My life has sucked for the last week. Thank you all for your reviews, they cheer me up. :)
All right, here's the next chapter!
Enjoy!
"Hey, Uncle John!"
"That's Secretary of Defense to you, kid. Did you find something else out?"
"Yep, and it's really going to make you blow a...whatever. You remember what I told you about that girl?"
"Yes."
"Well, her parents weren't the only family members who were part of Sector Seven."
"I thought her relatives consisted of two deceased parents and a cousin?"
"Actually, not counting the parents, she has two relatives..."
"Stop knocking about the bush, Glen, or it's going to be cold food and a barred window."
"Whoa! Enough with the threats. I'll make it simple. The old man living by the Wicketys-"
"Witwickys."
"The old man living near the Witwickys isn't the only relative she has. There's also an uncle, and you'll never guess who it is. I'll bet the girl doesn't even know. You wouldn't believe how long it took me to-"
"Glen! I want the straight facts, not a play-by-play description of how you discovered them."
"It's Simmons."
"What?"
"The girl's uncle is Simmons."
Chapter Eleven
"Your phone?" Mrs. Witwicky grabbed the handle and pulled hard. The door flew open, sending a cascade of water onto the floor. Katrina ignored her soaking clothes and the woman's question, she was too busy searching through the laundry for her pants.
"Does it beep like that when it gets wet?" Mrs. Witwicky ventured, fetching a mop.
The girl fell upon her pants and reached into one pocket, hands shaking. It was empty. Wrong pocket, she told herself, and checked the other. It was also empty.
"Oh, no..." She began shaking out every article of clothing, no matter what it was. The search took only a few minutes, but the cellphone did not turn up. "Where is h-it..." she whimpered softly, tossing down the shirt she was holding.
"Did you look in the washer?" suggested the woman, still mopping up the spilled water.
Katrina immediately stuck her arm into the washer and fished around. There were six inches of water that hadn't spilled out, and it was too dark to see anything. The girl glanced over her shoulder - Mrs. Witwicky was concentrating on her mopping - then stuck her head into the washing machine and snapped her fingers underwater.
A tingle ran down her arm, then a soft blue glow covered her hand. The cellphone was easy to spot, and Katrina grabbed it, then jerked as a strong shock raced up her arm and through her body. The blue glow faded and she slumped to the floor. Her arm fell out of the washing machine and landed with a loud thump, the cellphone clutched in her hand.
"Katrina?" Mrs. Witwicky gasped. "Are you all right? Sam!"
Sam came dashing into the room. "What?" His gaze landed on the unconscious girl. "Why is she lying on my boxers?"
"I think she fainted." The woman shook Katrina's shoulder. "She's not waking up... Sam, carry her to the living. I'll get some towels so she doesn't soak the couch, then call the doctor."
Grumbling under his breath, the teen picked up Katrina, grimacing as water soaked into his shirt and jeans. "Does this mean we aren't going to the bridge tournament?" he asked hopefully.
"We'll see. Hurry up, Sam." Mrs. Witwicky went into the hall and picked up the phone, then dialed the doctor's number.
"Mom, you forgot the towels." Sam waited a few seconds, then set Katrina on the couch. "It'll dry," he muttered.
"The doctor will be here in six minutes," announced his mother, coming into the living room. "Sam! I told you to wait for the towels. Now the couch is all wet."
Barking came from outside and Sam went to let in the dog before his mother could lecture him further.
Five minutes later, the doctor arrived.
"Where's the girl?" he asked, striding into the living room with a large black bag in one hand. "Hm. Doesn't seem like she's injured."
Mrs. Witwicky hovered nearby while the man examined Katrina. Sam leaned against the doorframe, trying to look uninterested.
Finally the doctor shook his head and began to pack up the various instruments he'd drawn from the bag. "She appears to be asleep," he told Mrs. Witwicky. "Give her an hour or two, maybe she'll wake up. If not, bring her to the hospital, okay?"
Nervously the woman asked, "You're sure she's okay?"
"Ma'am, I've been a doctor for thirty years. This girl is simply asleep. Perhaps she got a slight electrical shock and it shut down her system for a moment, but there's nothing wrong with her, though she could use more sunlight. Have a good day, Mrs. Witwicky."
"Thank you... I'll show you to the door, then. Sam, get changed, for godssake! We're leaving as soon as your father gets here." Mrs. Witwicky followed the doctor out of the living room.
"What about Katrina?" Sam called, in a last ditch attempt to weasel his way out of the bridge tournament.
