The End of Her World

Chapter Twenty Three

The warm, comforting smell of frying batter enclosed Katrina upon waking, caressing, pulling her gently out of the cool lair of sleep with warm tendrils. Rain drummed silkily against the tin roof, ran long, bony fingers across the windows. Katrina stretched luxuriously, flexing her muscles easily. She stared at the cream colored walls around her uncomprehendingly. She had spent so long in a place where nothing was warm and familiar, that this room no longer made sense to her.

    On the west wall, a simple wood shelf rose to the ceiling, adorned with a collection of artifacts that Katrina had found interesting over the years: ancient books with leather covers inscribed with gold and ruby threads, shells, rocks that had broken open to reveal shiny interiors, arrowheads. Katrina slowly stood up, unsure of her footing, and opened the door. She turned on the faucet, and splashed icy water over her face, and shivering as icy droplets ran down her neck, turned to go down stairs.

    When she arrived, Jason no longer lay on the spot where he had laid before, his blood had been delicately scrubbed away. The young man from the night before stood lankily at the stove top, pouring thick batter onto steaming pans and stirring a pot of warming maple syrup. He spun on his heel to face her.

    “Oh, it’s you,” he said with an easy smile. He ran a hand over his blond crew cut and extended his hand to her. “I’m Cooper,”

    Katrina uneasily grasped his hand and shook it.

    “Want anything to eat?” Cooper turned back to the frying dough, and slid the three on the pan onto an exquisitely painted dish, and set a stoppered crystal decanter filled with orange juice next to the food.

    Cooper turned the TV on, filling the left wall with the jagged, glowing shadows of the news. Katrina dug into her pancakes, and filled her mouth with the sweet orange juice. She glanced up at the news, and nearly choked.

    Fade sat in a comfortable velvet ruby chair, facing Alma Douglas, the President of the US. He wore a simple black t-shirt and camouflage pants.

    Turning smoothly toward the camera, Douglas’s black, glittering snake eyes bore into Katrina. Coldness burned in Katrina’s veins. She watched transfixed.

    “This is Teague Brooks, son of Ghosts General Michelle Brooks. He worked with one of the most dangerous criminals facing us today, Katrina Parker-Foley. Teague, what do you have to say about Ms. Foley’s theft of top secret US government files, and her hacking of the Pentagon network?”

    Fade considered her words and with a bitter smile spoke. “I think she’s a monster. She left soldiers like her father stranded out in war zones with no protection, she murdered people to get files. You should be on the lookout for her.”

    A terrible throbbing began in the ventricles of her heart, and intensified, wrenching at Katrina’s feebly beating heart. Suddenly, there was a shatter, and an explosion of pain ripped through every nerve of her body. A hole lay in her soul, and an awful, empty feeling. Tears welled at her eyes. What have they done to him? It had only been two days since she had last seen him.

    On screen, Douglas continued. “Do you want to say anything to Ms. Foley?”

    Fade leaned forward, his eyes blazing with fevered madness, and underneath that, inky waves of agony, his muscles tense and bulging. “Yes.” He ground his teeth and glared at the screen, utter hatred pulsing in his eyes. He opened his mouth, and then a spasm rippled through his face, straightening the hard lines, erasing the hatred, painting confusion over his face and then understanding. Suddenly, her Fade is looking at her from  “Katrina, you’re being used as a pawn in a fight to erase the rebels in this failing society. The government has engineered all of this!”

    His face contorted, and gun shots ring out, and the camera goes fizzy with static.

    “No!” Katrina screamed.