A/N: Once again, thank you to my co-writer K. J. Callahan for previewing this chapter and editing. One other note: while this takes place in the same universe as the trilogy done by Yellowfur (titles in the previous chapter), this takes place before Pete is a vampire. Before the events of the video. Got it?
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"But if you close your eyes
Does it almost feel like nothing's changed at all?
And if you close your eyes
Does it almost feel like you've been here before?"
-"Pompeii", Bastille
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I strapped on a backpack, even taking the time to clip the buckle right across my chest. It carried everything I would need for an all day trip into the city: socks for trying on shoes, money, a cell phone (it was surprising that we still got service after four years in a war zone), a white camisole, and a water bottle. It was almost surreal to have such a normal collection of stuff along with a wooden stake and garlic inside a plastic bag, because it stinks so much. I actually understand why vampires don't like it. Hell, I don't like it.
It was the next day, and the Bear Force (the name grew on me, and it's tiring to always call us 'the gang' or whatever. I think Donnie is actually our leader, anyway, which gave him the right to choose our name. You don't really choose that kind of thing, it just kind of happens) had packed up to go. All of us were going to get clothes together and then Braeden and I were going to go and get soap, toothpaste, and that type of stuff. Donnie and Di were going to get groceries from one of the seven grocery stores still open. Wearing a black t-shirt advertising participation in a Spartan Race (a super tough race with obstacles like live wire, ice-filled pools, and the like. People die doing that race), jeans with bleach stains, white sneakers now gray from washes and dirt, and a black leather coat I used to think looked like Sherlock Holmes' jacket, I was ready as I hopped into the back of our silver truck.
Everyone except for Di, our designated driver, rode in the back as we drove into the almost deserted town. As we went further and further into the city, we saw more and more signs of the desolation the town had. Bodies piled next to garbage bins to be incinerated with yesterday's coffee grounds and smoldering rubble left to raise curling layers of smoke to the white fluffy clouds filling the sky.
But the day wasn't nearly as hot as yesterday, and the dew covered the dusty, dried grass with glittering jewels. I made a face anyway, staring at the water in disgust. I didn't like the way a moist, warm day felt, and I liked it even less when I had to walk or sit in the dew-covered grass.
It was definitely a humid day; another thing I hated. It made me sweat like crazy and
I always felt like I was suffocating. It's not really all that hard to avoid heat, but you can't avoid moisture. Ugh. I could already feel beads of perspiration soaking into the band of my fedora (which I'd worn to avoid stares for my tattoo).
The day was still early, and everyone was still waking up from a deep night's sleep. Those of us on the roof yesterday morning because that's just what lots of sun exposure does to you (have you ever gone to the beach and just laid in the sand all day, only to be exhausted when you get home?), and Braeden because he was still healing from the run-in he had with the Skinheads.
Thankfully, they'd left us alone for now, and we were as prepared as we could be without becoming over prepared. Think about it: there's a twenty, maybe forty-five percent chance they'll come back, and we'll spend all our time training for something that's never gonna happen. And if they do come back, there are four less of them, and we'll be more careful of being inside before sunset next time. Hey, we were teenagers that were trying to the best of our abilities to deal and still have fun. Don't judge us.
There was almost no one on the streets, but those who did shot us wary and hostile looks before readjusting their scarfs and pulling up the collars of their jackets and pretending they didn't look at us in the first place. The early morning sun peaked between the buildings, leaving chilly shadows that we would drive though, only to be blinded by the brilliance of a butter-yellow sun low in the sky.
The smell of rain was on the air, giving a musky smell to the pavement and showing little depressions in the asphalt where it hadn't all evaporated yet. Braeden leaned against the rear window and tilted his chin up to the sky, his stony blue eyes watching the clouds crawl across the sky slower than the tortoise from Aesop's Fables.
"People really seem welcoming, don't they?" He commented, putting his hands behind his head, the bandages wrapped and pinned around his arms and neck flapping in the brisk wind as we made our way down the avenue, turning onto Main Street. I slid across the bed of the truck as we turned, steadying myself against the side with both arms.
