April 15, 2010.

A/N: Yo, Fictioners :)

So, here we are at chapter seven. I guess I don't really have much to say today... Big huge thanks to the reviewers so far; your thoughts, critiscisms and inputs are much appreciated -- every single thing said is taken on board :)

Enjoy the chapter!

Searching for Solace

- SEVEN -

March 8 – 09:13

The expensive house in Balwyn might have been beautiful once. Now, littered with half-empty cans of drink and strewn with unconscious teenage bodies, it wasn't looking particularly inviting. Mackenzie picked her way through the debris as she headed to the kitchen in search of a glass of water. Ironically, the weather outside was bright and clear – blue sky and white fluffy clouds, if you looked past the glowing Chimera Anima. A happy little bird chirped complacently in the gum tree next to the window. She nudged a garbage bag overflowing with rancid rubbish aside with her foot and filled a faded Bananas in Pyjamas cup – the only clean one she could find – with tap water.

Still no word from anyone in her family. And was Morgan even still here?

March 10 – 19:34

Mackenzie winced as she stood up from the carpet. The pain shooting through her back seemed to grow every day – the scratch was much more tender now, and felt rawer than it had when she'd first got it. She didn't even know if it was possible for the wound to hurt more than it had at the time. But she was having trouble moving around; if she wasn't careful, it could sting ruthlessly for an hour at a time. Consequently, sleeping was very difficult. As if it wasn't hard enough to get with all the pounding music and loud voices downstairs – practically 24/7.

Life was a constant party at Jessica's house.

Mackenzie locked herself upstairs most of the time, distracting herself by trying to establish contact with her missing family so she wouldn't get angry. She stomped around when she was angry, and it hurt her back. She just couldn't believe that, in a time of crisis, Australia's kids preferred to hide away and party until reality wasn't even a niggling worry at the back of their minds. To her, it was immaturity at its best. Or worst, really. And it disappointed her that Morgan chose to stay down there, pretending everything was right with the world, rather than facing facts with her.

Australia had been invaded… by weird things called Chimera Anima. She knew that much, and it didn't make any sense, but that didn't mean it hadn't happened. Outside the dark window, the iridescent yellow orbs drifted lazily by. Every time she looked out, it was a jolting shock to see them. But they were always there. Just because there was a binging party going on downstairs didn't change the fact that there were monsters terrorising the streets.

"There you are!"

Mackenzie looked up. Morgan was standing in the doorway, her fingers curled around the neck of a Smirnoff double black. She smiled, unaware of the state of disarray of her chin-length hair, and walked in. "What're you doing up here, miss antisocial?"

Mackenzie shrugged. She didn't really feel like talking to Morgan. Her friend seemed not to notice; she wandered over to Jessica's unslept-in bed and flopped down.

"You should come downstairs," she said, nodding knowingly, lazily. Mackenzie wrinkled her nose. Was it possible for Morgan to still be drunk? Actually, it was probable, since she hadn't been without a drink in her hand since they'd first arrived. How she did it was beyond Mackenzie. Surely she would start to feel sick and disgusting at some point.

"Nah, I'm good," Mackenzie said.

Morgan turned her head and gave her a look. "It's a shitload more fun than up here."

Mackenzie ignored this. She'd learned over the past few days that it was best to. "Morgs… Have you heard from your parents?"

Morgan shrugged – it was awkward due to the upside-down position she was lying in. "Got a message from Dad a couple of days ago. Missed a call from Mum yesterday, I think."

Mackenzie's mouth dropped open. "Call her back!"

"Nah, she's fine," Morgan replied calmly, taking a swig from the bottle. She giggled when a splash spilled on her cheek. "Oops."

"Morgan, your mum's probably worried about you," Mackenzie said seriously, wishing she'd missed a call from her mother. "She probably just wants to know if you're still alive."

"You're taking this way too seriously, Max," Morgan replied, smiling and slurring her words. "In a couple of days, this will blow over, and then everything'll be normal and boring again. Relax and come party with us. Don't waste this valuable break from school."

Mackenzie stared at her for a long moment, until she said, confused, "What?"

"I don't think this is just gonna 'blow over'."

"Worry wart."

Mackenzie fought the irritation swelling in her chest. "I'm worried about my family. Don't you think it's weird that I haven't heard from anyone for four days? Four days! That's as long as a school camp."

"We've been over this," Morgan said, frowning.

"And I don't think 'no reception' is really the answer anymore," Mackenzie replied hotly. "I'm sick of being stuck in this house, Morgan. Can we leave tomorrow?"

"Don't be stupid," Morgan snapped, pushing herself up on her elbows. "This is the fucking safest place for us right now."

"You're saying that because you want to stay and drink your life away," Mackenzie shot back angrily. "While my family is missing. You don't even care, do you?"

"I do!" Morgan protested. "But you're making a big deal out of nothing. They're fine."

