Rosemarie Hill
I’m just a college student, working to improve her writing while procrastinating homework.
Rosemarie Hill
I’m just a college student, working to improve her writing while procrastinating homework.
I’m just a college student, working to improve her writing while procrastinating homework.
I’m just a college student, working to improve her writing while procrastinating homework.
Sometimes, I open the doors—the closet has two white doors with cold and unfeeling handles—and dream of wearing my clothes. I have many clothes and most of them are hand-me-downs.
On the far left, shoes hang on an organizer that’s falling apart, the seams popping under the weight of large shoes and the curse of time. I don’t think it smells but, perhaps, I’ve ignored the sent over the many, many years of being myself. Instead, it smells of dust and absence.
I push aside some hangers as the screech on the metal and find the Black blouse from my mother resting next to the shoes with the other blouses. I never wear them—I can’t with the work I do. They’re next to the skirts and pants that I have for nice activities. Their longer than other’s would accept, but that’s fine because I like them and they would make me comfortable.
The next are the dresses. Things I have to own for Church. I like dresses a lot, I just don’t like these ones. They’re boring, all business casual-like. They’re too modern. I hate them. I hate them all except for the purple dress on the far right that I never wear, too scared to touch it. I’ll reach out and touch it, considering to don it at that moment but, I know that I won’t. The smoothness of the fabric is a comfort, and the cut is unique. But, the harsh roughness of the attached pendant scares me. I will not wash it in fear, and in knowing this, I will not wear it.
Instead, I disregard the dreamt up clothing and open the drawers beneath, pulling out ill-fitting jeans and a worn t-shirt. I pray that they won’t fall apart on me.
“What’s that?” The civilian had said. It was a plucky kid who couldn’t be more than 14 years old that had been seated next to Salvatore. He had black hair, blue eyes and was wearing a bright red sweater that stuck out like a broken arm.
Sal calmly closed the computer shut. There was no need to cause a scene. “Just work,” he said. “Is school over already?” he asked, diverting the conversation.
“Yep,” the kid beamed, “It ended last Friday.”
“Really?” Sal asked, eyeing the backpack on the kids lap, it was essentially popping at the seams.
The kid nodded eagerly, “Yup!” He unzipped the backpack and pulled out a binder filled with papers. “Look, I got straight A’s this time,” he said, handing Sal a paper.
Sal did look, if only to be polite. It was a report card and the kid was definitely a better student than Sal had been back in the day. “Congratulations,” he said before taking a closer look, “Wait, you took physics?”
The kid shrugged, taking the report card back and shoved it unrepentantly into the binder. “I mean, yeah, but I got an A in English! English is hard.”
“I wouldn’t know, math and science were always my weakest subjects, when I was a kid.”
“Really?” The kid said distractedly as he was trying to fit the binder back into the bag again.
“Yeah,” Sal said, his eyes caught on the many clothes and snacks in the kid’s bag. “That’s a lot of stuff, you’ve got there.”
The kid jerked slightly at the comment, “I’m going to my mom’s for the summer,” he said.
If Sal had been a normal person, a civilian, he probably would’ve bought that. The kid looked clean and well kept. There were no signs of abuse but that could be easily hidden by the kid’s sweater—that he was wearing in June—in the Nevada Desert. But that wasn’t real evidence, but he had been an interrogator before joining the organization, not that he could necessarily push the kid.
“You excited for the summer then?” Sal asked. Slipping his computer into his own bag to focus on the kid who had nodded with bright eyes. “Do you have plans or something?”
“I’m meeting up with some of my friends there and we’re all going to go on an adventure.”
Well, that explained why he was heading to California too, if he was being honest. “What kind of adventure?”
“Camping and hiking I guess.” The kid pulled out his phone and looked through what looked like text messages. “We’re going to a place called Santa Cruz? They have some cool campsites according to Drake.”
Okay—no. There was absolutely no way that Sal was this lucky or that this kid was so unlucky. “Drake?” Sal asked, grasping for some proof. This kid could not be tied up in Quantum Taint.
