Supernova

by Mia Rodriguez

Chapter 43: The End Of The Journey

  “Great!” sarcastically escapes from my mouth.

  The guardians chuckle darkly. Their unrestrained laughter twists in my stomach. Then I notice their lack of weapons. As quick as lightning, I pull out my slingshot. The male guardian closest to me leaps in my direction before I can get out the first rock.

  “Get off of me!” I yell.

  “Don’t hit us with that thing,” the female guardian tells me as she kneels in front of me and points at my weapon.

  I clutch my slingshot fiercely. Unfortunately, with the guardian on top of me, I can’t do anything with it.

  “I wish I could hit you,” I snap.

  “Madrigal, calm down,” the female guardian tells me.

  I groan with frustration. They definitely know who I am. They had already said my name two times.

  “You don’t understand,” the other male, the one standing up, tells me.

  “What don’t I understand?” I snarl.

  “We’re not who you think we are,” states the female, her rich ebony skin with a healthy glow.

  “Who are you?”

  “We’re from the Freedom Warriors Headquarters.”

  My eyebrows shoot up. “Why are you dressed like guardians?”

  “It’s a good way to get around,” laughs the female,

  “Very helpful,” the blond one holding me down says.

  I eye them, still suspicious.

  “How did you like Constanza?” asks the man standing up.

  “Fine,” I mumble.

  “Was Royce a good guide?”

  “Excellent,” I blurt.

  “We’ve got lots to do, Supernova,” states the female. “Jordan, let her up. I don’t think she’s going to hit us with her slingshot anymore, are you, Madrigal?”

  “No.”

  “I’m so sorry I tackled you,” Jordan tells me as he lets me go. “I had to do something before you hurt us.”

  “I understand,” I utter, shooing his hands away and standing up on my own. My head is still in a fog over what’s happening.

  “By the way, I’m Aretha and this is Malcolm—my husband. You’ve already met Jordan.”

  “Nice to meet all of you,” I say, trying to focus my swirling mind.

  “We’re thrilled to meet you,” Malcolm comments, his skin coloring exactly like his wife’s tone.

  A thought jolts me. “We’ve got to get to Royce!”

  “Let’s go,” Aretha states.

  “I’ll stay with him,” offers Jordan as he points to D412.

  “If he starts waking up, hit him over the head,” Aretha tells him, her dark brown eyes serious.

  Jordan’s blue eyes meet hers. “I will.”

  Aretha, Malcolm, and I move toward the adobe house. I rush with single minded focus, knowing what I left behind. They have to speed up to keep up with me.

  I come close to stepping on Royce as I arrive at the entrance. He’s sprawled out in front of it not making a single movement.

  “He must’ve tried to get to you,” explains Aretha.

  I plop down and place my head over his heart. Exhaling a giant breath of relief, I realize what has to get done. “We have to get him to a doctor! We have to!” I insist.

  “He’s alive, right?” questions Malcolm.

  “He’s just unconscious!”

  “Let’s get him some help,” rushes Aretha.

  Malcolm carefully swings Royce over his shoulder. I grab our backpacks, and we head out. Their jeep is hidden behind several mesquite bushes on a road that is in the opposite direction of D412’s vehicle.

  At the green enclosed jeep, Malcolm lays Royce in the back. He glances at his wife. “You don’t need me to go with you, right?”

  “Are you staying?” she asks.

  “I think it’s going to take both Jordan and me to do some clean-up.”

  “Yeah, there are a lot of tracks to cover up.”

  “I don’t know what to do about the soldier, though,” he frowns.

  “Here,” I say, pulling an object out of my pocket.

  “Is that what I think it is?” asks Malcolm, taking it.

  “It’s my memory pill. Give it to him. I’ll get another one later.”

  “I’ll be back to pick you and Jordan up after I leave Madrigal and Royce,” Aretha tells Malcolm. “You know where to wait for me.”

  “We’ll be there.”

  As we drive off at top speed, I keep an eye on Royce from the front seat. He hasn’t come into consciousness.

  I need to keep my mind occupied before I go insane with worry. “How did you know about the accident?” I ask Aretha.

  “The news.”

  “The news?”

