April 21, 2010.
A/N: Hullooo, fictioners!
Here's the next chapter for SfS -- and this one's for Kyasarin Freakload again. It amazes me that you love this story so much; you're such a dedicated reader. Thank you so much for your consistent support. It means so much -- you have no idea :)
So, not much happens in this chapter, but I think it's necessary filler; it sheds more light on the situation. Plus, there's more character involvement. But you'll have to read on to find out about that ;)
READ ON.
Searching for Solace
- NINE -
March 14 – 12:35
"To the youth of today: pay close attention to me. This is a war." Dr. Shirogane's piercing blue eyes couldn't have been any more serious. "These creatures have come to invade our homes, destroy our people, and stake claim to our world. We've beaten them back before, and we can beat them back again."
He paused for a moment to stare gravely into the camera. Morgan sighed slowly through her nose, drumming her fingernails impatiently against the bench.
"For weeks now, we've been undergoing the rapid process of creating an army. Just as before, we've created a weapon that can serve as an opponent for the aliens – that can destroy their creatures just as they destroy us. It's called the Mew Project II, and it's been broadcast worldwide. For those of you who remember, a Mew Mew is a specific kind of human being whose genes are compatible with those of an animal. After the initiation process, that human has the ability to change into an alternate form – their Mew form – and utilise the powers contributed by their animal counterpart."
He reached for something and held up a shining golden pendant identical to Morgan's.
"If you have received one of these, you have been chosen to be a part of this project. It's with my sincerest, deepest apologies that I tell you all that, from now, your lives will never be the same. You have no say in this; your genetics speak for you. The fate of the world lies in your hands – you are the only chance this planet has of survival. I beg you; use your powers to fight for humanity. Fight for those who cannot. You carry with you the hope of our race, and the only potential for its future."
He fingered the pendant for a second, gazing at it thoughtfully.
"This pendant contains the keys to unlocking the powers inside it. Without it, the genetic switch in your cells cannot be triggered, and you won't be able to transform. Be extremely careful with them, as there is only one pendant created for your genetic makeup. Only one contains DNA patterns identical to yours. If you lose it, it cannot be replaced.
"The pendant will respond to your calling. It is designed to detect changes in your body, and to react to them. However, it cannot work alone. Unless you actively summon the transformation and activate the changes yourself, its powers will be useless. You can't expect the pendant to do all the work for you." He took a deep breath, and looked straight into the camera. "With this message I am confessing my personal, direct involvement with the Mew Projects one and two. In fact, I admit right here and now that I am the head of both; that for the past decade I have been carrying out my father's research and experiments in secret. I accept full responsibility for the illegal tampering in human genetics, and for conducting illegal scientific research in uncertified facilities."
Morgan stared numbly at the screen. He was confessing? She didn't know whether to be impressed or dismayed. She settled for both. Surely he would be hauled in and arrested, now that he'd turned himself in…
"I refuse to give any other names, for reasons of confidentiality," Dr. Shirogane continued. "There is no telling now whether I'll be able to continue to provide online help. However, I want the youth all across the world to know that, even if you don't hear from me again, I'll still be doing everything in my power to assist you. I will continue to research our enemies and send information out to you, no matter what means I'll have to use. You're not alone in this battle – help will always be out there. Stay strong, and fight for what we stand for as human beings."
The video ended, and Morgan swallowed to try and unstick her dry throat. Her heart pulsing in her ears, she logged off the computer and left the internet café, hurrying dazedly back to Mackenzie's room, feeling like her thoughts were too much for her brain to handle.
March 14 – 17:02
"Why do they feed us at five?" Mackenzie complained weakly, mustering a feeble glare which she directed at the steaming tray of food beside her bed. "I'm not even hungry."
Her breathing was laboured and shallow; it seemed to take her a great deal of effort to talk. Morgan nudged her legs over and made herself comfortable at the end of the bed. She dragged the portable table towards her and examined Mackenzie's dinner. It looked like meatloaf and steamed vegetables – tasteless steamed vegetables. She raised one eyebrow in distaste and picked up the fork.