"I don't think they are!" Mackenzie cried, and then she was crying. "They could be dead somewhere, Morgan. Dead! What if those monsters got my mum, or my sister?"

Morgan sat silently and stared at her.

"What if they were fine, but no-one helped them, and they slowly died somewhere, painfully? In a gutter, or on the street, or in a scungy alleyway…"

"That's a bit melodramatic, don't you think?" Morgan said, rolling her eyes. Mackenzie wiped furiously at her face and shot an angry glare at her. There was clearly no point trying to talk to her best friend about anything serious. The realisation just left her feeling tired and sad. Defeated.

"Go back to the party," she said, sniffing back the rest of her tears and taking a deep, calming breath. She sighed shakily, pulling herself together. "I'm gonna try and sleep. I don't feel well."

"Alright," Morgan agreed easily. Too easily. "You must be so exhausted. I'll see you in the morning?"

"Yep," Mackenzie replied shortly, tonelessly.

"Do you want me to shut the door?"

"Thanks."

She glared bitterly at the back of the door for a long time after Morgan had gone.

March 11 – 10:56

Mackenzie still wasn't feeling well when she woke up. An uncomfortable nausea had settled in her stomach, and she had a bit of a headache. Every time she moved her back smarted – even the tiniest movements set it off now, which made walking a pain. Literally.

Nevertheless, she dragged herself out from under her doona and struggled downstairs, picking her way through the destruction zone to the study. The general rule seemed to be: Why bother cleaning up when we're going to make the same mess all over again? As a result, the entire house was trashed with about a week's worth of partying. Empty bottles, half-empty cans, old pizza boxes, half-eaten packets of chips (their contents were strewn all over the carpet in various rooms). Plus, the contents of the rooms seemed to have played musical-rooms. There were things everywhere. Cushions, books, magazines, decorative statues, vases – in the most random of places. You name it, it was most likely not where it belonged.

Mackenzie carefully stepped over a topless, unconscious boy with lipstick drawings on his back, and dodged the up-turned coffee table, quietly slipping into the study and shutting the door. It was, perhaps, one of the neatest rooms, if you ignored the pile of unrolled toilet paper in the corner and the rubbish scattered over the desk and floor. She kicked a clear path to the computer and sat down, removing the beer cans from the seat before doing so.

Youtube was open in minutes, and she was browsing the recent uploads hopefully. Unsurprisingly, everything was invasion-related. Teens calling out messages to their friends. Tribute clips. People searching for missing family members. The more she searched, the more she realised that this – whatever this was that was happening right now – wasn't just having a massive impact on her little world. This was an enormous, global invasion. And it was affecting everybody, everywhere. She sat and stared at the screen, overwhelmed by the revelation, for several good long minutes.

Then, conceding that Dr. Shirogane hadn't updated anything yet, no matter how many times she double-checked, she checked her mobile hopefully, chewing her lip worriedly. Its battery life was getting low. It would run out soon if she didn't charge it. Frustratingly, she'd left the charger plugged into the wall at whatever was left of home. Acknowledging that there was little she could do about it at the moment, Mackenzie returned upstairs to curl back up under her doona. There wasn't much she could do at all right now. The best thing to do was just sleep to pass the time.

March 12 – 13:52

Oh, man. She felt so sick. Morgan pushed herself up from where she was lying, yawning hugely and running a hand through her hair, pushing it back from her face. Oh, yuck. Was it really that dirty? And – Jesus – what the hell was that? She pulled her hand out of her hair and examined it, wrinkling her nose. As long as it wasn't vomit… She wasn't brave enough to smell it and see.

Holy crap, there were people everywhere. But where was Max? The house was silent around her – weirdly silent, not naturally silent. She stifled another huge yawn and her stomach gurgled unappreciatively. She rubbed it soothingly. God, what had she been filling it with lately? The Corona bottles at her feet were enough of an answer. Right. Time to get up. Morgan kicked the bottles away and struggled slowly to her feet. She felt heavy and woozy – her body just felt tired. No, exhausted. Her legs wobbled as she forced them slowly upstairs.

"Max?"

Echoing memories of the pounding music last night thudded in her ears, though everything was quiet. It felt like someone had stuffed her ear canals with cotton wool. Ugh. Her mouth tasted feral. She wondered vaguely when she'd last brushed her teeth.

The room behind the door was dim, but she could make out Mackenzie's form curled under the doona in the corner. She stood in the doorway, listening to her best friend breathing peacefully, wondering why she chose to sleep on the hard floor rather than in the empty bed. Jess certainly wasn't using it. Speaking of Jess, she hadn't seen her for a while now…

"Max… Wake up," Morgan whispered, a little louder this time. She tiptoed to her friend's side and knelt down. Mackenzie didn't move. Her long, mousey hair was messy against the pillow. Morgan shoved her shoulder gently. "Max."

