Thursday, September 22, 2011

Chapter Sixteen: Created


A/N: This chapter was fun to write! I hope you enjoy!
p.s.- please comment on this chapter! It seriously makes my whole day! You should also comment on my post called **IMPORTANT MESSAGE** because it's really important! 


Chapter Sixteen: Created


                 “Jeane.” I embrace my aunt with my good arm, the other hanging limply by my side. I don’t feel any pain, probably because my brain is still in survival mode. She embraces me fully, her big curly hair covering my face entirely.
                “I’ve missed you. You haven’t visited me like you promised.” She kisses the side of my cheek before backing away a few inches.
                “I’m sorry. I’ve been…” I glance at Sam. “Occupied.”
                “I can see that.” She looks at my broken arm with disgust. “Them?”
                Glancing at my mess of an arm, I nod yes. She clicks her tongue and gently places her palm over my chest.
                “Jeane?” I ask nervously.
                “Shh…” She pushes her palm against me, sending a fiery jolt through my spine. I gasp in pain, and Sam who is close behind me growls. Then, a cold wave passes through my body, from my chest all the way down and out of my toes. I’m transfixed as I watch my arm magically replace itself and heal completely; my cuts and bruises also fade. I clench and unclench my hand, testing the muscles in my forearm. It’s perfect.
                “To hurt,” Jeane speaks in a whisper, “passed down from my great-grandparents, The Tidbit Taylors. And to heal, my second power that developed on its own when I was born.”
                Tears well up in my eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me?” How could she keep such a huge part of herself hidden from me?
                “Oh, the clichĂ© motive dear. You were just too young. I knew it was a possibility that you might inherit my gene, being that your mother is my sister and we share the same blood… but…” She pauses, gathering her thoughts and crossing her arms. “I never really believed that you would get it. I thought I would pass it on to my children, if I ever had any… not to you.”
“Do Mom and Dad know? Does anybody?” I ask.
“I’ve never told anyone. Not even Daisy.”
I chuckle. “Daisy’s a dog, Jeane. She has no idea what you’re saying.”
“I guess you’re right.” She smiles back. It’s a good feeling to have, knowing that I’m able to make small talk after what just happened. Everything is –almost—normal.
I turn towards Sam. “Are you okay?”
He nods, but he’s shaking. I immediately give him a hug, with both arms this time. He wraps his arms around me too, and leans his head on mine. We stay like this for many moments before Aunt Jeane clears her throat and we both pull apart awkwardly.
“You’re very talented. Sam, is it?” Jeane says, giving him the up-down.
“Yes. Nice to meet you, Jeane.” He shakes hands with my aunt.
“I don’t know how we would’ve gotten out of there alive if it wasn’t for you.” She says, letting go of his hand.“Teleportation is a very rare gift. I’ve only known one other person that could do it, but he died years ago. Is teleportation your first or second power?”
“It’s a-” Sam clears his throat. “My first. Strength is my second; it’s only twice that of a human’s though.”
“I see.” 
"This bathroom looks familiar. Are we at your house, Sam?" I ask rhetorically, glancing at the acquainted medicine cabinet. I look at myself in the mirror. I’m covered in dust from head to toe. I run my fingers through my hair and ruffle it, sending a cloud of dust in every direction.
“We’re a mess.” I state. Jeane and Sam are covered in the dry bits of cement and debris also. I turn a handle on the sink and bend over to wash my hair. Sam and Jeane immediately copy me, using the other two sinks in the room. Once our hair and faces were washed down, we patted out our clothes as best we could.
“Sam?” Jeane says as she brushes dust off her tennis shoes. “Where are we?”
"My house. New Haven, Connecticut.” Sam says, brushing dust off his shoulders. “We shouldn't stay here. They won't take long to regroup and track us here. This is a very obvious place for us to be." 
"Where can we go?" I ask, raising my eyebrows. 
Sam gives Aunt Jeane a look, silently asking for any ideas. She shakes her head. "I'll figure it out."