"This is why I don't like going out much." I remarked, watching as a mother looked at us with narrowed eyes, then picked up her toddler and hurried away. We bumped across the cracked pavement, then rolled over the speed bumps at a decelerated rate and entered the parking lot for the mostly deserted mall.
It was small, with a strange addition off one of the crosses that was almost invisible and held the laser tag maze where we used to always meet up on weekends. The staff had left that place long ago, and it was closed.
It seemed almost every good memory I had had to be brought up short with some sort of awful reality check. Well, we've moved past my nostalgic notions now, so let's forge onward. Don't worry; the action will pick up soon.
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If anything, the inside of the mall was even emptier than the outside. Music from the only stores left played loudly enough to mix together and echo down every tiled hall, and the fountain in the middle was also on and loud enough to drown out the music from the shops around it.
The sun peaked through the skylights, but no shadows dared cross it and make a dark pattern on the pink and gray tiles covering the floor. There were people, sure, but maybe one customer in every third store and about a fourth had anyone manning the counter, though the gates were all open and there were plenty of clothes still left on the shelves.
Looking around, there really weren't very many stores that suited my personal taste. Most of them looked like the kind of thing a newly married, new mother, or straight A student in university would wear. I had never liked that kind of stuff, mainly because everyone already assumed I was much older than I was, so I wore graphic tees, a lot of ripped jeans, and tennis shoes to make myself look like a geeky high school student. Not a preppy college girl! This seemed to work, and I found stores I really preferred, like Body Central and Hot Topic, and ones I disliked strongly, like American Eagle and Hollister.
All these stores were open, so while Braeden and Donnie entered the desolate sporting goods store, Di and I entered Body Central to search for durable, but cute clothes (hey, I never said we weren't still teenage girls!). As we searched, we had a chance to catch up in what seemed like forever. But unfortunately, it began to show prominently how little we had to talk about now that we were both completely unconcerned with what our favorite actor was doing or how shocked we were that our favorite character in a book died. Eventually, our chat turned to a very prominent subject that Di always brought up in the exact tone that shallow teens use to suggest juicy gossip is about to be spilled.
"Sooo…. How things between you and Braeden?" She asked, grinning uncontrollably.
I laughed, holding up a pair of tin linen pants to my waist, smiling back at her. "I've told before, we're just friends."
"Riight. Then why are you smiling?" I immediately tried to drop the grin, but ended up giving her a face that bespoke trying not to smile and failing miserably.
"Because we've talked so often about this that it's just funny you'd still talk about it."
"Mmhm." Di gave me a skeptical glance from behind a green-and-white-striped long-sleeve. Today she was sporting two French braids with a shark tooth on a piece of untreated leather around her neck. A black camisole peeked out from beneath a cut-off white t-shirt with a black PlayStation controller on it and a short jean skirt with checkered hi-tops.
"I'm serious!" My statement was rather ruined by the fact that I started to giggle uncontrollably, her expression of unbelief so funny that I couldn't help but beam.
Suddenly, Di began to laugh, too. Our laughter certainly would have brought a clerk running had anyone still been around. The feeling of having a good laugh carried us all the way to our next store, where I quickly picked up a belt with sheet music and a scarf with a keyboard printed across it. This time, there was a cashier who smiled, his fangs shining in the spotlights overhead. It was a thing you just have to deal with after a while and we went around conducting our business, ignoring the fact that he was clearly undead. Thankfully, the music was so loud (I normally don't like any loud noises, but I made an exception) that we didn't have to say anything to him, so we just smiled politely as we left.
But as we exited the store, the glass door almost slammed shut, catching Di in the middle. I quickly put out a foot and stopped it. Di stopped, staring at me with wide eyes. Then she stepped underneath my arm and over my foot then out into the hall.
"How did you do that?" She asked me as we walked over to meet up with the guys.
"Do what?" I was genuinely confused. I had just caught a door. Nothing special, just a regular old thing anyone else could do.
