The Last Invasion
Senior Year
Stokely felt her jaw drop as she pressed the phone to her ear. She had been surprised when he had called at midnight; her mom was still walking down the hall muttering darkly that Josie, Jake, and Jeff had woken up. She rolled her eyes as she heard the triplets giggling in their bedroom.
".I'll explain more later, the doctor is coming."
"Yeah, I'll be there." She dropped the phone and stood from the bed. She snatched her cell phone from the dresser while creeping into the hall. "Where do you think you're going?" Betsy Mitchell snapped, hands on the hips of her nightgown. "Uh, hi mom, I need to go help Zeke."
"Help Zeke."
"Yeah.he has a flat tire."
Betsy eyed her daughter suspiciously then nodded, "Alright, but bring your cell phone. Take your father's car."
"Thanks Mom!" Stokely kissed her mother then scurried down the stairs, dialing Stan's number.
- - -
"Where am I?" he asked through a slurred, cracked voice. When cracking his eyes open, all he saw was blurred objects, hushed voices whispering nearby. He wished they'd come closer so he could see who it was, even though they'd probably be just a blur of color. He sighed, twisting on the bed then yelping.
"He's finally awake," one of the voices said before a face appeared in his vision. "How are you feeling, son? No, don't move. Do you remember your name?" He nodded, flinched, "Yes. I'm Casey. And who are you?"
The voice didn't reply at first, he could hear more whispering going on then the blurred face reappeared in his line of sight. Casey gladly noted he could start to make out details like a glasses and an unshaven face. "Do you remember what happened to you, Mr. Conners?" The boy was about to ask how this stranger knew his last name when it hit him: the memories.
Miss Levinson, Henry, pain, the sick sound of his arm being broken, screaming. Screaming again, "I won't! I won't tell you! You'll never get Riva!" He recoiled, ignoring the flash of nausea that hit him like a blow to the stomach. He heard another, familiar voice, "Case. Casey, don't move, you'll hurt yourself again!"
There was a pause while he registered the voice, her face coming into clear focus, "Stokes?"
"Yeah, Case, it's me. Stan's here to, and so-"
"Zeke! Where's Zeke? Did you find his body, is he dead?"
"No, and it's a shame too," she replied with a dry chuckle, then stopped when she saw that look that crossed the boy's features. She bit her lip uncertainly, taking his hand into hers, "Case?" There were tears brimming in his large blue eyes, threatening to spill over before he could blink them away. He sighed and twisted his head away so she couldn't see his face, but she did notice him relax into the pillows.
"Where am I?" he asked quietly, tugging some blankets up over his shoulders. "In a hospital . . .sort of," Stokely replied, glancing around the room. The walls were painted a neutral color, with paint chipping off in places, but it vaguely resembled a hospital room. Casey's bed was more or less a cot with metal bars around the edges, but at least the machinery he was hooked up to seemed advanced and authentic.
The boy frowned, turning his head to look at his friend. The tears were gone from his eyes, a blank vacant expression there now. Stokely grimaced at the sigh of a long scar running along his cheek, and the tube lopped under his nose didn't help the sight any. "What do you mean by sort of?"
The man with the glasses and unshaven face, who had spoken earlier, stepped up to the bed. He was obviously a doctor by the stained white coat he wore, to the stethoscope hanging around his neck. He had shocking read hair that hung to his neck, and was rather scraggly looking except for a kind smile. "I guess you could call it a black-market hospital. No records are kept here." He said, glancing over the boy in the bed, grabbing his wrist to take a pulse.
"How did I get here?" Casey asked, watching without interest as the doctor continued to check over him. "I brought you," Zeke said, appearing in the doorway, using Stan as a stabilizer. Stan waved and greeted Casey as he led the other to a chair, ignoring Zeke's angry protests. Casey stared at Zeke for several minutes, as if proving he was actually alive. At long last, he asked, "What happened?"
