A.N: Guys, I just got the new book, The Infinite Sea, and I'm so excited to write the sequel for this. Thanks for the support!
DISCLAIMER: I do not own The 5th Wave, that particular gift belongs to the unbelievable Rick Yancey!
Chapter Song: Spit It Out by The Maccabees
DAISY
The first thing I said to my dad when the mothership made it's debut, was "What are we doing now?"
I don't know why I thought I had to ask him. I don't know why I thought he had the answers. He was the authority, he was the man of the house - the only man in the house. He was both the chief of the house, and the chief of police. I supposed that if anyone knew what to do, it would be him.
Except he didn't. He was just as shocked, and afraid, and bewildered as I was, as mom was, as the whole damn world was. Everybody had seen the films, yet nobody knew what to expect. Were they hear to attack, or to befriend us? Were they hear for our organs, or our Reese's pieces? Were they hear for a holiday, or for good?
"I'm sure it's nothing to be worried about," dad had assured us, his eyes glued to the news report on the TV where they showed a U.S. aircraft approaching it.
It would only have been a guess, but a guess was better than being in the dark.
Then he placed his hand over mine, and it was such a fatherly move, that I wondered why I would ever doubt that he wanted me. Lola bursts into tears beside me, and crawls into my lap, dragging the teddy she affectionately named Skye. She rests her head against my chest, and lets loose what the rest of us are bottling up. I hold her tightly, and I promise to never let go. Her tiny arms snake around my waist, and I let her squeeze me as firmly as need be.
We ate our dinner in silence that night, minds clouded and hazy with indescribable thoughts, and our chests heavy with nondescript emotions. It was kind of like an outer body experience, as though I was a character I read about in a book. I could imagine us all sat there, and I know what I was thinking, yet I can't see it. I don't feel like I was actually there, instead far, far away, where aliens hadn't arrived, and we weren't all fearing the worst.
But that was the most excruciating part; it was what we pictured in our heads that made the waiting so awful. Everybody had a different opinion, a different theory, a different expectation. Families became divided over the matter, friends fell out over the issue, and neighbours were fighting in the streets over the problem. Nothing had come out of the ship yet, and already we we had turned on each other. It was ridiculous, and it was terrifying.
Slowly, but then all at once, people started to trickle out of the towns and cities, heading for the countryside. Day one of the Arrival, we had twenty-two inhabitants on our street. Day ten, we were one of four left. School was worse. Class sizes shrunk from thirty plus, to four or five in a class, if you were lucky to have a class to attend - the teachers started to drop like flies too.
Whilst some people were desperate for answers, others were desperate for normality. My headmaster was one of them. An old-fashioned man, who closely resembled the Colonel, with his platinum white moustache and bolo tie, he was hiring just about anybody if it meant Rosedale High could continue on as usual.
I remember turning up to Law on the tenth day, and seeing none other than Miles stood at the front, chalk in hand, writing his name in feeble cursive on the board. As if we didn't know who he was. He'd at least made an effort to give the impression he was capable to teach, in a pair of dark trousers, and a button up shirt, freshly ironed, with a black tie. I think he had even combed his hair.
I was among four other students who remained in the class, which made it practically impossible to hide from him. Instead, I went for the other option of completely ignoring him, refusing to look in the direction of the board, or him. He knew what I was doing, and it only made him more determined to get my attention.
"Daisy, can you come over here and show me how this computer system works?" he asks, overlooking the three students sat in the front row. I tightened my lip into a firm line, and held my ground, unmoving, and unforgiving. This was the wrong move. "Daisy Johnson, if you don't come up here now, I'll be forced to keep you behind after school."
Oh God, just the mere thought of spending ay more time with Miles then necessary was abhorrent, and so I leapt out of my seat almost immediately. The sleazy grin on his face made me feel nauseous.
Crossing my arms across my chest, I looked him dead in the eye, refusing to appear intimated or weak in his presence. If he for once second new just how afraid of him I was, then I'd never be able to escape him.
If you're listening, you tentacled, one-eyed green monsters up in that hideous spaceship of yours, please, please please, take Miles Lydon first.
"Miles, you know how to log on to the school account," I sighed. "I would know - you showed me how to hack into it."
He sat down in his swivel chair with this sickening smugness about him, the corner of his lip upturned. "I'd like it if you'd call me Mr Lydon, please."
My fingers were twitching. The urge to punch him was all too inviting. Instead, I gritted my teeth and stood my ground. Without saying another word, for fear of it being insulting, I leant over and started typing away at his computer. The keys felt familiar, and I glided across them without hesitation. When the screen went black, as though somebody had flipped a switch, I almost didn't notice him staring at my ass.
"For a Law teacher, you don't seem all too familiar with the law prohibiting teacher-student fraternisation," I spit, standing up immediately, backing away.
Smirking, he rose out of his seat, only to tower over me, inches away from my body. His lips were level with my forehead, and I could feel his poisonous breath. It made my skin crawl.