"You moved like the Flash, there!" She nodded backwards to the store. "I've never seen anyone with such fast reflexes."
"Meh. You have to have fast reflexes to play against the computer in Black Ops. I just trained myself to react quickly to anything I see or hear. Hearing somebody throwing a grenade or seeing an enemy player out of the corner of your eye and not responding quickly enough could cost you a game. And you know I don't like losing."
"Yeah. You're a good sport about it, but nobody likes to lose." Di grimaced as we passed a store playing One Direction's newest single, even going so far as to cover her ears until I gave her a thumbs up. She hates mainstream music, TV, or games except for the ones that have kind of an underground base. A huge following, but you're almost sure not to hear about it without finding a hardcore fan. Think Doctor Who or Green Day.
Squeaks sounded through the mall, echoing as we passed underneath the vaulted glass ceilings and abandoned kiosks like the fruit stands in Pompeii moved beyond our sight. To pass the time, we sang a little. Now, neither of us are singers, but that doesn't stop us from making complete fools out of ourselves by singing in public. Our favorite song to sing together is by far "I Love Rock and Roll", by Joan Jett. My parents got me into eighties music and even took me to concerts where they would cover popular songs from the Reagan Years.
Di was more into them, though. The Beatles, Michael Jackson, Journey, and so on. Don't get me wrong, I'd listened to music from all of them except the Beatles (don't get mad; they just never really interested me) and even had albums from the others, but I enjoyed newer music in Rock and Alternative more.
Classical music, however…. I hate it. Despise it. My mom used to play classical music for me when I was falling asleep. Unfortunately, I used to have night terrors. Night terrors are when you have such vivid nightmares that you can't wake up, and I would just lay there, gasping and screaming while my parents made sure I didn't hurt myself. My mom said Dad thought it was funny, which always made me laugh; I was never self-conscious about it or anything. But all of that is to say classical music brings back those horrible nightmares. I still sleepwalk and such, but no more night terrors. I even figured out how to wake myself up if I didn't like where a dream was going. A very useful mechanism, I might add.
But anyway, we hummed about meeting a boy near a jukebox while we made our slow way across the mall to gather with the boys at the car. Not really a great plan, but our cell phones were for emergencies only, and who was going to bother two nineteen-year-olds (okay, I was actually eighteen, but that's what comes from being born later in the year) in a place where we could scream and everyone would hear us? Plus, self-defense was something we'd learned how to do by trial and error, creating our own moves and suffering blows from one another to figure out what was the most effective. I had bruises on my arms for weeks after that.
The sun, high in the sky now, had burned away the dew, but left the air feeling heavy in my lungs, and I was practically gulping in oxygen. It just felt like nothing was being pulled in, but Di laughed when I gave particularly big inhalation.
"It does feel like we're about to suffocate, doesn't it?" A pair of big sunglasses were shielding her eyes from view and I sorely wished for a moment that I had chosen to wear contacts instead of my thick glasses that I couldn't hope to force sunglasses over. Instead, I had to make do with just pulling down my fedora's brim until it shielded my eyes for the most part from the hot sun.
"Yeah." I half breathed, half laughed, still gasping for air. We walked on for a little bit, Di guiding me because the price for not having to look into the sun meant that I couldn't see anything else.
Suddenly, my hands (held out in front of me so that I didn't hit anything) brushed against the hot metal of the truck. I turned around so that my back was to the sun and took my hat off, shaking out my hair and then giving Di a mock hurt expression that made her grin in a crazy sort of way. She was supposed to keeping me from running into anything! Including the truck!
"That's not something you laugh at." I scolded her, which of course made her burst out laughing.
Finally, she regained enough composure to impart a bit of her wisdom to me. "I realize humor isn't for everyone; it's only for those who want to have fun, enjoy life, and feel alive."
"Touché." I tapped her shoulder as if I was touching her with a sword, which made us both giggle as we climbed into the back of the truck. Besides the fact that we almost died every night, it was actually a lot of fun being one family because we got along so well together.
