Cosmic Girl Rising Up

by R S J Gregory

  A seagull squawks as it flies by beneath me. I watch as it takes a wide loop back towards the lake.

  I begin to accelerate.

  Soon the skyscrapers become a blur beneath me. Wind whistles past my ears as I rocket through the sky, then it becomes a thundering roar. I thrust my pale arms forwards, just like Superman. With my arms so close to my ears, it helps reduce the noise. I slow down after a few seconds and find the landscape beneath me has changed dramatically.

  I can now see white buildings, tree lined streets below and one thing that stands out in particular.

  A tall concrete Egyptian looking needle, which stands proudly near a long clear pond. At the other end of the pond, hundreds of people are gathering. Some are walking towards the white marble steps that lead up to the Lincoln Memorial. I see myself sitting in my wheelchair being pushed by Mitchell near the base of the steps.

  I feel myself being pulled inexorably towards the steps. Part of me wants to resist and stay in the air, but another part of me wants to be close to Mitchell. I sigh as I give in and allow myself to be sucked down.

  In an instant, I find myself in my wheelchair looking up the steps. The shadowy form of Lincoln is inside, sitting thoughtfully and gazing out over the still pond.

  I’m in Washington D.C. again.

  “That’s a lot of steps.” I groan and look up at Mitchell.

  Mitchell smiles down at me and walks around to the side. He bends down and lifts me from my wheelchair. I blush as I dangle in his strong arms. But I love it.

  Miss Wheeler, our art teacher walks over and looks at us.

  “They have an elevator, guys.” Miss Wheeler says and points to the far left, before walking up the steps.

  Mitchell shrugs and carries me up the steps. He turns halfway up.

  I spy Zack talking with Beth on the sidewalk.

  “Hey, Zack?” Mitchell calls out.

  “Yeah?” Zack replies as he looks up at us.

  “Can you bring her wheelchair up, man?”

  Zack nods. “No problem.”

  I swing in his arms as he carries me carefully up the white marble steps. I peer over Mitchell’s right shoulder as Zack folds my wheelchair and begins pulling it up. I smile in gratitude at Zack, who winks back as Beth catches up with us.

  “See you inside.” Beth says and races up the steps and joins Miss Wheeler by one of the colonnades.

  I’m watching Zack’s progress over Mitchell’s right shoulder, when I hear some screaming. I see something large and white moving fast through the park opposite.

  What is it?

  Then with a crash, a large white delivery van erupts through the trees and races towards the steps.

  “Look out!” I shout, as the van nears a group of seven girls in pale blue uniforms.

  The girls shriek and jump out of the way, but the van clips a straggler.

  I scream when I hear the loud bang as the poor girl is hit. Her limp body is thrown several feet while the van keeps coming.

  “Zack, get up here. Now!” Mitchell shouts as the van heads for the steps.

  It shows no sign of slowing.

  Zack drops my wheelchair and leaps to the side as the van mounts the steps. I can hear the crunch, as my wheelchair is crushed under its wheels.

  The van grinds to a halt, but its wheels are still spinning, trying to find purchase.

  Zack sits up and scuttles back away from the van. Through the windshield, I make out three dark forms.

  “Zack, hurry and get up here!” Mitchell calls out, as Zack gets up slowly.

  Zack’s face is red as he stomps over to the van. He begins kicking the driver’s door.

  “What the hell are you playing at?” Zack shouts as he kicks the door again

  Security men rush down the steps, while police officers approach the van from below. With firearms raised, they walk steadily towards the van.

  “Get out with your hands up. Move slowly, or we will shoot you.” One of the police officers barks as he approaches the front of the van.

  “Zack, please get…” I don’t get a chance to finish my sentence.

  There’s a blinding flash and a deafening boom.

  Mitchell is blown clear off his feet and I feel myself falling.

  I find myself lying on the floor inside the memorial and gazing up at the ceiling. Clouds of dust are billowing in from outside. Bright yellow spots flash and dance in front of my eyes, like fireflies on acid.

  There’s a loud ringing in my ears and the explosion is repeating itself in my head like a broken record. I blink and try to push myself up in to a sitting position.

  My arms hurt. I look down and see various cuts and scrapes up both of my arms. I look behind me, as Mitchell sits up and looks at me in shock. His face is covered in a grey dust. I reach up and touch my face experimentally. I look at my fingers. They are covered in a grey dust also.

  In slow-motion, I see Beth run to the entrance and look outside. Her mouth opens wide as if screaming, but I can’t hear anything but the ringing. She collapses to the dusty floor and buries her ebony face in her hands.

  “Oh my god, Zack.” I mutter, but I can hardly speak.

  I struggle for breath, while I try to listen to what people are saying, but all I hear is the ringing in my ears.

  A few minutes pass by, then people’s voices start to filter through, but they sound muffled, like my head is wrapped in cotton wool.