************************************************************************

I've never seen Sam eat so much. As Jeane and I sat on the couch in the den Sam ran around the house with a big black backpack full of clothes, money, and disposable telephones. Every time he passed the kitchen though, he would reach in the fridge and pull out any kind of food and gobbled it down. I don't blame him. Sam had mentioned to us earlier that they had barely fed him at all back in the facility. Only small scraps, just enough to keep him alive. Sam was starving. 
After a few minutes of sitting, Jeane sighed and walked into the kitchen. I leaned back in the puffy brown couch cushions and soaked in the ultra-soft feeling. My eyes were drifting when Jeane plopped a plate on my lap full of ham-and-cheese sandwiches. I was gobbling down my fourth one when Sam came into the den, backpack close to bursting. 
Then a very obvious What-The-Hell-Were-You-Thinking thought popped in my mind. 
"Where's your Dad?" I set the plate down on the coffee table in front of me. 
"I just texted him. He went hiking in East Rock Park yesterday morning. He shouldn't be back until tomorrow night. I'll tell him about what happened. He could stay with my uncle upstate." 
"Why wasn't he worried about you? We've been gone a week!" I shout, furious that Sam's dad would take a vacation while is only son was missing.
Sam gives me a look that could cut glass. "He's used to me being gone for a few days. My dad knows that I can take care of myself."
"Oh." I glance at my stubbornly dirty converse in shame, my cheeks flaming. "Okay. Will-" I pause, feeling sorry for Sam's dad. "Will he ever be able to come back home?"
"No. None of us can."

***********************************************************************

"Sam, I have to tell you something." I say as Jeane re-ties her shoes and Sam double-checks his backpack. 
He gazes up at me with his silver eyes. "What is it?"
"Back in the... um, facility..."
Sam's eyes darken but he doesn't tell me to shut up and forget about it. "Go on."
"They said that they were able to study my brainwaves while sleeping in those cells. They figured out my powers --in detail."
His eyes sparkle with interest as he curtly zips his backpack and slings it over his shoulder. Jeane also looks at me with interest. I clear my throat and speak.
"All your theories were right, Sam. Everything. My first power is telekinesis, and my second is, um, futuristic insight through dreaming."
Sam's jaw drops. "You're saying that your dreams... are real? Or going to be?" 
"We're in luck." Jeane drapes an arm over my shoulders. "I've always wanted a physic in the family." She said with morbid humor. They both knew I had nightmares. Sam and Jeane didn't ask about them, and I'm glad they didn't. 
I've cried enough today.

*********************************************************************

"I don't know how I'm going to break this to Annie." I tell Jeane as we walk out of Sam's front door. He leads the way down the gravel pathway. We still haven't decided where to go yet, but Sam was practically having anxiety attacks about staying in one place too long. 
"I'll tell 'er." Jeane states, taking her hand in mine. Our boots clash against the gravel in a similar rhythm. 
"No, no..." I pause indecisively. "I will. I can't make you do that... but what do I say Aunt Jeane? I can't just go: oh, hey Annie! Sorry that I've been missing for a week. I was kind of kidnapped by monsters. Oh, I have superpowers too. Isn't that neat? Well, I have to go now. Bye forever."
"I don't think it'll turn out quite like that...." Jeane ponders, staring at her shoes. Sam pulls out his cell phone and types something into it. Probably texting his dad about the situation. 
"How about you write Ann a letter?"
"A letter?" My eyes glaze over, a sudden image flashing in my mind. For always and ever?


   “Hey,” Sam says to me as I open the front door for him.
   “Hey.” I mumble against his chest as I embrace him and breathe in his delicious scent. Firewood, lasagna, and the rustic smell of his clothes from all the old drawers he keeps them in. Divine. I gulp it down, savor it.
   He doesn’t pull away for a long time, but when he does, I whine. He laughs at me.
  “Common, we have to go. Have you said goodbye to Annie?”
  “No, I thought it would be best for her not to know where we’re going.” I inform him and pull my thick sweater on, tucking my braid under the cloth at the nape. Hurriedly, I scoop up my backpack, ready to heave it onto my shoulders but Sam takes it from me and slips it on an arm.
  “I’m so-”
  “Don’t do that. You’ve said it enough. It’s my own fault, anyway.” I mutter, an almost depressed feeling overpowering me.
  “No, it’s not-”
  “You can say all you want how it isn’t my fault, Sam, but it is my fault. I’ll never accept that it isn’t, so accept that…” I say. That sounded saner in my head.
  “Okay.” Sam knows not to argue with me when I’m in this mood. I feel a dark depressing wave wash over my emotions, but I push it back to the deep recesses of my conscious. Who’s been quiet for a while.
   Why aren’t you talking to me…? I ask it, almost pouting and jutting out my lower lip. I like your snarky attitude and advice. I’m all alone in my head, now… I grab Sam’s hand instinctually as he lead me through the doorway. I take one last look at my dining room across the foyer, staring at the bowl of cereal I couldn’t choke down this morning due to the lump in my throat. There’s a small little note tucked under it, addressed to Ann. I figured it would be too cold-hearted to leave without some kind of note. Isn’t that what runaways do? Leave a final note? It’s almost like closure to me. Closure from this life, I guess.
  An icy wind breaks through my sweater, causing gooseflesh to pop up all over my body. Sam takes a deep breath and we disappear from Boston.
 For always and ever?