Di winced as she sat down cross-legged on the black plastic in the back of the truck. I didn't blame her; I could feel the heat even through my thick blue jeans (though the knees were ripped open and they were quite distressed) and it wasn't pleasant. It felt more like stepping into an oven than a hot bath. I could practically feel blisters forming on my skin, and shifting only made it worse.
"So….. how are things between you and Braeden?" She asked, waggling her eyebrows and leaning in for some juicy gossip. For the second time that day!
"I've told you before, we're just friends." I put stress on my statement, but Di rolled her eyes, pulling out her ponytail band and brushing her hair with her fingers, forming it into a low bun.
"Riight." A skeptical glance was cast my way. And I laughed, my cheeks flaring red.
"It's true!" I ducked my head, trying to hide the blush. Di's reaction always seemed to hit a button, even though I was telling the truth.
"Mm, hmm. You'll have to tell me all about your little outing together when we get back to the house."
"Oh, my gosh!" I laughed. Di sat back, satisfied that she had managed to embarrass me sufficiently enough for a day. She then took out her bag and began showing me all her different clothes, even though I had watched her buy them. Eventually the boys came back and we started out for our last stops of the day, Braeden and I going one way, Donnie and Di the other.
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The bell rang loudly over the door as Braeden pushed it open, me following close behind. The pharmacy was decimated as if there had been a war that we hadn't known about. The destruction included a light fixture dangling over the counter and sparking menacingly, many of the aisles knocked over and almost everything on the shelves scattered about.
The lights flickered on and off, but thankfully it was light enough still that we were good.
"Damn. Is any place around here unaffected?" Braeden started picking through the remains of Aisle Three as I made my slow, careful way to the other side of the store, where the sky lights were few and far apart. The dark made it hard to see, but a tube of toothpaste or a bottle of shampoo are hard to mistake.
"Apparently not." I leaned over, the skin of my arm catching on a piece of sharp metal. Thankfully, it didn't tear, but I had to carefully move my hand to keep it that way. "It's just crazy to come in here and see it like this." I picked up a smashed can of shaving cream, then tossed it to on side, cringing at the sound it made when it clattered against the wall.
"Have you ever wondered…. How we made it this far?" This question was so unlike Braeden that I stopped stone cold, my hand about to put three toothbrushes into my backpack.
"No…" I answered slowly. "We've survived through our own hard work. It's been hard, and we've made mistakes, but we're still here, so we must be good, right?"
"I just… it's hard to tell anymore." I couldn't see Braeden anymore, but his voice sounded rather stilted and so unlike Cat's that I was suddenly afraid that the attack two days ago had left some permanent damage.
"Since that accident… I've been wondering how long it's going to be until another one of us dies."
Again I froze, a lump arising in my throat. "Don't say that!" I ordered him, my voice breaking. "Don't ever say that. I… I couldn't bear it… happening again." Great. The tears were coming to my eyes and I brushed them away, angry simultaneously at myself for crying and angry at Cat for making me cry.
"Look, I'm just saying, we're going to have to find a way to survive for the next stage of our lives! You and Di were going to go to college together, right? And she was going to get married and have kids, but you weren't right?"
"Stop it!" The tears were flowing down faster now, and sobs were starting to almost silently shake my body. Braeden needed to stop now. I knew how uncomfortable it made me feel when other people cried, and he was just making it worse.
"Well, what now? Di's creepy boyfriend left, we can't get out of the city, and who cares about what happens to us? The hunters? They exist to kill vamps, no matter whether they're doing any harm or not. You should know that better than anyone."
That did it. I started crying as if my heart would break. That couldn't happen, though. It was already broken. It had been broken for years, but the bandages that had been keeping it from bleeding again had just been torn with just a few spoken words. What was worse was that he was right. I would know better than anyone about the hunters and about their awful habits. I wished I didn't, but I did.
