice as far as we had come and were completely lost.
Peter stumbled and fell into the sand, scrambling to get up as the surface burned his hands. He stumbled again and Haylee stopped walking. As Marc and I drew even with her, we froze in our tracks at her appearance. Her lips were cracked and bleeding, as was the bridge of her nose from exposure to the sun. Dried blood was caked on her cheeks and her hair clung to her forehead with sweat. "Look at the water," she croaked, pointing a shaking finger to the distance. We followed her gaze but there was nothing but miles and miles of sand. "I want to get to the water," she said, a tear running down her cheek and drying up before it had gotten half way.
"PETER!" Marc called, terror in his voice. Peter stopped ahead and ran back toward us, falling again and again. Haylee looked at Marc.
"Please give me water," she whispered, reaching out and grabbing the straps of the bag slung over his shoulders.
"Haylee, honey, come back," Marc said, shaking her slightly, "we don't have any water. I'm sorry."
"Please," she begged. The straps she was holding began to smoke under her touch. Marc pulled her hands away as Peter approached.
"What's wrong? Haylee?" He looked no better than she did. All she could do was stare off into the distance and beg for water.
"I'll have to carry her," Marc said, stepping forward and putting one arm around her waist.
"I'll do it," Peter said. He slowly gathered her into his arms and lifted her weight. She was only inches off the ground when Peter collapsed under the strain. Marc scooped her from the sand and I pulled Peter to his feet.
"Let's go," Marc said, laboring forward.
We had only gone a few feet when Marc cried out and dropped Haylee in the sand. "Be careful!" Peter cried, falling forward to her. Marc rubbed his bare chest, where an angry red welt spread across his skin. He gathered her up and continued forward. This happened again and again, Marc yelling out into the heat and letting Haylee slip from his arms. She was sobbing and screaming for water incessantly.
"I can't," Marc gasped, rubbing the skin of his arms that were swollen with angry blisters, "she keeps burning me, I can't hold her." Peter tried in vain to lift her again, only falling forward, crying out in an angry sob. We knelt beside her, desperate to help but with no where to go.
"Peter?" she choked, staring out at nothing.
"Yeah, sweetie, I'm here, I'm right here," he was removing his shirt and mopping her head with it.
"I'm so thirsty, please. Please, Peter." His shoulders shook as he continued to wipe her face.
"She's going to die if she doesn't get water, we have to do something," Marc whispered desperately.
"What can we do?" I cried, "We don't even know where we are. What can we do?" Suddenly, Peter jerked his head up and stared into my eyes, his face determined. He jumped to his feet. Haylee moaned quietly and a little fire sprang up in the sand near her feet. Peter pulled me up and looked at me with blazing eyes.
"Yell at me, Dakota," he said.
"W-what?" I said, stunned.
"Yell at me!" he cried desperately.
"I don't understand what you're saying!" I screamed, my voice cracking, my head swimming. Haylee cried out and fell still. Marc leaned over her, pushing back her hair, and jumped up as another fire sprang from the ground.
"I don't know if she's breathing!" Marc wailed, unable to approach her as fires erupted all around.
"HIT ME!" Peter bellowed. I swung my hand back and slapped him across the face.
"AGAIN!" he screamed. I slapped him again.
"DAKOTA, YOU HAVE TO DO BETTER THAN THAT!" I balled my hand into a tiny fist and cocked it back as far as it would go.
"Hey, Pete," Marc called. He was standing almost twenty feet behind us. Peter turned, I let my fist hover behind my head. Marc folded his arms across his chest, a cruel smile unfamiliar on his face.
"Your mother sounds like a whore."
A rumbling ripped through the silence, pounding out into the hot air, radiating from deep within Peter's chest. His whole body trembled, his face furious. "Dakota," Marc said without moving from Peter's heavy gaze, "RUN!" I slipped back in the sand, scrambling away. I stumbled back toward Haylee, surrounded in a ring of fire. Then, incredibly, the sand darkened. A low roar of thunder sounded from above. I lifted my head to see thick purple clouds racing from all directions, chased by an invisible wind, rolling and plunging to the place where Peter stood on a low dune in the distance. They converged, blackening the sky and blocking out the sun. Great peels of thunder tore through the air.
"COME ON, PETER!" Marc screamed over the crashing air, "IS THAT THE BEST YOU CAN DO FOR YOUR SISTER?" Peter clenched his fists and pulled his head back toward the sky. An incredible roar issued from deep inside his chest and he lifted his hands to the clouds. Then the rain came. Great, pounding drops beat against the sand, drenching everything. Haylee's fire was out within seconds and I ran to her, gathering her into my arms. The water soaked through my hair and clothes. I pulled Marc's shirt from my face and filled the folds with the huge drops. I rang the water into her mouth, wiping the caked blood from her face. After a moment, her eyes fluttered open, and she stared bewildered at the storm pounding around her. We watched as a great funnel of water swirled around Peter, obscuring him from sight, amplifying the sound of his laughter against the cry of the wind.
Marc began to make his way toward us across the sand. Suddenly, he froze, turning his gaze up into the sky.
"YOU'VE GOT TO BE KIDDING!" he screamed, and then he was gone. I gasped and sprang to my feet as he appeared over a hundred yards away. A great bolt of lightning stabbed at the earth exactly where he had been standing a second ago. How had he moved so quickly? A second later, he vanished again and appeared even further away. I screamed as another fork of lightning raked the earth where he had been. Again, Marc flew invisible across the sand, barely dodging another deadly bolt of fire.
"STOP IT! YOU'RE GOING TO KILL HIM!" I screamed, running forward toward Peter.
"DAKOTA, DON'T!" Marc yelled and vanished again, missing the lightning by a second. I fell to my knees and barely noticed Haylee sprint toward her brother. She approached the cyclone, one hand shielding her face from the wind. She paused outside the solid wall of water, squared her shoulders and plunged in. A moment later, the lightning ceased. The rain slowed to a drizzle, the thunder rumbled softly. The funnel of water thinned, revealing Peter holding Haylee against his chest, and then crashed to the ground. They made their way over to me, still kneeling in the wet sand in shock. Peter walked past me and lifted the backpacks onto his shoulders. Haylee pulled me to my feet, squeezing my hand. Fifty feet away, Marc stopped, watching Peter with wary eyes.
"Are you alright?" I called to him.
"Yes, are you?"
"No." I was trembling. He smiled.
"I see the car," he said, pointing. Sure enough, less than a mile away, the dull glint of the metal shone against the dark clouds that still hung over everything. Marc approached slowly. Twenty feet away, a sparkle of static electricity ran up his arm. "OUCH!" He cried, swatting it away. Peter grumbled something about getting what you deserve and turned toward the car.
When we reached it, I fell into the backseat and curled up in a tiny ball. Marc pulled another bag from the trunk and bent over something in the sand under the little palm tree.
"Will the clouds last?" Haylee asked Peter in a low voice.
"Yes," Peter said, glaring at Marc who was setting up a small tent.
"I think we should sleep then," she said. Without discussion, she covered me with a sweater and curled up on the front seat. Peter continued to glare at Marc.
"I'll sleep over here, thanks!" Marc called sarcastically, waving to Peter. Another jagged line of static ran up his leg. "OW!" he cried, throwing himself into the tent and zipping it closed. I was asleep within minutes.
"Were you raised by your father then, like me?" Marc asked after a moment, still interested.
"No..." Peter said, hesitating, "Our mom was... seeing a couple different guys at the time we were born, so she wasn't exactly sure who it was." The tips of his ears were red. "But Hal and I looked so much alike that she figured we had to have the same dad, you know?"
"Yeah," Marc said, clearly sorry to have made Peter feel uncomfortable.
"No big deal," he said, watching Marc in the rearview mirror, "we did alright."
they continue to chat this way, talking about their childhoods and the lives they had before everything changed. Dakota finds herself utterly invested in her new life and the people who have become her family:
Soon, I found myself talking and laughing in a way that I couldn't remember having ever done before. I was being myself and I was not ashamed. Faced with the end of the world, hunted by undead beings, surrounded by warped and distorted realities that may or may not include super powers, I had finally learned how to just be myself. It took an apocalypse and three very interesting strangers, but I had found myself in them.