  “The news reported on an accident and gave the names of the injured people. We knew that Donny was transporting you. We were relieved that they didn’t find you, so we figured you were hiding.”

  I nod. “Good reasoning.”

  “We tried to get here earlier, but there was a huge ruckus here all day.”

  “I know,” I say dryly.

  “When things quieted down, we came back but saw a guardian car close by.”

  “That was D412’s stolen vehicle.”

  “He stole it?”

  I sigh. “It’s a long story. I’ll tell you later. Finish telling me your story, please.”

  “There isn’t much more to tell,” Aretha asserts. “We sneaked over to the old house—not having seen the person from the guardian vehicle anywhere—and saw him pointing a gun at you.”

  “What did you do next?”

  “We knew we couldn’t step in,” states Aretha. “We’d have to wait until the right time to do it. We hid behind some boulders.”

  “What happened next?”

  “We saw you being led away at gunpoint,” she continues. “That must’ve been scary for you.”

  “Actually, that wasn’t the scariest part. It was leaving Royce behind when he was in such bad shape.”

  When we arrive at Freedom Warriors Headquarters, the doctor insists that his nurse check me while he attends to Royce.

  “I’m fine,” I insist.

  “Just by looking at you, I can see you’re dehydrated,” he barks, his light brown eyes meaning business. “Don’t give me any problems, young lady.”

  Doctor Grajeda’s stern stance convinces me to do what he asks. Besides, the sooner he leaves my presence, the sooner he can give Royce his full attention. The nurse finds I just need to hydrate. An IV is immediately inserted in my arm. Royce isn't so lucky.

  The liquid drips slowly into my arm, and I frown. As I wait for Royce to come out of the operating room, his internal injuries serious enough for immediate surgery, I wait impatiently in the room we will share. Freedom Warriors Headquarters amazes me—what I’ve seen of it that is. I haven’t had an opportunity to examine all of it since Royce and I were rushed to the infirmary as soon as we arrived. What I do know is that this is an extremely organized operation.

  Everyone I’ve met so far seems to know what to do like Aretha, Malcolm and Jordan who sprang into action right away. Just the fact they have a place to take care of their sick gives me so much pride to belong to such an organization.

  As I count the seconds for Royce to come back to me, people keep stepping into my room and introducing themselves. My head isn’t on straight, but I can tell they forgive my aloofness and scattered ways. But truth be told, it’s hard to concentrate on anything other than Royce.

  I shudder to think about what would’ve happened if he had been too far gone to connect with my vision. He had to play dead, or D412 would’ve shot him for certain. We had no options. In my vision snippet, I saw D412 with a gun lurking on the outside of the dilapidated house. I wouldn’t have been able to use my slingshot on time.

  I pace up and down the room, dragging the medicine tree with me. I almost trip a few times, but I can’t sit still.

  Just when I th
ink I can’t stand it any longer, Royce is wheeled into my room.

  “How is he?” I ask Doctor Grajeda anxiously as I rush to an unconscious Royce. The middle of his torso is wrapped up with bandages.

  Doctor Grajeda peeks over his spectacles. “He’ll be fine.”

  “Really?” I blurt.

  “He’s sore and in pain but fine. Let him rest.”

  After a long moment of watching Royce rest peacefully, I snuggle into my own bed. Night has fallen. I don’t pay attention to any soreness in my body. All is well for the time being. I slip into a deep slumber.

  “Madrigal,” a voice wakes me up.

  I flutter my eyes open. Sharp daylight floods the room. It seems to be afternoon. Could I have slept that long?

  “Madrigal,” the voice repeats and then I realize that Royce is speaking to me. I quickly turn my head towards him.

  “Hey, sleeping beauty,” he says, chuckling from his bed.

  I grin as I stumble out of the hospital bed, grabbing onto a rail to steady myself, and I rush to him with the medicine tree in tow.

  “How are you?” I ask gently.

  “Fine,” he says. “And you?”

  “Everything’s great!”

  He looks around. “We’re at the Freedom Warriors Headquarters, right?”

  “Right.”

  “You got us here, Supernova.”

  “I’d say we both got us here.”

  “I really thought I was going to—”

  “Don’t say it,” I demand sternly.