The kid shrugged. “Yeah, I met him online. He’s so cool, though. He has a pool and his parents run a whole science camp.” The kid was wildly gesturing as Sal’s heart plummeted to his ankles. “But,” he whispered conspiratorially, “We aren’t going to camp there, we're gonna sneak off and do some real camping. With tents and everything.” The kid clearly didn’t have any camping gear with him.
“That’s dangerous.” Sal said, now with his stomach in his throat, “Do you even know what he looks like?”
The kid nodded, pulling out his phone again and pulling up a picture from the text messages, “this is him,” he said, shoving the phone into Sal’s face.
The phone displayed a kid with a dog. The kid had blonde hair, green eyes and was hugging the big dog’s face next to his own. There was a bunch of computer gear in the background too. It was like the kid had rigged up a bunch of computers for the ultimate gaming experience. Sal had seen this picture before.
“No, it’s not,” Sal said before he could stop himself. “That’s Rahm,” the kid was looking at him like a four headed flying octopus. “He’s been missing for eight months.”
“What?”
There was something special about flying, something Rebecca held in reverence. She added some gas to the hot air balloon, and she found herself flying higher. She refused the last customers of the night for this. The chilly air nipped at her nose, and she centered herself in the basket, looking out to the darkened sky.
It was a clear night, with stars finally beginning to show and people began turning out their lights. There was a whistle before the first firework went off and the boom deafened Rebecca. She was probably too close, but this was fine she just raised the balloon up higher. The smokey scent drifted away from her as the wind carried it away. People cheered and murmured beneath her, but it was a gentle hum from this distance.
The wind pulled her hair across her face as the next firework went off. She was able to feel the sound vibrating her basket and the explosions painted her skin in warmth. When you were this close you didn’t need a jacket.
Explosion after explosion carved the sky into intricate patterns, raining down fire that the sky snuffed out before it reached anyone. Rebecca pulled the balloon back a bit so she could close her eyes. The soft lull of faraway voices carried her mind away as the booming sounds destroyed everything else.
And, in those moments, the only things in Rebecca’s world were her and the sky.
As hazy light filtered through the trees, a small cry echoed on the water. And, after the cry had penetrated the silence, breaking Sai’s peace, something hit his small boat with a strange clanging sound. Supposing that he may as well observe the strange interruption of his thoughts, he looked around, setting his fishing rod to the side. There, next to his boat was a small child floating in a tub of metal. That was strange. Metal didn’t float.
Sai reached over and tried grabbing at the sides of the child’s boat-like contraption. It was heavy. Still far too heavy for it to be natural and, for a moment Sai considered killing the impossible babe. Surely, it was an ill omen. But he thought better of it. If a god could make metal float to save this babe, surely, they would be able to smite him down if he were to kill the child.
This child must’ve been favored by some deity, and, whether ill or good, Sai could benefit from any deity’s blessing in their goals. A child was not allowed to be carried into battle, but if it was a child bestowed to him by the gods, who was he to disagree? He picked up the child, now absently looking at him in silence, retrieving the many different items from the metal tub. He would not leave any blessed object.
He had laid down the child at his feet as he rowed along the lake once more, looking for the inlet where his people were waiting for him. The child’s inquisitive eyes burned into his soul, even without him looking into them. Yes, this child was blessed. They had to be.
Small hands raised up and played with the light and shadows of the sky. And, now, instead of cries, giggles and hiccups filled the air. No, Sai was not touched by the softness of the child’s voice, but he did glance down towards it without meaning to.
As the boat approached the bank, Sai hopped out of the boat and pulled it to shore, tying it off against one of the trees. The child still looked at him with questioning eyes as he extracted it from his own boat and instructed his men to retrieve the child’s things.
“My liege,” one of the men said, trailing after him with the child’s blankets “What is this one’s purpose?”
