Chapter Twenty-One
Roses
Once back at the apartment that had evolved into the headquarters of the survivors, for lack of a better term, no one really knew what to do. Thomas had left Skye and Scott with the police, answering questions about Richard Louis' death and now they were gone, the young couple having answered the officers' questions enough to satisfy them. The corpse was gone as well, though most of the bath towels had been left behind, hiding bloody stains with their cheery fabric. Kimberly stared down at the spots on the ground and wondered if the stains would ever come out, or if the no-longer white carpet would be rust colored forever. Would the small place ever seem like home again?
Kimberly and Altessa sat down on the couch while Thomas busied himself in the kitchen ,offering to make coffee, the all-purpose drink it seemed. Altessa buried her head in her hands with a sigh, a noise that seemed to be passing her lips quite often. Sighing was better then sobbing and the teenager couldn't believe that she still had tears left to cry, after everything that had happened. Tears that would soon undoubtedly fall once again when Death made its next move. The teenager lifted her head and turned to face Kimberly, who was leaning back against the couch with her eyes closed, likely pretending she was anywhere but where she was. "When is this going to be over Kimberly? When we're all dead?" Altessa couldn't help but ask, the words passing her lips before she could even think about what she was saying.
Kimberly opened her eyes and looked at the teenager, who was still staring at her. "No, Altessa. I hope it'll be over before then." If she had spoken those words a year ago, she might have actually believed them, believed that they still had a fighting chance. But now, with four survivors dead and no order to protect against, she wasn't sure how true those words really were.
If Altessa picked up on her unease and inner turmoil, she didn't show it and seemed to decide it was better to accept Kimberly's words at face value. Thomas re-entered the living room, balancing three lukewarm mugs of what was assumed to be coffee; he handed one to Kimberly, one to Altessa and kept one for himself, dropping down next to the brunette. Altessa sipped her drink, wrinkled her nose and then set her cup on the coffee table before her, having had enough of the liquid inside the mug.
Kimberly rolled her shoulders backward, as though attempting to dislodge the tension that knotted up her muscles; her exercise did no good and instead she stood, heading over to the still safety-proofed oaken desk. "It's too quiet in here." She mumbled by way of explanation for her actions, pulling a portable radio out of the bottom desk drawer and switching it on.
"Police are still skeptical about the cause of the accident, though they do not believe that there is any foul play involved. Investigators report that the likely cause was a chain reaction brought on by a collusion between a VW Beetle and a now unknown object, puncturing the gas tank and leaking gasoline, which was then ignited by what is believed to be a cigarette and thus set off the explosion. Police are still confused by the fact that only one person was injured in the resulting explosion, a teenage boy who was impaled on-" Kimberly quickly hit the tuning dial on the radio, ending the news reporter in mid-sentence. Altessa frowned, pained, though she looked grateful for the brunette's actions and remained silent.
Kimberly turned the dial until she picked up a clear station through the static; the station was currently in the middle of a song but the brunette left it where it was, the music serving the purpose it was meant for: elevating some of the overbearing silence.
Altessa's eyes grew wide when she heard the song playing, first full of disbelief before beginning to brim with tears. "Do you realize that everyone you know some day will die? And instead of saying all of your goodbyes, let them know you realize that life goes fast." The lead singer was serenading, his words bringing chills down the teenager's spine.
"My God...this song..." She mumbled, catching the attention of Kimberly and Thomas, who looked at her confused and intrigued. "My father used to sing this song to me when I was young." She explained, feeling a tear trickle down her cheek. That afternoon her father had asked if she had remembered the song but she hadn't answered him; now she realized that she did remember, remembered the song from a time that was much more simple then the one she lived in now. Hearing the song brought back the painful bite of losing her father, a wound that hadn't even had the time to hurt properly.
Kimberly pursed her lips and resting a gentle hand on Altessa's shoulder. "I'm sorry Altessa." She mumbled, getting up to go switch the radio off, but the teenager stopped her with a slightly shake of her head.
