Missing Time (313)

by J. David Clarke

  She opened the doors, and had just enough time to register that there were men in the room before the lights went out.

  *****

  By the time she got all the way home her feet should have been killing her.

  Heather had waited for her mother to pick her up until everyone had gone. She hadn't ridden a school bus since the crash, and was still afraid to take one. Her mother should have been there to pick her up, but...

  You know how that goes, she thought.

  So she had walked miles, and ordinarily she'd expect her feet to be blistered and sore.

  They felt fine.

  She opened the front door and, as expected, found her mother asleep on the couch, empty bottle on the table beside her.

  Heather sighed wearily.

  She went into her room and closed the door. Plopping onto her bed, she shrugged off the backpack and pulled off her right shoe gingerly, expecting the worst. No pain at all should have reassured her, but instead she felt a cold dread.

  At first she thought the lining of the shoe had stuck to her foot, and pulled out with it. She reached to peel it away, and found that it wasn't stuck to her foot at all.

  It was her foot.

  The lining was still inside the shoe, but the bottom of her foot was now the same color, texture...everything.

  She pulled off her other shoe, and found her left foot the same way. She rubbed her hand across it, and something happened. The material shifted and melted away, and her foot reformed itself, normal.

  Heather put her feet on the floor, wiggling her toes in the carpet, and pondered.

  She flung the back door open with a bang as she walked into the back yard, looking around for something to test her suspicions.

  She headed for the nearest tree, and placed her hand against its bark. She concentrated.

  Her skin rippled like water, and bark spread out from the center, replacing her skin.

  She pulled her hand away, and turned it one way and the other in front of her eyes. Her entire hand was made of tree bark. Her fingers were stiff, but she could move them. She shook her hand and the bark melted away, her hand reforming.

  "Wow!" she exclaimed, smiling.

  She turned, looking around to see what else she could try. Just off the back porch she saw it: a dead bird, lying on its back. Remembering the way her eyes had changed to imitate Nemo's, she squatted down over the bird.

  "Okay," she said, "let's see what happens..." She reached out her hands and touched it.

  The door banged open again. "What the hell are you doing, Heather?" her mother asked. Apparently the noise had awaked her.

  Heather looked up at her, as she felt her arms melt away. She grinned.

  She stood and threw her arms out as the feathers sprouted. Enormous brown wings spread out at her sides, whipping the air around her.

  There was a crash as the bottle her mother held shattered on the porch, and a plop as she hit the floor in a dead faint.

  *****

  Heather rang the bell, and stepped back.

  Simon's father came to the door. "Young lady, I have asked you-"

  "Mr. Chu, is Simon okay?" Heather asked. "He hasn't been in school for two days"

  "Young lady," he repeated.

  "My name is Heather, sir" she said. "I'm really worried about him. Please, will you just tell me if he's okay?"

  He considered, his eyes dropping. He glanced back into the house, and then pulled the door closed behind him. "Simon is not well, I'm afraid."

  Her hands clapped over her mouth.

  "He was taken," he added, his lip quivering, "to a hospital, a...facility. To be kept under observation."

  The door opened, and Simon's mother stood there, a stern expression on her face.

  "I'm sorry," Mr. Chu said. "That's all I can say. Good day...Heather."

  He closed the door.

  Heather staggered away, a bit light-headed, and gripped the fence. Ripples passed through her, and she felt her whole body shift. Metal, then skin, then metal again.

  She had to find him.

  *****

  When she finally laid eyes on him, they flooded with tears.

  Simon barely looked human, he had transformed into something more like an ape, with black hair and sharp teeth.

  "Oh, Simon," she said, taking his hand.

  "Five minutes" the nurse said.

  "Simon, it's going to be okay," she told him, holding his hands in hers. He barely seemed to register her presence. His eyes were glazed and unfocused, but they were still his eyes, she noticed. Still her Simon.