“We’ll find out when the time comes.” The man looked at Sai with raised eyebrows, “This child was gifted to us by the gods,” there was no need to mention the possibilities of demons. “It will aid our battles as it grows.”
“But they’re just a child right now. They’ll ruin every stealth mission.”
Sai rounded on the man, the naïve and trusting look in his eyes sparked an irrational hatred in Sai. “Then you will be appointed as their caretaker.” In contrast to Sai’s aging features, this man looked as though he had only recently outgrown the title of youth. “If they are detrimental to our activities in any way it will be paid for with your blood.”
The man bowed, “yes, my liege.”
“Rise.” At least this man followed orders, “what is your name, young man?”
“Raiden, sir.”
“Good man,” Sai muttered to himself as he stalked through the forest towards their camp once more.
Forcing the smile onto her face wasn’t easy as she dug her nails into her palms. She had to breathe, they were in the office right now and she’d get fired if she punched the snobs face. Having Conner Richardson as a partner would make it impossible to focus on the new advertisement and he knew it. He had that smug look on his aged face that just spoke maliciousness, not that Harper had bothered to recognize it when she had introduced them to each other and left to attend to her own work.
“I look forward to working with you, Claire, I remember how things were when I was an intern,” he said, reaching his weathered hand out for a handshake.
Claire took the hand and, speaking as naturally as possible, replied, “please, the pleasure is all mine.”
He gripped her hand just a little too tightly when he shook it, “Oh really? For some reason, I don’t believe you.”
Claire ripped her hand away. “Then I won’t put on the act.” Managing her skirt, she took her seat at a desk. “I don’t suppose you have any ideas?”
“The Logo concept is already in your file.” He motioned to the manila folder and sat himself down. “Now, it seems that this company wants something with a goat and something about being unique.”
“We could make a goat out of snowflakes,” Claire said. “But, that is a bit too wintery for a year-round clothing company.”
“No, but it’s a good concept.”
“Do not patronize me,” Claire snapped.
“Look, dear,” Claire gagged at the nickname, this man was old enough to be her father and even if he didn’t mean it that way it made her sick. “If you want a good rapport here, I suggest that you don’t antagonize the person you’re working closest with.” He continued looking through the folder for other information.
“Sorry, if I don’t like working with an abuser,” Claire all but growled.
“Alleged abuser,” Richardson said with the tilt of an accent that mocked Claire’s, “You proved nothing.”
“Only because you erased Jasper’s existence and my video.”
“Oh, Claire,” he mocked once again, “you have such a wild imagination. I still don’t know why you were hiding in the closet that day.” Claire grit her teeth turning her attention back to the file, but, despite his rhetoric, Richardson wasn’t about to let her rage simmer beneath the surface. Of course he wasn’t. “By the way, who helped with the trespassing charges? It couldn’t have been your parents seeing as they’re, well, you know.”
“All you need to know is that they’re dealt with. In fact,” she grinned a bestial grin, “there isn’t even a record of it anymore.”
“And pray tell, how did you manage that?”
“Oh, you know, connections make all the difference.” She moved her hand flippantly, “I thought you of all people would know that.”
“I see.” Ha! She had him with that one. He would be quiet for the next bit at least and, maybe, she could get some actual work done. Claire flipped through the file again. “Would a fingerprint work instead of snowflakes?” She asked.
Courtney gripped Jayden’s hand while speaking with gritted teeth, “We aren’t lying. My brother was kidnapped.”
“You also said that he was in the hospital, but he wasn’t admitted.” The officer or detective or secretary, or whatever position the man behind the desk held, wasn’t being cruel about it, but they were wasting Courtney’s time. “Are you sure he wasn’t lying to you about it?”
“No, he wasn’t. I watched him get hit by the car,” and she remembered the way he had crumpled onto the ground as the small blue car had raced away. She remembered the way his leg twisted in an impossible angle. “We took him to the hospital.”
The cop still didn’t believe them and, directing his question to Jayden, asked, “And what is your relationship to her brother?”