The tears flowing down my cheeks, warm and wet, seemed to be drying up my heart, turning it into a hard lump of coal with nothing left but bitterness there. It sat in my chest like a banquet hall filled with the bodies of the partiers, killed by those serving them. It felt empty of anything but grief and loneliness. Why did Braeden bring up my past (at the expense of sounding cliché)? He knew and understood why it was so painful to talk about. It hurt him, too!
But his silent collecting of supplies in the shadows made it perfectly obvious he knew that he was twisting my heart in a way that he shouldn't have. Through tear-filled eyes, I looked at the bright sunlight out the window and took deep breaths that made me hiccup as I tried to get control over the emotions rolling like waves over a rock inside of me. I hated feeling miserable, and for that reason I pushed back the memories that made me feel so helpless.
Happy thoughts… I took a shaky breath and forced myself to go back to picking up useful items and put them inside my backpack. I shoved myself into thinking about playing football with the other kids in high school, and the way that everyone yelled and screamed when we made a touchdown inside the gym.
The way that Duncan and Riley (the two other boys were a duo whom we were friends with, though they weren't brothers) would always somehow manage to be on the same team and were some of the best player on that team, and how once I caught the ball and turned, flying straight into Riley, who had put out his hands to touch me and therefore 'tackle' me. I almost fell over and since his hands were already out he managed to catch me. I was pressed for just a second against his chest like he was comforting me after some great tragedy. It ended up looking like a scene from one of those shitty teenage musicals where their eyes met in the middle of a clumsy moment and suddenly they can't stop thinking about each other. Thankfully, it just ended up with us laughing nervously and going back to playing against each other.
I always thought it would be nice to have a guy who liked me, as long as it wasn't Braeden. He was my best friend, and I didn't want to complicate that. Maybe because I was one of the only girls who lived close by, I thought it would make it easier, but it was never at the top of my list to get noticed. I wanted to have friends. I wanted to be well-liked by a small group of people that I got along with extraordinarily. Having a boyfriend was something that I would have liked, but I was fine with never having a romantic relationship, too.
More cheerful thoughts…. Oh right, my first gaming party. We got together and played a huge multiplayer first-person shooter, then played some more board games! I got second in the first round we played, only second to Braeden. Second round, I did slightly worse, coming in fourth out of twenty. Cat, or 'Boss Panda' and Bear, or 'Bear' came in above me, as did my awesome little cousin Evan. For being two years younger than me, he was mature enough to blend in seamlessly with my friends. After that, we ate some margarita pizza (cheese with basil) and then played one of Evan's favorite games: Smallworld, which is kind of like fantasy Risk. Evan dominated, but I probably came in second, right? Nope! I came in dead last. This was because I wasn't playing to win; I was playing to make sure nobody else did!
Suddenly, a little choked laugh forced its way past the tears. I wiped my eyes and giggled again.
Okay, what else is happy? I searched through my memories again. It was hard, since many of those memories had been tainted by time and more recent events. There was a play that I had gone to see that was hilarious, but that was now a recollection of bitterness…. Oh! I was playing a game of spud with the other high school kids and was running the opposite way when I saw Braeden run smack into a brick wall! Everything stopped so we could all laugh at him. He was dazed, and had a cut lip, but was perfectly fine.
I realized I was laughing out loud, the sound echoing through the silent pharmacy, and I could just make out Braeden's disturbed expression. He always thought I was a psychopath, and I guess I just proved it.
His face just made me laugh even harder. My laughter continued as we exited the store, and then I explained to him what was making me laugh so hard. He cracked a smile at that.
"Your mom made you call me up and ask if I was alright later." He reminded me.
"Even though in about two hours we had soccer practice together." I snickered at the thought of his assurances he was fine. I understood exactly what he felt like. Having a very high pain tolerance, people always asked if I was alright and when I responded yes, but they didn't believe me. I had done the same thing with Cat!
He made a face at the mention of soccer. "I got bored of that after freshman year."
"But your mom still made you go." I remembered. "I was always so happy to have you around; you know I don't like people."
"And I was normally goal keeper." Braeden continued. "But most of the other players were terrible. You, Donnie, and the coach's kids were the best players."