As the clock on the dashboard read 2:15am, I could feel my eyelids closing. Haylee and Peter whispered together in the front seat, and Marc was running his hands through his hair again. I smiled. Whether it was the elation of having such a wonderful conversation, the quiet and darkness of the car, the lateness of the hour, or the fact that I had stretched myself to my limits in the past day, I somehow felt brave. I took a breath, slid across the seat, and laid my head on Marc's shoulder. He jumped a little, surprised, but then I could hear him smiling in the dark. He wrapped his warm arms around me, pulling me closer, and rested his chin on the top of my head. I was nearly asleep when he bent and whispered in my ear, "Dream sweetly, Dakota. Thank you for saving me." I smiled and slipped into an unconsciousness filled with laughter, grass, and strawberries.
but of course, it couldn't all be so simple. what fun would that be? when Dakota opens her eyes, the car is broken down in the middle of the desert, they are completely lost, and they are almost out of water... thanks to Peter:
"Maybe if you hadn't GONE OFF THE ROAD," Haylee shouted angrily to her brother.
"Haylee!" he shouted back at her, "it was a road when I got on it, it just stopped being a road at some point!"
"Well," Haylee called back, "that still makes you an idiot!"
"SHUT UP!" Peter roared. The water bottle that Marc was drinking from burst, drenching him and sending water sizzling into the sand.
"Peter, STOP IT!" Marc yelled. "You've ruined three bottles, we only have one left!"
"Don't yell at me!" Peter bellowed, the last bottle of water sitting in the sand made a painful hissing noise, but did not explode.
so, they decide to try walking. they attempt to get back to the road they came from, but of course, they have no idea where they are. they find themselves in bigger trouble than they thought was possible:
The word "hell" could not even begin to describe the temperature after walking for five hours under the baking sun. We hadn't been led here to learn anything, we had been led here to die. Haylee and Peter had their backpacks slung over their heads to protect their faces and eyes from the blinding sun. Marc had pulled off his shirt and tied it over my face and neck, refusing my protests that he would die of exposure with no shirt on. He walked a few feet ahead of me now and I could see bright blisters already forming on his burnt shoulders. The water was gone and had been gone for a while. We had walked about two hours before finding nothing and deciding that we had to turn back to the car. If nothing else, the car would be protection from the pounding rays. However, as we tried to make our way back, our footsteps had been covered by the blowing sand and the sun was disorienting. We had now gone nearly twice as far as we had come and were completely lost.
Peter stumbled and fell into the sand, scrambling to get up as the surface burned his hands. He stumbled again and Haylee stopped walking. As Marc and I drew even with her, we froze in our tracks at her appearance. Her lips were cracked and bleeding, as was the bridge of her nose from exposure to the sun. Dried blood was caked on her cheeks and her hair clung to her forehead with sweat. "Look at the water," she croaked, pointing a shaking finger to the distance. We followed her gaze but there was nothing but miles and miles of sand. "I want to get to the water," she said, a tear running down her cheek and drying up before it had gotten half way.
"PETER!" Marc called, terror in his voice. Peter stopped ahead and ran back toward us, falling again and again. Haylee looked at Marc.
"Please give me water," she whispered, reaching out and grabbing the straps of the bag slung over his shoulders.
"Haylee, honey, come back," Marc said, shaking her slightly, "we don't have any water. I'm sorry."
"Please," she begged. The straps she was holding began to smoke under her touch. Marc pulled her hands away as Peter approached.
"What's wrong? Haylee?" He looked no better than she did. All she could do was stare off into the distance and beg for water.
"I'll have to carry her," Marc said, stepping forward and putting one arm around her waist.
"I'll do it," Peter said. He slowly gathered her into his arms and lifted her weight. She was only inches off the ground when Peter collapsed under the strain. Marc scooped her from the sand and I pulled Peter to his feet.
"Let's go," Marc said, laboring forward.
We had only gone a few feet when Marc cried out and dropped Haylee in the sand. "Be careful!" Peter cried, falling forward to her. Marc rubbed his bare chest, where an angry red welt spread across his skin. He gathered her up and continued forward. This happened again and again, Marc yelling out into the heat and letting Haylee slip from his arms. She was sobbing and screaming for water incessantly.
"I can't," Marc gasped, rubbing the skin of his arms that were swollen with angry blisters, "she keeps burning me, I can't hold her." Peter tried in vain to lift her again, only falling forward, crying out in an angry sob. We knelt beside her, desperate to help but with no where to go.
"Peter?" she choked, staring out at nothing.
"Yeah, sweetie, I'm here, I'm right here," he was removing his shirt and mopping her head with it.
"I'm so thirsty, please. Please, Peter." His shoulders shook as he continued to wipe her face.
"She's going to die if she doesn't get water, we have to do something," Marc whispered desperately.
"What can we do?" I cried, "We don't even know where we are. What can we do?" Suddenly, Peter jerked his head up and stared into my eyes, his face determined. He jumped to his feet. Haylee moaned quietly and a little fire sprang up in the sand near her feet. Peter pulled me up and looked at me with blazing eyes.
"Yell at me, Dakota," he said.
"W-what?" I said, stunned.
"Yell at me!" he cried desperately.
"I don't understand what you're saying!" I screamed, my voice cracking, my head swimming. Haylee cried out and fell still. Marc leaned over her, pushing back her hair, and jumped up as another fire sprang from the ground.
"I don't know if she's breathing!" Marc wailed, unable to approach her as fires erupted all around.
"HIT ME!" Peter bellowed. I swung my hand back and slapped him across the face.
"AGAIN!" he screamed. I slapped him again.
"DAKOTA, YOU HAVE TO DO BETTER THAN THAT!" I balled my hand into a tiny fist and cocked it back as far as it would go.
"Hey, Pete," Marc called. He was standing almost twenty feet behind us. Peter turned, I let my fist hover behind my head. Marc folded his arms across his chest, a cruel smile unfamiliar on his face.
"Your mother sounds like a whore."
A rumbling ripped through the silence, pounding out into the hot air, radiating from deep within Peter's chest. His whole body trembled, his face furious. "Dakota," Marc said without moving from Peter's heavy gaze, "RUN!" I slipped back in the sand, scrambling away. I stumbled back toward Haylee, surrounded in a ring of fire. Then, incredibly, the sand darkened. A low roar of thunder sounded from above. I lifted my head to see thick purple clouds racing from all directions, chased by an invisible wind, rolling and plunging to the place where Peter stood on a low dune in the distance. They converged, blackening the sky and blocking out the sun. Great peels of thunder tore through the air.
"COME ON, PETER!" Marc screamed over the crashing air, "IS THAT THE BEST YOU CAN DO FOR YOUR SISTER?" Peter clenched his fists and pulled his head back toward the sky. An incredible roar issued from deep inside his chest and he lifted his hands to the clouds. Then the rain came. Great, pounding drops beat against the sand, drenching everything. Haylee's fire was out within seconds and I ran to her, gathering her into my arms. The water soaked through my hair and clothes. I pulled Marc's shirt from my face and filled the folds with the huge drops. I rang the water into her mouth, wiping the caked blood from her face. After a moment, her eyes fluttered open, and she stared bewildered at the storm pounding around her. We watched as a great funnel of water swirled around Peter, obscuring him from sight, amplifying the sound of his laughter against the cry of the wind.
Marc began to make his way toward us across the sand. Suddenly, he froze, turning his gaze up into the sky.
"YOU'VE GOT TO BE KIDDING!" he screamed, and then he was gone. I gasped and sprang to my feet as he appeared over a hundred yards away. A great bolt of lightning stabbed at the earth exactly where he had been standing a second ago. How had he moved so quickly? A second later, he vanished again and appeared even further away. I screamed as another fork of lightning raked the earth where he had been. Again, Marc flew invisible across the sand, barely dodging another deadly bolt of fire.
"STOP IT! YOU'RE GOING TO KILL HIM!" I screamed, running forward toward Peter.
"DAKOTA, DON'T!" Marc yelled and vanished again, missing the lightning by a second. I fell to my knees and barely noticed Haylee sprint toward her brother. She approached the cyclone, one hand shielding her face from the wind. She paused outside the solid wall of water, squared her shoulders and plunged in. A moment later, the lightning ceased. The rain slowed to a drizzle, the thunder rumbled softly. The funnel of water thinned, revealing Peter holding Haylee against his chest, and then crashed to the ground. They made their way over to me, still kneeling in the wet sand in shock. Peter walked past me and lifted the backpacks onto his shoulders. Haylee pulled me to my feet, squeezing my hand. Fifty feet away, Marc stopped, watching Peter with wary eyes.
"Are you alright?" I called to him.
"Yes, are you?"
"No." I was trembling. He smiled.