"Sit up a bit, if you can," she said.
Mackenzie pulled a face. "I can feed myself."
"You can't even lift your arm," Morgan argued. "Let me help you. You need to eat something or your body won't be able to recover."
"Can't they reheat it later?" Mackenzie whispered, her head drooping a little. She was getting sleepy again. Morgan frowned; she'd only been awake about ten minutes.
"Max, you'll be sleeping later. Come on, stay awake for a little bit longer. I have important stuff to tell you."
"Later…" Mackenzie muttered dozily. Seconds later, she was out like a light, breathing peacefully again. Morgan sighed and put the fork back down. Mackenzie was sleeping a heck of a lot. In fact, she slept most of the day away, and had to be woken for meals and toilet breaks. Morgan hadn't spoken to her properly since before she was admitted.
Sure, she'd had pretty major surgery to close the wound in her back, but that was almost three days ago now, and by Morgan's estimations, she should have slept the surgery off by now, and be recovering. In fact, she should be up and about, moving around and getting stronger. But she seemed to grow weaker each day. She was still white as snow. Sometimes her skin took on a sickly yellowish tinge. Her hair was limp and dull, and she had the strength of a worm. Actually, Morgan thought, a worm probably had more strength; at least it could wriggle itself away. Mackenzie couldn't even lift her head.
With a disappointed sigh, Morgan got up off the bed and went for one of her now-routine strolls around the hospital. She'd caught up on all of Dr. Shirogane's recent updates, and the news was just depressing, so she crossed them off as ways to kill time. Shutting Max's door behind her, she peered down the corridors to her right and left, selected the left, and wandered off.
Morgan had never been a fan of hospitals, purely because she'd always felt that they symbolised sickness and death. Plus they were generally unfriendly places, and they smelled funny. But she disliked them even more now that everywhere she looked she saw the same thing. There were Mackenzie's all over the place. Pale skin, gaunt faces, bruised shadows under eyes…
Morgan stood behind the glass windows to a large room housing eight young people – all about her age – in identical white-sheeted beds. They were all sleeping. They all looked awful. The fact that they seemed to show the same symptoms as Max struck Morgan as odd and significant at the same time. From where she stood, it appeared they were all suffering from the same thing. But Max wasn't suffering from anything; she'd had her surgery, she'd been treated, she was on medications for recovery. From the looks of things, these kids were, too. But, like Max, they didn't look like they were making much progress in the way of recovering. Morgan wondered briefly how long they'd been in the ward for.
She turned and leaned her back against the glass, sighing heavily and tilting her head back. She closed her eyes for a moment. Everything was just so messed up. How had their currently shaken up, twisted lives landed them in a hospital? She ran her hands over her tired face and through her hair. Ugh, she needed a shower. Her hair felt dead. Maybe the nurses would let her use the shower in the bathroom off Max's room.
Morgan opened her eyes again, wincing in the bright light, and looked around. It was very quiet; the place was almost deserted, except for a kid sitting on the plastic seats in the corner, looking like Morgan felt. She gazed at him quietly for a moment, wondering what he'd gone through and why he was in the hospital, too. Then he shifted and glanced up, and she recognised him.
"Daniel?"
He looked back at her, looking at her more closely. Recognition passed over his face. "Morgan Reid. Well, fuck!"
"Charming," Morgan said dryly, her voice echoing a little in the corridor as she walked over to join him. "Clearly, you're just as delightful as you were in primary school." She flopped down beside him, lounging tiredly in the uncomfortable plastic chair. "What are you doing here?"
"Minding my mate's little brother," Daniel Palmer replied. Morgan examined him out of the corner of her eye. He was a mess. His clothes were dirty and torn in places, his face was grimy – one cheek sported a nasty half-healed graze; the other eye a yellowing purple bruise – and worn, and he smelled something shocking. He jerked his head at the room with the glass windows. "He's in there. Pretty sick, the poor kid."
