Cosmic Girl Rising Up

by R S J Gregory

  “He was the surgeon.” I say and walk over to the next one. “I’m ready.”

  “Okay.” The mortician says and unzips the body bag and I peer down into the mangled face of the other gunman.

  “The second gunman.” I confirm and walk over to the next table.

  Once unzipped, I peer down and sigh. “The orderly.”

  I know who the other bodies are. I can’t bring myself to look at Miss Wheeler’s dead body. I just can’t. So I turn and walk quickly from the room.

  Once outside, I walk over to some plastic chairs and sit down. My legs feel like jelly as I sit and take some deep breaths. Officer Kent comes out after a few minutes. He sits down next to me.

  “You okay?” He asks.

  I nod. “What now?” I ask and close my eyes.

  My lunch wants to say hello, but I fight it, even as the cold sweat starts.

  “We check the prints and see what we find. Maybe they have a record? We can check that.”

  “It’s not looking hopeful, is it?” I ask.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I do have one question.” I say and shift in my seat to look at him.

  “Yes?”

  “How do we get home?” I ask.

  Officer Kent scratched his stubbly chin. “I’ve been wondering about that myself.”

  “Any ideas?” I ask.

  “Let’s see what the Feds say.”

  I remember my new eye color and frown.

  “I hate to ask, but, could you lend me some money?” I ask.

  Nine

  We all stand in line as we wait to board the aircraft. The Governor of California arranged a plane to take us all home. My classmates and me are on this flight, while the other people are being shepherded on to other planes to take them home. The F.B.I. agent who questioned me back at the station is coming along as our guardian.

  I told her the same thing I told the sergeant. She was okay with my story. Thank god.

  She has flaming orange hair, which is off-set by her crisp white blouse and dark blue suit with pants. She’s wearing red framed glasses on her narrow nose. Her plump lips are coated in a deep red lipstick, which I can’t help staring at whenever she talks, which is a lot. I don’t know why, it just draws my eye.

  She walks past me and heads up the stairs to the plane. She disappears inside for a few seconds, then appears at the top of the stairs.

  “Come on up.” She calls out in her Southern drawl.

  We head on up. Once inside we are directed to the economy section.

  “Damn. I thought they’d send us first class.” Paul mumbles behind me.

  I head further in and then take a seat.

  Once the last person is on board, Agent Forest then walks down the aisle and counts heads.

  “Okay. Let’s go.” Agent Forest calls out.

  “Miss?” I ask as she nears me.

  “Mmm?” She stops and purses her red lips together, while looking at me over her red rimmed glasses.

  “What happens now?” I ask.

  “We’re taking you home.”

  “No, not that. I mean, with the investigation. What are you going to do now?” I ask.

  “Don’t worry about that. Just relax.” She replies and begins to walk off.

  “I want to help.” I call out after her.

  She turns and looks at me over her shoulder, then reaches into her pocket.

  “Here,” She says and hands me a card. “If you think of anything. Call my office.” She adds.

  I take the card and smile in thanks. She turns and heads back to the front of the aircraft. I flip the card over. Agent Angela Forest, Chicago field office, it shows two phone numbers.

  I slip it into my pocket.

  ‘This is exciting, huh?’ I hear a female voice, like it’s right beside me, only the person sitting by me is Mitchell.

  I turn around and look behind me. Just Paul and Stuart. What the hell?

  ‘I’ve never been on a plane before. Have you?’ I hear the voice again.

  Then I begin to recognize the voice. It’s Beth’s. But she’s sitting a few rows behind me.

  ‘Sorry, am I freaking you out?’ I hear Beth’s voice again, only this time I can pinpoint the origin. It’s inside my head.

  I turn and look at Mitchell in shock.

  “What is it?” He asks as he notices me staring at him.

  “Beth.” I whisper. “Telepathy.” I mouth the word silently.

  He taps his head and looks at me for confirmation. I nod.

  “What did they do to us?” He whispers.

  I shrug as the plane begins to taxi towards the runway.

  I had taken some time to purchase some colored contact lenses before we left this morning. I didn’t want to alarm my dad and sister, by coming home with pale blue eyes. So as the aircraft makes its way towards the runway, I check my reflection in the window and smile at my brown eyes. The color isn’t an exact match, but hopefully they won’t notice. The lenses feel alien to me and make me blink a bit more than usual.

  “Why the contacts?” Paul asks as he leans over Mitchell’s seat. “I thought blue suited you.”

  I smile. “Thanks. I just don’t want too many questions when I get back.”

  “Oh, right.” He says, then looks around before leaning forward. “Speaking of questions?”

  Mitchell looks around, then looks back at me and nods. “Yeah. I’d like to know what happened?”

  I sigh and look at Stuart for help. He just smiles and leans in closer as well.

  “Okay.” I say and close my eyes. “They’re all dead.”

  “Dead?” Paul asks.

  “Whoever is behind it all wants to cover his tracks, so he blew the building up. He killed his own men.” I say and wait for the news to sink in.