  I turn my head and look behind me. Miss Wheeler, our art teacher, is holding on to Mitchell, trying to restrain him as he seeks to go outside.

  “No. Stay here. Mitchell, please.” Miss Wheeler begs.

  Mitchell’s brown eyes are now bloodshot and tears streak down his dusty face, making tracks. I hear a crackling sound coming from outside, then the screaming starts. The ringing is almost gone as Paul walks over and tries to raise me from the marble floor.

  As I sit up, I notice something licking at the entrance. I frown and watch as a murky purple mist creeps over the steps and is blown towards us.

  “What the hell is that?” I ask.

  Paul looks up and sees it too.

  “Damn, that stinks!” Paul mutters as he begins to drag me away from it.

  I agree. It smells like a combination of sewage and diesel. It burns my nostrils when I inhale.

  “What is that?” I hear Miss Wheeler’s scared voice call out from behind me. “Everyone, over to the corner near Abe, now!” Miss Wheeler calls out.

  Paul continues to drag me slowly backwards. Then I feel a large hand under my back and I’m raised from the floor.

  I look into Mitchell’s grief stricken face as he quickly carries me to the corner where Miss Wheeler and my classmates are huddled together. Mitchell sits down on the floor and cradles me in his arms.

  We watch the approach of the purple mist. As more of it worms its way into the memorial, it begins to build and grow in size. It’s now coming up to a grown man’s knees.

  He’s standing in the corner near the entrance with a small group of children.

  I watch as the mist curls around the man’s legs before moving on to the children. The man coughs, softly at first and then more violently. Then he begins gasping for breath and clutches at his throat. His knees buckle and he collapses to the floor with a sickening thud.

  “Oh my god.” I scream.

  I feel Mitchell’s warm arms hold me tighter.

  “Everyone, sit down on the floor.” I hear Miss Wheeler call out in panic.

  “What’s happening, Miss?” A girl asks.

  “I, I don’t know. But listen…”

  I listen intently. I can hear the faint wail of sirens approaching. They seem to be getting closer. I hear them clearly above the noise of the crackling and the screams outside.

  “You see, they’re coming for us.” Miss Wheeler says reassuringly.

  The purple mist is almost upon us. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Paul look at me for a moment, then look at Mitchell. He backs away as the mist arrives
. It engulfs my legs and then my waist. As it reaches my arms, I feel its moist clinging touch. The smell up close is over-powering. I begin to cough, as does everyone else.

  The ringing in my ears is gone now and the yellow spots have now been replaced by red spots. My vision swims as I cough and gasp for breath. I look desperately at Mitchell, as tears sting my eyes. He leans down towards me.

  I reach for his beautiful face as everything starts to blur. Then the world melts away to darkness.

  Three

  I wake briefly to find a tube down my throat, and a needle in my arm. I gaze up at a bag of fluid. I try to move my hands, then I pass out again.

  When I awake again, my back is sore and I feel a throbbing pain in my right arm.

  I’m lying on a hospital gurney in a large, clean smelling room, with fluorescent lights overhead. The metal railings have been raised up on both sides. I lift my right arm to take a look, but it feels like iron. There’s a thick bandage over my forearm. Around the edge of the bandage, I can see a faint smudge of dried blood. The tube from my throat is gone, but it feels scratchy. I hear a moan coming from my right and I raise my head and look. There’s another gurney a few feet away. Lying on it, is Mitchell.

  “Mitchell.” I try and say, but my throat is sore. My voice sounds croaky.

  Oh my god, he’s alive.

  Tears streak down my happy face as I watch him sleep. I want to reach out and touch him. To let him know that I’m here. But he’s too far away.

  He groans and turns his head, but his eyes remain closed. His face is bathed in sweat, and his left hand is trembling. He’s still wearing the green hospital gown, but I can see some dark spots on his chest area. His left shoulder and upper arm are wrapped tightly in bandages.

  “What did those monsters do to you?” I whisper.

  Someone coughs nearby. I try to look, but I can’t raise my head high enough.

  “Who’s that?” I call out.

  “Sarah. Who are you?” A scared voice calls from the other side of the room.

  “I’m Britney.” I reply. “Where are you from Sarah?”

  “Boston. You?”

  “Chicago. Were you in Washington D.C.?”

  “No. I was in Dallas. There was an explosion in a shopping mall….I blacked out.”

  “Was there a purple mist?” I ask.

  There’s silence for a few seconds.

  “I think so. What’s going on, Britney? Are we at war?”

  “Don’t know. Do you have any idea where we are?”

  “No.” Then I hear her begin to sob quietly.

  “It’ll be okay, Sarah.” I say. “We’ll get out of here.”

  “How?” Sarah responds and starts whimpering.

  I look around.

  “I don’t know yet.”

  There’s a window high up on the wall. It has bars on it, like a prison. Outside looks dark. I have no idea what time it is. There’s a faint sound of car horns and a bell being rung nearby.