  She leaned forward, and whispered to him, "Something is happening to us, Simon, something amazing. But it's going to be okay, I promise. Everything's going to be okay, as long as we have each other."

  When her time was up, the nurse asked her to leave.

  "I'll come see you as often as I can," she told him. "Everything's going to be okay."

  On her way out, doctors entered the room, and Heather never even noticed one man with them, a man with white hair who wore circular wire-rimmed glasses.

  He did notice her.

  *****

  The bus struck the railing, and Simon's body seized.

  Heather's vision swam. Her feet melted into the floor, her legs blended with the seat. Her mind saw only the nothing outside, and she knew she was losing herself, losing herself in everything around her.

  Soon she would be nothing at all.

  "Simon!" she called in terror, but her voice was the sound of screaming metal, and her thoughts were the wind through broken windows. "Simon, can you hear me?"

  *****

  "Transferred?" she asked, stunned. "What do you mean, being transferred?"

  "That's all I'm at liberty to say," the doctor said.

  "Transferred where?" she asked. "Tell me!"

  "I'm sorry, you need to leave." He turned away.

  "You can't do this!" she said, grabbing his arm. "You can't just transfer him somewhere without permission."

  She saw them: two men in military dress rolling a gurney out one of the back doors. Simon was strapped to it, unconscious. Another gurney soon followed, carrying a girl. It was Mia, one of the other kids from the school bus!

  He held up a clipboard. "His mom signed for it right here," he said, tapping it. "Now you need to leave before I call security."

  "Ugh!" She turned away, pulling her cell phone from her pocket. No one answered at first, so she called again.

  "Hello?" her mother answered angrily.

  "Mom, I need you to come get me. They're taking Simon somewhere and they won't tell me where. Please."

  "Simon?" her mother slurred. "Who the hell is Simon, oh is that that Asian kid?"

  Heather felt her face flush. "Mom, please. They're taking him!"

  "What are you gonna do, Heather?"

  "Mom!"

  "What are you gonna do? Nothing. You're just gonna cry and mope around and then some other boy will come along and you'll start all over again. That's all you ever do."

  Heather felt something happen inside her.

  "You don't know anything, you can't do anything," her mother said. "Without these boys you obsess over, it's like you're nothing."

  Heather slammed the phone into the wall in a rage, shattering the plastic casing and sending parts flying down the hall.

  She stood there, crying and breathing heavily, for a moment. Then she heard something. It sounded like her mother's voice.

  "Heather...? Heather?"

  Heather looked down at her hand.

  The fingers of her right hand were fused together, her palm a white plastic case with a screen. Her mother's voice issued from somewhere near the tips of her fingers.

  She lifted her hand to her face.

  "Mom??" she asked incredulously.

  "I'm here," her mom said. Heather was speechless. Her hand had not just imitated the phone. Her hand had actually made a working cell phone, and connected the same call.

  "What i
s going on?" her mom asked. "Just come home. You can't do anything for that boy."

  "You're wrong, Mom," Heather said. "About me. About everything. I AM NOT NOTHING."

  She flicked her hand, and the phone face vanished.

  When she walked toward the back door, the man moved to intervene. "Hey! Where do you think you're going?"

  Heather reached out, touching the arm of a wheelchair. Her skin shifted, and she threw a metal hand into his chest, knocking him against the wall. The impact knocked the wind out of him, and he sagged, gasping for breath.

  She pushed the door bar. Locked.

  Heather allowed the heavy metal of the door to replace her body. She leaned back and brought her leg to bear. Once. Twice.

  With the third kick the lock exploded. The door slammed back against the garage wall with a BANG!

  She saw a military truck pulling away. It was out of the garage and around the corner too quickly to catch.

  Heather looked around.

  When she saw the motorcycle, she went straight for it. She touched its sides, and felt the ripples run down her body, replacing her hands with wheels, her arms and legs with struts, and she felt the pounding of her heart melt away as her engine roared to life.

