by Gillian Zane
The outside speaker that was affixed to the wall above the store's entrance crackled, and the mandatory broadcast television screens that were now a forced requirement for large chain stores sprang to life. They had been hastily affixed above the entrance doors with half-assed awnings to protect them from the rain.
“Attention, attention, shoppers. Mandatory masks and headgear are required to enter large retail stores.” With the White House press room as a back drop, the current health director gave the orders. “Current numbers now stand at two point three million hospitalized over the weekend, and one hundred thousand deaths today. Wear your masks and cover your hair and skin and stay home if possible. There is now a limitation on baby formula, one per customer and there has been a recall on Illy Peanut butter for e-coli. Thank you.” The screen clicked off; they were on auto display broadcasts now, coming on the moment there were announcements from the smart chips that were installed in every television and monitor made in the last three years. Luckily, they hadn’t required it for older televisions.
I had stopped to watch the announcement and did the math in my head. Almost one million dead in the last few days. And people were freaking out about being forced to wear masks. The activists seemed benign as we walked up. They were unmasked and held signs that said things like “Mandate a Cure” and “Don’t be Sheeple, Do Your Research.” All of them were in tank tops, the woman had their hair free flowing. The guy in the front in his tank top and super pale skin was a little sun burnt, his counterpart was much darker and looked to be holding up better. Doing this too long. I thought it was funny that the chick had a sign that read, “My body, my right.” Not anymore, chick, not anymore.
They made no catcalls to us as we entered, holding their signs in silent protest, which was a good thing because there had been a lot of news stories about fringe groups harassing customers as they entered, some of which led to violence. Hence, the terrorist label. Just their presence had made my anxiety shoot through the roof. I wasn’t big on confrontation. I could deal with it, but I didn’t like it.
“You pieces of shit, pieces of utter human trash.” A woman who stood in line waiting to get in screamed at the protestors as she got closer to them. They were on the other side of the line, actually maintaining their social distance. “Put masks on! You are spreading that filth to me as I stand here, and I have a baby! You are killing my baby!”
The group not wearing masks muttered, but they weren’t engaging with the woman. They ignored her, as she should have ignored them. But as she continued to scream, her mask fell onto her chin exposing her nose, which she didn't seem to mind. But then the screaming led to coughing, which in turn led the entire group of people at the front entrance of the store to get really, really nervous. Coughing. Nope. You don't cough in public.
The only ones that didn't get nervous were the leeches that pulled out their phones. They didn't even try to hide the fact that they were filming her, waiting for something ridiculous to go down.
Between coughs, the woman got nasty. When she called in question their virility, the two unmasked men, who now had their phones out as well and were certainly closer than six feet to the woman, screamed back insults, though, theirs weren’t as creative as hers, or I guess as explicit. At this point, she was just stringing together a plethora of explicit words that all referenced genitalia.
“Dicks, twats, assholes…”
An employee in charge of the line tried to calm her down from a good socially distanced area, but the woman was on a tirade. The guy behind her stepped closer to her, maybe he was trying to talk some sense into her, maybe he wanted to knock her out, who knows what his intention was, I just saw the final outcome. She went ballistic, swatting at him like he was a swarm of bees.
“Don’t touch me!” I didn’t think he wanted to touch her.
The majority of the people in line stared at the woman, unsure of what the hell they should be doing. When she called the unmasked man closest to her a racial slur, all hell broke loose. He stepped forward as if he wanted to hit her or something, and the woman rummaged around in her purse, pulling out pepper spray. She began firing it into the air in every direction except at the guy she thought was attacking her.
The noxious gas filled the air, and paired with the masks, people began to choke and gasp. Everyone was now coughing. She continued to spray in the general direction of the unmasked but was hitting the line of people waiting to get into the store along with an employee, and a security guard that joined the commotion. Now it was their turn to begin coughing and choking. The security guard tore his mask off and vomited on the ground a little too close for comfort for a woman who was just trying to purchase some groceries. That woman began screaming profanities. I had never been happier to be at the back of a line.
Zeke had quieted and was holding really still; the pepper spray luckily wasn’t reaching us at the end of the line, and I hoped if we just stood still and out of the way this would all disappear. I thought about trying to use my “voice” on the woman, but didn’t want to end up getting sprayed myself. I had accidentally gotten some of that stuff in my eye when a friend’s had leaked in the car, and I didn’t want a repeat of that particular adventure.
That’s when the woman started screaming hysterically, well, more hysterically than she was before. She sounded like she was in serious pain. Pair that with all the coughing and vomiting of the people in line, the screaming and taunts of the unmasked, the shouting of “please remain calm,” by the store employees, and I felt like I was in crazy town. I got on my tip-toes to see what was going on with the crazy lady, but the guy in front of me was as big as a house and blocked my view.
“What is going on?”
“The pepper spray busted out of the top of the canister and hit her in the face,” Zeke said, he was much taller than me and must have had a good view.
“Well, that was apropos,” I laughed, not happy the woman was hurt; she was just another scared person acting up. But she acted irrationally, and I was tired of the irrational running the show.
