Chapter Ten: Lois Adler's Point of View

Chapter Ten:

            Mallory lies there in the fetal position next to Mary, both of them soundless.

            Nothing, Mallory’s mind whispers.

            Mary’s mind, however, screams the words over and over.  Malcolm is dead.

            Violet is thinking about her little search for Colette.  Katie is sitting there on the floor stroking Mallory’s hair, thinking about how it must feel to lose your brother.  Scarlett is in the kitchen doing whatever.

            Grace’s face shows sympathy.  She just stands where she was when Mary came running in, but I can’t get a clear read on her mind, like bad radio reception.  Only snippets.  Nothing definite.

            “Can someone bring her to her bed?” I say, referring to Mallory. 

            “I got it,” Katie says, and carries Mallory up the stairs. 

            The pig runs around in circles. 

            Violet throws herself onto the couch.  Should I stay? She thinks.  Mallory needs me, she thinks, but also, Colette needs me, too, though.      

            I believe that she’s going to stay.  Since it’s only about noon, we can’t exactly go to sleep.  I decide to go see if Luna’s around.  I tell everyone this, and listen to the various mental responses of the three other people in the room, and the one person in the kitchen.

            That’s not a very good idea, Violet thinks, What if they drop another wave of bombs?

            Malcolm is dead, Mary thinks.

            What—nd o—id—s tha—?  Whatev—ts yo—oat, Loui—, Grace thinks.

            Where is the vanilla? Scarlett thinks.

            I walk out the door and take a deep breath of the smoky-smelling air.  Luna’s parents’ house is the next row of cabins behind ours.  I walk around the side of our cabin, running my hand along the side, across the scorch marks.  I see the cabin that used to be next to ours, the all-Ivy one reduced to rubble, but I can just make out the thoughts of several people, so I don’t bother to check for bodies.  Not that I have the courage or the stomach to in the first place. 

            I reach the walkway in front of the right cabin which is, strangely, unscathed except for scorch marks, also, I notice, the door is broken in.  I walk inside.  The cellar door is open. 

            “Luna?” I call.  “Mrs. Speisshofer? Lyla?”

            No answer.  I look down into the cellar.  Nothing down there.  I decide that they’ve probably left already, because I don’t hear thoughts that sound like Luna or her family.   I walk back to our cabin, my home for the last six years.  Katie is scrawling away a message on a sheet of paper.

            “What’s that?” I ask. 

            “It’s a message for Violet.  She’s locked herself in the bedroom.  I can’t get her to come out,” Katie replies.  I never noticed how strong her Australian accent was until now.  Weird.

             The message says something about how leaving isn't a good idea and it asks how Mallory is doing.

            I laugh a bit, but it dies.  “It’s the thought that counts.”

            “Yeah, so um, I’m going to go put this under the door,” Katie says as she picks up the paper and folds it.  Then she walks upstairs and slides the note under the door. 

            I hear Violet’s thoughts.  She’s writing, I can tell that.

            A few minutes later, Katie, who was waiting by the door for Violet’s reply, comes down the stairs and hands me a note.  “What do you make of that?”

            I’m leaving and you can’t stop me.  I won’t tell you when or anything.  But just know that.  Also, Mallory’s conscious but she’s just sitting there with her knees scrunched up to her chest hugging herself.  She’s not even crying….  Just thought I’d tell you about my leaving.

            “Well, it certainly is something,” I tell Katie. 

            “Hey, Grace,” I say, “can you write something for me?”

            “Yeah, what is it?” Grace replies, coming over to me.

            “Tell Violet the story about what will happen when she leaves, or at least say something about it.  She needs to stay here and I can’t think of anything else to do,” I explain to her.

            “On it,” she says.  She pulls one of those multicolored pens from her pocket and starts writing.  She hands me the note a minute or two later.  “Will this suffice?”

       Grace's message says something about how Violet will sort of find Colette but something bad will happen on her trip.

       I nod and go upstairs to slip the note under the door.  Violet immediately pushes another note under the door, but this one’s in Mallory’s handwriting.

          It tells us to stop bugging Violet because it's her choice.

          I don’t do anything but say through the door, “Okay.  I’m done.”

Chapter Nine: Mallory Cane's Point of View (Even Shorter Chapter)

Chapter Nine:

            It consumes me.  The heavy black nothing.  Nothing.  Nothing to live for but nothing to die for.  Nothing.  Nothing nothing nothing nothing.  My world is made of blackness.  And tears.  An ocean of them.  The water like hands caressing me.  Trying to comfort me.  Nothing.

            Nothing.

Chapter Eight: Mallory Cane's Point of View (Short Chapter)

Chapter Eight:

            “You must be cold,” I say to Grace, who is wearing green-ish capris and a pale yellow shirt. 

            “Oh, yeah.  I guess I am,” she says, looking at her clothes.

            “Come on,” I say, and everyone follows me back inside.

            Colette is still on the couch, fiddling with her notepad.  A small ding sounds.  Her eyes widen, and so do Lois’s.  Colette stands straight up in one swift movement.

            “I need to go,” she says, then pulls up a floor board, removes a backpack from the cavity beneath, and dashes out the door without another word.  She left her notepad lying on the couch.  There’s a message on the screen.

     CM NUMBER 078346105

     MESSAGE AT 1124 FROM [UNKNOWN LOCATION]

     I’m waiting for you.

     “Does anyone recognize the Contact Messenger number oh-seven-eight-three-four-six-one-oh-five?” Violet asks.