The boy propped himself up in bed with Stokely's help, as she sat on the side of the bed, also to listen. Stan leaned against the wall, arms folded over his chest, looking warily out the hall. "I don't know what happened with you Casey boy, but I can only imagine it was a lot like my experience," Zeke said, touching the bandage around his head. His fingers lightly went over the large bruises that covered most of his face, as well as stitches on his lip, and forehead, and others hid by his clothing.
"Riva was right, Mary Beth's parents are back, and they don't seem to happy. I think they know that Mary Beth is dead, because all Miriam- the girl who I . . .talked to- wanted to know was where Riva is. Remember she told us she had escaped slavery, because she dehydrated the controlling thing in her head? They know that, and I think they want her back. They know Casey and me; they know we knew Mary Beth. Stokes, and Stan, they might not know about you yet. Keep a low profile, especially at school. Miss Levinson will be watching, I'm sure."
"How did you know she's one?" Casey asked, shuttering at the memories. "You were screaming about her in the car, and some guy named Henry," Zeke replied, glancing over his friend. He seemed the worse for the wear, with a cast around his arm, and a nasty scar across his face. "So anyway, I woke up in the parking lot, and there you were Case, still knocked out. I brought you here, to my good old pal, Doc. Frank. If I had brought you to a regular hospital, they would have asked question, and that's not what we need right now. We stay low until we can talk to Riva, and figure out some sort of plan," Zeke said, turning his gaze on the three.
"We tried to call Riva, but she's not answering," Stan commented slowly, a look of apprehension crossing his face. Stokley stood, "I'll stop by the house on the way home. Maybe she didn't hear the phone." The worry was evident in her voice. Casey was frowning, staring down at the cast around his arm, flexing his fingers slowly, "Well this is how I wanted to spend my senior year."
A.N: Apologies! I haven't updated in so very long and I'm terrible sorry. I've been on vacation, and down at the hospital all day. My grandma broke her hip (again) so I've been busy. Plus, I'm starting three new fics (for Pirates of the Caribbean) and yes, I'm insane. To many fics going on!! Agh!! Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Reviews, as always, are accepted with the deepest gratitude.
Senior Year
Stokely felt her jaw drop as she pressed the phone to her ear. She had been surprised when he had called at midnight; her mom was still walking down the hall muttering darkly that Josie, Jake, and Jeff had woken up. She rolled her eyes as she heard the triplets giggling in their bedroom.
".I'll explain more later, the doctor is coming."
"Yeah, I'll be there." She dropped the phone and stood from the bed. She snatched her cell phone from the dresser while creeping into the hall. "Where do you think you're going?" Betsy Mitchell snapped, hands on the hips of her nightgown. "Uh, hi mom, I need to go help Zeke."
"Help Zeke."
"Yeah.he has a flat tire."
Betsy eyed her daughter suspiciously then nodded, "Alright, but bring your cell phone. Take your father's car."
"Thanks Mom!" Stokely kissed her mother then scurried down the stairs, dialing Stan's number.
- - -
"Where am I?" he asked through a slurred, cracked voice. When cracking his eyes open, all he saw was blurred objects, hushed voices whispering nearby. He wished they'd come closer so he could see who it was, even though they'd probably be just a blur of color. He sighed, twisting on the bed then yelping.
"He's finally awake," one of the voices said before a face appeared in his vision. "How are you feeling, son? No, don't move. Do you remember your name?" He nodded, flinched, "Yes. I'm Casey. And who are you?"
The voice didn't reply at first, he could hear more whispering going on then the blurred face reappeared in his line of sight. Casey gladly noted he could start to make out details like a glasses and an unshaven face. "Do you remember what happened to you, Mr. Conners?" The boy was about to ask how this stranger knew his last name when it hit him: the memories.
Miss Levinson, Henry, pain, the sick sound of his arm being broken, screaming. Screaming again, "I won't! I won't tell you! You'll never get Riva!" He recoiled, ignoring the flash of nausea that hit him like a blow to the stomach. He heard another, familiar voice, "Case. Casey, don't move, you'll hurt yourself again!"
There was a pause while he registered the voice, her face coming into clear focus, "Stokes?"
