AB: Hey, everybody! Sorry last chapter was late; I've been a little overwhelmed lately. I'm a little less stressed now, though. And I don't normally have all the Saturdays hating me or off chasing the ones who do, nor do I try to kill Zak. He just happened to be the one to kill my last nerve.
Zak: Hi, guys! AB didn't kill me!
AB: (Sotto voce) Not this time, at least.
Zak: What?
AB: Nothing. Disclaimer: The Secret Saturdays belongs to Jay Stephens and Cartoon Network. Here's chapter 5: Sauve Ma Sœur
(3rd Person POV)
Gulama came into the throne room of the Great Serpent and watched the Great Serpent. He seemed trapped in his thoughts, as if he couldn't escape a painful past, or a painful memory. Her master's plagued state bothered Gulama. In fact, that was why she stayed close by him all the time. But she knew better than to bother him. Gulama did not make her presence known until after the Great Serpent began pounding his fist into his own head.
"Master, please stop. You will hurt yourself."
"Gulama? Get out."
"Master, you will hurt yourself if you continue to do that."
"I know, Gulama. That'sss the point," the Great Serpent sighed. He wished Gulama would just leave him alone.
"If you are hurting, Master, we Nagas can help."
"What can you do? I am the mossst powerful creature of all time and placcce. What can you do that I cannot?"
"We can make others fall in love."
"Love?" The Great Serpent stood up from his throne. He slithered to Gulama, who stood stiffly. "Love?" the Great Serpent asked again. Gulama nodded. "You can make anyone fall in love?"
"Yes, Master. All it takes is permission."
"You have it. Go get Agrata of the Pogeyan. Tell her Alborz hasss fallen for her onccce again." Gulama bowed and slithered from the room. The Great Serpent returned to his throne and sat, dreaming of Agrata. He did not know when he had fallen for her, but he knew he had fallen for her.
Meanwhile, Gulama prepared to send out Nagas to bring Agrata to her. She had no intention of making the Great Serpent and Agrata love each other. No, she had other plans to re-establish the Nagas and the other cryptids around the world. And her plans started with the creation of a new cryptid from the remains of an old ally.
(Dr. Miranda Grey's POV)
The sun shines brightly outside, but I don't notice. My mind and heart blame the sunshine, and all things good, for what happened. I don't understand how the sun has the gut to rise again each morning when it knows what happened on that day. I pulls my knees in closer to my chest, trying to take up as little space as possible in this window seat, and in the general universe.
"How much time have we got on this earth? How many weeks are we promised? Fourteen years ago today, Derek gave his heart away to a girl. How many years could they have had together? How many children could they have seen grow up?" I ask myself out loud.
"I don't know, Miranda. How many years could they have had together? How many children could they have seen grow up?" Someone answers.
"Arthur," I gasp. "What do you want me to do this time?" I ask.
"We found an intruder yesterday. Go talk to her," Arthur demands.
"Yes, Arthur." I stand up and walk out of the room. "Yes, Master," I mumble sarcastically once he's out of earshot. Come on, Miranda. You have literally no freedom here. Take it back.
It doesn't take long to find out where Arthur is holding the intruder. She or he is in the room with the sign reading "The intruder is in here, Miranda" on it. How dumb does Arthur think I am? I open the door just wide enough to see the intruder inside. I slam the door shut quickly. Oh my gosh! That's impossible! I race to find Arthur, or anyone else. I stumble upon Paul.
"Paul, thank goodness I found you!"
"What is it, Miranda?" Paul asks.
"Can you talk with the intruder Arthur found yesterday? I don't feel well today," I lie.
"Miranda, this may actually be good for you. You need to move on from what happened."
"Excuse me, Paul, but I have every right to feel unwell. Illnesses happen to everyone, do they not?" I snap.
"Yes, they do." Paul looks down at the ground. "I'm not sure I'm allowed to do your job. Go ask Arthur and let me know what he says."
