Blank: Chapter Nine: History

The only reason my mind isn’t racing is because it’s being subjugated by the protective instinct inside of me to keep Phoenix safe. I’m sitting on the floor against the wall outside of the ICU, trying to keep from melting into a fetal position. After the doctors had wheeled Phoenix away, I told them that Phoenix had been mugged outside of my house. They seemed skeptical, because the wounds are deep, and he has severe internal bleeding. When the nurse did a background check on me, (probably because I looked pretty suspicious wearing a robe and slippers, covered in blood that wasn’t mine,) they knew from my file on the computer that I lived in a nice neighborhood. Muggers seemed unlikely. I called Ann, but she didn’t answer, probably still talking to her hot professor at Harvard.

I didn’t call Sam. If I called him and said I was at the hospital, he would freak out. In fact, he’s probably checking out my house already. Crap, he’ll see the blood! I realize I have to call him before he spontaneously combusts or something.

My phone buzzes. Speak of the devil. I flip it open, my fingers shaking a little. “Sam…”

“Eneile, fuck! There’s blood all over your damn yard. What happened. Where are you.”

“I’m at the hospital. My friend came to visit me-- this thing attacked him...he got hurt.” I hear my voice break on the last word as Sam intakes his breath sharply. “He’s in fucking surgery. The doctor’s haven’t told me if he’s stabilized yet.”

            “Which wing are you in?” Sam’s voice has taken on a dead calm.

            “Um,” I crane my neck and twist, trying to get a glimpse of the ICU number. “The room number says 125 B-”

            “Meet me in the boy’s bathroom down the hall.” He hangs up.

            “Sam…?” I whisper to the dead line, breathing hard. I glance down the sterile white hallway. Sure enough, there’s two bathrooms near the end. One for girls, one for guys. Does he really expect me to go in there? I realize that I really don’t care and unfold from the ground, my knees cracking. The trek down the hallway is brief. I pass only one nurse --who gives me a warning look as my hand grabs the doorknob leading to the men’s bathroom, but she doesn't press the issue. I thank her with my eyes. She probably just thinks I’m some transvestite. Oh well, I twist the knob and enter the bathroom just as a gust of wind takes over me, pushing my hair back and into my eyes. Does that mean Sam teleported from outside? It is pretty windy today...
            A lurid thump sounds from inside one of the stalls and I hear a curse. Sam bursts out of the stall, a piece of toilet paper sticking to his foot. This would be comical if I wasn't going to burst into tears at any moment.

            “Eneile,” Sam picks the toilet paper off his boot and tosses it aside. “You’re covered in blood.” The color drains from his face as I cross my arms over my chest, trying but definitely not succeeding in covering up the crimson blots dotting my robe. Abruptly disgusted, I untie the robe and toss it in the bulky trashcan set by a urinal, revealing the clothes I slept in last night from yesterday, my gray sweater and jeans.

            “Who did it.” Sam steps towards me. The tone in his voice sounds like he already knows-

How could he know?

-but feels the need to ask anyway. He’s wearing dark jeans and a dark knit sweater that probably feels as soft as it looks. His outfit reminds me of Phoenix and his “No Colors Allowed” wardrobe. I push back waterworks and reach out tentatively to pluck a piece of lint off Sam’s shoulder.

“Them.”

“Them?” Sam’s forehead creases, his brows knitting together to make a V.

“The figures from my nightmares. They are real.”

“Figures… Do they have blazing red eyes, scaly skin and razor sharp nails with a voice that feels like it cuts your soul in half when it speaks?”

“You know!” I knit my eyebrows together and give him a quizzing look.

“Remember last night,” Sam states, pacing the floor, “When I told you that once you told me about your dreams, I’d tell you the cons of having powers?”

“Yes.”

“Well, you’ve told me about your dreams, now I’ll tell you about the cons.”

I hold my breath, waiting for him to speak. God, I've been waiting for this. 