  Where are we?

  I notice a security camera is looking down at us from the corner near the door. I can hear its motor whir as it rotates from left to right.

  “Can you move?” I ask.

  There’s some shuffling, then a clink of metal on metal.

  “Can’t. I’m handcuffed to the gurney.”

  “Damn.”

  I turn my head towards the white metal door at the sound of quick approaching footsteps. There’s a click and the door swings open.

  A tall thin man with shoulder length black hair in a white orderly’s uniform enters carrying a tray. The lower part of his face is covered by a white cotton mask. I was hoping for food on the tray, but no. On the metal tray lay three syringes.

  I sigh and wait as he puts the tray down on my legs, and picks up a syringe.

  “Oh, sure, don’t mind me.” I say testily.

  His brown eyes don’t show any emotion as he swabs my arm and looks for a vein.

  I close my eyes and wait for the needle. He’s surprisingly gently for his size.

  He actually swabs the wound afterwards and places a Band-Aid with SpongeBob SquarePants on it, over the puncture.

  He then picks up the tray and moves to the corner.

  “Ow.” I hear Sarah moan.

  The room begins to dissolve and I feel myself falling deeper into the thin mattress.

  When I open my eyes, I’m staring up at the steel bars of the cage.

  So, I’ve been moved back to the cage again. What the hell are they doing?

  “Hi.” I hear Mitchell’s warm voice, then he leans over and looks down at me.

  There was so much I wanted to say, but all I can manage is. “Hi.”

  “How long was I gone?” I ask Paul, who is sitting nearby, as I try to sit up.

  “A week.”

  “WHAT?”

  He smiles half-heartedly as he looks at me. “I’m just glad you’re back. I thought they killed you both.”

  Why didn’t they kill us? What the hell are they doing? I feel like a lab rat.

  There’s a click, then the door opens. In come Beavis and Butthead again. They’re dragging one of the adults in behind them. I watch as they unlock the cage and throw the woman down onto the concrete floor. They then point to the chubby balding man who had spoken to us before. He walks calmly forward, but I can see that he’s sweating. His wide eyes are darting between our two captors. As he steps through the cage door, I see him look over his shoulder. As they step out after him, he turns and lunges at the man holding the gun. He grabs the man’s white-gloved hands and tries to wrestle the weapon from him. The other man in the hazmat suit grabs the balding man’s arms from behind and drags him away from the gunman. The balding man manages to get his right arm free and elbows the man in the hazmat suite in the stomach, who grunts and throws the guy to one side. The gunman steps back and watches as the other man uses his elbow to strike the balding man in the temple, before kicking the legs out from under him. The balding man crashes to the floor, before being viciously kicked in the head.

  The other gunman steps forward casually and aims his weapon at the chubby man’s angry face. He pulls the trigger without a moment’s hesitation.

  I see the muzzle flash twice. The back of the man’s head erupts all over the floor.

  Oh my god!

  His body twitches a few times. I turn away and stare at the floor. I feel Mitchell’s arm around me, as he pulls me close. There’s absolute silence in the room. People just stare in shock as they enter the cage again and point to someone else. A middle-aged woman with blond hair, with streaks of white running through it nods obediently. She walks towards them without a word. They lock the cage and escort her from the room, leaving the man’s bloody body there on the concrete floor, leaking blood and black fluid from his head. The door closes behind them and then I hear the familiar click.

  Only then do people start screaming, while others run to the toilet in the corner to throw up. I glance at the man’s lifeless body and feel Mitchell’s hand on my arm.

  “There was nothing we could do.” He says in a flat tone.

  I look into his frustrated brown eyes.

  “Right.” I say numbly.

  The younger kids cower in the corner, while some of the adults try to comfort them.

  Word’s fail to describe how I feel.

  The lady is escorted back an hour later. Her skin looks pinker and her eyes are bloodshot. Her hands are trembling as she enters the cage and shuffles over.

  She sits down on the floor, brings her knees up and wraps her arms around them and begins to rock back and forth. The men lock the cage and then leave the room.

  “They didn’t take anyone.” I note.

  “I think everyone’s been taken already.” Paul says.

  I turn as Stuart walks over and sits down silently next to me.

  “How are you?” I ask him.

  He hasn’t spoken to us for some time, and I miss my friend. He looks at me and then shrugs his s
houlders, but doesn’t say anything.

  The men return twenty minutes later with large metal trays. On the trays are silver metal bowls, with clear plastic cups full of water. The lead guy sets his tray on the ground and then unlocks the cage door. People back away as he picks up the tray and enters. He sets his tray down on the floor inside the door, then steps back outside. The other man enters and sets his tray down next to the first. I can see the bowls are full of steaming oatmeal and lick my lips. I’m so hungry it’s redonkulous. They step back outside and lock the cage door.