“He’s my friend.” Jayden was a lot more put together than Courtney was, she supposed that was because his mother had been a cop too. “And he was worried that he was being followed this last week.”
“I’m sorry, I’ve already put him in the system, but what you’re telling me isn’t lining up with the facts. There’s no hospital records and the hit and run you’re talking about wasn’t reported.”
“Yes, it was!” Courtney yelled. “I called it in myself. I called while we were on our way to the hospital.”
“I’m sorry. But there isn’t any record of it. And, if you aren’t going to give us something concrete to work with, we’re going to have to follow the lead your parents gave us.” The man’s face screwed up in frustration. “Not that they’re much help either.”
“Couldn’t you ask around the hospital?” Jayden asked. Honestly, he had the patience of an angel. Either that or Courtney was just too frazzled by the whole affair to think straight. Both were valid options.
“I suppose we could,” the man said. “Who did you say his doctor was?”
“I don’t remember his name,” Courtney said, mad at herself for not paying more attention. “He had dark hair and wore glasses. I think his name started with a ‘C.’”
“Okay, we’ll look into that. Is there anything else you need?”
“No.” Jayden said, wearing a closed-eye grin. “Thanks for wasting our time. Let’s go.” He pulled Courtney towards the exit; the dark look on his face took Courtney off guard.
“Hey,” she said, worrying for Jayden, “At least they’re going to ask around for the doctor.” The encouragement was weak at best. There was already a lot of time lost.
“No, they aren’t.” Jayden said, his voice tight. “They would’ve called in a sketch arty and have you describe him if they were. We’re on our own.” He opened the door to his truck and got in.
“What?”
“Listen, Court, do you really trust your parents to genuinely try and find him? Do you think that any police officer is going to take us seriously?”
“Your mom would’ve.”
“My mom is dead, Court.” He started the engine. “No one is going to believe us cause we’re teenagers. If we were kids then maybe but if we want to find Shawn, we have to do this ourselves.” He jerked his head, “Get in.”
She got in the passenger seat and buckled the seat. “But we are just kids,” Court stated, “we can’t do it.”
“You sure about that?” Jayden pulled out of the parking lot. “Cause I’m pretty sure we can. For Shawn.”
Courtney steeled herself and nodded, “for Shawn.”
Dreya pulled the blanket tight around her shoulders, watching the campers dance around the fire like they were performing a rain dance. At least the kids were having fun. Her co-counselor looked exhausted. Cameron looked like he would fall over if he wasn’t sitting next to her. Well, it had been him who had spent hours purifying the water.
Miles, one of Cameron’s boys, was coming over, “Mr. Cameron,” the kid said, “Do you know any scary stories?”
Cameron smiled. “Sorry, sport, I think Dreya already scared us enough today.”
He had said it jokingly, but Dreya could only pull a tight-lipped smile. “Sorry,” she mumbled. “Tomorrow will be better, I promise. How about we play some games?”
Miles nodded and looked eager enough. Cameron helped Dreya round up the campers so that they could play Murder. They both had experience leading it during training, but Dreya kept stumbling over her words as the campers’ eyes glazed over. And, once again, Cameron had to take over.
She hated this. Dreya knew camp was supposed to be fun. It was when she was a camper but that was years ago. But, then again, she hadn’t been living in the city for years behind a desk. At least she had been able to start the fire so that the kids weren’t going to freeze to death. Yay, she had succeeded at the most basic thing ever—after losing all their water. Sophia, one of her girls, winked at her and Dreya performed the most melodramatic death. At least theatre had paid off for something.
They all still had four days of backpacking and she was only capable of making people laugh. Cameron knew it too. Everyone knew it. She wasn’t really contributing anything at this point, and, at this rate, it’d probably be in everyone’s best interest if she was fired once they got back to camp. Frankly, she didn’t even know why she was hired. She had no practical experience in camping or hiking or the outdoors since she was 12, but the kids had just figured out who the killer was and wanted to play again.