"You mean this tie does nothing for you?" he whispered, causing goosebumps to form on the back of my neck. "You've never had that fantasy about you and a teacher, having - "
I slap him. I can't resist it any longer. He's a creep, and a snake, and he's trying to worm his way back into my life. There's already a mothership floating above our heads, I don't think I can deal with another overbearing and unwanted object looming over me.
I expect to hear a gasp from one of the other students, or some obscene comment. However, there was nothing. Strange. I turned around, only to see everybody fixated on something outside, their noses all pressed up to the window. Curious, I joined the row of onlookers, peering out of the glass pane. I watched in the reflection as Miles crept up behind me, and I held my breath. I didn't like him standing behind me like this, breathing down my neck.
"What's happening?" I asked the girl next to me, in a small voice. I coughed to clear it, refusing to let myself be diminished by Miles.
She held out her phone to me, unblinking. "Power's gone out. And look at that."
Furrowing my brow, I glanced back out the window, searching the tree line and the road, unsure of what they could all be fascinated by. She shook her head, and pointing towards the sky. I couldn't hold back my gasp.
A large 727 airplane was tumbling from ten thousand feet up in the air, excruciatingly slow. I could almost make out the faces of the people onboard, and their desperate and petrified expressions. My breath hitched in my throat, and I could hardly believe my own eyes. I was torn between doing something to help, and standing there and watching. I don't know what I'd do to help - there was nothing I could do. Who could I have possibly called that could do something to help in this situation? And anyway, I was frozen still, my eyes feeling as though they were held open by toothpicks.
When the plane finally crashed, the explosion was breath-taking. The fire was larger than any bonfire I'd ever seen, and it seemed to engulf the entire street, across the school. I could feel the heat, even through the double-glazing. The disaster demolished six houses, and I later discovered that two had been occupied at the time. The MacAleavy's, a young couple with a newborn baby, and The Foster's, an elderly couple, had not survived the blast, and I'm assured did not feel anything.
Cars swerved, and crashed too, and few drivers were actually thrown from their vehicles due to the nature of the collision. There was so much death just on the little strip of road we could see from this one classroom - how much death could the other classes see? How much death were other onlookers exposed to?
We were all ushered into the gymnasium by the teachers, were we had to sit on the bleachers and await our parents. I walked in through the doors, and looked around. Scouring the sea, though it wasn't really a sea, more like a pond, of faces belonging to pupils of all ages, I was determined to find Jemma. Her parents had kept her in Roseland. They believed the aliens to be peaceful. They were also atheists, and both research scientists, and avid alien film enthusiasts, owning every film in the Alien franchise. Even the god awful Prometheus.
I found her, when she waved over to me, spotting me before I saw her. I hurried over to her, and we hugged, as it seemed like the best thing to do. I wish I had never let go.
"Nothing is working Daisy," she told me, panic dripping off of her every syllable. "They've shut off everything."
"They?" I ask foolishly.
"The Others," she mutters, as though they were sat beside us.
Our hands found each other's in the dim light of the school gymnasium. Clinging on to one another as though we were afraid we would fall apart if we couldn't hold on. Her body started to shake, and I could just make out little whimpers. I let her bury her face into the crook of my neck, and immediately it was damp. Glancing around, I saw she wasn't the only one crying.
"Daisy, I've been thinking," Jemma began, sniffing slightly, lifting her head off of my shoulder. "About all the things I've been too afraid to do, and now probably won't ever get to do. I haven't even . . . you know."
She blushes at the mere mention of you-know-what, and looks down at her hands tangled with mine. I smile softly at her.
"What about you?" she asks me.
"Awful experience. It was on his backseat, and I think Nickelback was playing. It lasted like forty five seconds, hurt a lot, and I didn't even - "
"No, no, no!" she hissed, cringing, shaking her head and screwing her eyes shut. I couldn't help but chuckle at her reaction. "I meant, what do you regret? God, it's the end of the world, and all you can talk about is you-know-what!"
"Oh, right," I nod, still laughing. "Well, I regret never downloading that new Rihanna album."
Jemma slapped my knee, and though it took me by surprise, as it was very out-of-character for her, it was soft, and I could see her struggling to keep a straight face. "For Heaven's sake Daisy! Please, just be serious, for once in your life!"
I placed my hand over hers, and grazed my fingertip over her knuckles. I watched with a heavy heart as a tear rolled down her cheek, and splashed down into her lap.
"I regret a lot of things. I'm always going to wish I could find my birth mother, or know who she is. I regret not saying goodbye to my birth father," I admit, in a shaky voice. Jemma looks up at me, her mouth hung open, sadness swimming in her eyes. Clearly she didn't expect me to be so open, or answer properly.
"I'm sorry," she mutters, squeezing my hand reassuringly. I wave it off, holding my own tears back.
"You're not the one who abandoned me," I told her, my lip quivering. "You didn't put me up for adoption."