            Grace squeezes her eyes shut and puts her fingers on her temples.  “I know who it is.  It’s someone named Nadia May.  And Christina, the blonde who just left, she’s gone to find her, and she will succeed.  But I can’t tell why this Nell Marie person wants to see Claire, they look nothing alike.”

            “I couldn’t really tell what she was thinking.  It was all jumbled,” Lois adds.  “Also, her name is Colette.”

            Grace smacks her palm to her forehead.  “Right.  Bad with names, remember?  Sorry Louise.  No, Lee, no, you’re um –“

            “Lois,” says Lois, sort of sympathetically.

            “I’m going to find her,” Violet announces. 

            But before anyone can reply to that, Mary bursts through the door breathe-speaking something.  I can’t make it out.  I toss a glance at Lois, who looks absolutely devastated.  She notices me looking and I see a tear roll down her cheek as she looks at me with such pity that I want to cry myself, though I still don’t know why. 

            Mary slowly lowers herself onto the floor.  Her lips are still moving.  I lean down next to her face.

            “Malcolm,” she whispers, “is dead.”

Chapter Seven: Mallory Cane's Point of View

Chapter Seven

           

            About ten minutes later the bombs have stopped, the school is untouched, and fires are visible through every window.

            I climb out from under my desk and let go of Violet’s hand, flexing my fingers.  Adrenaline makes people strong apparently.  I remember about my powers and look at Violet.  Thank goodness, she didn’t get burned.  Everyone else looks about the same as me.   Shocked, sad, afraid.  Grieving.  Morbidly curious.  The teacher is mad, or close to it.  She runs out of the room screaming.  No one either notices and/or cares when Violet and I stand up and leave.  We stop by the cafeteria for Lois, and then head to the gymnasium.  In the cellar, we find about fifty terrified people.  Scarlett is among them.  We run into Katie on our way out of the school.  We can only hope that Luna is safe because she was at her family’s house earlier.  Now the hard part.

            We walk through the smoldering wreckage of what used to be the grocery store and technology shop, not looking too closely, for there were, no doubt, people in there.  I find myself gazing up at the sky while we walk.  Ironically, it’s a beautiful shade of blue.  Violet stops after a while.

            “Can we check? You know, for Aaron,” Violet asks.

            No one can really object, so Violet walks over to the pile of rubble covering the cellar door.        

            “Luna, can you…?”

            “Yeah,” says Luna, and we watch as the pile of rubble floats away from the door.  Violet yanks it open and drops into the dark basement.  We hear muffled sobbing and Scarlett and I throw a glance at Lois.  She looks relieved.

            Just then, Violet scrambles up with Aaron and about three others.  Despite the situation, Violet is grinning hugely.  She hugs Aaron tightly.

            “Found him,” she tells us.

            “You’re right, Mal,” says Lois, answering my thoughts.  “We should go find Colette.”

            We walk for a while and come to our cabin.  It is completely unscathed, except for some scorch marks on the sides. 

            A mad squealing and thumping hits my ears as we enter.

            “ROSCO!” Violet yells, and storms upstairs.

            “She has a pig?” Katie asks.

            “Yeah, it just lives in her wardrobe or something,” answers Lois.

            “You know…Maybe we should go find Colette…” I say.

            “Good idea,” says Scarlett.

            I walk to the cellar door, pull it open.

            “Colette?” I call into the darkness.

            Nothing.  I light a fire in my palm and climb into the cellar.  The flame casts strange, flickering shadows.

            My foot runs into something.  I gasp.  Looking down, I see an unmoving Colette curled up on the floor.

            “Hey guys? I think I found Colette but she’s unconscious…can you help me?” I yell up.

            “Coming!” Katie yells back.

            They get down and help me drag Colette up and onto the couch.  Since dumping water on her isn’t really an option (she could zap us as she wakes up), we just wait for her to come to.  For a while, Lois has a look of deep concentration on her face.  I watch her for a while, then turn to the couch.  Colette is rubbing the back of her head and blinking.

            “Whoa, guys, you won’t believe the crazy dream I – oh.  Oh,” she says.   She’s looking out the window.

            Violet, who came back downstairs sometime in the last twenty minutes with a tiny pig in her arm, sits down on the armrest of the couch and gives Colette an awkward shoulder-hug.

            “Um… I’m gonna go look for Malcolm and Mary.  Come, don’t come, whatever,” I inform everyone and walk toward the door.  Lois and Violet follow.  When we get outside, a strange sight greets us.

            A girl, about our age, is sitting cross-legged on the ground in front of our cabin.  Her eyes are closed, well, the one we can see is.  The other one is covered with her brown hair.  All of a sudden, her eyes snap open, and she smiles hugely.

            “Oh.  My.  God.  A PIG!” she exclaims, and runs to Violet, making cooing noises to Rosco.

            She seems to actually notice Violet, and says, “Oh, he-he.  Can I hold him?”

            “Sure…?”

            “Oh my god he is so adorable!”

            “Okay…”

            “I’m Grace, by the way.  Fourteen and three months.  I’m a Seer, but it’s not like it’s a big deal,” she informs us.

            “I’m Violet…” says Violet.  “And this is Lois and Mallory.”

            “Hey!” says Grace, and holds out her hand.  Neither of us takes it.  “Okay… anyway, you’re looking for your siblings, and you’ll find them, sort of,” she tells me.

            “And you,” she says, looking at Lois, “will be a huge part in helping, er, what’s her name, Makayla, in the near future.”

            “It’s Mallory,” I correct her.

            “Oh, yeah, sorry,” she says.  “I’m not good with names.”