Chapter Fourteen
Cleaning
*Okay, from this point on, I am going to stray a little bit from canon. I didn't want to, but the story wouldn't have progressed as well if the whole city just went back to normal and was peachy keen, nor would it have been a believable story if it had, so in memory of the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina in which I dedicate this chapter to all the victims and survivors, I hope you like the chapter. ~Erin*
My mouth and throat were dry, my head and heart still ached (but the pain wasn't quite as explosive anymore), and it was quiet when I woke up. Too quiet. There was no ticking of the clock, no sound of movement inside the house or on the sidewalk, and most importantly, no humming, buzzing, whispers or murmurs. After learning about the Institute, it was almost a companion when I wasn't around Dinah, and now that Dinah's gone from my life and my parents were missing, it would've been nice to hear a little humming. It was the classic case of not knowing what you had until it was gone.
I lifted my head and slowly stretched. My neck was stiff, and my hands had fallen asleep. I cracked my neck, and though I winced at the sound, it made my neck feel better. I rested my hands limply on the table and looked at the clock while I waited for the 'pins and needles' feeling to go away. Eleven twenty-four. I stood up, feeling my back crack a little as well. I walked to my room, passing my parents' door and I quickly looked away. I grabbed my blanket from my bed, not caring about the book that fell to the floor. Wrapping the blanket around my shoulders, I went back into the living room. I sat on the couch with my upper body draped over the arm, my feet tucked under me, and I reached for the remote, unsure if I really wanted to know what had happened the night before, or anyone's guess on the matter. Sighing, I pressed the red power button."... says that about sixty-two percent of New Gotham's population was affected by some strange force that caused them to go wild through-out the city. Kevin Trowbridge is with us now on location at Wayne Enterprises' Coorprate Building, Kevin?"
"Yes, I am here in Upper New Gotham where footage was taken of an unknown man who attempted to break into the building." A black and white image of a small young man, maybe twenty-five at the oldest, came on the screen. He was banging on the door, and the camera shook. "No one knows what caused this phenomenon, or why, but the effects of this will have a lasting one on the city. Joan?"
"Thank you Kevin..." I watched as the news went on and on like that for over an hour. Images of missing children, pets, parents and friends flooded the left side of the screen while on the right half, images of all the damage in various neighborhoods. Police, firefighters, EMT, and the media we having a field day. Each minute something was lost, found, just barely survived, everyone's confused and only thirty something percent of the population remembered anything. Those that weren't effected were baffled as to why we weren't. Like me, they watched the madness, and most fled their homes when it got close to them. I was lucky that no one, as insane as they were, had hurt me. They were scarey as hell, but harmless.
Others weren't so lucky. Almost two hundred people so far were found dead, either in their homes, in the homes of strangers, in their cars, or even in the middle of the street. Many seemed to easy to explain, (some ran into the street, and an old couple died in their sleep because of a gas leak), but others were murders with no motives. It was hard to see a lot of what was shown on the screen. Children so much younger than me searching helplessly for their mothers, and instead of offering a hand, the people just stood there filming the whole thing. These children didn't know how to go about finding their parents, when I at least had a cell phone. New Gotham's already high homeless rate grew ten fold in the course of twenty four hours. I could hardly stand to watch anymore, but I made myself. I felt I had to. Something told me that there was a clue somewhere in the news segments.
Through all the death and destruction, there was some good news. By about twelve thirty, the news reports said that groups ranging from five to fifty were being organized that very moment to clean up, mostly in the downtown areas where most of the damage was. There was a speech of sorts made by one of the buisness owners who was donating items from his slightly damaged store, stating that if the city worked together and used teamwork like they had when there was that big earthquake, the it could be rebuilt. 'New Gotham has risen from the ashes before' he'd said, 'and it can easily do so again.'
Inspired by that, people seemed to call in left and right, donating everything from a hundred dollars to blankets to spare anything. Even homes were donated, allowing some of the now homeless people to bunk up until things settle down. Vans were loaded up with brooms, garbage bins and trash bags, ready to go to each of the larger organized cleaning groups. School buses rounded up those who were homeless and brought them to an abandoned building downtown that had once been a school. A thrift store donated clothes and other items. It gave me hope. Humanity wasn't completely out to destroy itself. Most of us just wanted to live a happy normal exsistance. What I saw on the screen not only made my pain seem like a childish tantrum, but it also made me hopeful that if a city in despair can just pick itself up and attempt to run again, then surely I can do the same with my life. It made me want to do something, anything to help in some way.