"Will do. Thanks, Paul." I hurry off, desperate to get as far away from the room as possible. Miranda, why do you do this to yourself? You're a feminist, but you grovel to men. Show some pride. My feet find their way to Arthur's office. I rat on the door.
"Hello, Miranda. I trust you've finished talking with the intruder. What does she want?"
"That's just why I'm here, Arthur. I feel sick, and I fear I may be catching a stomach virus. It would be a shame to give anything of the sort to anyone. Paul has offered to talk with the intruder in my place."
"Now, Miranda, if I let every person who came in here feeling sick have the day off, the Secret Scientists wouldn't function. You know that."
"Yes, but-"
"Meet with the intruder."
"But-"
"GO!"
I strut from the room and slam the door. I feel the tears rolling down my face. If only Derek were still alive. He'd teach Arthur a lesson. I wipe the tears from my eyes. But Derek's dead, as he has been for thirteen years. He's not here anymore, and this is my life, my reality. I have to face it; I have to live it. I push open the door to the room the intruder is in. I make eye contact, stumble backwards, and slam the door. I race back to my room, lock myself in the bathroom, and cry. I really do feel sick this time, but I know exactly why. What kind of torture is this?
(Iris's POV)
Comment? Je la connais. Elle me connaît. Comment est-ce possible? (How? I know her. She knows me. How is this possible?) The straps binding me to the table feel as if they are getting tighter. Part of me wants to laugh because this is how Master trained me when I first started working for him; at the same time, I know laughter is forbidden, for it shows pleasure, something Master does not want his servants having.
I remind myself of the dream I had, the one where Master basically wished me well serving the Saturdays. Somehow it makes me wonder what ever happened to Munya. I haven't seen him since the day Father died.
The door opens, and I crane my neck as best as I can to see who opened it. It's a man with pale skin and black hair, who looks like one of the people on Master's kill list. He sits down in a chair next to the table I'm strapped to. "Why are you here?" He asks. I look blankly at him. I understand him perfectly, but I can't answer him. "Why are you here?" he asks more forcefully this time. There's nothing I can do to answer him. "Fine, don't talk to me, but I'll warn you: once the leader extracts your reason, you're in for it."
The man sits in total silence, watching me and the door. At one point, I try to move to make myself more comfortable, but he snaps at me and tells me not to move. I hold still. We look at each other with differing emotions. He feels anger and hatred, and his eyes aren't afraid to show it; I look at him with concern for the Saturdays. Neither of us says a word.
Finally, after what feels like an eternity of stare downs, the man gets up and slams the door shut on his way out. I hear yelling in the hallway.
"I can't get her to say a word!"
"What do you mean you can't?!"
"She doesn't speak!"
"Have her write it down then, for all I care!"
"Do you really want her wrists upbound?"
"I'll handle her myself! Go find Miranda and then get back to your job!" One set of footsteps storms away, and the door opens again. "Hello there. I'm Dr. Beeman. What's your name?" The new man asks. He too looks like someone off of Master's list. I look at him, trying to convey that I can't reply. "Can't you speak?" I nod, but then shake my head. "So you understand me?" I nod. "Have you no voice?" I shake my head. "Then why don't you speak?" He raises his voice.
I ball my hand into a fist, entirely frustrated. Est-ce vraiment si difficile? Je parle le français. (Is this really that difficult? I speak French.) The man, Dr. Beeman asks if I speak another language. I nod eagerly. He guesses Spanish, but I shake my head. He then continues to guess every language on Earth, except French. He finally gets frustrated too and slams his hands down on smaller table to the left of the one I'm strapped to. The door eventually opens, and it's the man from before.
"I found her."
"Where?"
"Where do you think?"
Dr. Beeman turns to me. "I'll return." With that, he marches from the room. "What the heck, Miranda? Where were you?!"
"I told you I am unwell." I know that voice. She's one of the people who took me from Master's manor! Non! Il n'est pas vrai! (No! It's not true!)
"That's not an excuse, Miranda!"