They all played four more times before it was getting too late, and they needed to start wrapping things up so the kids could wake up in the morning. As well as kids could wake up at six a.m.
Dreya stood up, “Okay, Foxes,” that was the name of their group, “time to get into pajamas.” Groaning filled the campsite and Ellie tried arguing but Dreya shut her down fairly quickly. “Come on, brush your teeth and hit the hay.”
The kids were changing while she and Cameron were setting up the bear bag up between two trees. Neither of them could see properly, but Cameron was lit by lamp as he through the rope over one of the tree’s thicker branches.
“I’m sorry about losing all our water,” Dreya muttered, trying to untangle the next rope. “I know,” Cameron said. “You didn’t mean to.”
He didn’t say that it was okay. Good, it wasn’t okay. “I’m awful at this. How are you so great at this?” Detangling the knots was easy enough but everything else was so hard.
Cameron held out his hand for more rope and she handed it to him, picking up the bear bag. “Because it’s not easy,” he said, “and I knew it wasn’t going to be easy, so I put all my effort into learning when I was a boy scout.”
“Great, so it’s going to be years till I’m a decent counselor.”
“You’re a better counselor than I was last year.”
Dreya didn’t bother keeping her scoffing to herself as they tied the bear bag to ropes.
“I’m serious, you genuinely care about the kids. I just took this job to get my parents off my back about getting a real job.” He laughed to himself, “Nearly lost this job refusing to let my kids help with setting up camp.”
“So, what, I’m the campers’ emotional support human?” They both yanked on ropes, pulling the bag into the air.
“No,” Cameron said, sounding offended as he tied the rope off to the tree. Dreya did the same, but Cameron checked it over to make sure she didn’t screw this up too. “You’re one of their leaders.”
“Sure.” She didn’t believe him. “I’m going to crash. You should get some shut-eye too.”
“Goodnight!”
“You too.”
Hernán chose the meat pizza out of habit, still distracted by the issue. It wasn’t like he could afford to take her on a fancy date or anything.
“Ask Katie to come to the party, dude. It’s gonna be the best this year,” Madhur, his best friend, said, picking up the fruit thing that pretended to be pizza.
“With all that noise?” Hernán scoffed. “She hates crowds.” They slid their trays down to the salad bar so Madhur could get his daily pile of leaves—they were supposed to be high school students, not health nuts.
“That’s because she doesn’t know anyone.” Madhur slopped some ranch on the green pile. “Just introduce her to Aggie and she’ll love it.”
“Katie isn’t like Agatha.”
Madhur shrugged, “whatever you say, dude. She’s your girl.” The cashier gave them a loaded look as they approached him.
“I’m serious. I don’t know where I should take her. Can’t you help me at all?”
“Take her to the party.”
Hernán leveled a loaded look at Madhur as he handed his student ID to the cashier. “No. She’ll hate it.”
“If she’s such a deadbeat then maybe you shouldn’t date her.”
“She’s not a deadbeat,” Hernán snapped.
“Then take her to the party. She’s sure to enjoy it. Everyone does.” Madhur stopped in the middle of the cafeteria, like he was looking for something, “Look, she’s right there,” he pointed. “Go and ask her. I’ll even lend you my car to pick her up later.”
Hernán wasn’t planning to sit with Katie, today. She was planning to listen to a podcast. But there was no way he would trust Madhur to be anywhere near her. So, he followed.
Katie hadn’t dressed up today, but she still looked good. She had pulled her hair into a bun with a pencil at some point and it showed off her neck. She was sketching a dog in her sketchbook, at least Hernán thought it was a dog, when they Madhur slammed his tray across from her. She wasn’t very good, which had surprised him when they first started talking.
“So,” Madhur started, pulling out one of Katie’s headphones, “My man, Hernán here, wants to know if you’re coming to the party.” Hernán kicked Madhur, Katie was gaping and on full alert. Madhur really had absolutely no tact. “Ignore him.”