"I see the car," he said, pointing. Sure enough, less than a mile away, the dull glint of the metal shone against the dark clouds that still hung over everything. Marc approached slowly. Twenty feet away, a sparkle of static electricity ran up his arm. "OUCH!" He cried, swatting it away. Peter grumbled something about getting what you deserve and turned toward the car.
When we reached it, I fell into the backseat and curled up in a tiny ball. Marc pulled another bag from the trunk and bent over something in the sand under the little palm tree.
"Will the clouds last?" Haylee asked Peter in a low voice.
"Yes," Peter said, glaring at Marc who was setting up a small tent.
"I think we should sleep then," she said. Without discussion, she covered me with a sweater and curled up on the front seat. Peter continued to glare at Marc.
"I'll sleep over here, thanks!" Marc called sarcastically, waving to Peter. Another jagged line of static ran up his leg. "OW!" he cried, throwing himself into the tent and zipping it closed. I was asleep within minutes.
Friday, August 1, 2008
awkward vanishing
i probably didn't need to post this scene, but i just couldn't resist. it was a lot of fun to write and it makes me laugh awkwardly every time i read it, so i thought i would share it with you! it comes right after the last scene, so you didn't miss much. enjoy!
My sweatpants were black with soot and the sweater I had been wearing was burned through in three places, so I tossed the wrecked clothes in the little garbage can. I would need to borrow new clothes for the trip. I took a cold shower this time, letting the chilled water run over the back of my blistered hand. I shampooed my hair twice, enjoying the sweet scent of strawberries, until I could no longer notice the stench of smoke. I turned the water off reluctantly and climbed out.
The only towels left in the room were a short hand towel and a tiny washcloth. If I hadn't been so emotionally exhausted, I would have laughed at the luck of the day. I pulled the hand towel from the rack and dried off with that. Just as I was pulling the little towel through my damp hair, a quiet knock sounded on the door. "Dakota?" Marc whispered. The door slid open. I screamed and yanked the towel in front of me, pulling it as far across and down as it would go. It was just long enough to cover what was necessary but not nearly enough to be totally decent. Marc stood frozen with one hand on the doorknob and one hand clutching a little pile of clothes, his face was shocked and red. His eyes raked over me, lingering for a long time on the expanse of my bare legs.
"Marc, get out!" I shrieked. He snapped back to reality and slammed the door. After a second, it slid open again.
"MARC!" I screamed.
"No! Dakota, I'm sorry!" He pulled the door closed again but it slid open immediately.
"WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!" My face felt like it was on fire.
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! The door won't close!" He closed it again and again desperately but it continued to pop open.
"Close the door, Marc!" I was sure that I was going to die of embarrassment any second.
"Dakota, I can't!" Unbelievably he sounded almost as mortified at me, and then his voice was low, "I... I vanished the doorknob."
"UGH!" I shouted, yanking the burnt clothes from the garbage can.
"I thought... you would have a towel..." he whispered through the door.
"WELL, I DON'T!" To my horror, he chuckled.
"Well, obviously," he said, "I didn't miss that part." I gasped.
"NOTHING ABOUT THIS IS FUNNY, MARC!"
"I'm sorry," he said again, but I could tell he was still smiling, "If you hold the door closed, I'll get you a towel."
"Fine," I grumbled, pushing against the door with more force than necessary.
"And..." he continued from the other side, "I'll have to ask Haylee for more clothes for you."
"What happened to the one's you just had?!" I cried, desperate to have as much clothing as possible.
"Those are... also gone." He sounded embarrassed again, which made me feel happy in a cruel way.
"You'd better take your time because the second I have clothes on, I am kicking your ass." He chuckled again and I heard his footsteps fade down the hall.
* * *
We had packed the little car by noon and filled the tank from a gas can that Marc kept in the garage. While Marc emptied the fluid into the tank, Haylee stood as far back as possible, her eyes wary on the flammable liquid.
Peter grumbled incoherently as he climbed into the driver's seat next to his sister. He was still angry with her for ambushing him with shears after he had showered and bandaged his arm. The front of his hair had been so badly burned that she insisted on cutting it off. It now lay close to his head in untidy black spikes. I had to tell him that it looked wonderful at least ten times before he stopped swearing. Haylee had also insisted on giving Marc's hair a trim before we left, saying that all that hair would make him hotter in the desert. They had been in the bathroom for a long time when Marc finally appeared sheepishly at the bottom of the stairs. His hair was cut short to his head, standing only about and inch long at the top. As it was shorter, it was also blonder and his slight smile and bright blue eyes stood out with brilliance. He pushed his fingers through it repeatedly, not yet used to the feel. I approached him slowly and noticed that he had also shaved. His face, however, did not look more boyish for the change, but sweeter and more healthy. I lifted my hand and brushed the back of one finger along the line of his jaw. He shivered and smiled.
"I feel naked," he said, running his hand through his hair again.
"That is not funny," I growled. He laughed and went to help Peter load the car.
My sweatpants were black with soot and the sweater I had been wearing was burned through in three places, so I tossed the wrecked clothes in the little garbage can. I would need to borrow new clothes for the trip. I took a cold shower this time, letting the chilled water run over the back of my blistered hand. I shampooed my hair twice, enjoying the sweet scent of strawberries, until I could no longer notice the stench of smoke. I turned the water off reluctantly and climbed out.
The only towels left in the room were a short hand towel and a tiny washcloth. If I hadn't been so emotionally exhausted, I would have laughed at the luck of the day. I pulled the hand towel from the rack and dried off with that. Just as I was pulling the little towel through my damp hair, a quiet knock sounded on the door. "Dakota?" Marc whispered. The door slid open. I screamed and yanked the towel in front of me, pulling it as far across and down as it would go. It was just long enough to cover what was necessary but not nearly enough to be totally decent. Marc stood frozen with one hand on the doorknob and one hand clutching a little pile of clothes, his face was shocked and red. His eyes raked over me, lingering for a long time on the expanse of my bare legs.
"Marc, get out!" I shrieked. He snapped back to reality and slammed the door. After a second, it slid open again.
"MARC!" I screamed.
"No! Dakota, I'm sorry!" He pulled the door closed again but it slid open immediately.
"WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!" My face felt like it was on fire.
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! The door won't close!" He closed it again and again desperately but it continued to pop open.
"Close the door, Marc!" I was sure that I was going to die of embarrassment any second.
"Dakota, I can't!" Unbelievably he sounded almost as mortified at me, and then his voice was low, "I... I vanished the doorknob."
"UGH!" I shouted, yanking the burnt clothes from the garbage can.
"I thought... you would have a towel..." he whispered through the door.
"WELL, I DON'T!" To my horror, he chuckled.
"Well, obviously," he said, "I didn't miss that part." I gasped.
"NOTHING ABOUT THIS IS FUNNY, MARC!"
"I'm sorry," he said again, but I could tell he was still smiling, "If you hold the door closed, I'll get you a towel."
"Fine," I grumbled, pushing against the door with more force than necessary.
"And..." he continued from the other side, "I'll have to ask Haylee for more clothes for you."
"What happened to the one's you just had?!" I cried, desperate to have as much clothing as possible.
"Those are... also gone." He sounded embarrassed again, which made me feel happy in a cruel way.
"You'd better take your time because the second I have clothes on, I am kicking your ass." He chuckled again and I heard his footsteps fade down the hall.
* * *
We had packed the little car by noon and filled the tank from a gas can that Marc kept in the garage. While Marc emptied the fluid into the tank, Haylee stood as far back as possible, her eyes wary on the flammable liquid.
Peter grumbled incoherently as he climbed into the driver's seat next to his sister. He was still angry with her for ambushing him with shears after he had showered and bandaged his arm. The front of his hair had been so badly burned that she insisted on cutting it off. It now lay close to his head in untidy black spikes. I had to tell him that it looked wonderful at least ten times before he stopped swearing. Haylee had also insisted on giving Marc's hair a trim before we left, saying that all that hair would make him hotter in the desert. They had been in the bathroom for a long time when Marc finally appeared sheepishly at the bottom of the stairs. His hair was cut short to his head, standing only about and inch long at the top. As it was shorter, it was also blonder and his slight smile and bright blue eyes stood out with brilliance. He pushed his fingers through it repeatedly, not yet used to the feel. I approached him slowly and noticed that he had also shaved. His face, however, did not look more boyish for the change, but sweeter and more healthy. I lifted my hand and brushed the back of one finger along the line of his jaw. He shivered and smiled.