“Once your power begins to grow when you’re mature, they are able to track you… better than before.”

“You mean they have been tracking me... before all this happened? The figures?” I interrupt him, my mouth going slack at this new information. A chill travels up my spine at the thought of being watched all the time, from the moment I was born.

“You catch on quick. They try to kill people like us, because we try to eliminate them as well. You might call it fair, but they’re the bad guys, trust me.”

“What do they do?” I ask. They aren’t the normal kind of threat, surely? Wouldn’t the national defense take note of what they do? With their scaly skin and supernatural demeanor, they should be recognizable as a threat and taken down by the government. Why don’t they?

“Their only purpose is to exterminate us. They feast on our souls to keep themselves unnaturally strong. In our records their involvement has been tracked all the way back to 1809, when people like us started having powers. It’s been rumored that they gave us our powers, by implanting a part of their own souls in human prisoners, to create a challenge in killing off the human race. They love a good challenge. But our powers grew and developed. Soon, humans didn’t need to have their souls implanted in our bodies. It’s passed on by birth. Like a superhuman gene…” Sam’s words die off before he picks up again. “They’re strong and dangerous. We’ve asked for the name of their kind, but they refuse to tell us."

"Why isn't the government involved with this?" I ask incredulously. 

"They shape-shift. Take on human and animal forms. One of them could have easily been Hitler, Jack the Ripper, or Osama Bin Laden, or... do you get my point? The government is involved... technically. But only we know that it's them. The scales are the revelation of their true form."  

I let his words take in. "How do you stop them?"

"Some of our kind are born with unique powers that develop to overcome them. Those special people are put into groups to fight them-"

"Do you force them to fight?" I interrupt, staring straight into his eyes. If he lies, I'd be able to tell.

"Yes." He sighs. "All organizations have their rules. That is one of ours."

"Well what if someone didn't want this life? It's not their fault that they're born with the gene. There's no way you can just force them to fight!"

"Most volunteer." Sam mutters, eyes on the floor. He shifts his weight from side to side, the leather of his boots squeaking against the white tile. "I-"

A man strolls into the boy's bathroom. He has a sweater vest and one of those creepy pedo-mustaches. He nods to Sam in a polite "hello," before he notices there is a lady in the room.

"Hey! You can't be in here!" His hand reaches up to smooth back his mustache as he glares at me in all my adolescent glory. He seems like the kind of guy who has a lawn that kids like to play on. He also seems like the kind of guy that would scream and shake a gun at them for doing so.

"Excuse me," I mumble and let him pass by me. He gives me the dirtiest look before walking over to the urinal and unzipping his pants, muttering something I can't understand.

"Alright, I'm out of here." My cheeks flush, I push open the bathroom door and enter the hall, Sam right behind. It looks as if he's holding back the biggest laugh of his life. I twist around to meet him face to face, only a few inches away. I glare at him.

"You should have told me sooner. If I had known about them the night before I would've been more cautious and Phoenix wouldn't be having surgery right now!" I hiss. 

Sam's face falls and he immediately looks forlorn. My eyes soften the slightest bit before I tighten them again. Sam mumbles an apology but either my ears don't work or I'm not listening. I'll go with the latter. My fingers poke into his chest. Hard. "You should have told me!"

Of course, Sam is still as a statue. My poke did make him flinch though, probably more from surprise than actual force to his body. I whirl around and sit right back down outside of room 125 B. Sam's mouth is open and he's staring at me. I cross my arms over my chest, resilient. Then something clicks in my mind.

"Shit!" I scramble up from my place on the floor and run right past Sam back into the bathroom. The creepy pedophile is just getting done zipping up his pants when I burst through the door. 

"What the-"

I push past him, almost knocking the old guy to the ground. I reach the mucky trashcan and shift through old stinky paper towels and grab my robe. It's then that I breathe a sigh of relief. The letter that was given to me is still in the robe's dark blue pocket. Snatching it from it's hiding place, I stuff it in the back of my jean's pocket. That thing that attacked Phoenix said to read it alone, and Sam is no exception. If they are really watching me like Sam says they can, then I have to play this safe and do what they say.

