Not a Hero

Chapter 4

"Ms Wyn are you sure you want to be doing this?" I don't even need to ask, but the giant floating aircraft carriers overhead are rather worrying. The guns on them aren't instilling a sense of peace and calm in me, that's for sure.

"I have to find Dave, he could be hurt!" There's a frantic note in Ms. Wyn's normally clam voice. Dave must be her husband, though I'd never hear his first name. Only stories of him from Ms. Wyn who speaks of him almost constantly. From everything I'd heard of him Captain America needs to step up his game to even come close to Mr. Wyn. 

"Would he want you to get hurt?" My voice somehow remains calm, despite the chaos, the bright red fear swimming around us. Everything Ms. Wyn has ever said about her husband says that he would never want her hurt, no matter the cost. Some of the stories were embellished, but that theme was painfully evident no matter what Mr. Wyn was allegedly doing.

"I can't leave him all alone!" Ms. Wyn isn't thinking clearly, that much is clear. Which is why I can't leave her alone out here, I need to get her away. If I can't get her away I have to stick with her, no matter the danger.

"OK then." I throw my hands up as if in surrender, "How do you purpose we get to Roosevelt Island and what should we do once we're there?"

"I'll walk there if I have to, then I'll find Dave and help him. You need to go inside somewhere where you'll be safe." Ms. Wyn pushes me towards the nearest building, some sort of store, but I won't be deterred. Not now.

"Like I said Ms. Wyn, if you're going so am I."

"That's ridiculous Jocelyn. You could get hurt, killed even. As your teacher I can't allow you to come." She's trying to play on my respect for authority. It's true, I do respect authority. And under normal circumstances I'd do as she said, except these circumstances aren't normal. For some being shot at may be a regular occurrence, but not for me. Or Ms. Wyn for that matter.

"I understand your concern. However, seeing as my 18th birthday just passed I'm afraid you have no legal authority over me." I can see guilt on her face. She's on the verge of turning back, if I keep going like this we'll be headed to safety in a matter of minutes. Just like I wanted. Except. Except maybe I don't want to be somewhere safe, maybe I too want to know whats happening. Ms. Wyn is my excuse, and she's about to leave. Maybe I can't let her, so I have to dissipate her guilt, "In fact, I think I'm just going to keep walking, not with you of course. No no, I just happening to be walking near you." I wink at her, like I'm letting her in on some big plot. Like I didn't believe for a second that she would ever turn back.

"Well, if you're certain you won't go back..." Her voice trails off. She still wants to go.

"Absolutely certain." Grinning I continue walking. I don't need her to voice the way, because I already know. With my mom being paranoid I'm only allowed in a small area of DC. The places I can go though, I know them like the back of my hand. Probably better actually, because who studies the back of their hand? Not me, for sure.

The city is unnaturally quite, except for in the places where it's unnaturally natural. Everything is holding it's breathe. And the things that aren't should be. Whatever is hoovering over us is dangerous, it could kill us all. Because nobody knows what it is. Maybe the unknown shouldn't be feared, maybe we should accept everything that's thrown at us without a second glance, maybe there is no more than meets the eye or maybe there is. I don't want to accept the huge change that's over us, especially considering the huge guns. Guns should be feared, no matter their size. Even thought the shooting can't be heard anymore that doesn't mean it's gone. The biggest threat is the one you never know is coming. 

"Do you know what those things are?" Ms. Wyn speaks for the first time since my announcement that I was still going forward. The fear in her voice is unnerving, there is no room for weakness here. 

"I don't think anyone does." I try and make light of it, as if perhaps this is all some sort of jolly adventure, not a potentially life threatening outing.

"Why are there so many guns on them?"

"Well, I'm no expert but I'd assume they're for killing people." It's obvious, painfully so. People could see the truth if they'd bother to open their eyes and look.

"But they won't shoot us, will they?" Ms. Wyn's voice quakes.

"I don't know, hope not though." Seriousness creeps into me, definitely uninvited. We both stop by unanimous, unspoken consensus and look up at the sky. A vision like that out of some movie, likely titled "The End of the World" is unfolding. But unbelievably, not possibly real. The three flying monstrosity's guns begin to move, the sound of destruction blowing in. And then they begin to fire. But not at the city, not at the people. Instead, their artillery is aimed at each other. 

Deafening noise. Flames lighting up the sky. The blue turning black with smoke. Raining fire. Comic-book worthy machines racing towards us in an uncontrollable decent of panic and pain. Screams, coming from me, coming from Ms. Wyn, coming from the very earth. 

And falling too are bodies. Bodies and bodies and bodies. I don't know how I see them through the terror clouding my vision but they're there. Hitting the pavement. Dead. With no-one to save them. The smell of burning hair, but a thousand times worst gathering in my nose. Death. I smell death. Get to the ground, away from the death. Away from the smell. But the ground won't come. Only forward.

Pain. Mine? Someone else's? No-ones at all? Knees scraping the ground. Standing. Legs running. Overwhelming, all consuming dread. Panic. Terror. The ground reaching up to touch my battered face. Whispering for me to sleep. Blood clogging my eyes, my nose, my mouth. 

And then nothing. Blissful nothingness.