"Yeah, Case, it's me. Stan's here to, and so-"
"Zeke! Where's Zeke? Did you find his body, is he dead?"
"No, and it's a shame too," she replied with a dry chuckle, then stopped when she saw that look that crossed the boy's features. She bit her lip uncertainly, taking his hand into hers, "Case?" There were tears brimming in his large blue eyes, threatening to spill over before he could blink them away. He sighed and twisted his head away so she couldn't see his face, but she did notice him relax into the pillows.
"Where am I?" he asked quietly, tugging some blankets up over his shoulders. "In a hospital . . .sort of," Stokely replied, glancing around the room. The walls were painted a neutral color, with paint chipping off in places, but it vaguely resembled a hospital room. Casey's bed was more or less a cot with metal bars around the edges, but at least the machinery he was hooked up to seemed advanced and authentic.
The boy frowned, turning his head to look at his friend. The tears were gone from his eyes, a blank vacant expression there now. Stokely grimaced at the sigh of a long scar running along his cheek, and the tube lopped under his nose didn't help the sight any. "What do you mean by sort of?"
The man with the glasses and unshaven face, who had spoken earlier, stepped up to the bed. He was obviously a doctor by the stained white coat he wore, to the stethoscope hanging around his neck. He had shocking read hair that hung to his neck, and was rather scraggly looking except for a kind smile. "I guess you could call it a black-market hospital. No records are kept here." He said, glancing over the boy in the bed, grabbing his wrist to take a pulse.
"How did I get here?" Casey asked, watching without interest as the doctor continued to check over him. "I brought you," Zeke said, appearing in the doorway, using Stan as a stabilizer. Stan waved and greeted Casey as he led the other to a chair, ignoring Zeke's angry protests. Casey stared at Zeke for several minutes, as if proving he was actually alive. At long last, he asked, "What happened?"
The boy propped himself up in bed with Stokely's help, as she sat on the side of the bed, also to listen. Stan leaned against the wall, arms folded over his chest, looking warily out the hall. "I don't know what happened with you Casey boy, but I can only imagine it was a lot like my experience," Zeke said, touching the bandage around his head. His fingers lightly went over the large bruises that covered most of his face, as well as stitches on his lip, and forehead, and others hid by his clothing.
"Riva was right, Mary Beth's parents are back, and they don't seem to happy. I think they know that Mary Beth is dead, because all Miriam- the girl who I . . .talked to- wanted to know was where Riva is. Remember she told us she had escaped slavery, because she dehydrated the controlling thing in her head? They know that, and I think they want her back. They know Casey and me; they know we knew Mary Beth. Stokes, and Stan, they might not know about you yet. Keep a low profile, especially at school. Miss Levinson will be watching, I'm sure."
"How did you know she's one?" Casey asked, shuttering at the memories. "You were screaming about her in the car, and some guy named Henry," Zeke replied, glancing over his friend. He seemed the worse for the wear, with a cast around his arm, and a nasty scar across his face. "So anyway, I woke up in the parking lot, and there you were Case, still knocked out. I brought you here, to my good old pal, Doc. Frank. If I had brought you to a regular hospital, they would have asked question, and that's not what we need right now. We stay low until we can talk to Riva, and figure out some sort of plan," Zeke said, turning his gaze on the three.
"We tried to call Riva, but she's not answering," Stan commented slowly, a look of apprehension crossing his face. Stokley stood, "I'll stop by the house on the way home. Maybe she didn't hear the phone." The worry was evident in her voice. Casey was frowning, staring down at the cast around his arm, flexing his fingers slowly, "Well this is how I wanted to spend my senior year."
A.N: Apologies! I haven't updated in so very long and I'm terrible sorry. I've been on vacation, and down at the hospital all day. My grandma broke her hip (again) so I've been busy. Plus, I'm starting three new fics (for Pirates of the Caribbean) and yes, I'm insane. To many fics going on!! Agh!! Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Reviews, as always, are accepted with the deepest gratitude.