 Back in the dining room, a thousand miles away from the girl with the midnight hair, a blonde, older girl enters a small dining room, welcomed only be an unfinished bowl of Cap’n Crunch. Furrowing her brow, the blonde grabs a note tucked neatly underneath the glossy container.  

            I’ll love you, Ann.
       For always and ever.

 So it really is true. Some gene in my body gives me the ability to see the future in my dreams. 
"Sounds like a plan." I say. Aunt Jeane can read even my most minute expressions expertly but she doesn't ask me what's wrong. "Sam!" I call ahead, and he turns around, throwing his cellphone into the woods  on his left. The trees were starting to lose their leaves and a brilliant collage of orange and yellow pick up with the wind and surround us. "We need to go to my house, very quickly, I don't want Annie to see me. So, um, can we go to my room?"
"I don't know if that's the safest idea." Sam says protectively. "That's where they found us."
"But you said that they need to regroup! How long does that usually take?"
"I'm not sure..." Sam says, pawing at the back of his neck. "A few hours? Maybe?"
Jeane glances at her wristwatch. "It's only been an hour. We have time. Eneile needs to do this, Samuel."
The mention of Sam's full name gives Aunt Jeane the allusion of authority. Sam bows his head. 
"Fine. Ten minutes tops. If I even catch a glimpse of a black cloak we are out of there." 
"Thank you, Sam." I say as Jeane and I grasp his forearm. We disappear and land in the middle of my bedroom almost silently, only a few runaway leaves spiraling around us before landing on the floor of my room. Aunt Jeane lands softly --she's a natural. Immediately, I dive for my backpack to search for a pencil and paper. As I'm shifting through my school supples I notice a white oblong shape. Curious, I did it out and look at it. 
It's the letter. From them. 
You never even opened it.
I quickly glance behind me. Sam and Jeane are sitting on my bed silently, listening for any kind of disturbance whether it be Annie or one of Them. They don't take notice of me. I cough as I rip open the envelope and pull out the heavy industrial paper. In neat, digital writing, is a single sentence. 
"We're coming for you."
My hands start shaking and I stuff the letter into the depths of my backpack. They're sick. Absolutely sick. They sent that as a warning, so I would be fucking prepared. 
Because they always want a challenge.
As calmly as I can, I pull out a pencil and sheet of paper and write to Ann. My finger fly across the paper when I remember that we can't stay here long. 


      I’ll love you, Ann.
   For always and ever. I'm okay, and there is no need to worry. Tell mom and dad I love them. See ya around.
 


 I fold the paper into fourths and tuck it in my jeans pocket. Then I go to my closet and pull on a thick gray sweater and stuff the rest of my clothes into my bag. I also pack my journal, a toothbrush, makeup, shampoo, and soap, just in case we couldn't find a shower somewhere. I pack a few books and the fluffy pillow Aunt Jeane gave me years ago. 
"Do you think Annie's in the house?"
Jeane checks her wristwatch again. "My time-zones are screwed up."
I frown and glance at my digital clock on my nightstand. It's three in the morning here. "She should be asleep."
I open my door cautiously but the damn hinges still creak anyway. Sam and I both flinch while Jeane keeps a calm demeanor, ever the adult one. 
We slip down the hallway past Annie's room without much trouble. I go to the cabinet and pour a bowl of Capn' Crunch. This way she'll know the note was sent by me and not some serial killer who's studied my handwriting. 
"Okay," I whisper and hold back a fresh wave of tears. I wipe my nose with my shirt sleeve. I also braid my hair quickly so it's out of my face and tuck it in at the nape of my neck. He holds his arms out to me and a wrap mine around him in a fierce hug, breathing him in. Firewood, lasagna. 
"Time to go." Sam keeps looking over his shoulder and out of the windows into the pitch black night. They could be watching us and we wouldn't even see them. He pulls away from me.
"We don't need to stop at my house." Jeane whispers, almost to herself. I'll call some friends that can take care of Daisy."
Sam nods. "We'll go to New York. The three head Blank viceroys are based there. They'll take us in." 
Jeane seems uncomfortable with this but holds on to Sam's forearm anyway. Excited and terrified to meet the three leaders of the Blank world, I grasp Sam's arm and we disappear from Boston, Massachusetts for the last time. 