"I feel naked," he said, running his hand through his hair again.
"That is not funny," I growled. He laughed and went to help Peter load the car.
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Haylee in the kitchen
this scene is literally right after the last one, so there isn't much to say about it. this one is also rather long, so the next will be shorter to insure that i don't totally bore you to death. thanks for reading and enjoy!
We ate the rest of the cereal in the living room. Peter and Haylee crunched loudly in the silence, watching Marc in his usual place leaning against the doorframe, staring at me with concerned and troubled eyes. No one said anything. I kept my gaze on my feet, absentmindedly kicked a few soggy pieces of cereal that had fallen from my hair. I heard the sound of Marc rubbing his palms against his stubble. Suddenly, Peter slammed his cereal bowl down onto the coffee table and jumped to his feet.
"Is anyone going to talk about what the hell is going on here?" he shouted. Marc shifted his feet uncomfortably. None of us spoke and the silence stretched on. "Fine!" Peter shouted again, plopping down onto the couch and folding his arms stubbornly across his chest. "But just for the record: I'm happy this happened. I'm glad I'm not the only freak."
"What?" Marc asked, turning to look at Peter.
"No offense, man, but you did just vaporize a table."
"You can do it, too?" Marc's face was bewildered but somehow also relieved.
"Not make stuff disappear, no, but... other stuff." He trailed off.
"Like what?" his face was eager now.
"A few days ago... before we came here... I sort of... made water move... with my mind," Peter stared at his hands while he spoke.
"Made it move?" Marc asked, "I don't understand."
"We were arguing about coming here," Peter shifted his gaze to the ceiling guiltily as Haylee spoke, "and Peter lost his temper. Then some water in a glass on the table just lifted into the air and swirled around."
"Are you sure it wasn't you?" Marc asked Haylee.
"Yes," they both said at the same time. Peter continued, "It's like I felt it happen, in my head. I saw what was going on and it just clicked that I had caused it. It was almost like I could all of a sudden..."
"Think clearly?" Marc suggested. Peter nodded, both boys looked at each other with bright eyes.
"So that's what the dream was about," Marc finally continued, "you and all the water."
"Are we all having the same dreams again?" Haylee asked, each one of us nodded in turn.
"So what did you do to piss him off in the kitchen, Dakota?" Peter asked, "Did you stab him with a spoon or something?" Marc looked at the floor.
"She didn't piss me off," he muttered.
"What happened?" Haylee asked.
"Dakota..." Marc began, I could feel heat rising in my face. "She... knocked me over with her chair."
"I didn't mean to," I whispered, unable to make much more noise.
"You didn't?" Marc asked, his eyes burning into mine, his eyebrows pulled together in a worried and hurt expression. I was suddenly unsure of what exactly we were talking about. My head swam.
"I..." But I couldn't think of what else to say. He looked back to the floor.
"So you fell into the table and it just... vanished?" Peter asked, his eyes wide.
"Yes," Marc finished.
"Have you done this before?" Haylee asked.
"Once or twice, before you came." We were silent again.
"Well," Peter said finally, standing, "that settles it then."
"Settles what?" I asked, feeling very slow today.
"We've got to go to the desert."
"What?" Haylee and Marc asked in unison.
"The first dream meant for us to come here, and now this one means that we have to go there. We're supposed to go and figure this out, I just know it. I'll get some clothes together. I saw a map in the closet upstairs." He headed across the floor.
"Wait! We can't just up and drive to the desert!" Haylee sprang to her feet too.
"Sure we can. I'll get us there in 16 hours, tops." He turned up the stairs.
"Peter!" Haylee called, looking around at Marc and I for backup. Marc shrugged heavily, his eyes bright with the anticipation of answers, or at the very least of getting out of the house.
"Don't argue with me, Hal," Peter said with a smile, "I might make it rain." He sprang up the stairs leaving Haylee with a frustrated look on her face.
"Well," she finally said, looking at Marc and I, "you'll both stay here where it's safe and Peter and I will come back as soon as we can."
"No chance," Marc said, folding his arms across his chest in a very Peter-like gesture.
"We were all there in the dream, Haylee," I said, "we're all supposed to be there."
"Yeah," Marc added, meeting my eyes with a blazing look, full of meaning, "what have we got to lose?" I was overcome again with the sense that I no longer knew the subject of the conversation at hand. Sweat prickled on my neck. His eyebrows pulled together as we stared at one another and he finally dropped his arms to his sides and looked at the floor.
"Marc..." I began, not sure of what to say but desperate to say something.
"I'm going to the store on the street over to get us some food for the road," he walked to the door without looking at anyone, "I don't think they'll miss much. I'll be back in twenty minutes." He shut the door and was gone. I stood frozen, staring after him.
"Damn, Dakota," Peter called from the top of the stairs, "what did you do to him?"
Ten minutes later, I sat on a stool in the pantry while Haylee made grilled cheese sandwiches. She was cutting mold off of the crusts and I had just finished telling her, with much blushing, what had happened at the kitchen table. I would never have had the nerve to tell her, but I thought that it was best if someone knew the whole story in case it would help us figure out what was happening.
"So," Haylee said as she lit the fire under the burner, "you were trying to kiss him."
"No," I mumbled, ignoring the fresh rush of blood to my face, "I... it... we... he was just so close to my face!" Haylee smiled but there was no judgment in her look.
"So you were trying to... get closer to his face?" She smiled wider.
"I... don't... he smells very good," I finished lamely. She laughed. "Don't laugh at me, I'm losing my mind," I pouted.
"He made a table disappear and you think you are the crazy one."
"Clearly I am since I'm trying to kiss strangers."
"Dakota," she said, searing me with her best mothering look, "you deserve to be happy. You have a strange connection to each other. We all grieved with him and loved him before we even got here and he seems to have persevered through his sadness and taken strength in his visions of you coming to save him. Naturally, you would be drawn to each other. In the pain and confusion that you both have known so recently, how could it possibly be wrong to seek comfort together? And besides," she smiled and turned back to the stove, "he is gorgeous, isn't he?"
"Haylee," I groaned, covering my face. The front door slammed and I felt my heart flutter into my stomach.
"Marc," Haylee called, "come and get a sandwich!" A floorboard creaked upstairs but it was silent in the living room.
"Marc?" Haylee called again, louder.
Haylee turned away from the stove to face the direction of the living room. Unable to see into the space from the pantry, I watched as her face drained to a ghostly white and her eyes widened in fear. "Dakota," she whispered from the corner of her mouth, "shut the door." I sprang to my feet and peered around the frame. Standing a few yards away, with one hand resting gently on the back of a chair, the shadow woman from the highway stood with her red eyes locked on Haylee. The sunlight from the windows drifted through her body, causing her to shimmer and blur as I stared. A small smile played across her lips.
"Haylee," I whispered, my voice choked, "come into the pantry and we'll block the door."
"She'll come after both of us," she shook her head. "Close the door, Dakota."
"I'm not leaving you out there," I said firmly though my knees were shaking.
"Close the door, Dakota," she repeated. I was frozen where I was watching, one foot planted on the floor of the pantry and one foot out, facing the kitchen and the living room beyond.
The woman tightened her hand slightly on the back of the chair she was touching, shattering it to pieces. A moment later she held a sharp spear of wood like a dagger, it's jagged point seeming to draw the air out of the room. She took a step toward Haylee who shut her eyes. Smoke began to rise from the burning grilled cheese. I prepared myself to reach out and pull Haylee into the pantry with me. I took a deep, ragged breath. A crash rang out from the living room and Haylee's eyes flew open. We both watched as Peter sprint into view, swinging his baseball bat inches in front of the woman's gleaming eyes.
"Peter, NO!" Haylee screamed.
"Haylee, GET OUT OF HERE!" He brought the bat down onto the woman's head. It paused there for a moment and then sank right through her misted form. She moved like lightning, still smiling, and slit a hole in Peter's shirt along his shoulder. Blood ran freely from the wound. Haylee screamed and Peter swung the bat uselessly through the woman again and again as she danced away from him. She reached out and wrenched the bat from his hands, throwing it uselessly to the floor. She stepped forward and lifted Peter from his feet with one hand clamped around his neck.
"LET HIM GO!" Haylee bellowed, her voice shaking with emotion. The woman paused and turned to look at Haylee, amusement coloring her face. Peter choked and gasped.