"Yeah, I loved soccer, that's why I was so good at it. And I was the wing. I loved running the ball up and down the field, but I almost never made a goal. I wasn't a good shot for that kind of thing. I take my time and aim, but then somebody," I gave Braeden a look. "would always steal it from me."
He shrugged, like, what can you do? "Either way, I was fine after that run-in with the wall, but it was kind of an embarrassing moment, you know?"
I was walking closer to Cat than was absolutely necessary, mostly because while I would never brush against him on purpose, but I liked having physical contact with those I was closest to. I think that made me and Di look like lesbians a couple times, but I don't think either of us cared. But partly because I was just a bit nervous about the people roaming the streets and while I knew I would be fine in the daytime, it felt safer closer to the strongest person of the Bear Force.
There was actually really no need for it, though. The people around us gave us as much of a wide berth as Cat and I gave them. The incident in the shop had almost completely flown my mind (I hate remembering sad moments) by the time we picked up the other two of our gang. Cat was the designated driver on the way home as the sun faded in the sky.
Another beautiful sunset, but the clouds were golden and the sun a bright yellow color, not relenting on the heat even as it got later. Thankfully, though, the humidity was dissipating and I was breathing in easier. The hot, but dry air was a welcome addition, since now our sweat was evaporating instead of just leaving us looking like we'd been swimming in oil.
The breeze that was made as the truck moved through the molecules in midair, pushing between them and making my hair blow back from my face in a way that was both comfortable and annoying, since I knew I would have to fight with a brush once I got back to our house. As we sped along, we started talking some more about memories of when we were happy adolescents, and our only dreams were out of reach or years from being fulfilled.
"When we got together a lot of the other kids and played capture-the-flag at night – Di totally face planted over that fence into the neighbor's property!" Donnie, who had been on the same team with her and right by her at the time burst out laughing. The wince that Di gave and my almost forced good mood made me laugh too.
"I was trying to get to the flag without anyone else seeing!" She protested, but she grinned all the same, her red hair catching the setting sun and highlighting the gold streaks in it.
I shaded my eyes from the sun as I tried to speak over my giggles as I remembered what one of the other kids on my team had done. "Duncan… he was… in charge… of the jail… and someone put a spider…. Down his collar…." I cracked up again, and the others joined in.
Duncan, who probably would have been labeled a scene kid or a skater if we were in a public school, was one of the coolest kids I knew. We were never really friends, but more like companions. We liked each other well enough, but we just never had a circle of friends that really coincided. He had short hair in the back, but emo hair in the front (he was a solid brunette). Normally he would wear skinny jeans and a plaid button-down unbuttoned over a t-shirt, usually featuring some sort of band logo. He would always bring his skateboard wherever we went and always wore headphones around his neck. Sometimes he would wear one of those floppy hats that hippies usually wear.
Bottom line, he and I were quite different. Especially when it came to bugs. I don't like them, but Duncan hated them. I flicked a stinkbug away from me during class once, unintentionally in his direction, and he scooted back so fast he fell out of his chair. Di wasn't in that class, and neither was Donnie; but Braeden was. I wondered if he remembered it. Anyway, some punk on the other team put a spider down his shirt, which made him scream so loudly that the whole field, including me, and I was near the other team's flag on the other side of the pasture, heard him. Suffice to say, all the other team got out of jail and we lost that round (Braeden was the one who retrieved the flag for their team). After that, Riley told Duncan he was off guard duty.
We swapped stories all the way back to the house where everyone helped get everything into the house (Di and I bowed out early to start making soup in the microwave). And then the boys put the shampoo and stuff into the bathrooms, but didn't touch our clothes beyond just tossing the bags into our rooms. They know better than to mess with that. Instead, they unpacked their own clothes while I poured water into plastic cups made to look like glass and Di took out and placed ceramic bowls full with chicken and dumpling soup in the microwave.
