Chapter 2 – Consequences
Blackness. Only blackness. A faint, shadow of life in the distance. The quiet hush of breath, of blood, of life.
George's eyes fluttered open drowsily. Everything seemed too bright, too sharp and in focus. He squinted into the stretch of room in front of him. He was lying on the wooden floor of the living room and the morning sun had started to drift in through the window, giving everything a soft, peachy glow. He felt itchy and tired and oh so thirsty.
*****
Smells, sounds, muscles moving inside of her that she'd never felt before. Echoes of speech a mile away and the stench of days old rubbish.
Annie opened her eyes to find herself sitting against the wall, her legs spread out in front of her like two dead animals. Her head ached and her nostrils burned with the smell of sweat and something that smelt like putrid fruit. She glanced towards George who lay motionless on the floor and scrunched up her nose as the dust unsettled around his feet, pushing a new smell into the air.
*****
Nothing. Simply nothing. No air, no heat, no touch. Not even the feeling of solid earth beneath his body.
Mitchell stared up at the ceiling for a moment while the rest of his body caught up with his brain. He felt cold but not cold. Like he needed to shiver but couldn't. His clothes left no feeling against his skin and his entire body felt as though it was in a cloud of thick fog, something preventing him from reaching out to the rest of the world.
*****
George sat up slowly and glanced towards Annie who was sitting in the corner of the room. She caught his eye and crawled over to him on her hands and knees,
"George! Are you okay?" She placed a warm hand on his shoulder as he got to his feet.
"Yeah", he rubbed his neck, "Just a bit groggy. What the hell happened?"
Annie bit her lip and shrugged, "I don't know. But I think it had something to do with that dust stuff".
"Oh yes", George smiled a sickly sweet smile, "The dust which I said we shouldn't touch".
Annie looked up at him through thick lashes, "Sorry".
He sighed, "It's alright. Where the bloody hell is Mitchell?"
"Mitchell!" Annie called out and then turned to George, "George? Do you feel, um, weird? Like not yourself?"
George scratched the side of his face and nodded, "Yeah. I feel itchy and my throat, God, its burning".
Annie frowned and they both made their way up the stairs towards Mitchell's room. Annie pushed open the door gently only to find the room empty. George gestured to the spare room and they walked down the hallway and into the unused room. There Mitchell lay face-up on the floor like one of those dead animal rugs. He turned his head towards them and spoke quietly,
"Something's wrong".
*****
Annie flicked the kettle on as the boys stood in the kitchen. George was drinking his second glass of water and Mitchell was staring at the floor, deep in thought.
Annie handed them their tea and they each took their cups. George swallowed his in three huge gulps and Mitchell's eyes widened as he watched his friend,
"You okay George?"
He nodded, "Mhmm. I think that dust got in my throat".
"What the hell was that stuff anyway?" asked Annie.
"I don't know", Mitchell frowned deeply and took a sip of his tea. Except he didn't. He put the cup to his mouth and poured the liquid in but it didn't touch his tongue. Instead it seemed to evaporate instantly in the space between his lips and the cup. He froze and stared at the cup and then tried again. Nothing.
"Jesus!" He dropped the cup, sending hot tea splashing across the kitchen floor.
George squeaked and Annie spun around to see Mitchell with a look of horror etched into his features. Mitchell swallowed and stared at the broken cup with wide, terrified eyes.
Annie stepped towards him and reached out her hand, "Mitchell? What happened? What's wrong?"
His eyes drifted slowly to Annie's and his mouth opened and closed a few times before he could speak, "I- I couldn't drink it".
Annie folded her arms, "Oh, come on, it's not that bad".
Mitchell shook his head and scrunched his eyes closed. When he opened them again they were deadly serious, "No Annie. I couldn't drink it. It just disappeared before I got it in my mouth!"
"What?" George stepped closer to his friends and tried to peer into Mitchell's mouth. Mitchell pushed him away and slammed his mouth shut,
"It must have something to do with that dust".
"Maybe it only affects vampires?" Annie said.
George took his glasses off and cleaned them before replacing them firmly back onto his nose, "But you said you felt weird too Annie, right? Maybe it's done something to all of us".
"I don't- I-", Annie raised her hand to her mouth and covered her nose, "I'm sorry George but is that you?"
"What?" George squeaked, and smelt his shirt, "It most certainly is not!"
"Well what the hell is it?" She turned to Mitchell, "Can you smell it? It smells like, I don't know, acid or something".
Mitchell shook his head, his eyes seemed glazed, "I can't smell anything".
Annie hung her tongue over her bottom lip and gagged, "I've never smelt anything like it. Eurgh".
George tutted loudly, "Well you're not exactly a basket of roses Annie. You smell like wet dog".
"Wet dog?!" Annie shoved her hands onto her hips and pursed her full lips, "For your information George, ghosts don't smell of anything!"
George scoffed, "Well you do".
Mitchell raised his hands and they stopped arguing. The look on Mitchell's face alone was enough to stop them dead. He rubbed his face with his hands and looked at George,
"Did you say she smelt of wet dog?"
George nodded, "Yeah, she stinks of it!"
Annie's mouth opened but she snapped it shut as Mitchell turned to her,
"And you can smell like an acidy sort of smell?"
Annie nodded, "Yeah. And something else. Like something I can't smell exactly, but I can feel. It's tingly".
Mitchell closed his eyes briefly and then opened them and looked at his friends with utter confusion, "This is bad".
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