"Let him go," she repeated in a hard voice. A flicker of movement behind her back dragged my eyes away. The fire under the burner was climbing higher and higher over the pan, flames lapping at the air. She took a shuttered breath. Peter kicked his legs viciously and then fell still. Haylee began to tremble. The fire condensed into one small flame, the size of a fist, and lifted itself into the air. It hovered above the stove for a moment and then floated neatly around Haylee's body until it came to rest just inches in front of her heart. Her hair danced away from the heat as the ball of fire began to grow, reflecting wildly in her blazing eyes. The woman simply smiled and lifted Peter higher into the air.
"LET HIM GO!!!" Haylee screamed. A sudden flash of light and heat filled the air. The fire expanded everywhere, shooting forward and to the sides. I raised my arm to cover my face and felt heat sear across the back of my hand. A high scream filled the air and then it was silent. I let my hand fall to my side, coughing in the smoke. I opened my eyes.
Every surface of the kitchen was black. The chairs were singed and a dishtowel hanging next to the sink was still smoldering. Smoke billowed through the open window and the sunlight struggled to break through the swirling clouds of black. I stepped out into the kitchen slowly. There was no sign of the woman but my eyes were dragged across the room to Peter laying unconscious in Haylee's arms on the floor. I slumped forward and dropped to my knees.
"He's alright, he's alright" she whispered desperately, and moments later his eyelids lifted slowly. Haylee choked a sob and buried her face in his chest. He held her close with his uninjured arm and met my gaze with a thin smile. I pushed a piece of singed hair from his forehead. He looked around, taking in the destruction of the room.
"Who lit the bitch on fire?" he asked in a hoarse voice.
"That would be your sister," I said, returning his smile, "and you'll never guess how she did it."
"Way to go, little freak," he patted her on the back and she sobbed harder.
We had just pulled Peter to his feet with the intention of getting him to the sofa when the front door banged open and Marc rushed in with fear etched on every line of his face. He froze in the doorway. His eyes flashed from the smoking kitchen, to Haylee's tearstained face, to Peter's bleeding shoulder, to my eyes on his. Finally, he rushed forward and pulled me roughly into his arms.
"Are you alright?" he whispered desperately into my ear. I nodded and he pressed his face against my hair for a moment and then broke away, turning toward Peter and Haylee.
"I saw her running from the house and noticed the smoke," he whispered, staring at the two of them, "I am..." he swallowed hard, "so sorry. She came after you because I was gone and I should never have left you all alone. I'm so sorry. Please forgive me."
"Stop it," Haylee said, and wrapped her arms around him.
"You are my family now," he whispered, almost silently, his eyes closed tightly.
"We love you too, Marc," Peter said, lowering himself onto the couch, "but I have some HUGE splinters poking through my skin here, and I think I may need a band aid." We all laughed except for Haylee, who burst into tears again and hurried to see to Peter's shoulder.
We ate the rest of the cereal in the living room. Peter and Haylee crunched loudly in the silence, watching Marc in his usual place leaning against the doorframe, staring at me with concerned and troubled eyes. No one said anything. I kept my gaze on my feet, absentmindedly kicked a few soggy pieces of cereal that had fallen from my hair. I heard the sound of Marc rubbing his palms against his stubble. Suddenly, Peter slammed his cereal bowl down onto the coffee table and jumped to his feet.
"Is anyone going to talk about what the hell is going on here?" he shouted. Marc shifted his feet uncomfortably. None of us spoke and the silence stretched on. "Fine!" Peter shouted again, plopping down onto the couch and folding his arms stubbornly across his chest. "But just for the record: I'm happy this happened. I'm glad I'm not the only freak."
"What?" Marc asked, turning to look at Peter.
"No offense, man, but you did just vaporize a table."
"You can do it, too?" Marc's face was bewildered but somehow also relieved.
"Not make stuff disappear, no, but... other stuff." He trailed off.
"Like what?" his face was eager now.
"A few days ago... before we came here... I sort of... made water move... with my mind," Peter stared at his hands while he spoke.
"Made it move?" Marc asked, "I don't understand."
"We were arguing about coming here," Peter shifted his gaze to the ceiling guiltily as Haylee spoke, "and Peter lost his temper. Then some water in a glass on the table just lifted into the air and swirled around."
"Are you sure it wasn't you?" Marc asked Haylee.
"Yes," they both said at the same time. Peter continued, "It's like I felt it happen, in my head. I saw what was going on and it just clicked that I had caused it. It was almost like I could all of a sudden..."
"Think clearly?" Marc suggested. Peter nodded, both boys looked at each other with bright eyes.
"So that's what the dream was about," Marc finally continued, "you and all the water."
"Are we all having the same dreams again?" Haylee asked, each one of us nodded in turn.
"So what did you do to piss him off in the kitchen, Dakota?" Peter asked, "Did you stab him with a spoon or something?" Marc looked at the floor.
"She didn't piss me off," he muttered.
"What happened?" Haylee asked.
"Dakota..." Marc began, I could feel heat rising in my face. "She... knocked me over with her chair."
"I didn't mean to," I whispered, unable to make much more noise.
"You didn't?" Marc asked, his eyes burning into mine, his eyebrows pulled together in a worried and hurt expression. I was suddenly unsure of what exactly we were talking about. My head swam.
"I..." But I couldn't think of what else to say. He looked back to the floor.
"So you fell into the table and it just... vanished?" Peter asked, his eyes wide.
"Yes," Marc finished.
"Have you done this before?" Haylee asked.
"Once or twice, before you came." We were silent again.
"Well," Peter said finally, standing, "that settles it then."
"Settles what?" I asked, feeling very slow today.
"We've got to go to the desert."
"What?" Haylee and Marc asked in unison.
"The first dream meant for us to come here, and now this one means that we have to go there. We're supposed to go and figure this out, I just know it. I'll get some clothes together. I saw a map in the closet upstairs." He headed across the floor.
"Wait! We can't just up and drive to the desert!" Haylee sprang to her feet too.
"Sure we can. I'll get us there in 16 hours, tops." He turned up the stairs.
"Peter!" Haylee called, looking around at Marc and I for backup. Marc shrugged heavily, his eyes bright with the anticipation of answers, or at the very least of getting out of the house.
"Don't argue with me, Hal," Peter said with a smile, "I might make it rain." He sprang up the stairs leaving Haylee with a frustrated look on her face.
"Well," she finally said, looking at Marc and I, "you'll both stay here where it's safe and Peter and I will come back as soon as we can."
"No chance," Marc said, folding his arms across his chest in a very Peter-like gesture.
"We were all there in the dream, Haylee," I said, "we're all supposed to be there."
"Yeah," Marc added, meeting my eyes with a blazing look, full of meaning, "what have we got to lose?" I was overcome again with the sense that I no longer knew the subject of the conversation at hand. Sweat prickled on my neck. His eyebrows pulled together as we stared at one another and he finally dropped his arms to his sides and looked at the floor.
"Marc..." I began, not sure of what to say but desperate to say something.
"I'm going to the store on the street over to get us some food for the road," he walked to the door without looking at anyone, "I don't think they'll miss much. I'll be back in twenty minutes." He shut the door and was gone. I stood frozen, staring after him.
"Damn, Dakota," Peter called from the top of the stairs, "what did you do to him?"
Ten minutes later, I sat on a stool in the pantry while Haylee made grilled cheese sandwiches. She was cutting mold off of the crusts and I had just finished telling her, with much blushing, what had happened at the kitchen table. I would never have had the nerve to tell her, but I thought that it was best if someone knew the whole story in case it would help us figure out what was happening.
"So," Haylee said as she lit the fire under the burner, "you were trying to kiss him."
"No," I mumbled, ignoring the fresh rush of blood to my face, "I... it... we... he was just so close to my face!" Haylee smiled but there was no judgment in her look.
"So you were trying to... get closer to his face?" She smiled wider.
"I... don't... he smells very good," I finished lamely. She laughed. "Don't laugh at me, I'm losing my mind," I pouted.
"He made a table disappear and you think you are the crazy one."
"Clearly I am since I'm trying to kiss strangers."
"Dakota," she said, searing me with her best mothering look, "you deserve to be happy. You have a strange connection to each other. We all grieved with him and loved him before we even got here and he seems to have persevered through his sadness and taken strength in his visions of you coming to save him. Naturally, you would be drawn to each other. In the pain and confusion that you both have known so recently, how could it possibly be wrong to seek comfort together? And besides," she smiled and turned back to the stove, "he is gorgeous, isn't he?"
"Haylee," I groaned, covering my face. The front door slammed and I felt my heart flutter into my stomach.