  He grins at me. “Thank you for not letting me die.”

  “You would’ve done the same for me.”

  “Donny’s fine and I’m fine thanks to you.”

  “Donny’s fine?” I ask, trying to absorb what he’s saying.

  “I checked in on him as soon as I woke up.”

  “What a relief.”

  “You didn’t tell me he had been injured.”

  “You were in bad shape. Donny and I didn’t want to make it worse.”

  “You did a great job taking over the reins of this mess.”

  “Thank you.”

  His eyes sweep over me. "You're ready to be a leader now."

  "Thank you. Coming from you, that's a real compliment."

  "The only thing is . . ."

  "Yes?" I ask with curiosity.

  "Well . . ." he says, a mischievous tone to his voice.

  “What is it?”

  “You’ve got to stop scolding me in my head.”

  “What?”

  “When D412 showed up, you ordered me to play dead and not to die.”

  “Do I have to remind you that you were the one who got in my head first?”

  “We had to communicate somehow.”

  “I needed you to keep fighting even when you pretended to be dead.”

  His mouth turns into a sly formation. “How could I not—with you bullying me into it.”

  “Bullying?” I ask, offended that he’d use such a word to describe me.

  “Yeah, and at the same time acting devastated in front of D412. Man, you’re a great actress.”

  “Not really.”

  “You are, believe me, you are.”

  My voice turns serious. “No great acting was involved. All I had to do was just imagine you were dead, and my emotions came scrambling out.”

  He gently strokes my face with his fingers. “I don’t know what to say to that,” he announces quietly.

  Discomfort takes over me. “Don’t say anything.”

  “I want to hear out loud what you told me in my head before leaving our hiding place with that lunatic,” he murmurs.

  “It was nothing.”

  “It was everything to me.”

  I clear my throat. “I can’t say it out loud—I just can’t.”

  His eyes flicker brightly at me. “Try.”

  “I thought you had said we should stay away from each other romantically.”

  “I know, but I need to hear it before we start our next journey.”

  “Royce—”

  “Call me Arthur if it helps you open up to me.”

  “I can’t repeat the words,” I declare. “I’m sorry, I just can’t.”

  His face crumbles with such deep disappointment that my heart starts aching. Could I inflict such pain in him?

  I squeeze my eyes shut and shoot it out—the dreaded words, “I love you!”

  “Open your eyes, Madrigal and say it while you look at me.”

  I open them. He looks so hopeful that I could drown in him. “I already told you.”

  “You’re feelings for me must not be very strong,” he murmurs sadly.

  “That’s not true.”

  “It’s obvious that it is.”

  His assertion frustrates me. “How can you say that after what we’ve been through?”

  “Maybe you just feel close to me because of all those close calls we’ve had,” he states.

  “Maybe that’s the way it is with you,” I blurt, my eye twitching.

  “Madrigal, I’ve been totally nuts about you since we were small,” he murmurs patiently. “My feelings toward you can’t be in question.”

  “But mine are?”

  “Yes.”

  “Look Royce or Arthur,” I spout, “I do love you like crazy, and I don’t see why I have to say it for you to know it. What’s the deal with that? If you ever question me again, I’ll knock you down with my slingshot!”

  Royce’s eyes sweep over me. “I love you too with every single speck of DNA inside of me,” he murmurs. “I always have.”

  “Always?”

  “We were always meant for each other,” he explains as he grabs my shoulders and moves my mouth to his.

  When our lips touch, I give a tiny gasp. It’s silly and completely involuntary, but I just can’t help myself and my swirling emotions. These stolen moments that I yearn for at every moment are so surreal that I have to keep telling myself that I’m not in a dream. It’s not in my imagination that I taste Royce’s lips, I breathe his air, and I feel his heart next to mine. My defensiveness changes to tenderness as his warmth fills me. I’m safe with him as he is with me.

  “I love you, Royce—totally and completely,” I whisper, letting my carefully constructed guard down.

  His eyes lock into mine with a vibrant glint as his gentle fingers stroke my face. "That didn't hurt, did it?"

  "Maybe a little," I tease but before I can say anything else, his kiss finds me again. And it is every bit as awesome as the very first one.