"I heard this song that day." She murmured, more to herself then to the two beside her. She remembered the chill that she had felt when she had the words in the refrain, trying to make sense of what the anonymous singer was saying. "Do you realize that everyone you know will die?"
Suddenly, a disturbing fact dawned upon her and she turned to face Kimberly, eyes wide again, this time with fear. "The last time I heard this song, my father died. You don't think...you don't think it could be Sign...my mother..." She trailed off, hoping that Kimberly could the jist of what she was trying to say.
Kimberly's eyes grew wide as well for a second as she registered the teenager's words. It was a good a Sign as any; Clear had told her to watch out for anything, including the songs on the radio. And if Altessa had last year that song before her father had died then there was a good chance that it was predicting the same fate for her mother. "I'm waiting around to find out. Come on." Kimberly muttered, shutting the radio as she headed toward the front door.
Altessa didn't need to be told twice.
* * *
When Amanda Adams was upset, the only thing that seemed to channel her anger was gardening. And Amanda was upset now. The things her daughter had said were beginning to get to her, beginning to make her think and question and she wasn't ready to experience such emotions. Thinking only made her remember the death of her husband and seeing her son killed in a bizarre accident right in front of her. And she was didn't want to think for a second that what Altessa had said had any ground in truth and reality, she didn't want to believe that she was going to die. Amanda wasn't quite sure she was ready for Death just yet; she was, in her mind, a survivor and she wanted to prove that by moving past the loss of half of her family and living to be an old woman.
Amanda headed downstairs, passing the empty rooms of her children; both rooms seemed completely devoid of life, even though one of their inhabitants was still alive. In Altessa's room, she could see the few things that had made it her daughter's: the teddy bear her late boyfriend had given her, pictures of her and Morgan. Altessa's desk was cluttered with computer-printed out articles about freak accidents and the explosion of Flight 180 a year ago; a newspaper clipping told about Kimberly Corman, who had predicted a horrid pileup a year ago.
Seeing the paper only seemed to enrage Amanda's anger; she snatched up the article and tore it in half, as though doing so would bring the end to all of her problems. Altessa had never spoken of death as frequently as she was now, not before she had met this Kimberly Corman. Amanda looked at the brunette's picture for a second before balling it and tossing it into the wastebasket.
Finally, Amanda turned and left the room, not allowing herself to think about how strange is was that both of Altessa's best friends were dead, as were two of her family members and her old science teacher. "People die all the time." She repeated, mumbling to herself as she shut the bedroom door behind her.
She headed through the silent house toward the garage, where she kept all of her gardening equipment. Amanda slid her pruning sheers down from their hook and then changed her mind, deciding that she wasn't going to be trimming any hedges but instead tending to her roses in their planters on the upstairs balcony. She chose instead a smaller pair of sheers and her trowel, forgoing a pair of gloves.
Despite a semi-large garden in the front of the house, Amanda had cultivated a smaller garden bred only in window boxes and pots to decorate the concrete balcony that extending from the master bedroom. The bedroom that she now slept in alone.
And that was where she was headed now, humming ever so silently to herself to get rid of some of the oppressive silence. Amanda opened the French doors that led to the balcony, picked up the three-legged stool she sometimes sat on so her knees didn't get sore but then decided against it, laying the stool in the foyer in case she changed her mind.
The roses seemed wilted, in need of water, despite the recent rains from the previous week. Amanda lightly touched the dying petals absently, no longer feeling much like gardening, laying her tools on the concrete. Instead, she crossed to the end of the balcony, resting her arms on the rusting iron railing that framed the edge of the concrete; she gazed downward, taking in the concrete slab that served as their deck and the well taken care of lawn around it.
Amanda's brow knitted as she heard an almost inaudible grating sound; she took her gaze away from the lawn and looked down at the balcony, though she didn't know what she expected to see. Nothing looked amiss so Amanda thought nothing of it, leaning against the railing with a sigh, closing her eyes.
It was at that moment that the railing gave way, the rusty screws no longer able to hold Amanda's weight, and pitched the woman forward onto the concrete deck.
