The Wilted Flower District

by Martin Niewood

  “Come on,” Weylin shouted, “This way.”

  Looking up I saw that Weylin was back on his feet. Following his lead, we sprinted through the square until a third explosion from high inside Griff Glass briefly muted the terrified screams of those below. Inhaling the dust, Weylin and I didn’t stop or look back. Instead, we moved forward to hopeful safety. Distracted when a piece of debris crashed in front of me, I lost sight of Weylin. Panicked and fearful that he had been injured, I searched for him as I navigated the dangerous terrain. Suddenly, my foot snagged something on the ground, and I realized it was a body. For an instant I was back in the cave and overwhelmed with dread, I retreated into myself until Weylin’s face appeared through the smoke. Taking his hand, I followed him out of the square and into the busy streets. It wasn’t until we were a few blocks from the site that the smoke had started to dissipate and I could see naturally. Standing there covered in blood and dust, we looked back at the carnage.

  A terrifying thought crept into my mind, “Mom.” I said softly.

  Weylin wiped some dirt from around his eyes, “She is going to be fine.” He tried to catch his breath.

  Unsure if he was trying to convince himself or me, “What the hell happened back there?”

  Weylin didn’t respond but just shook his head. “We need to get back home. It’s not safe here.”

  “What about mom? We can’t leave her,” I said, looking back in the direction of Memorial Square.

  “She’ll be okay. Her building wasn’t attacked and besides she wouldn’t want anything to happen to you. I have to get you home,” Weylin answered.

  I understood his thinking, but I desperately wanted to go back in there and make sure that she was okay. “Do you think that they’ll shut down the LR?”

  “I’m not sure. We should leave though and find out,” he suggested. Reading street signs was difficult for even here, a layer of dust covered everything and our A2B bands were not working either from the dust or perhaps from the overactivity in the area.

  “Violet?”

  I turned when I thought that someone called my name but saw no one.

  “Violet, is that you?” Noah emerged from the smoke.

  “Noah, what are you doing here?” I asked confused.

  “I was supposed to deliver some legal documents for my father.”

  Noticing the blood dripping from the sleeve of his white shirt, I said, “You’re hurt, what happened to your arm?”

  “It’s nothing, just a scratch. I was helping an older woman who had fallen, and a steel rod fell and caught my arm. It’s nothing.”

  “It looks pretty bad, let me take a look at it,” I said as I brought his arm closer to me and slid up his shirtsleeve. Holding my right hand above the wound, I closed my eyes and channeled my energies into it. Within seconds, the bleeding had stopped, and the wound had vanished.

  “Thanks. That feels so much better. Hey, what about you? Are you okay?

  Patting myself down and triggering clouds of dust I responded, “Yes, I think so. What about your dad, is he all right?”

  “Yeah, he’s fine. He was working off site today. Listen, you guys need to get out of here.”

  “Do you know what happened?” I could hear first responders’ sirens screaming in the distance. “Do you know who did this?”

  “No, not yet but we’ll find out. My dad’s working on it but right now you guys need to leave,” Noah responded.

  “I agree. We were just looking for the closest LR station,” Weylin interjected.

  Noah pointed down the street, “You need to go over two blocks, and Cerpen Station is on your right.”

  “What about you?” I asked absently twisting my locket.

  “Don’t worry about me. My dad has a condo a few blocks away. I’ll be fine, but you should go.”

  Weylin grabbed my hand, “Violet, we need to leave now. Noah will be fine.”

  Turning back towards Noah, I yelled, “Right, well thanks and Noah, please be careful.” We hurried to the station, anticipating that the LR would be a nightmare packed with people trying to flee the city, returning to their homes.

  “Isn’t Cerpen Station the end of the line?” I asked.

  “Yeah, it is,” Weylin answered. “Why?”

  “Doesn’t that mean we will have to go through Memorial Station to get back home? I mean, do you think that Memorial LR Station was badly damaged by the explosions?”

  “No, I think that the LR stations are deep enough underground that the explosions wouldn’t affect them. They were built for that reason.”

  “Are you sure?” I asked, realizing that we had no other options. Weylin didn’t answer but I uncertain if he was ignoring me or just choosing not to respond.

  Cerpen Station was directly beneath the Cerpen Pharmaceutical Complex. The corporate campus covered multiple city blocks, and the entire complex was surrounded by pristine gardens maintained by an army of landscapers. Atop the skyscraper was the Cerpen logo, the word Cerpen formed by a single snake with its head at the top of the ‘C’ and its tail a few feet after the ‘N.’ In recent history, there had been a string of lawsuits against Cerpen, but the most notorious was the one resulting from the Transfer Trial. Cerpen was no stranger to regulatory fines and lawsuits, but they always managed to weather the storm and continue to make money. After issuing tearful apologies and paying off their victims, they routinely launched a media blitz of how much they cared about everyone and how vital whatever drug they were marketing was essential to your health and wellbeing. Having the government contract for synthetic Elsyn didn’t hurt their income stream either.