  Heather peeled out and tore after the truck.

  She followed them to a gate, where they entered a pass code. The gate opened, and the truck drove inside. There were guards posted. It was some kind of base. Heather turned away. She wasn't prepared to try to get into a place like that. Not on her own. But at least she knew where they were taking Simon. Maybe she could get help.

  She drove away, and those who saw her assumed she was just a girl on a motorcycle, not a girl who was a motorcycle.

  *****

  In the darkness, something struck her in the face, something soft and pliable, yet adhesive. It stuck everywhere it touched, and it began to harden.

  Footfalls from behind. A stream of the same stuff hit her back.

  Heather's body shifted, absorbing the properties of the stuff all over her, but it was too pliable to grant her much strength, and she became like glue herself, unable to get it off of her.

  She stumbled forward into the lab.

  *****

  "Mom!" Heather called. "Answer the door!"

  No response. The doorbell rang again.

  "Ugh," she got up and walked to the door. Her mom wasn't on the couch, thank goodness; she was probably passed out at some strange man's house.

  She opened the door to find three young men standing on her front porch. One was black, nice-looking, with a bald head. The second was a tall, skinny guy with curly brown hair. The third, with short blond hair, was...

  "Zachary?" she asked.

  Zachary looked startled. "Do I know you?"

  "We were..." she paused. "What do you guys want?"

  The skinny guy held out a hand. "Heather McDonnell? I'm Brandon Holt."

  She took his hand and shook it.

  "This is my friend, Kevin Lloyd," he continued, gesturing toward the bald guy. "And I guess you know Zach." She nodded. "Could we come in? It's about someone I think you know. Simon Chu?"

  Once they were in, she closed the door and led them to the living room. "What about Simon?" she asked.

  Brandon flashed a self-satisfied smile at Kevin. "Told you," he said.

  Kevin nodded.

  Brandon took out a couple of folded up pieces of paper from his pocket and unfolded them. "We're looking for these two. Mia Lozano and Simon-"

  "What do you know about Simon?" she said impatiently.

  Brandon looked a little taken aback. "Um, well, you tagged him in a picture on your Facebook page. I've been trying to find him. See, he was on this school bus with us that crashed, maybe you heard about it?"

  "I was on that school bus!" she exclaimed.

  Brandon and Kevin looked at each other in surprise.

  "You were there too?" Kevin asked.

  "Yes. Simon and I were sitting together."

  Brandon grinned. "So...what's your power?"

  "Brandon," Kevin said.

  Brandon put up a hand. "You know what I'm talking about, don't you? Something happened to us on that bus, there was this alien ship and they did something - "

  "BRANDON!" Kevin said. "You promised no aliens!" He turned to her. "Um, each of us can all do something we couldn't do before. We thought maybe the same thing might have happened to you and Simon?"

  "What can you do?" Heather asked.

  Brandon practically jumped out of his chair with excitement. "I knew it! She has powers! I can fly, blow right through things! Kevin can teleport, and nothing can affect him if he doesn't want it to, and Zachary - "

  "Brandon," Kevin said, putting a hand on his arm. He nodded a head toward Zachary, who was looking incredibly confused. "Zachary isn't like the rest of us," Kevin told her. "He can heal people, and things. But...he doesn't seem to remember much at all."

  "I don't heal people," Zachary said. "God is the only one who can heal people I remember that."

  "What can you do, Heather?" Kevin asked.

  Rather than answer, she looked down at the coffee table. She reached out her right hand and touched the glass surface. She held up her left hand in front of them, and as she spread her fingers, her hand transformed to glass.

  "Whoa," Brandon said. "Absorbing Man! Nice!"

  Kevin rolled his eyes.

  "What? Dude takes on Thor on a regular basis. Just saying, not bad."

  "That's not all, though," Heather said.

  Brandon did a double take. "Say what?"

  She led them into her bedroom, where she found Nemo lying on the bed. She reached out a hand and stroked him, and held up the other hand again, this time producing a cat's paw, from which claws extended.

