Chapter 9 Memory
Author's Note:
I had some trouble deciding what to name this chapter. It was a switch up between 'Memory' and 'Danger'. You guys can decide which fits best! :)
The song is 'Boulevard of Broken Dreams' by Greenday.
Enjoy!
The dented, white truck chugged down the highway, large tires sending up billows of dust that trailed behind it. Bright headlights illuminated the road and cut through the dark purple hue of a late afternoon on the edge of night. The cool air whipped through the open window with just a hint of the day's previous heat, snatching away the younger and slightly thinner Robert J. Clementine's voice as he sang to the blaring radio, tapping his long fingers against the steering wheel with the rhythm.
He watched the dirt road ahead of him with casual disinterest, his truck's lights casting fast shadows over the pebbles on the ground and he listened to the crunching of gravel underneath the tires. He turned up the radio so that he could hear the chorus.
" My shadow's the only one that walks beside me," Rob sang loudly, closing his eyes and bobbing his head to the music as he continued,
"My shallow heart's the only thing that's beating,
Sometimes I wish someone up there will find me,
'til then I walk alooooooone..."
Rob slowly opened his eyes as he continued to chant through the instrumental,
" Aah-ah, aah-aah, ah-ah, ah-ah, aaah -" A person's figure appeared in his headlights, "-AHHHHH!"
His teeth clenched together as Rob wrenched his truck into a sharp swerve, stomping down on the brakes and making them screech in protest. There was a flash of bright blue before Rob clearly heard a distinct, sickening thud.
The truck jerked to a stop, kicking up a cloud of dust and rumbling with complaint as the engine stalled; Rob not having pressed in the clutch. His now sweaty hands held the wheel in a death-grip and his babyblue eyes were wide with shock, only able to watch as the dust settled. The truck had swerved so that it now faced slightly to the left, headlights illuminating the dry grass beyond instead of the road. Rob's mind was blank, distantly aware of his hitching breath as he felt a cold, sinking feeling in the bottom of his stomach. His heart threatened to jump from his throat as he spotted an uneven lump on the road; the details lost to the darkness as it sat outside of the truck's headlights.
Rob tried to swallow, but the tightness that seized his throat made him choke. Settling for a deep breath, he released the steering wheel and reached for the door with shaking hands. He opened it with a long creak, but couldn't move. The seatbelt. He unbuckled it and stumbled from the truck.
His eyes were immediately drawn to the right corner of the front of the vehicle. The headlight was cracked and the edge of the white bonnet was dented, but this was not what held his attention. It was black. A scorched, burnt black licked along the right side of the truck. Not thinking, Rob touched it, trying to scrub the marks away but the soot seemed to be ingrained in the metal.
There was a moan, and Rob's head whipped around towards the soft noise. His breathing was noisy to his own ears and Rob could clearly hear his heart thumping painfully in his great chest, but nothing mattered at that moment except the moving, disfigured suggestion of a person. Please let him be okay, please let him be okay, please...
A small hand fell into the pathway of light and Rob flinched violently, cowering away like he was the one in danger. He watched, frozen, one part fascination and three parts horror, as burning blue eyes opened and cut through the darkness.
They stared, maybe at him or maybe not, before drooping shut once more, slender hand now grasping at the gravel and the figure strained. Another bright flash of blue and a white arch of energy stretched away from the person before snapping back into them, like a painful elastic band. The person whimpered quietly, and Rob deducted that she was a girl from the sound. He was soon proved correct as the figure slowly dragged herself into the light; the hand flowing into a scraped elbow which became a bony arm followed by shoulders and a wild, untamed mass of straw like hair.
Her head was bowed, presumably shielding her eyes from the harsh glare of the light as she heaved herself back onto her feet. Her movements were jerky and strangely disconnected, like a doll learning how to move. Another blue arch of electricity extended from her back; burning a hole through her already rugged clothing. It explored the ground around her before zapping back into her person. Both Rob and the girl shivered.
There was blood on her skin and her torn night-gown, yet she had no wound. Rob felt the pressure in his chest ease slightly and he cleared his throat. "Arr -" his voice broke, "- Are ya' okay?"
The girl gave no sign that she heard him; head still bowed and crazy hair flowing over her shoulders and face, making her head looked too big for her rail-thin body. On closer inspection, she wasn't skinny, she was malnourished; her skin pulled too tight over her bones. The wrecked, flower nightie hung off her like a sheet on a hat-stand.
Robert began to repeat his question when the girl stiffened, her pale hands sliding up to cover her ears. He thought this was mighty rude despite the fact he had run her over, but then the girl doubled over as another bolt of white lightning emanated from her body. However, instead of striking the road, the girl strained and she somehow roped the energy back into her, almost as if she wanted to contain it. She was shuddering now and her form shimmered cracked with blue sparks as she repressed whatever was inside of her. There was a high, keening sound, and Rob startled and took a step back; the girl was making it. The noise flowed into a sequence of rasping and clicking and coughing. Her skin pulled even tighter around her frame.