  When we reached Cerpen Station, the moving sidewalks and escalators down to the platform were relatively empty. Once on the platform, we stood across from a huge mural depicting Fairhaven’s historic victory over enemy ships burning in the harbor. The LR train arrived, but the cars had few riders. Hopping onto the train, we grabbed a seat, and after a few moments, the car pushed forward. Looking around I was surprised by the scarcity of riders. “Where is everybody,” I asked looking up and down the train for passengers.

  Staring out the window, I assumed Weylin was trying to decompress from the events we had just experienced, “I don’t know.”

  Upon reaching Memorial Station, a slew of riders attempting to escape the city jumped on. Over the next few stops, it had become an utter zoo in the train with more passengers than capacity squeezing into a tiny space. I was concerned the additional weight might actually take the car off the rails if we took a turn too fast. The ride home seemed to take forever and every few stops the car went through mood swings. One minute it was filled with loud chatter spouting theories about what had happened, the next it was quiet and subdued, filled with sobbing and silence. By the time we reached our stop at Wilted Flower, I felt numb although some part of me was still concerned about mom, hoping that she was safe somewhere and far away from the insanity.

  Weylin exhaled deeply, slowly dragging his now filthy sneakers from one step to the next. I could see the almost physical pain that he was suffering. I felt devoid of emotion as if in shock but unable to do anything about it. When we reached street level, I stared back blankly at the smoke towering above the city. Walking back towards our apartment it was as if all that vibrant color was erased. Wiping some of the dust from my hands, I couldn’t imagine what I looked like, but I knew I felt twice as bad on the inside. Reaching home, I climbed the short flight of steps to our door, swiped my A2B band and pushed it open. Weylin entered after me; we didn’t say anything. We just stood there.

  Surrounded by the calmness, I exhaled, and tears streaked down my dirty face. Suddenly exhausted, I tried to fight them back, but it was if my body was rejecting them. Weylin embraced me placing his hand over my back. After a few seconds, he released me, “I’m going to get a shower.” It felt like a strange thing to do at the time, but I was so tired that I didn’t care.

  Walking down the hall to my room, I sat on my bed staring at the trinket
s on my bureau. All of them had been gifts from my mom except for one picture that Meadow had given me before she died. Young and beautiful she stood smiling against the strange backdrop of an orange and purple sky punctuated by lime green trees, tall gray grass and red mountains in the distance. The background looked fake. It was probably taken in a carnival photo booth, but it was my most precious possession. I missed Meadow, and the possibility of losing my current mom as well was something that I just couldn’t accept.

  We should have gone and looked for her. What if she was trapped in the wreckage of the building or knocked down in the street and trampled on? I kept repeating to myself that she was okay but a darker part of me asked the scary question what if she wasn’t. I was working myself up. I had to calm down.

  Weylin had left his radio on, and the faceless voice was advocating Cerpen vitamins for shiny hair and glowing skin. I could hear the shower running in the background and looking at my grimy skin, decided that I needed to take one after him. When the shower turned off, I heard the buzzing of his A2B band.

  With the door closed, I could barely hear him. Frightened that this was the call that would change everything I listened in on his conversation. “Hello,” Weylin said.

  Static on the line made the voice difficult to understand, “Can you hear me? It’s hard to talk right now with all the interference.”

  “Mom? Are you okay? Where are you?” Weylin frantically asked.

  “I’m out of the building safely. I’m sure you heard, but there was an attack on the Griff Glass across the street from my work. I just wanted you to know that I’m okay. I heard that the academy was sending all the students home. Are you with your sister? Make sure that she is safe.”

  That was so typical of my mom making sure everyone else was safe before herself. I was happy that my mom was okay, but it didn’t relieve the tension in my shoulders.

  Weylin replied, “She is with me now. We are both fine. Be safe getting home and if you need anything let me know.” However, there was no response, “Mom? Mom? Are you there? Stupid, god damn band!” Weylin grunted.

  Weylin opened the door, and I awkwardly tried to pretend that I wasn’t listening by leaning against the opposing wall.

  “Great news! Mom is okay and on her way home now.” Weylin nodded his head trying to reassure me that everything would be all right.

  It wasn’t okay though; nothing was. There were so many problems on the rise.

  “You need to get a shower,” Weylin pointed out. “We have a lot to talk about when you get out, but mom can’t see you like this or she’ll know that we were there.”

  Grabbing a towel from the cupboard, I closed the door behind me. Dropping my filthy clothes in a pile and stepping into the shower, I adjusted my A2B band for the water to turn on at 65’F in the hopes of removing me from my funk. Watching the filth run off me, I placed my hand on the wall and let the water drip down the back of my neck. After a few minutes, I stepped out and threw on clean clothes. My skin was now clean and clear, but the filth still felt like it was all over me. Hearing a knock at the door, I exited the bathroom and saw Weylin answering it. Penny was standing at the opened front door with a police officer. Still dressed in black, she now wore her hair tamed beneath a headband.

  “We are going to need the two of you to come with us and answer some questions,” Penny said.

  “Can I ask what this is about?” Weylin responded.