"She just needs rest," Mrs. Witwicky replied. "Right, doctor?" The woman glanced at him for confirmation.
"Yes, rest," the doctor agreed. "She'll be fine, son, don't worry. I'll eat my hat if your sister isn't bright and cheerful again in the morning. Good day, Mrs. Witwicky." He tipped his hat, then left.
A few minutes later a car stopped in front of the house.
"Sam! Your father's here! I hope you're dressed!"
Grumbling under his breath, Sam grabbed a jacket and shrugged it on as he hurried down the stairs. Outside his father beeped the horn impatiently. Mrs. Witwicky glanced into the living room before leaving. She was glad to see Katrina was still sleeping peacefully.
"Maybe I should leave a note..." The horn honked again, and Mrs. Witwicky hurried to the door. "Coming! Sam?"
"Coming, coming." The teen dashed down the hall and out the door after his mother. "Hey, where's my car?" Sam exclaimed, looking for the yellow Camaro, which was no longer parked by the garage.
"I don't know, Sam," his mother replied. "Hurry up, we're going to be late!"
"I still don't think it's a good idea to leave Katrina alone," Sam said, getting into his father's car. "You're leaving Katrina alone?" Mr. Witwicky asked, frowning.
"She's sleeping," explained his wife. "Drive, Ron."
"I still don't think it's a good idea," Sam complained. "What if she gets into something she's not supposed to?"
"For godssake, Sam, relax," ordered Mr. Witwicky. "We're going to have a nice time at the tournament and I don't want you to ruin my mood. Katrina's not going to do anything bad; she's a responsible kid. Besides, there's nothing to 'get into'."
"What if Bumblebee gets back before we do?"
Mr. and Mrs. Witwicky shared worried glances.
"I'm sure she'll be asleep for the rest of the day," Sam's mother said at last.
"All right." Sam sat back and started to relax. His parents were right. There was no reason to worry. Katrina wasn't the type of kid to get into trouble. Besides, what harm could she do? She was just a kid.
***
It was almost eight o' clock when Katrina awoke. She was disoriented for a moment, then recognized the living room. A sudden clatter startled her, then she realized she had dropped the cellphone when her hand relaxed. She rolled onto her side, reached down to pick up Morse, and found herself face to face with a growling Mojo.
With a scream, Katrina jumped to her feet and dashed out of the living room, chased by the barking dog. It wasn't far to the front door. Without thinking the girl yanked the door open and fled outside, closing the door tightly behind her. It was then that she noticed two of the three cars were missing and the door she had just closed was locked. Not that she wanted to go inside yet, as Mojo was yapping loudly in defense of his territory.
Katrina knocked on the door, then waited for several minutes for someone answer, but at last she realized the Witwickys weren't home. They left me alone, the girl thought, shoulders slumping.
The air was growing cold, so Katrina padded across the stone path in bare feet. She discovered that the grey car's door was unlocked. For a moment the surprised girl wondered why the Witwickys would leave such a fancy car unlocked during the night, then she glanced at the cloudy sky and decided not to complain about shelter. She slid into the driver's seat and closed the door.
No sooner had the door shut than it began to pour. Rain sluiced down the window – rather, it sounded like it was sluicing; Katrina could see nothing in the sudden darkness brought on by the dense storm clouds. The idea of attempting to return to the house was one the girl quickly pushed aside. Just thinking about it made her feel chilled. Besides, Mojo was in there. Katrina tucked her feet under her and folded her arms, shivering.
They must have gone to the bridge tournament, she thought, staring glumly out the window into the night. I wonder when they'll be home. Katrina sighed and closed her eyes. "Probably not for hours," she muttered. Her hands clenched. Something dug into her right hand.
"Morse." The girl flipped open the cellphone, but nothing happened. "I'm sorry," whispered Katrina, snapping it shut and letting the phone drop into her lap. "It's my fault." She bit her lip and flexed her hands. "Maybe..." The girl shook her head violently and slammed a fist onto her leg. "No, I can't. I promised not to." Katrina covered her face, trying to ignore the voice that whispered, You already broke that promise, earlier today. "No..."
Despite her protests, Katrina could feel the tingling grow again, this time much stronger. Gritting her teeth, the girl picked up the cellphone and cradled it in her hands.
"You're not going to die, Morse, I won't let you. You're my friend... Come back." Squeezing her eyes shut, Katrina released the power that was building in her, and it rushed out in a brilliant flash of blue.