Briskly, paying Pedo no mind, I glide out of the bathroom like I own the place.

"What was that about?" Sam asks, crossing his arms. He follows me. I can only hope he doesn't spot the letter burning a hole through my jeans pocket as I sit by room 125 B and he plops down by my side.

"Forgot my phone. I didn't want that guy to steal it." I murmur. Sam nods in agreement, his eyes have dark circles under them. He looks so tired.

"I hope your friend's okay."

I don't answer him. I bury my face into my sweatshirt sleeves and ignore his presence. After a few moments of awkward silence, Pedo creeps out of the bathroom and strolls past us, pretending we're not there.

It isn't Sam's fault.

Ya, I know...

Do you really?

My head twists around to study at him. His legs are all stretched out and his head leans against the wall. His eyes are closed with the look of innocence. Of course I forgive him. It wasn't Sam's fault that thing came to my house this morning. If I was in his position, I wouldn't want to talk about them, either. I don't even want to talk about them now. Besides, what could I have done against one of them, anyway? It would have come and beat up Phoenix any time it wanted to. If it's anyone's fault it's mine. I brought them straight to my house.

"Sam?" I whisper, "What do we do now?"

"We're not doing anything about this until your powers develop."

Oh. I stare at my hands, pale and unmarked and just... small looking. Like they wouldn't lay a finger on anybody...

"You're sure I have them? Powers, I mean."

"Trust me, after that day in the woods, you have them. You were able to leave dents in me. You dodged a car. Left dents in that, too."

I smirk at the thought of Cotter and Melanie's gaping faces as I launched over them like a Cirque performer. That was pretty cool...

"Tell me about your dreams." Suddenly Sam's eyes are on me, piercing.

"They feel real," I start, gazing at my thumbs and twiddling them. "when I'm in them. Sometimes when I wake up it feels like it actually happened...or is going to happen."

"Like a vision."

"Exactly." I quickly phrase. "I dreamt about them wanting to kill you and me."

"People like us, Blanks, are able to have more than one power. But that extra power is usually not as strong as their main one."

"Do you think that my dreams are really visions of real life?"

"It's just a hunch. Your dreams about them could have just been a coincidence."

"Ya, I guess your right."

I ponder this for a while with my head leaning back against the wall. Sam has been silent for a long time, content with sitting quietly. This hospital smells like disinfectant and soap. It bothers me, and I realize I can't sit around and wait for Phoenix's surgery to be over. Suddenly I remember I haven't showered in a while. At least Sam's nose isn't scrunched, which probably means I don't smell too bad. Sighing heavily, I get up and hold my hand out to Sam, whose eyes snap open and watch me.

"I want to go home," I say and grab his hand, helping him up off the floor. Sam sneakily glances down each end of the hallway, making sure no one is around. Then he grabbed my forearm and we melted into the air, more gracefully then last time since I wasn't frailing around like a frightened little child. The airplane feeling in my gut was expected, and the wind pressure against my body as well. When we landed, I gasped quickly at a sudden freefall feeling. I guess I can't adapt to everything that easily. Sam keeps a vice grip on my arm so I don't fall, and he rights me, so my two feet are planted firmly on the ground.

"Thanks," I tell him, and kick dirt from my slippers. We landed in my back yard that conveniently has a high brush fence to keep my neighbor's prying eyes off of us. Never in my life would I have thought that I would be standing here, in my slippers, next to a super-strong teleporting hottie, gripping his hand, staring at my best friend's blood slowly being sucked into the grass and dirt, trying to come up with a believable cover story to tell Ann when she comes home, and a supernatural killer's letter sitting pretty in my pocket. 
...never in my life.
Never in your life.






End of Chapter Nine