"Marc," Haylee called, "come and get a sandwich!" A floorboard creaked upstairs but it was silent in the living room.
"Marc?" Haylee called again, louder.
Haylee turned away from the stove to face the direction of the living room. Unable to see into the space from the pantry, I watched as her face drained to a ghostly white and her eyes widened in fear. "Dakota," she whispered from the corner of her mouth, "shut the door." I sprang to my feet and peered around the frame. Standing a few yards away, with one hand resting gently on the back of a chair, the shadow woman from the highway stood with her red eyes locked on Haylee. The sunlight from the windows drifted through her body, causing her to shimmer and blur as I stared. A small smile played across her lips.
"Haylee," I whispered, my voice choked, "come into the pantry and we'll block the door."
"She'll come after both of us," she shook her head. "Close the door, Dakota."
"I'm not leaving you out there," I said firmly though my knees were shaking.
"Close the door, Dakota," she repeated. I was frozen where I was watching, one foot planted on the floor of the pantry and one foot out, facing the kitchen and the living room beyond.
The woman tightened her hand slightly on the back of the chair she was touching, shattering it to pieces. A moment later she held a sharp spear of wood like a dagger, it's jagged point seeming to draw the air out of the room. She took a step toward Haylee who shut her eyes. Smoke began to rise from the burning grilled cheese. I prepared myself to reach out and pull Haylee into the pantry with me. I took a deep, ragged breath. A crash rang out from the living room and Haylee's eyes flew open. We both watched as Peter sprint into view, swinging his baseball bat inches in front of the woman's gleaming eyes.
"Peter, NO!" Haylee screamed.
"Haylee, GET OUT OF HERE!" He brought the bat down onto the woman's head. It paused there for a moment and then sank right through her misted form. She moved like lightning, still smiling, and slit a hole in Peter's shirt along his shoulder. Blood ran freely from the wound. Haylee screamed and Peter swung the bat uselessly through the woman again and again as she danced away from him. She reached out and wrenched the bat from his hands, throwing it uselessly to the floor. She stepped forward and lifted Peter from his feet with one hand clamped around his neck.
"LET HIM GO!" Haylee bellowed, her voice shaking with emotion. The woman paused and turned to look at Haylee, amusement coloring her face. Peter choked and gasped.
"Let him go," she repeated in a hard voice. A flicker of movement behind her back dragged my eyes away. The fire under the burner was climbing higher and higher over the pan, flames lapping at the air. She took a shuttered breath. Peter kicked his legs viciously and then fell still. Haylee began to tremble. The fire condensed into one small flame, the size of a fist, and lifted itself into the air. It hovered above the stove for a moment and then floated neatly around Haylee's body until it came to rest just inches in front of her heart. Her hair danced away from the heat as the ball of fire began to grow, reflecting wildly in her blazing eyes. The woman simply smiled and lifted Peter higher into the air.
"LET HIM GO!!!" Haylee screamed. A sudden flash of light and heat filled the air. The fire expanded everywhere, shooting forward and to the sides. I raised my arm to cover my face and felt heat sear across the back of my hand. A high scream filled the air and then it was silent. I let my hand fall to my side, coughing in the smoke. I opened my eyes.
Every surface of the kitchen was black. The chairs were singed and a dishtowel hanging next to the sink was still smoldering. Smoke billowed through the open window and the sunlight struggled to break through the swirling clouds of black. I stepped out into the kitchen slowly. There was no sign of the woman but my eyes were dragged across the room to Peter laying unconscious in Haylee's arms on the floor. I slumped forward and dropped to my knees.
"He's alright, he's alright" she whispered desperately, and moments later his eyelids lifted slowly. Haylee choked a sob and buried her face in his chest. He held her close with his uninjured arm and met my gaze with a thin smile. I pushed a piece of singed hair from his forehead. He looked around, taking in the destruction of the room.
"Who lit the bitch on fire?" he asked in a hoarse voice.
"That would be your sister," I said, returning his smile, "and you'll never guess how she did it."
"Way to go, little freak," he patted her on the back and she sobbed harder.
We had just pulled Peter to his feet with the intention of getting him to the sofa when the front door banged open and Marc rushed in with fear etched on every line of his face. He froze in the doorway. His eyes flashed from the smoking kitchen, to Haylee's tearstained face, to Peter's bleeding shoulder, to my eyes on his. Finally, he rushed forward and pulled me roughly into his arms.
"Are you alright?" he whispered desperately into my ear. I nodded and he pressed his face against my hair for a moment and then broke away, turning toward Peter and Haylee.
"I saw her running from the house and noticed the smoke," he whispered, staring at the two of them, "I am..." he swallowed hard, "so sorry. She came after you because I was gone and I should never have left you all alone. I'm so sorry. Please forgive me."
"Stop it," Haylee said, and wrapped her arms around him.
"You are my family now," he whispered, almost silently, his eyes closed tightly.
"We love you too, Marc," Peter said, lowering himself onto the couch, "but I have some HUGE splinters poking through my skin here, and I think I may need a band aid." We all laughed except for Haylee, who burst into tears again and hurried to see to Peter's shoulder.
Monday, July 28, 2008
breakfast of champions
this scene comes about a day or two after they arrive at Marc’s house. a lot of introductory conversation occurs in between, but i decided to skip most of it and move on to this scene. Peter makes himself at home knowing that the shadow people can’t come near them, Haylee immediately starts mothering the worn out Marc, and Dakota attempts to ignore their awkward tension. that, however, can only last so long, as you will see from this scene. what you need to know: the reference to Marc’s scent comes from a previous scene where Dakota sleeps on his pillow and finds herself comforted by his smell (grass and strawberries). enjoy!
As soon as I was asleep, we dreamed.
The light reflecting off the sand was blinding. We were walking in a desert. Though I had never been here before, somehow I knew that we were in the northern tip of the Mojave. I couldn't see any of the others, but I could feel them beside me. The heat was sweltering, sweat rolled down the small of my back and I could see heat waves rising from the ground everywhere. I stopped walking, panting with the effort of breathing in the thick, hot air. I couldn't go forward, I couldn't take another breath. I had to sit down, I needed water and cool air in my lungs. I was going to die in this suffocating air, I was going to choke on the heat waves and drown. Suddenly, the sand darkened. Unbelievably, I heard a peel of thunder and raised my head to feel the first big drops of rain falling against my face. I breathed in the cooling air and looked into the distance. Over the rise of a sand dune, Peter stood with his arms lifted in the air as if in worship. He tilted his head up to the rain and laughed, the water swirling around him and obscuring him in a funnel of crystals. We laughed too, and filled our lungs with the fresh, cold air of his storm.
I awoke with a start, the gray dawn light creeping across the living room carpet. I rose from the couch, stretching my muscles. The joyful face of Peter laughing as rain swirled around him filled my mind. I felt uneasy but also extremely hungry, so I made my way into the little kitchen to see what food was left to eat. If nothing else, I could think over the dream while I ate. I went straight to the fridge and pulled a half empty box of cereal from the counter. The milk was only one day past its sell by date, so I figured it would still be safe. I grabbed a ceramic bowl from the sink and turned toward the table. Peter was sitting in a chair in the shadows, staring at a glass of water. I gasped and dropped my bowl, which broke into two neat pieces on the floor. The air rushed from my lungs in a groan and I clutched my heart. Peter raised his head and observed me with distracted eyes.
"Wow, Pete, thanks so much," I said, tossing the bowl pieces into the trash and taking a new one, "I love a nice heart attack in the morning." I sat down across from him and poured some cereal.
"Did you see me, Dakota?" he whispered with a gleam in his eyes, "It was incredible, wasn't it? All that water..." he trailed off, looking back at the glass.
"What do you think it means?" I asked despite the unease in my stomach.
"It means we have to go there. To the desert. If we go there, I'll be able to figure out why I can do this and what it is." There was no doubt in his voice.
"What if it's just..." I swallowed, not wanting to upset him, "I mean... what if it's like you said before? Just a side effect of whatever has happened?" He shook his head, unwavering.
"It's not like that. It feels... different. Deliberate. I don't know," he lowered his voice and leaned toward me, "I think Marc can do something, too. I think there's something he's not telling us." A floorboard creaked upstairs and Peter looked suddenly excited. "Haylee!" he cried and jumped from the table.