  Penny smiled, “It has to do with your whereabouts and an ongoing investigation that I’m conducting and that’s all you need to know.”

  Two uniformed police officers entered the house behind Penny. They grabbed Weylin and me and unceremoniously escorted us down the steps, closing the door behind him.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Entering the police station, we weren’t in cuffs but the way bystanders judged us, we may as well have been. Luckily, the station was relatively empty because most of the police were at Memorial Square. Those who hadn’t been deployed had volunteered leaving only a skeleton force at the precinct. The flood of support for the victims was intense and rightfully so. Although I felt shell-shocked from the events of the last two days, I could only imagine how I would have felt if mom was trapped beneath the rubble of a building now reduced to millions of glass shards. Rubbing behind my ear, I found a tiny speck of ash, a reminder that this attack on Griff Glass was going to stay with everyone for a long time. No matter how many times we washed it away, we were covered in unescapable filth.

  Initially, we were escorted to a secured waiting area just passed the front desk and across the hall from the missing persons’ bureau. I had sad memories of that office from four years ago when Ophelia went missing. While we waited for Penny, a distraught mother pleaded with the officer in charge for any new information on her missing son, Brian, a preter two years behind me at the academy. The middle-aged officer was sympathetic but firm, explaining that he understood what the mother was going through and that he was doing all that he could to find Brian but that he had limited resources and too many cases. It sounded much like what the officer had said to us when Ophelia went missing. As I listened to the sergeant, my eyes wandered to the double screen on the wall behind his desk. One side displayed wanted criminals while the other showed photo after photo of missing children. Not all of the missing kids were preters but the vast majority of them were.

  As he was two grades below me, I didn’t know Brian well but I understood that he was a preter of exceptional talent. He had been out of school for weeks and we all assumed that he had transferred to another school. Brian’s powers had manifested themselves early and more importantly, unlike most preters who had one type of ability, he had two. In the Domain, marriage was now common between preters and mortals and in those cases, the preter genes did not always pass through to the offspring. However, when both parents were preters as Brian’s parents were, it was assumed that the child would inherit the preter ability that his or her mother, father or one of his grandparents enjoyed. In Brian’s case, he inherited a preter ability from each of his parents.

  Penny appeared in the doorway interrupting my concern about Brian and my renewed distress over Ophelia. Although the courthouse in Fairhaven was beautiful with innovative technology and award winning architecture, the police station was one of the oldest and shabbiest buildings in any of the districts. Penny led us back through a narrow corridor to a secluded interrogation room, where she directed that Weylin and I take a seat at a metal table with a vinyl coffee stained top. The monotony of the brown floor and dung colored walls was broken only by an ugly amber strip that circled the room midway up the wall and a Plexiglas window that looked out into a dark hallway. With its plastic chairs and scuff marked floor, the room was tired and dirty but a high tech camera poorly concealed within the air vent and some suspicious bumps in the ceiling led me to believe that it was outfitted with state of the art monitoring and recording equipment.

  Penny was about to close the door behind her when a uniformed officer who appeared to know her summoned her into the hall for a private meeting. The female office had olive skin with brunette hair tightly fastened by a clip. The insignia on her right shoulder indicated that she was a member of the city’s SWAT team. Stepping out, Penny pulled the door closed but it didn’t shut properly leaving it open just enough for us to listen.

  The officer discreetly asked, “What are these two in for?” Glancing over at the two of us with disdain, “Did they have anything to do with the Griff Glass bombing?”

  Concerned and confused, Weylin and I looked blankly at one another.

  Penny shook her head slightly, “Oh my God, no. At least I don’t think so.” Staring back at us she noticed that the door was ajar and quickly pulled it shut, continuing to stare at us through the window as though the officer’s words triggered something in her mind.

  It was difficult to read her lips through the glass, and I could only make out a few words, so I gave up trying to figure out what they were talking abou
t. They both nodded at one another before Penny opened the door. The officer departed quickly as if she was on a mission and Penny closed the door behind her by leaning against it. Rubbing her hands together, she moved towards the table and sitting down began staring at me.

  Penny’s eyes were deep set and too close together, as though she had spent too many years perpetually staring down her prey. There was something in her appearance that demanded your attention, although she was not attractive by traditional standards. Regardless, she exuded a formidable presence. I was exhausted by the events of the last few days and recognized that I should have been terrified by what was to follow, but all I felt was numb. Sitting there dumbly staring back at Penny who was in no apparent hurry to speak, random thoughts floated through my mind. I wondered if mom had made it home yet and if Patrick had found the missing seconds of video. I wondered why Penny didn’t wear makeup and if this nightmare would ever end.

  Switching her gaze to Weylin, Penny asked, “Are you surprised that I brought you here, Mr. Rose?”

  “Yes, I thought that the police would be out there helping all those people who were trapped in that explosion.”

  Her expression remained unchanged, concealing her irritation but I noticed her hand drumming lightly on the table as though she couldn’t quite contain her annoyance. “Fairhaven has its finest officers on the job. However, we still need to maintain order in the streets, and that’s what brings you two here today.”