* * *
Altessa all but leapt from Thomas' SUV as he pulled into the driveway, not bothering to wait until the car was completely motionless. Kimberly followed after her, as did Thomas, not bothering to take the keys from the ignition. The teenager turned to face them. "I'm going to check around back, Kimberly you check upstairs and Thomas you check downstairs; the doors should be unlocked." And with that, she rushed around the right side of the house, leaving Kimberly and Thomas to run up the front walk.
Kimberly threw the door open and rushed up the stairs; Thomas began methodically searching the downstairs area, relieved when every room turned up empty. He finally entered the kitchen, which offered a view of the sparse concrete deck. He saw Amanda Adams lying on the concrete, a pool of blood blooming out from beneath her. Thomas breathed a short sigh of relief when he noticed that her chest was still rising and falling, a sign that she was still alive for the moment.
* * *
Altessa stopped in her tracks when she saw her mother, lying in a puddle of blood. 'I can't be too late, don't let me be too late,' she prayed as she rushed forward, dropping to her knees beside her mother, who was still breathing slowly. "Mom? Mom are you all right?" It seemed like a stupid question but it was the only one that she could think to ask.
Amanda's eyes fluttered open at the sound of her daughter's words and she moved her head slightly, wincing in pain at the large wound on the back of her skull. "Altessa?" She mumbled, a trickle of blood falling past her lips and down her cheek.
"Yeah, Mom, it's me. Don't worry, you're going to be okay, I'll get help." She promised, standing up and turning toward the back door. Thomas opened the doors and rushed outside, his cell phone in his hand as he joined Altessa's side.
"Is she all right?" Thomas asked the teenager, who nodded once, her gaze returning to her mother.
"For now, call for help. I think she fell off the balcony." Altessa commanded, fidgeting uneasily, not quite sure of what to do. Something about the whole ordeal was bothering her in spite of herself. It seemed too lucky that they would arrive in time to save one of the survivors when there had been nothing they could do to save the others. Something just wasn't right...
* * *
Kimberly had searched nearly every room in the upstairs without finding Amanda and she didn't know if she should be worried or relieved. She reached the master bedroom and found the door already opened, a sign that someone had been there recently. Kimberly peered into the bedroom, saw that it was empty and was about to turn and head back downstairs when she saw that the doors leading out the balcony were open as well.
She hurried in the room when she saw that the balcony no longer had a railing; in the back of her mind, Kimberly knew exactly what had happened: Amanda had been leaning against the railing and it had falling and she had fallen onto the ground below...
Below her, Kimberly could hear Kimberly and Thomas speaking, Altessa saying that she thought her mother was okay. That was the first good news Kimberly had heard for a while. She rushed forward toward the balcony, knowing that would be a quicker way to talk to Altessa and Thomas then running all the way downstairs and tripped over something that she hadn't noticed in the doorway.
Carried forward my her running momentum, Kimberly hit the concrete roughly and seemed almost to slid forward a good few feet. She put her hands out to halt herself and keep herself from falling over the edge as well; her palms scraped the rough concrete before knocking into what she would later learn to be a small pair of pruning sheers. Kimberly lifted her head in time to see the sheers tumble over the edge of the balcony, pushed accidentally by her own hand.
Slowly Kimberly pulled herself to her feet, mind filled with foreboding at the sight of the sight of the sheers falling over the edge. Her uneasy feelings were verified when Altessa's shrill screams cut through the air, sounding more panicked and pained then before.
Kimberly hurried to the edge of the balcony and peered downwards, heart lurching when she saw the sight below. Altessa had stopped screaming because she appeared to have fainted, lying limp in Thomas' arms; Thomas was staring wide-eyed Amanda's body, or more specifically the pruning sheers that were imbedded the woman's skull.
Seeing the sheers caused Kimberly to stagger backward, tripping on a trowel behind her and landing roughly on the ground once again. It was her fault that Amanda was dead, more her fault than it was the fact that the survivors were dead. If she had been watching where she was walking, or perhaps not have been in such a hurry to get to the balcony, she wouldn't have tripped and knocking the tool off the edge and then Amanda would still be alive.