I poured milk into the bowl slowly, thinking through the images from the dream and what Peter had said. I looked down into my cereal and realized that I had forgotten a spoon. “Great,“ I sighed. I stood, pushing my chair out and turning around. I saw Marc approaching from behind me one second too late. "Good morn- OW!" I pushed my chair right into his shins. He fell forward, knocking me into the table and pinning the small of my back against it. He put his hands flat against the tabletop on either side of me, steadying himself. His face was inches from mine, his body heavy against my chest, my head swam with the scent of grass and strawberries. We stared at each other for a long moment, breathing heavily. "Marc?" I whispered. His eyes burned into mine, "Yes?" he breathed back, his breath warm on my cheek, his hands tightening on the edge of the table. I closed my eyes and leaned my face toward his. Suddenly, the floor slid beneath me. My back hit the tile, knocking the breath out of me, and I felt ceramic crunch against my right shoulder. I sat up slowly, squinting against the pain. Marc stared down at me with wide, terrified eyes. The cereal was splattered across the floor and chairs, my broken bowl laying in pieces. We stared at each other across the now empty space where the table had stood only seconds before. Predictably, Peter arrived seconds later, looking for the source of the noise, Haylee following behind him. They stopped in the doorway, looking around the room and between Marc and I.
"Marc?" Haylee asked hesitantly, "what happened to the table?" We continued to stare at each other.
"He... vanished it," I choked in a whisper.
"That," Peter said after a moment, "is awesome."
As soon as I was asleep, we dreamed.
The light reflecting off the sand was blinding. We were walking in a desert. Though I had never been here before, somehow I knew that we were in the northern tip of the Mojave. I couldn't see any of the others, but I could feel them beside me. The heat was sweltering, sweat rolled down the small of my back and I could see heat waves rising from the ground everywhere. I stopped walking, panting with the effort of breathing in the thick, hot air. I couldn't go forward, I couldn't take another breath. I had to sit down, I needed water and cool air in my lungs. I was going to die in this suffocating air, I was going to choke on the heat waves and drown. Suddenly, the sand darkened. Unbelievably, I heard a peel of thunder and raised my head to feel the first big drops of rain falling against my face. I breathed in the cooling air and looked into the distance. Over the rise of a sand dune, Peter stood with his arms lifted in the air as if in worship. He tilted his head up to the rain and laughed, the water swirling around him and obscuring him in a funnel of crystals. We laughed too, and filled our lungs with the fresh, cold air of his storm.
I awoke with a start, the gray dawn light creeping across the living room carpet. I rose from the couch, stretching my muscles. The joyful face of Peter laughing as rain swirled around him filled my mind. I felt uneasy but also extremely hungry, so I made my way into the little kitchen to see what food was left to eat. If nothing else, I could think over the dream while I ate. I went straight to the fridge and pulled a half empty box of cereal from the counter. The milk was only one day past its sell by date, so I figured it would still be safe. I grabbed a ceramic bowl from the sink and turned toward the table. Peter was sitting in a chair in the shadows, staring at a glass of water. I gasped and dropped my bowl, which broke into two neat pieces on the floor. The air rushed from my lungs in a groan and I clutched my heart. Peter raised his head and observed me with distracted eyes.
"Wow, Pete, thanks so much," I said, tossing the bowl pieces into the trash and taking a new one, "I love a nice heart attack in the morning." I sat down across from him and poured some cereal.
"Did you see me, Dakota?" he whispered with a gleam in his eyes, "It was incredible, wasn't it? All that water..." he trailed off, looking back at the glass.
"What do you think it means?" I asked despite the unease in my stomach.
"It means we have to go there. To the desert. If we go there, I'll be able to figure out why I can do this and what it is." There was no doubt in his voice.
"What if it's just..." I swallowed, not wanting to upset him, "I mean... what if it's like you said before? Just a side effect of whatever has happened?" He shook his head, unwavering.
"It's not like that. It feels... different. Deliberate. I don't know," he lowered his voice and leaned toward me, "I think Marc can do something, too. I think there's something he's not telling us." A floorboard creaked upstairs and Peter looked suddenly excited. "Haylee!" he cried and jumped from the table.
I poured milk into the bowl slowly, thinking through the images from the dream and what Peter had said. I looked down into my cereal and realized that I had forgotten a spoon. “Great,“ I sighed. I stood, pushing my chair out and turning around. I saw Marc approaching from behind me one second too late. "Good morn- OW!" I pushed my chair right into his shins. He fell forward, knocking me into the table and pinning the small of my back against it. He put his hands flat against the tabletop on either side of me, steadying himself. His face was inches from mine, his body heavy against my chest, my head swam with the scent of grass and strawberries. We stared at each other for a long moment, breathing heavily. "Marc?" I whispered. His eyes burned into mine, "Yes?" he breathed back, his breath warm on my cheek, his hands tightening on the edge of the table. I closed my eyes and leaned my face toward his. Suddenly, the floor slid beneath me. My back hit the tile, knocking the breath out of me, and I felt ceramic crunch against my right shoulder. I sat up slowly, squinting against the pain. Marc stared down at me with wide, terrified eyes. The cereal was splattered across the floor and chairs, my broken bowl laying in pieces. We stared at each other across the now empty space where the table had stood only seconds before. Predictably, Peter arrived seconds later, looking for the source of the noise, Haylee following behind him. They stopped in the doorway, looking around the room and between Marc and I.
"Marc?" Haylee asked hesitantly, "what happened to the table?" We continued to stare at each other.
"He... vanished it," I choked in a whisper.
"That," Peter said after a moment, "is awesome."
Friday, July 25, 2008
dreams of Dakota
this scene comes after the group decides to go searching for the blonde boy. Peter grumbles quite a bit but is ultimately unable to sway Haylee's determination. they pack up and hit the road. the city is devastated and it takes several hours for them to crawl through the ruins. it is as they are driving that this scene begins. enjoy!
It took nearly an hour to reach the highway, but once we arrived we moved more quickly through the wide, abandoned lanes. After what felt like a very long time, I saw the outline of a tall water tower in the distance to the right. "There," I whispered, pointing Peter in the right direction. At the next exit, he put his turn signal on out of habit and I nearly laughed aloud at the simplicity of it.
Suddenly, he slammed on the breaks. "Shit!" he shouted into the rearview mirror before pounding his foot against the accelerator again, sending the car squealing down the exit ramp. Haylee and I turned our heads sharply to stare out the back window. A hundred yards behind us, the figure of a woman stood in the street watching with blank red eyes as our car sped away. As we rounded the corner at the end of the ramp, she began to sprint after us. "No, no, no," Peter chanted desperately as the car flew down the narrow road. I tore my eyes away to glance up front again and saw another street curve off to the left ahead of us. I could just make out the top of a yellow house with white shutters in the distance. "That's it!" I cried to Peter, he ground the gas pedal to the floor and raced toward the curve. I whipped my head behind us again. Unbelievably, the woman was standing just a few feet from the back of the car, easily keeping pace with our deadly speed. She seemed to smile as she quickly closed the gap. Haylee started screaming as the woman reached one long arm out and dug her nails into the trunk. A deafening screeching echoed in the air as her nails left deep gashes in the paint. I slid across the seat as Peter raced around the curve. He had only gone a few yards before Haylee shouted, "Stop! STOP!" He braked and we all turned to face the back window. The woman was still on the main road where the curve began, pacing back and forth across the cement, staring at the car. "She can't come any closer," Peter whispered in awe. We watched her for another long moment, breathing hard, and then she turned back toward the highway and disappeared. We waited for nearly ten minutes, the silence pressing painfully against our ears, our eyes darting in all directions for any hint of movement. "Come on," Haylee said quietly, turning to face the front, "we're almost there."
We drove slowly down the long road toward the yellow house that stood alone at the end. As we drew nearer we could make out a figure kneeling at the foot of a mound of fresh dirt, his blonde hair reflecting the light of the sinking sun. We climbed out of the car and walked slowly across the yard toward him. As we reached the front porch, Peter hung back. Haylee looked at him with questioning eyes. "Maybe I'd better wait here," he whispered in answer, "in case I turn him into ice or something." Haylee rolled her eyes but the two of us continued forward, waiting for the boy to turn and notice us.
We stopped a few feet behind him. After another moment of silence, Haylee coughed quietly. He jumped into the air and spun toward us, scrambling away across the dirt. He stared at me with surprise thick in his wide, blue eyes. We stood frozen this way for a long time; my hands trembling and my heart pounding in my throat, his fists pushed into the dirt and his sharp jaw clenching. This close, he didn't look so boyish anymore. The wires of his muscles trembled under his tan skin and I noticed that he had deep lines of worry etched into his forehead. I was overcome once more with the sting of borrowed grief as we continued to stare at one another over the edge of his father's grave.