 End of Chapter Sixteen.

Saturday, September 10, 2011

Chapter Fifteen: Ephemeral


A/N: New chapter! I really liked writing this one. It was bloody good fun. I will update the theme song for this chapter in the next few minutes. Hope you like it!



Chapter Fifteen: Ephemeral


The dark figure’s face is standardly unrecognizable. The evanescent red orbs in the depths of Vassago’s hood glow with delight. He raises a hand to point a clawed finger at me.
“IngĂ©nue, this one.” A dark chuckle escapes him. My eyes grow wide and my hands tremble in fear. We were so close. The spicy scent of pine trees and the soft dirt under my shoes proves it. But we didn’t make it.
You almost escaped.
“You-” Vassago shifts his point to Lucas who tenses up and clutches Sam tighter in his arms.  “Have betrayed your own kind.”
Lucas gulps audibly. His fingers tense tighter for a single moment before relaxing completely, letting Sam slide out of his grip.
“No!” I yell, and reflexively lurch for Sam, but I’m not fast enough. Sam falls to the ground with a loud thud as a pained grunt echoes from his mouth into the trees. That fall could kill him in his condition.  Now I’m on my knees, holding Sam’s head in my lap. It’s much like my nightmare, except there is no rain and Sam isn’t dying by my hands.
 Without Sam’s weight in Lucas’s arms, he lurches toward Vassago and the other dark figure beside him, aiming for their faces. The two enemies don’t move, surprised with Lucas’s actions. But as Lucas grabs hold of Vassago’s neck, the other being simply grabs hold of Lucas’s wrists and tosses him into the nearest tree, shaking thousands of needles off of the branches.
“You Blanks are difficult.” Vassago hisses and turns to me.
“What’s happening?” Sam whispers, his silver eyes sluggishly making their way to mine. I’m not sure how to respond.
You’re going to die.
“No, Vassago! I’m your enemy now, fight me!” Lucas shouts while staggering to an upright position. For a moment, Vassago is distracted. His head returns to Lucas to look at him, but the other figure has its attention on Sam and me, huddled in the dirt. I put my arms around Sam’s head in a protective gesture. The dark figure slowly ghosts over to us until it is about a meter away, and tilt’s its head.
“Shall I finish him, Vassago? He’s spoiled.” A woman’s voice emerges from the dark hole in her hood. She tilts her head marginally to the right. Sam’s eyes go wide as she says this. I clutch his hand. What can I do?
“Wait a moment.” Vassago approaches Lucas under the shade of the pine tree. Lucas defiantly spits by Vassago’s booted feet which makes him chuckle. Fast as a heartbeat, Vassago clutches his hand around Lucas’s neck. He didn’t even see it coming. Vassago squeezes as his victim gasps. The feeling of helplessness overwhelms me as I watch from the sidelines.  Sam is able to grasp my hand tighter, but it tires him, there is sweat beading on his forehead. His concentrating on something.
Lucas takes Vassago’s final embrace of his hand, and stops breathing altogether. Vassago lets him crumple to the ground, Lucas’s exposed face and neck buried in the pine needles. There isn’t even time to cry. Vassago joins the womanly cloaked figure and they stare at Sam and me. At least I think they are.
“You’ve caused us many a great trouble, Eneile.” Vassago purrs. “I can’t let you live.”
“Sam,” I frantically whisper at the broken boy in my lap. “Get us out of here, please, try.” I hold one of his hands in both of mine. “I can’t fight. I’ll be outnumbered. I can’t…”
“Although, your insolence amuses me, I cannot prolong your life. You’ve proven to be able to use your powers inside the facility, which most Blanks do not have the ability to do.” Says Vassago, earning a disinterested grunt from the feminine figure.
        “Please, let us live. I won’t tell anyone, not even my sister. You’ll keep your secrets, and I’ll keep mine. You don’t have to do this.” I whisper.
        “Impudent fool.” Vassago says, inching closer to us, his bloodstained fingers twitching slightly with anticipation. “You’re powers are far greater than they seem. You must be disposed of.”
        Why did you keep me alive then?” I say. “Why would you keep me alive?”
        “We want Jeane!” In an unintended fit of rage, Vassago’s voice lowers to a demonic growl, and his wrist snatches out to connect with my face, sending me flying in the same direction as his blow. Sam is knocked only a few feet after he feel from my lap, and blankly stares at the sky. Too injured, tired, emotionally marred to move, or care. This all happens in the few milliseconds that it takes me to smash into the nearest evergreen, all breath escaping my lungs at once. I hear things inside my arm and hand crack, but I feel no pain.
        In no time at all, I see Vassago’s booted feet crunch in front of me. I’m going to die. In the last resort of defense, I raise my hands to cover my face, when suddenly I hear a familiar cry of a woman.  Vassago’s boots fly out of my line of sight, and I hear a crash, and a distressed moan. Then a higher, shriller woman’s scream echoes as I watch her be thrown into the cement building.
        She shouldn’t be here!
        “Go back!” I scream at her. “Go home! Leave!” I stagger to an upright position, clutching my broken arm with my good hand.
        Vassago, having pulverized four trees with his body, finally rises and faces her.
        “Run!” I stagger toward her, but she ignores me, her back is turned. A small pale hand stretches in front of her, and an invisible force knocks Vassago back into the trees. Her hand still raised, she silently twitches her barren ring finger downwards, sending the cement roof of the facility crashing down, covering us with dust and smoke.
        “Quickly, we have to go.” She grabs my uninjured hand.
        “Wait! Sam!” I shout, straining against her hand. He’s lying in the dirt, covered in dust; cold, alone. I won’t let him die here.
        “The boy? We have no time. Leave him.”
        “I can’t. Jeane, he’s important…”