"Really? A stomach virus is not an excuse? Why do you have to be demented, Arthur?"
"Miranda, please stop being so recusant," the first man says.
"Look who's talking!" the woman shouts. "And you think you're running this organization so well, don't you, Arthur?"
"I would be if not for you!"
"Darn it, Miranda!" the first man yells.
"Put a can in it! I'm sick of all you!"
"Then why don't you leave?" the first man yells. There's a long silence.
The second man, Dr. Beeman, finally speaks. "Paul, you can go now. Miranda, my office."
"What? Am I nothing but a school child now?"
"You might as well be. I can't believe I have to teach you how to act in a workplace. You would think that after the first time-"
"Don't even think about it, Arthur!" There's a long silence. "Good day, Arthur." The woman's lighter footsteps get quieter and quieter. Dr. Beeman throws the door open, and lets it shut with a bang. He yells at the wall.
"Why don't you talk?!" He yells, suddenly facing me. Dr. Beeman grabs my chin. He holds for less than a second. He gasps and stumbles backwards; his face conveys pure terror. Then he flees the room, slamming and locking the door behind him. I try not to guess what happened.
(Dr. Grey's POV)
I sit quietly on the window seat in the room I have at Arthur's lab. My arms are crossed over my chest, my legs are crossed, and I have scowl on my face; Arthur locked the flipping door. I take a deep breath as I try to calm myself down. Arthur's not worth the energy, no matter how hard he tries to make me believe otherwise. Chill bumps run up my arms as a feeling of a presence enters my body.
"Derek?" I ask. There's no reply, but it's not like I was expecting one. The feeling grows stronger. "Derek, if that is you, please let me know." Ever since the night he died, I haven't been able to get Derek off my mind; I can't help feeling as if he never died, as if he's still alive, but I know that is not the truth. I remember Drew went with me to every counseling session, but even she knew I wasn't getting any better. And then our suitemate, dear innocent Jordan, passed tragically.
The presence presses to be named. My mind automatically goes to the person who died most recently. "Leonidas?" I ask. The presence relaxes. "Leonidas, what is it?" The presence seems to become downcast; it must know it can't answer me. "I'm sorry, I really am." The chill bumps change location a little, They form on my skin as if someone were hugging me. I sigh. Why do I always get the attention? For once in my life, can somebody ignore me? The presence goes away after a few minutes, and I relax. I am so sick of spirits, haunting reminders of my painful past. I'm so done with this life; I just want to move on, but I can never seem to escape the past. I hate myself for thirteen years ago, and I hate myself for two weeks ago.
I spend the rest of the morning locked in the room, not that I care or anything. I don't want to see Arthur again, nor do I want to see Paul. I wish everyone would forget about me and leave me here to die. But then I think of the Saturdays and the girl. What would happen to them if I died? I think of my family. What would they say if I died? Between losing Derek and me to death and Abby to evil, they'd go insane. I'm able to convince myself that death is not the best way out my current situation, much to my relief. My mind wanders back to the girl. Iris. Her name is Iris. Remember, Miranda, you told the Saturdays her name. I smile sweetly to myself. Yes, I remember. Iris, such a lovely name. My thoughts keep my company for a long time, and I'm grateful for that. If I were to lose my thoughts, I would surely lose my sanity. My thoughts are what have pulled me through the times I stopped talking; they are what helped me recover from Derek's death. Memories and thoughts are humans' keys to sanity.
I begin to feel sick again, but it's no surprise after what I've been through. I only hope Arthur doesn't find out how sick I really am, or he'd make sure I never recovered. He'd make sure I stayed permanently sick.
Paul brings lunch into the room around noon, but I don't eat. Arthur's probably poisoned it. Paul leaves after he sets the tray down.
"You're the one suffering the consequences, Miranda," he says stiffly before leaving and locking the door. I spend the rest of the day in solitary confinement, which is fine by me. I go to sleep for a few hours, always with a pocket knife under my pillow. I trust no one, not even myself.