He slowly climbed to his feet. He took several deep breaths and strode forward, closing the space between us and coming to stand directly in front of me. "Dakota," he whispered, his eyes burning into mine. A chill shivered down my spine and without thinking, I raised my trembling hand and laid it against his cheek. He closed his eyes at my touch and lifted his hand to cover mine. His skin was rough and warm against the back of my hand. With his eyes still closed, he almost smiled. "Dakota," he whispered again, "you are just like I dreamed."
* * *
The four of us stared awkwardly at each other in the little sitting room, surrounded by faded flower patterns and tiny china figurines. Peter and Haylee sat on the couch staring at our new blonde addition, Haylee with pure mothering sympathy in her eyes, Peter with one eyebrow raised in cold curiosity. The boy stared intently at me, rubbing the heel of his hand roughly against the blonde stubble that shadowed his jaw. He leaned against a doorframe that led into a bright kitchen and I stood at an armchair near the door. After several minutes, Peter spoke in a hard voice.
"Why don't you have anything boarded up against those things out there?" The boy was startled out of his concentration and dropped his eyes to the floor.
"They don't come near me," he replied with a shrug. More silence followed.
"So, why were you trying to off yourself, anyway?" Peter asked. Haylee gasped and smacked her brother hard in the back of his head. The blonde stared at him with wide eyes for a moment before dropping his gaze to the floor again, the tips of his ears red.
"I didn't know you were coming," he whispered, shooting a brief glance at me, "I thought... I thought it was just me."
"Like I Am Legend?" Peter asked seriously. I suppressed the urge to laugh. Surprisingly, the blonde boy did. His chuckle was low and hard, it sounded like sandpaper grating against wood.
"Except I don't even have a dog," he said with a grim smile.
"Can you do any freaky stuff, like with your mind?" Peter asked in a rush.
"Alright, alright, that's enough questions for now," Haylee said, standing from the couch, "I think we should all try and get some rest."
"I'll help you carry your bags to the bedrooms," the boy said and moved toward the backpacks at the front door. He had only taken a few steps when Haylee rushed over to him and wrapped her thin arms around his neck. He froze for a moment, startled, and then patted her back with a tiny, hard smile on his face. She took his face in her hands and stared into his eyes for a long time. Finally, she kissed his forehead and whispered into his ear. It was too low for me to hear, but when she pulled away he rubbed the back of his hand under his eyes quickly. Haylee grabbed a bag and headed up the stairs. Peter stood from the couch and the two men stared at each other for a long moment. For one fleeting second, I thought that Peter might hit him.
"What's your name, kid?" Peter asked.
"I'm Marc," the blonde said. After a minute, Peter squeezed the boy's shoulder, nodded once, and carried the other bags upstairs.
It took nearly an hour to reach the highway, but once we arrived we moved more quickly through the wide, abandoned lanes. After what felt like a very long time, I saw the outline of a tall water tower in the distance to the right. "There," I whispered, pointing Peter in the right direction. At the next exit, he put his turn signal on out of habit and I nearly laughed aloud at the simplicity of it.
Suddenly, he slammed on the breaks. "Shit!" he shouted into the rearview mirror before pounding his foot against the accelerator again, sending the car squealing down the exit ramp. Haylee and I turned our heads sharply to stare out the back window. A hundred yards behind us, the figure of a woman stood in the street watching with blank red eyes as our car sped away. As we rounded the corner at the end of the ramp, she began to sprint after us. "No, no, no," Peter chanted desperately as the car flew down the narrow road. I tore my eyes away to glance up front again and saw another street curve off to the left ahead of us. I could just make out the top of a yellow house with white shutters in the distance. "That's it!" I cried to Peter, he ground the gas pedal to the floor and raced toward the curve. I whipped my head behind us again. Unbelievably, the woman was standing just a few feet from the back of the car, easily keeping pace with our deadly speed. She seemed to smile as she quickly closed the gap. Haylee started screaming as the woman reached one long arm out and dug her nails into the trunk. A deafening screeching echoed in the air as her nails left deep gashes in the paint. I slid across the seat as Peter raced around the curve. He had only gone a few yards before Haylee shouted, "Stop! STOP!" He braked and we all turned to face the back window. The woman was still on the main road where the curve began, pacing back and forth across the cement, staring at the car. "She can't come any closer," Peter whispered in awe. We watched her for another long moment, breathing hard, and then she turned back toward the highway and disappeared. We waited for nearly ten minutes, the silence pressing painfully against our ears, our eyes darting in all directions for any hint of movement. "Come on," Haylee said quietly, turning to face the front, "we're almost there."
We drove slowly down the long road toward the yellow house that stood alone at the end. As we drew nearer we could make out a figure kneeling at the foot of a mound of fresh dirt, his blonde hair reflecting the light of the sinking sun. We climbed out of the car and walked slowly across the yard toward him. As we reached the front porch, Peter hung back. Haylee looked at him with questioning eyes. "Maybe I'd better wait here," he whispered in answer, "in case I turn him into ice or something." Haylee rolled her eyes but the two of us continued forward, waiting for the boy to turn and notice us.
We stopped a few feet behind him. After another moment of silence, Haylee coughed quietly. He jumped into the air and spun toward us, scrambling away across the dirt. He stared at me with surprise thick in his wide, blue eyes. We stood frozen this way for a long time; my hands trembling and my heart pounding in my throat, his fists pushed into the dirt and his sharp jaw clenching. This close, he didn't look so boyish anymore. The wires of his muscles trembled under his tan skin and I noticed that he had deep lines of worry etched into his forehead. I was overcome once more with the sting of borrowed grief as we continued to stare at one another over the edge of his father's grave.
He slowly climbed to his feet. He took several deep breaths and strode forward, closing the space between us and coming to stand directly in front of me. "Dakota," he whispered, his eyes burning into mine. A chill shivered down my spine and without thinking, I raised my trembling hand and laid it against his cheek. He closed his eyes at my touch and lifted his hand to cover mine. His skin was rough and warm against the back of my hand. With his eyes still closed, he almost smiled. "Dakota," he whispered again, "you are just like I dreamed."
* * *
The four of us stared awkwardly at each other in the little sitting room, surrounded by faded flower patterns and tiny china figurines. Peter and Haylee sat on the couch staring at our new blonde addition, Haylee with pure mothering sympathy in her eyes, Peter with one eyebrow raised in cold curiosity. The boy stared intently at me, rubbing the heel of his hand roughly against the blonde stubble that shadowed his jaw. He leaned against a doorframe that led into a bright kitchen and I stood at an armchair near the door. After several minutes, Peter spoke in a hard voice.
"Why don't you have anything boarded up against those things out there?" The boy was startled out of his concentration and dropped his eyes to the floor.
"They don't come near me," he replied with a shrug. More silence followed.
"So, why were you trying to off yourself, anyway?" Peter asked. Haylee gasped and smacked her brother hard in the back of his head. The blonde stared at him with wide eyes for a moment before dropping his gaze to the floor again, the tips of his ears red.
"I didn't know you were coming," he whispered, shooting a brief glance at me, "I thought... I thought it was just me."
"Like I Am Legend?" Peter asked seriously. I suppressed the urge to laugh. Surprisingly, the blonde boy did. His chuckle was low and hard, it sounded like sandpaper grating against wood.
"Except I don't even have a dog," he said with a grim smile.
"Can you do any freaky stuff, like with your mind?" Peter asked in a rush.
"Alright, alright, that's enough questions for now," Haylee said, standing from the couch, "I think we should all try and get some rest."
"I'll help you carry your bags to the bedrooms," the boy said and moved toward the backpacks at the front door. He had only taken a few steps when Haylee rushed over to him and wrapped her thin arms around his neck. He froze for a moment, startled, and then patted her back with a tiny, hard smile on his face. She took his face in her hands and stared into his eyes for a long time. Finally, she kissed his forehead and whispered into his ear. It was too low for me to hear, but when she pulled away he rubbed the back of his hand under his eyes quickly. Haylee grabbed a bag and headed up the stairs. Peter stood from the couch and the two men stared at each other for a long moment. For one fleeting second, I thought that Peter might hit him.
"What's your name, kid?" Peter asked.
"I'm Marc," the blonde said. After a minute, Peter squeezed the boy's shoulder, nodded once, and carried the other bags upstairs.
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