We sat in silence for a while longer, just holding on to one another. Jemma was one of life's genuinely good people. She was pure, and warm, and gentle, and didn't deserve anything the Arrival threw at her. After a while, when our tears had dried, we grasped at anything that we knew was going to lighten the mood.
"I saw Lincoln this morning," Jemma said, with a slight smirk. "And it made me realise that with everything that's going on, and what will happen, you need to tell him."
"Tell him what?" I knew exactly what she meant; I was just buying time.
"How you feel! How you've felt since fourth grade!"
I shake my head. "This is a joke right?"
"I'm 100 percent serious! Look he's down there right now, by himself. You should go sit next to him, look deep into his eyes, and just pour your heart and soul into telling him how much you're in love with him. Or, you could kiss him. I heard that's just as effective."
"Jeez girl, you've been watching far too much One Tree Hill," I say, my heart racing at the mere thought of my lips on his. "That kind of thing only happens on screen."
"Yeah, completely unrealistic, not like what's happening right now."
God, why does she have to be right all the time?
"And say what? Hey, I know that you've probably got a lot on your mind with the whole end of the world thing, but I just thought I should tell you that you're really hot, and I'm completely head over heels for you. I can't, I won't!"
And I never got to.
Dad turned up literally a second later, and waved at me from the doorway, casually, as if he came to pick me up everyday after alien attacks. I turned to Jemma, and we hugged, though I was brutally aware of how tight and long we embraced for. I tried to breathe her in, remembering everything about her from the way that tiny piece of wispy hair that hung loose from her ponytail brushed my temple, or the soft cotton feel of her cardigan, and the distinct detergent scent that clung to the fabric. All of this swarmed my senses, whilst I also tried to remain positive that I was going to see her soon. Tomorrow even.
We pulled away, and looked each other in the others. I was sure hers, which were brimming with tears and despair, reflected my own glassy orbs. Her peachy lips parted, and I knew what she was going to say.
"Don't," I warned her, gripping her arms as if I feared I was going to topple to the floor. "Don't say goodbye. This isn't goodbye, okay? We'll see each other again, I know we will. I'll call you when the phones start working again, yeah? Please, don't say goodbye. I won't be able to handle it."
She just nodded, afraid that whatever she said next was going to end in a sob. I gave her a smile, which soon cracked, and became flooded by tears streaming down my face. I scooped up my backpack, and stepped down from the bleachers, making my way over to my dad, who had a bittersweet, thin-lipped smile on his face, that he hoped would cheer me up. It didn't.
I turned to wave to Jemma, who stiffly waved back. I spotted Lincoln sat on the bottom step, alone, his head in his hands. He looked deep in thought, and I used this as my excuse not to approach him. Then, as if he could feel my eyes on him, he glanced over in my direction. I'll never know if he smiled at me or not, as I swivelled around immediately, and left the school gymnasium, cheeks flushed. It's funny - I just witnessed a plane crash, an explosion, and multiple car crashes, and I was still worried about what Lincoln Campbell thought about me.
"Is he a friend of yours?" dad asked me, trying to still repair our unsteady relationship after that argument, which now now felt like decades ago.
I smile sadly, and shook my head. "He's in that awkward category of 'smiles in the corridor' yet still 'mispronounces my name horribly'."
Dad chuckled, and looped an arm around my shoulder. "Then he's missing out, kiddo." Kiddo. He hadn't called me that since I was, well, a kid. It was strange, and heartwarming all at the same time.
We began the long walk home, as dad explained that the car wasn't working. No surprise there. The mile and half it took to walk to our little corner of town, called Lilydale, was the longest mile and a half I've ever journeyed. The streets were peppered with stalled-out cars, and trucks, and buses, wrecks littering every block, cars folded around light poles and sticking out of buildings. Tiny fires dotted the roads, and were only going to grow bigger, with oil dripping from every single broken vehicle in sight. I suggested we do something, call the authorities. Dad was quick to remind me we had nothing to call them with, and they have no way of getting here.
Later, figures were released by word of mouth, and it turns out that an electromagnetic pulse had hit the entire planet, pulling the plug quite literally on every possible electric object invented. Cars, phones, computers. Heaters, lights, radios. Lifts, automatic doors, alarms. Planes, fighter jets, helicopters. Everything was rendered useless, and everything in the sky just fell. Apparently, tens of thousands of people had died, whether they were trapped in their cars when the automatic locks on their doors didn't work, or they were in the planes that fell. Car crashes killed a lot of people too, as did explosions.
Later, this became to be known as the 1st Wave. And these deaths, were to be the first of many, many more.
I should have said goodbye to Jemma. The next day her family were one of a few that left town in a feeble attempt to escape the trauma of the attacks. I guess it must have been pretty sudden, and that she didn't get a say in the matter. I never saw her again.
I should have told Lincoln how I felt. I know that his parents died pretty quickly, and last I heard he and his sister were alone. I never saw him again either.
I'll just add those to the ever-expanding list of regrets I have.
They're both probably dead now.