  “Damn. So how do we find out who did this to us? Paul asks.

  “I don’t know.” I say and shrug.

  “What I want to know is, how did you break us out of there. What happened?” Stuart asks.

  I see the others nod in agreement. “Okay. I was taken to the room with the surgeon. And when he couldn’t cut me, he got a gun out and shot me instead.”

  “What?” Everyone says all at once.

  “Sshh!” I urge them and look around.

  “Sorry.” Mitchell says quietly next to me. “Go on.”

  “The bullet didn’t kill me. It just bounced right off,” I say. “It hurt though.” I add.

  “Wow. That is so cool.” Stuart murmurs.

  “Yeah, man.” Paul agrees and grins.

  “I saw that they couldn’t hurt me anymore, so I took the offensive. It turns out that I’m also incredibly fast and strong now as well. I knocked the guards out.”

  ‘No one messes with my girl.’ Beth says inside my head.

  This is weird. That’s gonna take some getting used to, Beth. I reply silently inside my head.

  ‘He he.’

  I smile, then I remember the image of the tanned manicured hand and frown.

  “What is it?” Mitchell asks.

  “I want to know who was pulling the strings.” I say.

  “The guy asking the questions?” Paul says and I nod.

  “Behind the mirror, there were video cameras hooked up to a computer.” I tell them.

  “Hmm.” Stuart murmurs and leans back and sighs. “Then he could be anywhere.”

  ‘He? It could be a woman for all we know.’ Beth says inside my head.

  “Beth says, it could be a woman. They were using a device to hide their voice.” I say.

  They look at me with a puzzled expression.

  “Beth is able to read minds now. She can communicate using telepathy.” Mitchell says quietly.

  “Whoa. Sweet,” Paul murmurs.

  “Why would they hide their voice?” Stuart asks.

  We look at him.

  “I mean, we clearly don’t know who they are, right? So, why hide their voice?”

  “Unless, it’s a voice that migh
t be recognized?” I venture.

  “So maybe this person speaks publicly.” Mitchell says.

  That gets us thinking.

  “Okay. So who speaks publicly?” I ask.

  “Millions,” Stuart replies. “Politicians, Radio DJs, singers, actors.”

  “Yeah, right. The mastermind behind it all, is Will.i.am.” Paul says.

  We all laugh.

  “I’m just saying, it could be anyone. And we don’t know if it’s a man or a woman yet.” Stuart says.

  I try to remember the hand I saw on the computer screen, just before it went dark. But they’re still yapping about which actor or politician it might be.

  “Ssshh. Quiet. Please, guys, I’m trying to think.” I say gently and rub my temples and try to think back.

  It was just for a fraction of a second that I had seen the hand. It was tanned a deep bronze color. The nails were manicured. So they’re pampered, whoever they are. Wait. I remember a ring.

  It was on the index finger. I think I saw the thumb on the left hand side of the screen. So, the ring was on the right hand.

  The right index finger. It was a gold ring, with a round cut ruby. Like a signet ring, or a football ring maybe.

  “Aah!” I exclaim as I open my eyes. “It is a man.” I say.

  “That still doesn’t help narrow things down.” Paul says.

  We all sit frowning and I stare out the window as the plane begins to gather speed.

  “He could be in any country. Hell, he could be in Australia for all we know.” Paul adds.

  I shake my head. “This was carefully orchestrated. No. Whoever he is. He’s in the U.S.” I say.

  It’s almost four O’clock in the afternoon on Tuesday, January 29th, when our plane touches down at O’Hare International airport in Chicago.

  Agent Forest disembarks first, then shouts a warning to everyone.

  “It’s a circus. Don’t talk to anyone. Go straight to your family member.”

  Then we follow her flaming orange hair out of the aircraft and along the pale corridor that connects the craft to the airport. We ignore baggage claim and head straight for the exit, following Agent Forest’s orange hair. She towers above me and is even a couple of inches taller than Mitchell as he follows her through the crowd of passengers waiting to collect their luggage.

  “Remember what I said. Don’t talk to anyone.” She shouts out.

  Then we’re through the doors and into arrivals. The noise is unbelievable. I’m dazzled by a dozen flashes going off in our direction. I shield my eyes as I hurry along after the others. I almost walk straight past my dad as I hurry to get out. Then I notice his old brown suede jacket and his short blond hair.

  “DADDY!” I scream as I push past some reporters and head towards him.

  I see his head swivel as he looks around. It’s not until I’m almost on top of him that he finally notices me.

  “Britney?” He mouths and then I’m in his arms.

  “Daddy.” I murmur as I hold on to him.

  We stand amidst the sea of people and just hug each other. I never thought that I would see him again, or Jessica, my sister.

  We release each other after a few minutes. He takes a step back.

  “Holy cow, you’re walking!”

  “No time to explain. Let’s get out of here.” I shout back and tug on his sleeve.