Rob didn't remember how long this continued for, but eventually the girl's hands dropped to her sides and something deep inside of her body seemed to unclench. Rob stayed frozen for quite some time, watching her warily for another light show but the girl just stood there, hunched over and swaying slightly.
He felt the sudden urge to just hop back into his truck and drive. Drive as far away as he could from this disturbing, unnatural...thing. Nobody would know.
Rob instantly felt mortified at himself; he, the mighty Robert J. Clementine running away from a little girl? Preposterous!
"Hey?" he said, shuffling closer, "Hey!"
No answer, nor acknowledgement.
"Hey! Hey! Little girl? Are ya' okay? Little girl! Come on now, don't leave me hangin'."
Nothing. He then asked about her parents and family and if there was anyone he should call, anybody at all. Nothing. He walked around her, wondering if the girl was deaf and he started to call her names and insults. Most of which didn't make sense.
"Stupid, fat, hat stand, dumb as a box of hammers, straight as a rainbow, pig face, ugly -"
He inevitable made the mistake of touching her; a volt of pure electricity surged through him and left him feeling fried and smelling of burnt hair and ozone. Eventually, he leaned against the front of the truck with a groan, his body casting a long shadow in the headlights as he studied the girl. He could still hear the radio playing faintly inside the vehicle.
He sighed heavily and rubbed the back of his neck, his eyelids heavy. God he was tired. "So what now?" he asked, frustrated but there was a pleading note in his voice. "Ya' just want to stand there, Sparks? Want me to drive off and leave ya' to ya' misery or whatever ya' do? If tha's how ya' want it, tha's fine by me!"
Rob was just about to storm off to wait in the truck but then stopped dead in his tracks. The girl's head slowly rose, her hair amplifying the effect of her movement. Blue eyes regarded him coldly, no longer glowing with energy, and Rob finally saw her face.
Wide eyes fringed with blonde lashes sat over a long nose; made seemingly larger by the gauntness that came with no food. Thin lips and a wide mouth were pursed before a strong chin, still rounded due to her young age which seemed to be about ten or so. Like the rest of her body, her face was smudged with dirt and grime and her feet were bloody as if she'd been walking for days. He was unnerved to see that the blue of her irises were surrounded by a web of red; deeply bloodshot.
Rob realized with surprise that she was staring at him icily. "What? What up, Sparks? Changed ya' mind did ya'?"
Her face pinched with annoyance. Despite the spiteful looks he was receiving, Rob was encouraged. "Well, come on now, Sparks. Let's go!" he waved his arms towards his truck exaggeratedly, and her eyes narrowed, thin lips pressing together in a tight line. "What? Let's go!"
A moment dragged by, and he thought she wasn't going to say anything per usual. But he was surprised again when her mouth opened and she replied in a croaky, raspy voice,
"Sophie,"
Rob blanked, and then his lips twitched beneath his beard. "What?"
"Sophie," she repeated, frowning at him. Her mouth moved around the word strange, as if she didn't know how to speak properly.
He couldn't resist as a mischievous grin grew on his face. "'Sophie'?" he mocked, "What? Ya' don't like Sparks, Sparky?"
She looked pissed now, blue and red eyes glaring at him. "Sophie," she insisted.
"Sparky,"
"Sophie,"
"Sparky!"
"Sophie!"
"SPARKY!"
"SOPHIE!"
And so, Sophie Sparks came to be.
Uncle Rob lay in his cot, watching the fan on the ceiling rotate lazily through the air. The bugs outside were chirping happily and calling to one another in the day's intense, morning heat. He reviewed his dream, or maybe he hadn't even fallen asleep and a stray memory pushed itself to the surface. A glance at the clock told him that it was 10:00 am. Sparky would be gone by now.
And sure enough, once he gathered the energy to leave his bed and walk into the garage, Sparky and her motorcycle were missing.
He sighed and hitched up his pink boxer shorts before waddling over to the toolbox to check what Sparky had taken with her. Rob abandoned the old memory for a newer, fresher one. Last night, Sparky had fetched them both a bottle of beer after dinner and sat him down. She told him that she was leaving The Works, and was probably not coming back for some time. She was real calm about it too; speaking composedly about how she wouldn't tell him of her reasons, but to be assured that she was 'looking for answers and a solution'. Whatever that meant. At the end of her small, practiced speech, Sparky told him that she would be departing early tomorrow morning. Rob knew that she wasn't asking for his permission, she was just stating the facts as she always did. She then took a sip of beer and waited for his response.
Uncle Rob admitted he might have been a little angry. He vaguely remembered lashing out at the girl, telling her how ungrateful she was and whatnot... but his tangent hadn't lasted long. He thought he felt, deep down, that this would happen someday. Even now, looking over her bare work bench and the empty first aid cabinet, Rob had long since felt a deep resignation that Sparky might someday leave.
He lifted up the roll-door and shuffled outside into the stifling sun. His eyes searched the highway for any sign or speck of Sparky in the distance, but true to her word, she was gone.