Roses
Once back at the apartment that had evolved into the headquarters of the survivors, for lack of a better term, no one really knew what to do. Thomas had left Skye and Scott with the police, answering questions about Richard Louis' death and now they were gone, the young couple having answered the officers' questions enough to satisfy them. The corpse was gone as well, though most of the bath towels had been left behind, hiding bloody stains with their cheery fabric. Kimberly stared down at the spots on the ground and wondered if the stains would ever come out, or if the no-longer white carpet would be rust colored forever. Would the small place ever seem like home again?
Kimberly and Altessa sat down on the couch while Thomas busied himself in the kitchen ,offering to make coffee, the all-purpose drink it seemed. Altessa buried her head in her hands with a sigh, a noise that seemed to be passing her lips quite often. Sighing was better then sobbing and the teenager couldn't believe that she still had tears left to cry, after everything that had happened. Tears that would soon undoubtedly fall once again when Death made its next move. The teenager lifted her head and turned to face Kimberly, who was leaning back against the couch with her eyes closed, likely pretending she was anywhere but where she was. "When is this going to be over Kimberly? When we're all dead?" Altessa couldn't help but ask, the words passing her lips before she could even think about what she was saying.
Kimberly opened her eyes and looked at the teenager, who was still staring at her. "No, Altessa. I hope it'll be over before then." If she had spoken those words a year ago, she might have actually believed them, believed that they still had a fighting chance. But now, with four survivors dead and no order to protect against, she wasn't sure how true those words really were.
If Altessa picked up on her unease and inner turmoil, she didn't show it and seemed to decide it was better to accept Kimberly's words at face value. Thomas re-entered the living room, balancing three lukewarm mugs of what was assumed to be coffee; he handed one to Kimberly, one to Altessa and kept one for himself, dropping down next to the brunette. Altessa sipped her drink, wrinkled her nose and then set her cup on the coffee table before her, having had enough of the liquid inside the mug.
Kimberly rolled her shoulders backward, as though attempting to dislodge the tension that knotted up her muscles; her exercise did no good and instead she stood, heading over to the still safety-proofed oaken desk. "It's too quiet in here." She mumbled by way of explanation for her actions, pulling a portable radio out of the bottom desk drawer and switching it on.
"Police are still skeptical about the cause of the accident, though they do not believe that there is any foul play involved. Investigators report that the likely cause was a chain reaction brought on by a collusion between a VW Beetle and a now unknown object, puncturing the gas tank and leaking gasoline, which was then ignited by what is believed to be a cigarette and thus set off the explosion. Police are still confused by the fact that only one person was injured in the resulting explosion, a teenage boy who was impaled on-" Kimberly quickly hit the tuning dial on the radio, ending the news reporter in mid-sentence. Altessa frowned, pained, though she looked grateful for the brunette's actions and remained silent.
Kimberly turned the dial until she picked up a clear station through the static; the station was currently in the middle of a song but the brunette left it where it was, the music serving the purpose it was meant for: elevating some of the overbearing silence.
Altessa's eyes grew wide when she heard the song playing, first full of disbelief before beginning to brim with tears. "Do you realize that everyone you know some day will die? And instead of saying all of your goodbyes, let them know you realize that life goes fast." The lead singer was serenading, his words bringing chills down the teenager's spine.
"My God...this song..." She mumbled, catching the attention of Kimberly and Thomas, who looked at her confused and intrigued. "My father used to sing this song to me when I was young." She explained, feeling a tear trickle down her cheek. That afternoon her father had asked if she had remembered the song but she hadn't answered him; now she realized that she did remember, remembered the song from a time that was much more simple then the one she lived in now. Hearing the song brought back the painful bite of losing her father, a wound that hadn't even had the time to hurt properly.
Kimberly pursed her lips and resting a gentle hand on Altessa's shoulder. "I'm sorry Altessa." She mumbled, getting up to go switch the radio off, but the teenager stopped her with a slightly shake of her head.