  Oh, man, it feels so good being back in Chicago. I have a spring in my step as I lead my dad outside. The sky is overcast and there is still some snow on the ground, which crunches under our feet.

  I see Dad’s old white Buick parked nearby. He walks to the passenger door and grabs the handle. It opens grudgingly after a few good pulls.

  “Let’s go home,” Dad says as I climb on to the cracked leather seat.

  Dad gets in, starts the car and drives slowly towards the exit.

  “I guess I’m gonna have to call the cemetery in the morning.” Dad says.

  “The cemetery?” I ask.

  “Yeah. We won’t be needing your plot anymore.”

  “There was a funeral?” I gasp.

  “Of course. You all had funerals. We were told you’d been vaporized in the explosion.”

  “Oh my god.” I mutter and reach over and rub Dad’s shoulder as he drives.

  “Daddy, I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s not your fault, honey.”

  It got me thinking. “Who told you we were dead?”

  “The school. They were contacted by Feds from Washington, the same day it happened.”

  “Hmm.” I murmur as I stare out of the grimy window.

  As I get out of the car and look up at our three-storey house, I begin to get weepy. Home. Finally, the nightmare is over. I’m safe.

  I walk to the steps and stop. I look down at the makeshift ramp that Dad made for me.

  How many times has he pushed me up that ramp?

  Tears of joy fall as I walk up the steps. I get to the top just as the front door is opened from within.

  Jessica, my older sister, is standing there in her usual tomboy wardrobe. A black Linkin Park t-shirt with pale stone washed jeans. Her long blond hair is loose and hangs down, covering the left half of her face. Her right blue eye is bulging and her mouth hangs slack as she looks at me standing on the steps.

  “Britney? You look terrible.” Jessica says.

  “Hey, sis. It’s great to see you too.” I say and hug her firmly, but not too tight.

  She actually hugs me back, which amazes me. I think this is the first hug she’s ever given me. I smile and enjoy her affection.

  “You’re walking?” Jessica says as she steps back.

  “You noticed?” I say and chuckle.

  God, I missed my family.

  “Come on, let’s get indoors. It’s cold.” Dad says from behind me.

  Cold? It didn’t feel cold to me. Jessica releases me, then steps to one side. I notice her check my t-shirt.

  “San Francisco Police Department?” She asks.

  “It’s a long story.” I say as the door is closed behind me.

  Over a hot plate of fried chicken and rice, smothered in gravy, I tell them both what happened. Well, almost everything. I leave out the powers and the meteorites. Jessica shakes her head as she listens, while Dad sits with his fists clenched. When I finish, he stands up and storms around the kitchen.

  “Daddy, calm down.” I say.

  “How can I? Those monsters hurt you, and killed others. How can they just get away with it?”

  “They didn’t. They’re dead. But look, I’m home now. That’s what matters.”

  “And they really don’t have any leads?” Dad asks.

  “Well, they have the bodies and some fingerprints.” I reply.

  “What about the Feds? Isn’t this their sort of thing, you know, terrorism and stuff?” Jessica asks.

  “They said they’re looking into it. That’s all I know.” I say and shrug.

  Dad is still seething and keeps pacing. I get up and walk over to him.

  “Daddy, look at me.” I say and grab his hands. “I’m okay. Really.”

  He looks at me and lets out a deep sigh and closes his eyes.

  “Why are you so brave?” He asks.

  I chuckle and pat his hand. “Because I have a great dad.”

  He pulls me forward and hugs me. His big arms encircle me easily and I squeeze him back gently.

  “So what happens now?” Jessica asks.

  “I guess I go back to school. Get on with my life.” I say.

  Dad steps back and looks down at me. “So soon?”

  “Sure. I’ve already missed over two months. I can’t miss any more.”

  I stretch and yawn. “Man, I’m beat.”

  “Go to bed, Pumpkin.” Dad says.

  “And take a bath, please!” Jessica pleads.

  I laugh.

  “I would love a hot bath.” I say.

  I turn to leave and head towards the crude elevator at the back of the house. Then I
stop. My eyes mist up. I don’t need that anymore. I look down at my legs. The blue jeans hang loosely from my stick-thin legs. I reach down and prod my thigh experimentally.

  “That’s gonna take some getting used to.” Jessica says as she watches me.

  I nod numbly, turn and leave the kitchen. Being able to walk again is overwhelming. My head is still spinning as I head upstairs. Walking feels weird.

  My legs are so skinny, they look like they can’t possibly support me, yet they do. I feel strong, but it just looks weird whenever I look down.

  Now, when you haven’t had a bath in such a long time, let me tell you, a warm bath is heaven. Words cannot describe how good it feels.

  I don’t feel the hot water very much though. I don’t use any cold water, just hot all the way and I still only feel a slight warmth. I lie down and allow the water up to my chin. I remove my contacts and place them in the small plastic container and put them on the side of the washbasin that’s next to the bathtub. The bathroom fills with steam.