        Jeane Taylor was eleven when she first found out she was different. When her mother and father left for work early in the morning, Jeane would wake up and get out of her warm pink bed to eat cereal before her sister Margot’s friend’s parent came to take her and Margot to school. While Margot dragged herself into the bathroom for a hot bath, Jeane would make cereal. She’d raise her hand, and tell the wooden stool with her mind to “come here, please”. Once the stool was in reach, Jeane picked it up and placed it under the cupboard and climbed on top of it to reach the ceramic white bowls. Barely twitching her ring finger, the Lazy Susan twirled itself to her liking until her favorite cereal, Cap’n Crunch appeared. The cardboard box floated out of the Susan with ease into Jeane’s waiting hands, where she would pour the cereal for both herself and her sister.
        Sometimes Jeane wondered why Margot didn’t make her cereal this way.
        On stormy nights, while Jeane’s mother and father tucked the girls into bed for the night, Jeane and Margot would get a special treat. Mom and Dad told wonderful stories about their grandparents, The Tidbit Taylors.
        “Would you like to hear a story tonight, Jeane? How about you Margot?” Dad tucked the blushing sheet under Jeane’s chin as Mom tucked the yellow sheet under Margot’s.
        “Yes, yes!” They would both holler excitedly, despite the late hour.
        “Okay…” Their father would begin, and the girls were entranced immediately at the sound of their father’s voice booming, the words of the riveting tale echoing in their ears. Mother silently acted out some parts in the background, using makeshift props --if they were around-- like the girls’ stuffed animals or toy squirt guns.          
        “The Tidbit Taylors were your great-grandparents.” Dad would start.  “One night, only a few days after their grand wedding had taken place, they were abducted by aliens!”
        On cue, the girls would gasp as their mother ran around the room, running from invisible aliens before finally being captured and transported to the closet. The closet doors shut.
        “Everyone in town, the very town where we live today, gossiped for days about where in the heck the two lovers ran off to. But none of them knew they had been abducted.”
        “Idiots!” Margot would scoff, closing her eyes in disappointment of the townsfolk’s insolence.
        “But, weeks later, the two lover returned, cloaked in black clothes as dark as the night they arrived.”
Mother burst out of the closet, now donning a big black sweater she found in the girls’ closet, her hair disheveled from changing so quickly.
“The town asked millions of questions: ‘Where were you?’ ‘Do your parents know your back?’ ‘We thought you left for good! What’s wrong with you?’ ‘Not even a goodbye!’, things like that.” The father paused for breath.
“The townspeople never got a full answer though, only hearing tidbits of information from the Taylors as they began to pack up their belongings from the home they just moved into a few weeks ago. That’s why they were named the Tidbit Taylors.”
Mother started lifting invisible boxes and piling them in a red toy truck.
“Tell us what happened next!” Jeane was always the first to exclaim, before Margot gave her nod of approval.
“Well, the townspeople were pretty ticked off. No one ever left the town of Juneau. Ever. And the Tidbit Taylors were gonna do it twice! So they started annoying the Tidbit Taylors, saying they needed to stay in Juneau for their old parents’ sake. They would knock on their door at midnight, while the Taylors were still packing, (they wanted to leave as soon as possible), and giving them baked goods, begging them to stay. And why wouldn’t they? The Taylors were the most respected and richest family in town. Who would take over Taylor Grocery if the young mister Taylor and his pretty new wife didn’t take his father’s place? But eventually the Tidbit Taylors had enough of the townspeople’s badgering, and aggressively fought the neighbors, hollering at them and occasionally throwing them out of the yard by force. All they wanted to do was pack and get out of there! But…” Father would always pause here to create suspense.