I wake up the next morning at about four with a painful stomach cramp. Dear gosh, no! I made that up so I wouldn't have to talk with Iris. I cannot actually be sick! It eventually subsides, and I'm able to go back to sleep. I dream of Derek and his fiancée, but that's all I remember from the dream.
When I next wake up, Arthur is sitting in the window seat. I panic for a moment, and my fingers grip the pocket knife under my pillow.
"How do you feel today, Miranda?" Arthur asks scornfully.
"Still very much unwell. I would hate for you or anyone else for that matter to contract whatever it is that I have."
"Too bad. You're still on for meeting with the intruder, plus yesterday's work, and today's. Get cracking."
"Arthur, I am sick. I have a fever, and I feel nauseous. Surely you do not want the others getting this," I try to reason with him, but there's no way to get into his thick skull.
I end up still doing all the work for yesterday and today, but by the time I finish those jobs, it's nearly midnight. I decide to call it a day and head to my bedroom. Arthur passes me in the hallway and asks what I got from Iris. I tell him she told me nothing, but that I'll try again tomorrow. He smiles evilly.
"You know what happens to her after lunch tomorrow if she hasn't talked by then, don't you?" His coarse voice sends chills down my spine.
"I do know, but I'll have her talking before then," I promise. I don't care what Iris says, I just want her to be safe from Arthur. I walk the rest of the way to my bedroom in silence. I'm too tired to say a word of encouragement to myself, but at this point in time, those words mean nothing to me. I know I need to get out of here, I just don't know how.
My fingers clutch the pocket knife handle just before my head hits the pillow. If only I had had this all those years ago. My fortune might be better, and my family might not be broken. As a drift off to sleep, I enter oblivion. No dream haunts my sleep, but I still feel ill rested in the morning. I get out of bed, eat breakfast, and start the day's work. I knock out about half of it by nine in the morning. Then I go to the room where Iris is. I open the door and pray she speaks.
At twelve thirty in the afternoon, Arthur approaches me. I take a deep, calming breath and say a few prayers.
"Has she spoken yet?"
"No, Arthur, she hasn't."
"It's time."
"I know, Arthur, I know."
"I want you to do it?"
"Me? Arthur, have you lost your mind?"
"Don't do the crime if you can't do the time," he replies.
"Arthur, please don't. She's only child."
"What difference does it make?"
"I can't."
"You can and you will. Now go, before I make you torture her first." Arthur smacks me on the bottom as he walks by. I turn on my heel to face him, hands balled and ready to strike.
"Do it again, Arthur, and it'll be the last thing you ever do. Hear me?" I threaten.
"Just go."
I make my way to the room, praying that Arthur wasn't serious. When I open the door, it's the first thing I see. Then I look at Iris, her eyes wide with terror. I can't do this.
(Iris's POV)
The redhaired woman stops just next to the table. She looks at me, her eyes showcasing nothing but pain. She holds my gaze, before turning away. She sits down in the chair and puts her head in her hands. Neither of us says a word. Every now and then she looks at me, sorrowfully and scared. I haven't seen a look like that in years.
"Iris," she starts. Her voices breaks halfway through my name. "Iris, please forgive me. I don't want this to happen, not again." The tears slip down her cheeks. I can only imagine the pain she feels, but I've no clue why she hurts. She picks up the shot the pale man from two days ago left in here. She fingers the syringe slowly and carefully. She seems almost terrified of touching it. "My gosh, Iris, you're only a child." She starts bawling, so she puts the shot down. "I can't. I can't do this," she whispers.
I don't say a word, but instead just watch her. Everything about her looks familiar, as if we've met before, but that's impossible. Her cries begin to quiet down, and her breaths even out. She wipes her eyes and looks at me. Then I recognize her. C'est Dr Miranda Grey! Elle a était sur la liste de Maître des ennemis. Je ne sais pas pourquoi Maître a enlevé son nom et sa photo. (It's Dr. Miranda Grey! She was on Master's list of enemies. I don't know why Master removed her name and picture.) Still, I feel as if I'm missing an important detail about her.