“Not really, I did it.” He said it low and under his breath so I questioned what I heard.
“What?”
“I did it. I could feel the pepper inside of the canister, locked in there, broken down to basically nothing, but it was there. I sped them up until the container couldn’t hold them anymore, and pop.”
A police car pulled up, and a cop jumped out, leaving his engine running. When I moved forward a bit to see, I saw him yank someone off the floor. The woman was put in the back of the police cruiser, sobbing and holding her eyes. She might want to think about her baby before she caused a scene like this again.
Employees of the store began walking the line and handing out wash cloths soaked in water. They had milk jugs, real milk jugs, in their hands in case anyone got the pepper spray in the eyes or face.
“We’re so sorry, go inside, we have water for you,” they whispered, handing off towels but trying to maintain a safe distance. “We have more milk inside for your eyes if you were affected.” I followed the line into the store, glancing at the sobbing woman as I walked in. She looked so scared. “Can I claim I got it in my eyes just to get a hold of one of those jugs? Haven't had fresh milk in about a year,” I sighed.
“We could try,” Zeke shrugged, but our eyes were clear and only tearing slightly. Didn't want to be greedy.
“Be easy on her, she’s only scared,” I told the police officer who stood there filling out paperwork with the store manager. They both looked up and nodded. I didn’t even have to try hard that time. We passed the protestors, and I thought they needed a bit of attention as well.
“Go home, you’re scaring people, and they don’t deserve that.” They all nodded and began packing up their belongings and moving on.
“Nice,” Zeke said as I flashed my membership card to the store guard who wasn’t even paying attention.
“Okay, explain what you did. Was it like the kudzu? That was a tangible
object, though, this was little pepper particles.” I pulled Zeke to the side the moment we were through the doors, right in the front area by customer service.
“It was the same. Watch, I’ll show you.” he looked around the store, concentrating for something. As if he found what he was looking for, he nodded and began dragging me to the opposite side of the counter. We stopped in front of a display case of flowers. Mostly cut, but there were small potted house plants around them in case you wanted something that would live.
“I can sense plant life; It's really obvious to me here, surrounded by a sea of concrete. I could sense every grass sprout pushing up from the cracks in the parking lot. And I could sense the pepper in that canister.”
“You can sense the pepper in the pepper spray, but there are plants in everything? How can you discern what is what? My shirt is cotton, can you make that react?” He looked at me and smiled.
“Like your voice causes people to act, I think I can cause any kind of plant life to react. But I don’t give spoken commands, it’s more like I will them. Look.” He picked up a potted house plant, it was an ivy. He concentrated on it and the vine began to move, wrapping around his arm and growing longer and longer.
“Okay, but the pepper, that’s a lot more complicated than this, right?” I touched the long vine.
“It’s harder to locate, but I can do it if I concentrate.” He pointed to a rack of clothing folded in a large cardboard box, and the shirts began to unravel. I picked up a shirt which was now nothing more than thread.
“So, I can mind control people, and you can control plant-life.” I said this in awe, thinking about the implications of both of us. “You’re like Uma Thurman in Batman, what was she called?”
“Poison Ivy, hottest villain in Batman,” he said with a laugh.
“Cat woman,” I frowned as I disagreed.
“Said by the woman who can control mammals,” he smirked.
“I wonder if I can control animals, hmmm.” I looked around, but no one had a dog or anything, not even a bird flying above caught in the rafters.
“I control plants, you control humans, this is something.” He looked contemplative.
“Definitely something.”
20
Having a thing for superhero flicks, I knew a lot about this particular part in the story. When Spiderman first wakes up to find himself with a six pack and can shoot webs out of his wrists, or Superman wakes up floating above his bed. Unfortunately, my gifts were not that amazing as Superman’s superhuman abilities, or Spiderman’s acrobatics, but it was better than just being normal Zeke. And using the powers gave me a rush I had never experienced before. Probably what it felt like to get high, but I was never into that kind of stuff.
Miley discovered she could control mammals, much like I could control the plants. She couldn’t control insects or reptiles, but most of the warm-blooded creatures that roamed in the area, if she was within a few feet of them. Humans were a little harder; she had to give explicit, verbal commands that had a set purpose. She couldn’t leave it abstract, or open-ended, it had to be a direct command.
Around the property, everything was in bloom, even things that shouldn’t be blooming. The veggies and fruit were overflowing, and we had enough sustainability to feed at least ten people.
“Concentrate,” I whispered, even though it was redundant and would probably only aggravate her. We had done this daily for the last week, but could only sustain the output for an hour at most. We were reaching the end of our practice time and I could tell she was getting tired. She had taken to laying in the lush grass, her hair fanning out around her. She made a beautiful portrait, the contrast of tan skin against the dark green of the grass. Clover flowers peeked between her white locks, and her face was scrunched in concentration.
“I’m concentrating,” she hissed.