When I saw that a cleaning crew had been organized at my high school, I got off of the couch and turned the TV off. I went to my room and spread the blanket over my bed, then changed my mind and took it off again. I folded the blanket and set it on the floor. I went to my dresser and rifled through my clothes. I was amazed at how many shirts and pants I still had even from when I lived in San Diego. I never wore them unless it was laundry day, and it was only taking up space. Those went on top of the blanket, folded. I got out a change of clothes and went to the bathroom. Though the water stung as it flowed down my body, I felt as if some of the hot water was washing away some of the night before, the pain and the confusion. I changed into a white T-shirt that said San Diego on it, and jeans, then went to my room to grab the clothes and blanket. I put my hair back in a pink bandana I found in my dresser right before my shower, and I felt I was ready to go.
I left the house (after calling my parents and getting nothing, then leaving them a note to call me in case they got home before I did) with our box of trash bags, our broom and dust pan, and bag of donated items. I don't know why, but doing this made me feel better. It gave me something to do so that I didn't think about Dinah or the fact that my parents hadn't called. Nor did Uncle Leonard. I called his house, but got nothing. It was disconnected or no longer in service, the female operator voice had said, which made me wonder if he unplugged it during his fight with the pixies.
I hadn't walked more than a block, around the area where Kelly and I had our scuffle the night before, when I could hear the people talking and wondering what was going on. As I waited for the white pedestrian symbol, I felt a lot of grief, sadness, anger, confusion, guilt, and a little bit of hope from across the street. I reeled from it a lttle bit. This was new and continuous, when before it would just linger for a moment, then fade. 'Hey, there's Gabby. I'm glad she's okay.' I turned to see Matt Kendall on the other side of the street. He was watching me from his spot on the outside of the crowd.
'What's going to happen next?' I heard someone else think. I've never heard thoughts from this far before. I saw the crosswalk symbol change, and I walked closer. Images and thoughts filled my head, and I shut my eyes to try to single some of them out.
'...gone... It's all gone-' A flash of a car wreck seen the night before- A memory of a kitten for someone's birthday played like a black and white movie. Whoever the memory belonged to, their motto must have been think happy thoughts, or maybe this was just their way of coping-
'Gabby looks so much different with her hair up like that. I like it.' I was not sure who that was from, but I smiled. A picture of a little girl, no older than nine years old with long black hair and dark hazel, almost brown eyes cut through my smile. The grief I felt was so powerful, and somehow farmiliar to me.
'Who was he? I never spoke to him, and now he's dead? That sucks. He looked like such a happy guy...'
'...hope she's okay. Please be okay...'
I carefully walked through the crowd as they seemed to wait for something. A speech of some sort to be given by one fo the faculty. There was a table set up near the flagpole, and I walked up to it, hoping it was a spot to donate things. I was right, and I set my bag down. The girls running the table were juniors. I knew them to be on the softball team last year, but I didn't ever talk to them, though I saw them around all the time. I think one of them even lived a block or two away from me. One of the girls smiled sadly and said their thanks, and I nodded my head. I stood and looked around, listening to thoughts of concern and fear, trying to block out the pictures and scenes in my head. Eventually, someone stood on the donation table, and I was surprised that it held his weight. He called out to us in the crowd.
"I would like to thank you all for coming out this afternoon. Your support is appretiated and very much needed. Many of you- the students- know me as Mr. Nye, 'not to be confused with the Science Guy'. Before we begin splitting up into groups and cleaning, I would like to have a moment of silence for the so far nineteen students and four staff who have unfortunately passed on last night." 'Nineteen students and four staff? That many?' I thought alarmed, and that was only in the high school. 'Who knew how many children died last night.' I tried to push away the hazel-eyed girl from my head. I heard similar thoughts around me. I hung my head in silence. I heard prayers as Mr. Nye named off the nineteen students. Some of them I knew, and I was shocked to hear they were gone, but I think it was the mention of one faculty member that made my tears come: Mr. Wade Brixton.