Her hands tremble as she picks up the syringe again. She eyes its contents, sees the sink on the adjacent wall, and walks over to it. She opens the syringe and pours the liquid out, saying, "It's potassium, my gosh. We have got to take this away from him." The she walks back over to me. "Iris," Dr. Grey hugs me quickly. Her long sleeves and gloves, along with my mid-arm sleeves and gloves, prevent any kind of skin-to-skin contact. "Iris, promise me you'll get out of here as fast you possibly can. Don't come back, even if you think otherwise." She pulls back from the hug. "My dear Iris, don't ever let the past reclaim you."
Dr. Grey undoes the restraints, and picks me up. She tells me to act dead for a few minutes and to hold my breath everytime she says hello to someone. She opens the door and starts walking. I keep my eyes closed. Dr. Grey doesn't say anything until she whispers that we're almost to the door. The she stops; I don't move.
"Hello, Arthur," she says. I hold my breath.
"Good to know you finally did something right, Miranda. Where are you taking the body?"
"Out back to your 'pet fish' of course."
"Good thinking. Now hurry up before anyone sees you." Dr. Grey starts walking at a much faster pace, until I hear a heavy door open and close. Dr. Grey stops, looks around, and walks a few yards more. She sets me down and tells me I can open my eyes now. I look around at the trees surrounding the lab.
"Go, Iris, and don't ever come back." I turn around and face the intimidating trees. I turn back to Dr. Grey. I motion for a piece of paper and something to write with. Dr. Grey pulls one out of her pocket. I scribble a note and hand it back to her.
"Sauvez les Saturdays, (Save the Saturdays,)" the note reads.
Dr. Grey scribbles one herself and hands it to me. "Sauve ma sœur, (Save my sister,)" it says. I look at Dr. Grey. Vous parlez le français? (You speak French?). Dr. Grey reads my note and nods. "I will, Iris Nicole. Now hurry before they get suspicious."
I disappear into the trees as Dr. Grey returns to the lab door. I hear Dr. Beeman, who still is on Master's list, ask Dr. Grey if his fish liked how I tasted. Dr. Grey laughs and says it ate me right up.
Serait-ce vraiment ont été mon sort si le Dr Grey ne me avait pas sauvé? (Would that really have been my fate if Dr. Grey had not saved me?) I wonder. Attendez, comment Dr Grey sais que mon prénom? Pas même Maître ou Munya savait. (Wait, how did Dr. Grey know my middle name? Not even Master or Munya knew that.) I look at Dr. Grey's note. «Sauve ma sœur,» elle dit. ("Save my sister," it said.) I've got two jobs now.
AB: And that's a wrap!
Zak: What does that mean?
AB: Oh my stars! It's Dr. Grey! (Stands up and rushes to greet Dr. Grey.) I am so happy to see you, Dr. Grey! How have you been?
Dr. Grey: I've been better, especially since I'm so sick in your story. I have to ask: What was Arthur referring to when he said "the first time"? The first time for what?
AB: Dr. Grey, you ought to know this. When I invite you here, I'm not inviting you to a showing of the chapter. I'm inviting you to join me in my world after you finish living out the chapter. Anything that happens in the story happens to you here too. All your memories and history is as true here as it is there.
Dr. Grey: AB! Why?
AB: In whose reality are we existing, and is it worth breaking? I'll leave you there to answer that question. Thanks so much, everyone! To the guest who suggested a chapter idea, I'm working on such chapter, but it's harder than I thought. It might have to be in the follow up story, if that's all right. One last question before I go, why are fewer people reading the last few chapters? I noticed that 70 people will read the first chapter (which I know is super long, but it won't happen again), but only five people (5) read the next ones. Let me know why you think this is happening or how I can try and boost the number of people who read the next chapters! Love you all! Don't forget to favorite, follow, or review!