We had found we were limited to area, only being able to influence something or someone if it was in a close sphere of distance. As like any limitation in life, we were trying to surpass that. We had nothing better to do. The Father had not come back to guide us in any endeavor, and we figured we would need to build strength before we were to destroy the plant closest to us. Then after that, who knows.
The plants were most likely on other continents. This was going to be the hardest thing to overcome since even travel between states had been restricted and airfare was impossible. How we would get to these other plants if Miley was right, was something we would have to figure out. I was not a sailor.
When we weren’t trying to expand our area of influence, I was studying charts and data from around the globe to determine where the other plants were, and Miley did as much research on gods and goddesses as she could get her hands on via the internet.
I looked into the sky at her focus, the red-tailed hawk that soared above us was looking for prey, circling back and forth probably a hundred feet in the air. It hurt my neck to be in this position, so I took the initiative and laid next to Miley in the grass. She cracked her eyes open and turned her head to face me.
“I can’t concentrate like this.”
“Why is that?”
“You’re crowding me.” She elbowed me. I elbowed her back, and she giggled. I captured her hand, missing being able to touch her, even though I never could freely. It was an odd sentiment. The world stilled, and the wind picked up.
“Concentrate,” I said. I found the tendrils of power that wrapped around her, the ones that made the wind stir and the thunder clouds shift closer. It was startling at first to feel them, but then they settled in my head and things made sense. I mixed my own with hers, it came naturally, as if I was only breathing, or stretching. I was the rain, and she was the wind, and together, we were a storm. The hawk changed directions, hovering slightly above us before taking a deep dive directly for our position. At the last minute, the hawk, within feet of us, flapped its great wings and halted its dive. My heart thudded rapidly in my chest, and I could feel the adrenaline coursing through my veins. Holy shit. I could see every detail on the underside of the bird. I could feel the wind of its wings on my face. The bird let out a startled cry and flew away.
“I did it,” Miley squealed. Her arm slipped underneath mine, and her body pressed against me as she rolled onto her side to look at me.
“You did.” I couldn’t help the wide grin that was plastered across my face. She was unbelievable. Attractive, but so strong, and with such intelligence.
“We did.” Her hand was upon my chest, and I wondered if she could feel the rapid thud of my heart, how it had sped up when her skin made contact with the thin material of my shirt. I grasped it in my own so I could have skin to skin contact, and her head dipped. The thrum of the cicadas sped up around me in anticipation, the taste of the humidity in the air heavy in my mouth. Would this be it? Would she make that first move that we had been flirting around with for weeks? The slight touches. The side glances. But something held her back, a hesitancy I saw behind her eyes. What was it?
I had been waiting for her to make the first move because I was a coward, but that look in her eyes as if she was scared herself had me propping myself up on one arm and pulling her close with the other. A moment, a breath, as the air thickened around us, coating her lips with moisture. I paused to give her time to move away, but when she didn’t, I moved that fraction closer and took her lips with my own. At first, I was gentle. A pressing, a slight opening and pulling within. She let out a small sound of appreciation, and I let some of my self-restraint slip away. I pulled her down on top of me, her warm body clad only in a beyond tempting, tiny dress. I wanted her beneath me. I wanted to be buried inside of her as she screamed my name. But I held back, letting her show me how far she wanted to take things.
She pulled back, her eyes wide with shock, her lips swollen from the kiss. Her hair was a halo around her head, sunlight through wavy white strands. They fell down around us, framing my face and smelling of ozone and rain-filled clouds. I knew she would hate the way s
he looked, she liked to be put together even when she was digging in the dirt.
“That feeling.” She touched her lips. “It’s like when I use my voice.”
She was right, of course. It was like when I used my powers, the thrilling adrenaline of it the feel of the storm breaking. And I knew her hesitation as if I plucked the thought from her head. Was this another piece of the game? Because within every myth, within every religious story was always the story of the fated lovers… and usually the tragic story of how it ends. Most myths didn’t have a happily ever-after.
21
There were choices to be made. Or were there? Was this a choice I had, or had I lost my free will the moment I had decided to take a run on the trail? Or had all my choices been taken away from me the moment I said yes to the Father? Sure, I could make small decisions. What to wear, where to plant my watermelons, what to eat for dinner, but the big decisions, the life-changing decisions — were they gone now? Was everything plotted out and controlled by gods and goddesses I couldn’t even name?
The feeling of being out of control was like a vast space opening inside my chest. My breath couldn’t catch effectively, and I felt like I was falling. I had always needed to be in control, ever since my parents had died. It helped me think, it helped me thrive. Thinking I had lost that control could topple any kind of clarity I thought I possessed.
Zeke.
The chaos beckoned me to him. Just go with it. Just go with him. He’ll make everything better.
His large green eyes looked up at me, and I wanted him with every fiber of my being. I wanted him in ways I had never wanted a man, and not just sexually, but as if he was a missing piece to my puzzle. And that was a serious problem. I shouldn’t need someone like that. Was that wanting my own desperate need, or was that a feeling stoked by forces I couldn’t even begin to understand? Forces that would probably end me as they led me down a path I didn’t want to walk. And Zeke was definitely on that path.