“Tell us how they threw them out of the yard.” Jeane said seriously.
“That’s the best part. The Tidbit Taylor’s would raise their right hands together, move their ring finger slightly down, and send the annoying townspeople straight across the street into the dirt! People left their house with broken bones and bloody noses.”
Mother raised her hand quickly and repeated the movement, attacking faceless people with her imagination. The girls always thought their mother was the most beautiful this way, her face full of passion while acting out a script.
 “Soon, the town thought the Taylor’s were practicing dark magic, and let them finish packing up their furniture, books, and other things into their truck. The Tidbit Taylors left two days after they had returned, leaving the injured and pissed townspeople behind.”
Mother pushed the toy truck with her foot, sending if flying across the room and slamming into the door.
“Does anyone know what happened to them?”
“Of course! We do.” Father chuckled and kissed both of the girls’ foreheads as Mother took off the black sweatshirt and hung it back in the closet before fixing her hair.
“The Tidbit Taylors died four years later. Some freak accident. Not even the police could explain it. Child services sent their only son, John, back to Juneau to live with the Tidbit Taylor’s parents. The town hated him because of his parent’s dark and witchy ways, and thought him a demon child. Still, after the original Taylors grew old and died too, John took over the grocery, married, and had a son. Me. Then I married your mother, and now you’re here. Taylor legacy!”
“Your confusing, Daddy.” Jeane and Margot would say at once.  Father would chuckle as he started to follow his wife out of the girls’ bedroom. Before closing the door, he would say:
“I might be, but it’s important that you learn your family history. It’s the reason you’re alive and live in this wonderful little town of Juneau.”
“Whatever Dad. I’m going to marry someone rich and handsome and move to a big city.” Margot would say before turning to face the wall and closing her eyes to gently drift to sleep.
“Goodnight, Jeane.” Father said, flicking the light off, leaving only a stream of light from the open door to fall on Jeane’s face.  He starts closing the door, even though he knows his daughter will say that one word that stops him.
“Daddy?”
Father smiles and opens the door again. “Yes, my sweet Jeane?”
“I’m different like the Tidbit Taylors.”
“I’m sure you are, honey. Now go to sleep.” He closed the door for the night.
Quietly to herself, Jeane spoke. “But I’m never going to leave Juneau like they did, Daddy. I won’t leave you.”

She never did.




Aunt Jeane looks at me with a pained expression before running over to Sam’s body and kneeling down in the dirt, her curly auburn hair swirling around her pale face.
“What are you doing?” I ask as she places her palm on his chest. “What are you doing?
Sam’s breathing wildly, but his eyes are closed and his wounds are bleeding. He’s been hurt so much. He’s barely a ghost of his original self.
Jeane presses onto Sam’s chest with her hand, almost like some strange CPR. Sam’s back arches and a jolt runs through his body. She does this twice more, Sam thrashing more wildly each time before he snaps his eyes open and miraculously gets up on his own. He looks at Aunt Jeane, confused, for a moment, before settling his eyes on me, my broken arm, and finally Vassago, who is struggling to stand, but moving nonetheless. There is no site of the dark female figure. Sam realizes where we are and grasps Jeane’s hand, running with her toward me. He grabs my good arm and we disappear, traveling through the black tunnel of space. Pressurized air crushes my body before we all land in a clean white bathroom. Our clothes are covered in dirt, dust, and blood but-

We’re safe.






End of Chapter Fifteen.