"I heard this song that day." She murmured, more to herself then to the two beside her. She remembered the chill that she had felt when she had the words in the refrain, trying to make sense of what the anonymous singer was saying. "Do you realize that everyone you know will die?"
Suddenly, a disturbing fact dawned upon her and she turned to face Kimberly, eyes wide again, this time with fear. "The last time I heard this song, my father died. You don't think...you don't think it could be Sign...my mother..." She trailed off, hoping that Kimberly could the jist of what she was trying to say.
Kimberly's eyes grew wide as well for a second as she registered the teenager's words. It was a good a Sign as any; Clear had told her to watch out for anything, including the songs on the radio. And if Altessa had last year that song before her father had died then there was a good chance that it was predicting the same fate for her mother. "I'm waiting around to find out. Come on." Kimberly muttered, shutting the radio as she headed toward the front door.
Altessa didn't need to be told twice.
* * *
When Amanda Adams was upset, the only thing that seemed to channel her anger was gardening. And Amanda was upset now. The things her daughter had said were beginning to get to her, beginning to make her think and question and she wasn't ready to experience such emotions. Thinking only made her remember the death of her husband and seeing her son killed in a bizarre accident right in front of her. And she was didn't want to think for a second that what Altessa had said had any ground in truth and reality, she didn't want to believe that she was going to die. Amanda wasn't quite sure she was ready for Death just yet; she was, in her mind, a survivor and she wanted to prove that by moving past the loss of half of her family and living to be an old woman.
Amanda headed downstairs, passing the empty rooms of her children; both rooms seemed completely devoid of life, even though one of their inhabitants was still alive. In Altessa's room, she could see the few things that had made it her daughter's: the teddy bear her late boyfriend had given her, pictures of her and Morgan. Altessa's desk was cluttered with computer-printed out articles about freak accidents and the explosion of Flight 180 a year ago; a newspaper clipping told about Kimberly Corman, who had predicted a horrid pileup a year ago.
Seeing the paper only seemed to enrage Amanda's anger; she snatched up the article and tore it in half, as though doing so would bring the end to all of her problems. Altessa had never spoken of death as frequently as she was now, not before she had met this Kimberly Corman. Amanda looked at the brunette's picture for a second before balling it and tossing it into the wastebasket.
Finally, Amanda turned and left the room, not allowing herself to think about how strange is was that both of Altessa's best friends were dead, as were two of her family members and her old science teacher. "People die all the time." She repeated, mumbling to herself as she shut the bedroom door behind her.
She headed through the silent house toward the garage, where she kept all of her gardening equipment. Amanda slid her pruning sheers down from their hook and then changed her mind, deciding that she wasn't going to be trimming any hedges but instead tending to her roses in their planters on the upstairs balcony. She chose instead a smaller pair of sheers and her trowel, forgoing a pair of gloves.
Despite a semi-large garden in the front of the house, Amanda had cultivated a smaller garden bred only in window boxes and pots to decorate the concrete balcony that extending from the master bedroom. The bedroom that she now slept in alone.
And that was where she was headed now, humming ever so silently to herself to get rid of some of the oppressive silence. Amanda opened the French doors that led to the balcony, picked up the three-legged stool she sometimes sat on so her knees didn't get sore but then decided against it, laying the stool in the foyer in case she changed her mind.
The roses seemed wilted, in need of water, despite the recent rains from the previous week. Amanda lightly touched the dying petals absently, no longer feeling much like gardening, laying her tools on the concrete. Instead, she crossed to the end of the balcony, resting her arms on the rusting iron railing that framed the edge of the concrete; she gazed downward, taking in the concrete slab that served as their deck and the well taken care of lawn around it.
Amanda's brow knitted as she heard an almost inaudible grating sound; she took her gaze away from the lawn and looked down at the balcony, though she didn't know what she expected to see. Nothing looked amiss so Amanda thought nothing of it, leaning against the railing with a sigh, closing her eyes.
It was at that moment that the railing gave way, the rusty screws no longer able to hold Amanda's weight, and pitched the woman forward onto the concrete deck.