“Okay,” she said, smiling. “shouldn’t be too hard.” She put her headphones on again, but not properly. They were skewed and she could definitely hear them.
“Come one, man,” Madhur whined, “ask her!” Katie looked up at them disbelieving, but she didn’t look mad. That was a bonus, he supposed.
“Are you really trying to ask me out?”
Madhur, wouldn’t even let him respond. “He won’t shut up about it. Please just go out with him once.”
“It doesn’t have to be the party,” Hernán said before Madhur could ruin his chances even more. “We could go hiking. I volunteer at an animal shelter though on Tuesdays and Thursdays, but we can hang out whenever you want.”
Katie looked excited, “An animal shelter?” Hernán nodded, “Yeah, if you wanna come, you’re more than welcome to. We’re always looking for more volunteers.”
“Totally,” she was smiling from ear to ear, why hadn’t Hernán suggested this first?
“Great! So, you wanna go tomorrow? It’s just after school.”
“Sure. Sounds like a plan.”
Jacobs kept firing. Even through the thick gloves, the gun was burning their hands. Gripping the gun tighter didn’t change that. Mingled sounds of retreat came over the comms. They tightened their jaw. This was it; they were going to die.
“Come on El!” their companion said, shouting over her shoulder golden hair hidden by the helmet. “We gotta go.”
“We aren’t going anywhere.” Jacobs said, firing another beam at the monsters. “No one is.” The beam didn’t hit. Towering mechanical spiders surrounded them and Jacobs could see more on the horizon.
“Please, El, we’ve got to go. I won’t leave you behind,” Carter said, backing up towards the ship, The Goldbug.
Aiming for the leg, Jacobs fired again, “I’m not dying with my back turned.” They yelled back. The beam hit but it did nothing, the spider wasn’t deterred in the slightest. They weren’t going to be a coward—not this time. “We’ve got to try surviving at least.”
Aiming, Jacobs snorted, “And what’s that going to do for us? We aren’t surviving this, Carter. The Goldbug ain’t going to be taking off anytime soon. We’re dead.” They fired. “We’ve been ordered to retreat!”
“And when have you ever followed orders?” Jacobs’ hits were landing but they weren’t even leaving scorch marks. Firing beams should be able to burn through anything. Maybe they needed to get closer.
“Since we were about to—”
Jacobs didn’t hear the rest as they bolted into the field, firing all the while. Ignoring the screaming over the comms. Getting closer was the only hunch they had to possibly do any damage. Surely the beams would be able to do some damage. At least melt the spiders’ armor or something.
Pain filled Jacob’s chest and their hands were shaking. They wouldn’t be able to aim for much longer. Stopping to breathe for a moment led to only shaking breaths escaping. At least something got to escape. Jacobs glanced upwards to see the battlefield and was awarded with only horror.
A red light built up in the spider’s mouth. Jacobs had never seen this before, they doubted that any military division had ever seen this before. It looked like a red firing beam. The division’s firing beams were nearly invisible, blending into the light of the spiders’ attack. It had to be an attack.
Hand to ear, Jacobs shouted into the comm. “Scatter!” Everyone was going to die. “Scatter. Hurry. Get out of the way!” Jacobs could see the white and blue uniforms breaking away from the unit, but they were all slow.
Too slow.
Jacobs saw their deaths before it ever happened. Bright red energy cut the stormy sky in half. Stretching from spider to squad, the beam left only a massive crater. Jacobs couldn’t even die with their brothers-in-arms. They didn’t mean to run away. Filtered air pushed its way down Jacobs’ choking throat.
They had to keep running. They would keep running, if only for the hatred pounding in their stomach. Blood was rushing to their head, and they couldn’t think. They wouldn’t think. Not about Earth, not about home. Not about Carter’s pranks. They wouldn’t think about the way they would climb on the roof back home and watch the sun rise over the mountains. No, they wouldn’t think about any of that. They would only run and aim and fire. And, finally, they would die. Jacobs knew this. It was their choice. Their last choice.