Finally, we sat down to a quiet meal that eventually was interrupted by the sudden throwing of a whole clementine. It quickly evolved in a full out war, with grapes flying like missiles, cherry seeds like bullets, and oranges like bombs being thrown at everyone; it was all-out battle and nobody was on anybody else's side. It ended abruptly when a clementine knocked over a vane standing in the corner.
We very quietly finished cleaning up the vase and dishes, then went upstairs to unpack and get ready for bed. Di and I shared the master bedroom (mostly because the boys wanted their own bedroom still; otherwise, we would have had the bunk beds) and enjoyed every second of it. We had had sleepovers frequently before she went to public school and we kind of lost touch. Sure, we were still best friends, but we just didn't call as often or go out to the movies or to the mall as frequently as we used to.
As I unpacked clothes I could hear the water running in the bathroom. The hot water was sparse, so we had made an arrangement that one of us would shower in each quarter of the day, so that there would still be hot water around for each of us. If we needed it for cooking, there was always the stove to heat it up.
Out of all of us, I think that either Di or I took the longest showers and therefore got the most irritation out of Braeden and Donnie. But since that wasn't a problem now that we had a schedule, I sang a song under my breath to make me feel energized. While I have a terrible singing voice, I love to sing and it always makes me feel better. There was very little that I don't like, but this is includes (but not limited to): music that sounds too similar to others from the same time period, music from artists who have zero personality, or have no meaning other than 'I want to have a one night stand with you'.
But anyway, I flopped on the bed, letting out a comfortable 'oomph' sound. Rolling over, I stared at the overhead fan going round and round, just not thinking about anything and just enjoying the safety and comfort of my room. Whenever I used to get scared of things in my mind, I could always count on my room as my safe haven. Nothing could get in there. Even if I suddenly thought, "What if zombies attack?" or "Are there Weeping Angels outside my door?" I was always confident that they couldn't get in my room. And that was still true, even if it was unreasonable.
Whatever. I lay there, watching the shadows change as the fan moved for who knows how long until Di almost landed on me when she sat down to brush out her mane of curly hair. I immediately sat up, because for some reason I hated the feel of wet hair.
I slid down against the tan, plain wall on the once-white carpet as I pulled off my t-shirt. The room was enveloped in relaxing warmth, with a slight breeze coming from the ceiling fan. The blinds were closed and only the side lamps (which were wrought iron twisted into interesting shapes with a shade containing sun prints of butterflies and leaves sparsely sprinkled across it) were on, but we would have to turn it off as soon as we were both dressed for bed and had finished brushing our teeth in the blindingly white bathroom.
I pulled off my pants and folded them and my shirt meticulously before putting them in the antique dresser's left side drawers. I then gathered a set of pajamas I had gotten while out shopping that day: a black V-neck t-shirt with an appliqued sparkly pink heart on it, pants with black versions of the same heart on a pink background, and a white tank top to put underneath it.
Finally, I crawled into bed and turned off the light, falling almost straightaway to sleep because of the long day, combined with the lack of sound from outside and the absence of lights in any part of the house or outdoors.
. . . . . . . . . . .
Sometime during the night, the bell sounded. At first, I thought I was just dreaming, but then it sounded again. Di wasn't going to get it; I could tell that just from how she burrowed deeper into the covers with every ring. The boys probably hadn't even heard it, so it was up to me to answer it. Being half-asleep at the time, I didn't even think of the risk as I shuffled downstairs, running my hands through my bedraggled hair and yawning. I almost fell over from a head rush that left me virtually blind on the steps. My glasses didn't make it any easier to adjust to the (relatively) harsh light from the front entryway light. When I opened the door, guess who was standing there?
A tall man dressed in nineteenth century clothes and wearing a hat bowed cordially to me, standing there in pjs, with blue hair, a tattoo and glasses, blinking blearily at him. Putting his hat on formally, he asked politely, "I'm sorry to interrupt your sleep, but might I talk with Misses Quinn Berkley, Diana West, and Misters Braeden and Donald Seacrest?"
For a moment I just stood there looking at him in a bit of a stupor before turning around and yelling for the others to come down and join me.