Morgan was silent; she didn't exactly know what to say. She crossed her legs and made herself more comfortable. "What's wrong with him?"
"Bitten by one of those fucking monsters," Daniel muttered darkly. "His arm's pretty gross."
"Oh, poor kid," Morgan sympathised. Her own arm tingled as she thought about it, and she shuddered. Daniel glanced at her with keen, misty green eyes.
"You look like shit," he commented.
Morgan scowled at him. "You smell worse."
Daniel mustered a humourless grin, which quickly faded. "I overhead some of the doctors talking yesterday," he said, looking away again. "They reckon the kids that were attacked by the monsters don't stand a chance."
"A chance at what?" Morgan demanded, her heart leaping into her throat. She could feel it suddenly beating faster. Her sneaking suspicions were telling her she wasn't going to like what was coming at all.
Daniel shrugging nonchalantly. "Survival."
"What, so everyone in that ward is just going to die?" Morgan said loudly, her voice rising with fear. That couldn't be true. It couldn't be. Max had had surgery; she was going to recover. The doctors had said so themselves. Hadn't they? Morgan wracked her brain frantically for Dr. Chen's exact words. He'd said she 'should make a' – what was it? – 'slow, but full recovery'. Should, not would. Morgan was suddenly feeling very sick.
Daniel shrugged again. "Probably."
His indifference was starting to irritate her. Morgan sat up straighter in her seat. Max couldn't die. She was Max; her best friend. She was going to live forever, because she'd always been there, and Morgan simply couldn't comprehend the possibility of a life without Mackenzie in it. It was the same concept as with her grandmother. Her grandma had been around forever, and she would live on forever. She would outlive everyone.
Morgan had never had a very good grasp on the concept of death.
"From what?" she demanded.
"There's no confirmation," Daniel went on tonelessly, "but the doctors think the monsters are poisonous. I heard one of them saying that the patients' immune systems were being attacked by something they couldn't diagnose – something with the same characteristics as cancer. You know, eating away at the cells from the inside, sort of thing? They were talking about platelets and blood cell regeneration. They've been trying all sorts of treatments, but at the moment, there's apparently no cure."
Morgan's head whirled. She felt like she was going to be sick. Or cry. Or break something. Or all of the above. Daniel glanced at her.
"What're you doing here, anyway?"
Without a word, Morgan got up and stalked away on shaky legs. She couldn't stand any more conversation with him. He was too pessimistic. What he was saying was just too scary. And it wasn't true. The doctors weren't sure of anything at the moment. Max might make a full recovery. No, she would make a full recovery. If there was something that seriously wrong with her, they'd have told Morgan.
Daniel watched her storm away around the corner, wondering vaguely what her problem was. He dismissed it a moment later and turned back to staring aimlessly at the wall. His world had been too shaken up for him to care much about other people anymore.
CULTURE NOTE
Mate - Not the 'let's-partner-forever-and-reproduce-young' kind of mate. In Australia, your mate is your pal, a good friend, etc. Mostly between guys.
'Look like shit' - Just another example of our floral language. Everyone uses it worldwide, but it's really been integrated into daily Australian conversation. So charming. We say 'look like shit' instead of 'look like crap'. It's 'look like shit', and 'feel like crap'. XD
A/N: You know, I still don't know why I brought Daniel Palmer back into the story at this point. Reflecting back, it really doesn't make sense XD' But oh wells, he can't be removed now -- it just wouldn't work.
Anyway! So... Morgan's run into Max's old school bully. D: What the... ? And what's with his creepy stories? Surely it can't be true. Max can't be dying! O_O
Well, you'll just have to wait and see. Three days, people -- that's all :)
Reviews are love.
Until the next update.
Love,
Cherrie xx