  "Uhhh," Brandon appeared flummoxed.

  Heather touched the lamp on her nightstand, and the hand reformed, producing a bulb, which incandesced at her command, illuminating her face.

  Brandon snapped his fingers. "Got it! Impossible Man! Wow!"

  "Brandon, enough."

  "Okay," Heather said. "About Simon!"

  "Oh, yeah," Brandon said. "We know he and Mia were in this hospital, but they were taken somewhere, and no one knows where."

  "I do," she said. "It's some kind of base. I can take you there."

  "Base?" Kevin asked. "Like a military base."

  "Yeah."

  His frown deepened. "I'm sorry, but they may already be, I mean, these guys...they killed my parents. They killed at least one of the kids from the bus already."

  Heather felt as if a cold hand clutched her chest. "Killed? What?"

  He nodded. "Becca Miller. They shot her right in front of me."

  "Becca?" Heather remembered the girl from the hospital, the one who had told her her mother was wrong. "Becca's dead?"

  He nodded.

  Heather reached out and slammed a hand into Brandon's chest.

  "What are you doing?" he asked.

  "SAVING MY BOYFRIEND!"

  Space seemed to gather around her. She launched into the air and blew through the roof of the house, sending splintered wood and plaster raining down.

  Brandon looked at Kevin, and Kevin looked at Brandon.

  "...Rogue?" Kevin said.

  "You only know that because there was a movie." Brandon said sadly.

  Kevin shrugged.

  "You know, you can see her boobs in, like, every episode of True Blood." Brandon said.

  "If I could stand to watch an episode of True Blood."

  "Fair point."

  "Go after her," Kevin said, "and come back and tell us where she went."

  "On it," Brandon said, and burst into the air.

  *****

  By the time Brandon went back to get Kevin and Zachary, and they reached the base, Heather had cut a swath through the guards.

  She had apparently touched some type of reinforced armor, because she was all black shiny surface, bullets ricocheting off her and riddi
ng the walls. One of her hands was a machine pistol, returning fire of its own.

  Brandon stayed in the air zipping back and forth and knocking down more guards. Kevin, of course, couldn't be harmed by gunfire, so he walked ahead of Zachary. Finally he caught up with Heather.

  "Heather," he said. "You have to stop. You're not getting in there." He gestured to an area ahead that appeared to be well fortified, guarding one of the inner areas of the building. There were armed guards, as well as fencing and electronic doors.

  "Yes I am," Heather said. She reached down to one of the things lying at her feet: a rocket-propelled grenade launcher.

  Heather touched it, then stood. She clapped her hands together, and arms fused into a long, slender barrel.

  "Holy shit," Kevin said.

  Heather launched a rocket into the sandbags, blowing them apart and sending men, metal and sand flying.

  The three of them entered, with Brandon flying after.

  They found Simon and Mia on tables inside, with others nearby. Zachary leaned over Simon.

  "He has a drug inside him," he said. "It's keeping him asleep, but I think I can wake him up." He pulled the tubes out of Simon's arm, and placed his hands on Simon's chest. A light grew inside Zachary, flowing through his arms and into Simon. Simon's features changed, reverting to a more human state, the hair and teeth shrinking back, the jaw and brow retracting.

  "The drug is still in him," Zachary said. "It will take a while to get out of his system."

  His eyes fluttered open.

  "Simon!" Heather took his hand. "I'm here, it's going to be okay!"

  *****

  The bus struck bottom, and the water rushed over them, but Heather wasn't there anymore. She was the seats. She was the floor. She was the screams in the night. And as the water poured into the bus, she felt it washing her away.

  "Simon," she called through a throat that wasn't there anymore, "Something's happening! Something's happening to meee!"

  She washed away into the water, through the windows and into the water and was gone.

  Some time later, when there was time again, and when there was a 'her' again, she opened new eyes.