* * *
Altessa all but leapt from Thomas' SUV as he pulled into the driveway, not bothering to wait until the car was completely motionless. Kimberly followed after her, as did Thomas, not bothering to take the keys from the ignition. The teenager turned to face them. "I'm going to check around back, Kimberly you check upstairs and Thomas you check downstairs; the doors should be unlocked." And with that, she rushed around the right side of the house, leaving Kimberly and Thomas to run up the front walk.
Kimberly threw the door open and rushed up the stairs; Thomas began methodically searching the downstairs area, relieved when every room turned up empty. He finally entered the kitchen, which offered a view of the sparse concrete deck. He saw Amanda Adams lying on the concrete, a pool of blood blooming out from beneath her. Thomas breathed a short sigh of relief when he noticed that her chest was still rising and falling, a sign that she was still alive for the moment.
* * *
Altessa stopped in her tracks when she saw her mother, lying in a puddle of blood. 'I can't be too late, don't let me be too late,' she prayed as she rushed forward, dropping to her knees beside her mother, who was still breathing slowly. "Mom? Mom are you all right?" It seemed like a stupid question but it was the only one that she could think to ask.
Amanda's eyes fluttered open at the sound of her daughter's words and she moved her head slightly, wincing in pain at the large wound on the back of her skull. "Altessa?" She mumbled, a trickle of blood falling past her lips and down her cheek.
"Yeah, Mom, it's me. Don't worry, you're going to be okay, I'll get help." She promised, standing up and turning toward the back door. Thomas opened the doors and rushed outside, his cell phone in his hand as he joined Altessa's side.
"Is she all right?" Thomas asked the teenager, who nodded once, her gaze returning to her mother.
"For now, call for help. I think she fell off the balcony." Altessa commanded, fidgeting uneasily, not quite sure of what to do. Something about the whole ordeal was bothering her in spite of herself. It seemed too lucky that they would arrive in time to save one of the survivors when there had been nothing they could do to save the others. Something just wasn't right...
* * *
Kimberly had searched nearly every room in the upstairs without finding Amanda and she didn't know if she should be worried or relieved. She reached the master bedroom and found the door already opened, a sign that someone had been there recently. Kimberly peered into the bedroom, saw that it was empty and was about to turn and head back downstairs when she saw that the doors leading out the balcony were open as well.
She hurried in the room when she saw that the balcony no longer had a railing; in the back of her mind, Kimberly knew exactly what had happened: Amanda had been leaning against the railing and it had falling and she had fallen onto the ground below...
Below her, Kimberly could hear Kimberly and Thomas speaking, Altessa saying that she thought her mother was okay. That was the first good news Kimberly had heard for a while. She rushed forward toward the balcony, knowing that would be a quicker way to talk to Altessa and Thomas then running all the way downstairs and tripped over something that she hadn't noticed in the doorway.
Carried forward my her running momentum, Kimberly hit the concrete roughly and seemed almost to slid forward a good few feet. She put her hands out to halt herself and keep herself from falling over the edge as well; her palms scraped the rough concrete before knocking into what she would later learn to be a small pair of pruning sheers. Kimberly lifted her head in time to see the sheers tumble over the edge of the balcony, pushed accidentally by her own hand.
Slowly Kimberly pulled herself to her feet, mind filled with foreboding at the sight of the sight of the sheers falling over the edge. Her uneasy feelings were verified when Altessa's shrill screams cut through the air, sounding more panicked and pained then before.
Kimberly hurried to the edge of the balcony and peered downwards, heart lurching when she saw the sight below. Altessa had stopped screaming because she appeared to have fainted, lying limp in Thomas' arms; Thomas was staring wide-eyed Amanda's body, or more specifically the pruning sheers that were imbedded the woman's skull.
Seeing the sheers caused Kimberly to stagger backward, tripping on a trowel behind her and landing roughly on the ground once again. It was her fault that Amanda was dead, more her fault than it was the fact that the survivors were dead. If she had been watching where she was walking, or perhaps not have been in such a hurry to get to the balcony, she wouldn't have tripped and knocking the tool off the edge and then Amanda would still be alive.