It was way too hot to be fully cased in a leather jacket, work-boots, helmet and jeans, but Sophie had no interest in suffering through another case of gravel rash as they roared down the highway. The offending wound was unwrapped and appropriately scabbing over; the only issue it had left was her jeans. She had briefly considered nicking Uncle Rob's Kevlar motorbike jeans, but they would never fit her. Instead, Sophie had been forced to sew them back together haphazardly with a chord because she didn't have enough money to spare on a new pair.
That morning, Arcee had been bursting with energy, nagging Sophie in her own subtle way to get going; glaring at her impatiently and honking until Sophie was tempted to disable the horn. Sophie admittedly dragged her feet somewhat, finding that for all her bluster of wanting to get out of The Works had ringed hollow now that she was actually doing it. As soon as the faded green building disappeared from Arcee's wing mirror, Sophie felt something break inside of her and drift away, back towards her home. Her eyes had stung and she found herself blinking rapidly beneath the helmet to dispel the ridiculous sensation.
Hours later, it was now mid-morning and her back was drenched with sweat underneath her heavy backpack. It was packed full of blueprints, pills, papers, tools, her small stash of money and dissembled parts. She hid the contents from Arcee, not wanting her to see the more dangerous items of the collection and make her even more wary of her. The only other thing she had on her person was a metal cylinder the size of a tennis ball with a pin on top. Arcee had eyed suspiciously but let it go without a comment. Sophie attached the cylinder to her black leather belt, (old birthday gift from Angel), and was the only other piece of clothing she had apart from the ones she wore.
Sophie rolled her head around and bunched her shoulders, hearing the bones pop as she stretched minutely and feeling the hot wind against her neck. The road ahead was shimmering with heat, and Sophie watched the mirage swim as a drop of sweat rolled down between her eyes where a migraine had begun to form. It was not pleasant, and she had an odd feeling that Arcee did not appreciate the temperature either, despite her surprisingly quick recovery from her injuries. Sophie shifted her grip on the slippery handlebars to insure she didn't fall off.
Occasionally, they would pass an area on the side of the road which looked dug up; the hard yellow and brown soil unearthed like someone had gone mad with a plow. Sophie was too dizzy and tired to focus on the fact and was preoccupied with wondering where they were going to stay when they reached Brisbane. Definitely somewhere with internet connection...
She had a plan, of course. It took her a while to come up with it, despite its simplicity. They would go to Brisbane, the closest of Australia's capital cities, and make some noise to attract NEST's attention. Sophie had considered letting Arcee transform in the middle of a crowded street, but quickly discarded the notion for something much simpler and less risky. Marie Pennyfeather had told her that the military had been taking down any videos or images on the internet that displayed classified information. And she was right; the videos on Mission city hadn't lasted more than a day. Therefore, all Sophie had to do is keep uploading a whole lot of that confidential info so that the military will track down the source and come check what all the fuss is about.
Why Brisbane? Because its crowded, and because it's not Banana. Sophie had meant it when she didn't want the good and admittedly eccentric folks of Banana involved, therefore she was taking the issue away from home. And Brisbane having a population of 2.15 million was helpful also; it meant that NEST wouldn't do anything too drastic with all those people around.
Sophie was so busy thinking that she didn't even notice the violently pink and white ice-cream truck until it sped right past them, blaring its annoyingly cheesy song full-volume, as if for their benefit, and making her headache spike. She resisted the urge to touch her head as she flinched with the unexpected pain. She listened cautiously as the disgustingly cheerful sound faded away in the distance before squinting through the dust it left behind.
She didn't have time to wonder why an ice-cream truck was speeding on the remote Leichhardt highway because it was then that she took full notification of the tampered terrain around her. Dirt was spilled across the road and on either side the soil had been puckered and interfered with. This continued for several kilometers and she felt Arcee shutter with frustration as the sediment caught on her wheels and flicked up underneath her red casing; ruining her shiny paintjob. Sophie's own headache was becoming progressively worse as they rocketed along, and she remembered Uncle Rob's warning about the strange happenings occurring of late and thought that they might have a nugget of truth in them after all.
They had begun to approach a section of the highway in which the land on the left side of the road declined abruptly. Sophie glanced at the sharp slope distantly, feeling her face twist into grimace of sudden pain as she gripped the handlebars with shaking, sweaty hands. Her head was in a vice, someone slowly tightening the pressure until it felt like her brain would burst. The migraine reached new heights with each excruciating throb and her forehead broke out into a cold sweat. She was vaguely aware of Arcee's distorted voice coming through the radio, asking her something... but the road was hazy and a feeling nausea rolled through her, making her throat seize tightly. It's never been this bad before.
Sophie soon reached her limit and moved to pull over when the ground exploded to her right in a vicious whirlwind of dirt, rotating razors, and metallic teeth. The monstrosity screamed and the vice slammed shut, her head splitting as it crashed into them, sending both flying off the road.