Mr. Brixton was found dead that morning next to a Dumpster with one stab wound in his stomach. He, I knew, would be missed by the entire school. He was the type of staff member who everyone knew because he did his best to get to know you. He'd be heard in the halls asking some chick about her new puppy, or a freshman about his classes. I talked to him once or twice, and about a week or two after I met Dinah, he stopped me in the halls and asked me if I heard about the DVD set of Xena coming out soon. I told him I didn't, and he admitted to thinking about me when he had saw it in a magazine. It was impressive that he knew that little about me and still thought of me when the small subject came up. In a place filled with uncertainty like a high school, you needed to know someone gave a damn about you there. That someone was Mr. Brixton. How can someone that cool be dead so young?
After the silence was broken, people were put into groups of ten. I was assigned the sidewalks, since I'd brought my own broom, and I began to sweep the glass near the entrance where I had climbed through the windows the night before. 'Sweep the sidewalk, forget the craziness. Sweep the sidewalk, forget the craziness...' I thought over and over again, but the thoughts, though not so many at once, still came to my head.
I concentrated on the sidewalk and the slowly building pile of glass until I heard, 'I killed him. I killed Wade. I caused all of this damage.' The guilt and grief was so strong with those odd words that I had to look up and search for the source of the thoughts. I just had to. Immediately, I saw Ms. Gordon, Dinah, and the woman known as Huntress in my dream- well, Dinah's memory. I took a step back on instinct as they approached me. All of them were thinking about the night before. None of them were effected by the craziness except for the Huntress woman- the infamous Helena that Dinah spoke about, and as I saw images of my uncle's bar, I knew that she was also 'Kyle', the tenant that lived there. Dinah looked as though she couldn't speak. Not just because of the awkwardness of the night before, but because of the sight she saw before her (sweeping the sidewalk with sad eyes and her hair pulled back, though some of my strands of hair had fallen from the bandana) was so different from the laid back girl with curly blonde hair hugging her shoulders and a friendly, happy shimmer in her eyes. It was as if she, too, had asked, 'Where has our Sunshine Girl gone?' And then there was Ms. Gordon, who's mind seemed to be moving at light-years per second. The whole night replayed in her head like a black and white movie of the forties with the special effects you'd see twenty years from now.
"Oh my god," I said, unable to help it. "It was you- all of you-" I turned to Dinah, "My god, it all makes a lot of sense now..."
"Gabby, what are you talking about, sweetheart?" Barbara asked me. I felt a slight panic from her. She already suspected that I knew something that I shouldn't know. She wasn't sure what exactly, but it scared her. I looked around, then when I saw no one was near, I looked back at them.
"You're the reason all of this happened, and why it didn't get any worse than it already is. You're the reason why Wade Bixrton is dead." All three of the women before me looked startled. It felt as if there was a big chill down all of their spines, and mine was well.
"No I-" Helena started to say, but Ms. Gordon held out her hand and stopped her.
"It was all an accident, Helena. No one blames you," she said. She was lying, Helena and I both knew that. Though Helena was under hypnosis when she ratted out the location of the blueprints of their lair, the Clocktower, I felt a small sense of an accusation and betrayal from my teacher that she would quickly shut away. Still, it was there, if only briefly. Ms. Gordon looked at me and nodded. It was an aplogetic nod that said she knew somewhat what I was thinking and she was trying to work through it.
"I know it was an accident," I said, looking down.
"How... do you know? Any of that?" It was, to my surprise, Helena who asked me that. I was so sure it would be Ms. Gordon who would ask me, or even Dinah. I looked over at Dinah as I thought about whether or not I should tell them. We had more in common than I ever knew, her being a touch telepath, telekinetic, and somewhat a psychic with her dreams, but at this point, my secret was so closely guarded, mostly from my parents, that I was too afraid to tell her.
I turn my gaze to Ms. Gordon, and remembering what she had said to me when I was worried about Dinah when, as I just found out, her mother had died, I said to her, "It's... a long and complicated story." 'One I don't know all the chapters to.' I thought before looking at the ground and resuming my sweeping.