Mackenzie gave a low, soft groan, but otherwise made no effort to acknowledge her presence. Morgan sat back for a second, then got up and pulled the curtains open. Sunlight flooded the bedroom, illuminating the little particles of dust floating lazily. Holy crap, the whole place was in desperate need of a tidy up. Even Mackenzie's room – the neatest of the lot – was dusty.

Mackenzie gave a half-hearted moan of complaint. Morgan smiled and dropped down beside her, pulling the covers back. "Wakey wakey, sleeping beauty." She waited for Mackenzie to open her eyes, and as she looked closely at her face, Morgan began to get the feeling that something wasn't quite right.

"Max? Come on, get up," she said, louder, shaking her shoulder again.

"No," Mackenzie muttered weakly, frowning. The sunlight glittered against her forehead. Morgan blinked. Glittered? Hang on a second… She examined her best friend's face more closely, looking now for the things that weren't normal. First, she noticed how unnaturally pale and sallow her skin was. Secondly, how contrastingly flushed her cheeks were. Thirdly, how clammy she was, and how dry her lips were. She rested a hand against Mackenzie's forehead, alarm beating quickly in her heart.

"Hey, Max… Max!" She shook her friend's shoulder more firmly this time.

"… Go… away…" Max whispered.

"No, you have to get up now," Morgan replied, worried. "It's almost lunch time." A thought struck her. "When was the last time you ate?"

Max shrugged weakly under the doona. Oh dear. This was not good.

"Up, Max. Now. We've gotta get some food into you," Morgan said, pulling the doona off her body. "Here, let me help you."

"No," Max protested as she tried to encourage her. "I… just wanna… sleep…"

"You can't sleep!" Morgan argued. "Stop being stupid, and stand up! You probably haven't eaten properly in days."

Max didn't reply. Morgan grunted and got her somehow to her feet, but she swayed dangerously and leaned heavily against her. "I don't… feel good…"

"You'll feel better after you eat," Morgan promised, genuinely worried now. "Just come downstairs with me."

But Max didn't even make it to the door. She'd only taken four or five steps when her knees caved and she collapsed in a heap on the floor, dragging Morgan down with her. Untangling their arms, Morgan tested her forehead again, suddenly scared. Her heart pounded anxiously. Mackenzie was running a scorching fever.

"Max, you have to help me. At least try to walk to the car. We've gotta get you to a doctor."

Even in her current state of alcoholically-induced zombie-ism, Morgan was no idiot. Max was sick – that much was obvious as day. But it was worse than just your usual cold or bad bout of the flu. As she struggled to support Max's weight, manoeuvring them carefully down the stairs, Morgan couldn't shake the terrifying feeling that something was horribly wrong with her best friend.

CULTURE NOTE

Balwyn - A suburb of, erm... eastern?... Melbourne. It's a nice area, with up-market properties. A little toffee, if you know what I mean. If you don't, then 'toffee' is apparently another Australian thing XD'

Bananas in Pyjamas - Yeah, that's pYjamas, not pAjamas. It was a kids' TV show when I was very young, involving five people in oversized costumes - two bananas: B1 and B2, and three teddies: Amy, Lulu... and the boy one I can't remember the name of XD'... Ah, I used to love that show :3

Smirnoff - Everyone knows Smirnoff! D: It's Russian vodka :)

A shitload - A heck of a lot/a hell of a lot.

Worry wart - Um... I dunno if other countries say this, too... I'm pretty sure they do :S Basically means 'You're stressing out too much', in a calling-names sort of way.

Chips - Crisps/potato chips.

NOTES

Quote! Lolz to this sequence of sentences: 'The sunlight glittered against her forehead. Morgan blinked. Glittered?' -- This is not intended to be in any way related to, or insinuative of, Twilight. Mackenzie is NOT A VAMPIRE. I hope other people didn't immediately think of Edward Cullen when they read that little segment... 'cause when I was editing it, that was the first thing that popped into MY mind, and that's NOT A GOOD THING. D:

My, my, Morgan is being difficult. Poor Max; what in the world is wrong with her? Well, I know, of course. You're just going to have to wait and see :P

You know, sakuuya once asked me, in regards to the culture notes, if my reading American fanfics was anything like you lot reading this Aussie fic, in terms of not understanding slang and general culutural details. The answer to this is: YES. When I first started reading American-written fanfics and stories, I was so lost. But, of course, most fanfics are written by American author/esses, so you get used to things pretty quickly. I know now what Captain Crunch and Cheerios are, and I've researched Applebee's, Piggly Wigglys, and Walmart XD Plus you get to know slang -- I know you guys are referring to tomato sauce when you say 'ketchup', and things like that XD So yes, it was odd for me when I first came here, but I feel like an honourary American now :P

Reviews are love! :3

Until the next update.

Love,

Cherrie xx