Phase 43

Chapter 5 - Finn

The government was acting how a government normally does in crisis - being a complete mess and getting nothing done. So, we were forced to stay in our house as long as possible, fear our neighbors, and hope that a miracle would save us. There was no talk of a cure, or even a vaccine that could keep our families safe for just a little while. The last time I had seen Gwen was the night of the party, and I hadn't heard from Carter since then either.

"-State officials are declaring a full-scale evacuation from the entire state of Montana, as well as Missouri and North Dakota. Quarantine zones are emerging, but hopes of a full restraint on the phasers are diminishing..." I could hear the TV from the other room, blaring with its usual bad news. Sitting up from where I lounged on my bed, I glanced at my phone.

6:15 pm. November 9th.

The sky was too dark for it to be only six. For days it had been raining, odd for Southern California. It seemed the world had taken a moody turn.

"Finn, dinner's ready," A voice called from the hallway. I rolled over painfully to see Elliot standing in the doorway, his hair wet from a shower. He and his family had been staying with us for the past few weeks, since they were our best friends and we had loads of extra room in our Malibu beach house.

"What is it?" I asked, reaching for the one crutch I had left. My little brother Charlie had accidentally tripped over the other one and ended up snapping the pins inside it. Clumsy kid. Luckily, my knee was just about healed enough to survive off one crutch.

"Chicken parmesan. Mom cooked it," Elliot said with a smile. I grinned, recalling Elliot's mother's outstanding culinary talent.

"Oh yes..." I felt my mouth watering. "Hey hand me the crutch would ya'?" I asked, realizing I was just too far away to reach it. Elliot shuffled over and picked it up, handing the top end to me. I weaved it under my arm and stood up, wobbling for a second on my achy knee.

"How's it feeling?" Elliot asked as he held open my bedroom door. I shrugged, wincing as the unforgiving foam bit into the underside of my arm.

"As annoying as ever," I joked, hobbling down the hallway. My feet, which were cozy in fuzzy turquoise socks, slid precariously over the clean wood. Elliot actually had to grab arm when I tripped over my own feet.

"Take it easy tiger," He grinned, helping me back up. I thanked him, but cursed the crutch. We finally made it to kitchen, where seven other people were sitting at various tables. The adults - my parents and Elliot's - were at the large, fancy dining table overlooking the pool, while my three brothers were arguing at the bar countertop over who knows what.

"Finn, where've you been? Hiding in your room all night?" My dad called to me with a cheeky grin. I caught his sarcasm and almost flipped him off, but remembered that there were young ones in the room.

"Just sleeping off the pain," I grumbled, sliding onto a barstool next to little Lucas. He was whining about eating the asparagus in front of him. I reached around him to set my crutch against the bar, out of the way. Lucas pushed his food around on his plate. "Lucas, you have to eat that," I said, taking his fork and cutting the asparagus into little pieces for him. He looked up at me with his bright green eyes.

"But Fiiiiinnnnn.... Its nasty! I w'eally don't yike it," He cooed. He lost his two front teeth about 2 months ago, at the same time. His big teeth hadn't come in yet, and his articulation wasn't surviving very well without them. Rs and Ls were the toughest for the little guy, and after growing up hearing my mother's thick Brazilian accent and my father's light German one, his poor tongue hardly pronounced words right.

"Well, you still have to eat it, or you won't be a big strong boy like you want to," I said simply. Lucas's eyes widened.

"No! I must be strong!" he cried. He then grabbed his fork and started to shovel the asparagus down. I hid a smile. Elliot caught my eye and grinned.

"See, there you go, it's not that bad isn't it," I chuckled, patting Lucas's golden curls. I turned to my own plate, taking a large bite out of the Parmesan chicken. Some cheese stuck to my chin.

"Growing a nice beard are we?' Sam called from across the table. I turned to look at him with narrowed eyes.

"Yeah, at least I can." Elliot choked on his glass of sparking water. Sam glared at me as I slurped the cheese back up. Sam's inability to grow facial hair had become a touchy subject between us in the past few years, since all of his friends had already started shaving.

Dinner rolled along, but I could tell the adults were tense. I could hear the TV in the background, the news coming in fast. There seemed to be another attack every second. After dinner, the kids were shuffled out of the living room and into our respective bedrooms. Elliot's family took the guesthouse, which was just outside my room. I could actually open my sliding doors and walk to the house, which sat farther down on our property - almost to the beach. We lived about 400 feet from the water, and our house overlooked a small cove. It was normally paradise, but in the past few days everything seemed dull and dreary. I slunk into my room after saying goodnight to my family, but I felt like I couldn't sleep. Rain pattered harshly on my windows, and I watched as drops ran down the glass. I glanced at my phone, watching the time flash up. 8:53. It wasn't even that late.

After wobbling over to the closet on the bloody crutch, I slipped my sweater off and quickly changed into a pair of sweats and my old soccer club tee shirt, then sat with my bad leg out on the bed. I reached for my Acoustic Taylor guitar that was leaning against the wall, and then tentatively strummed the strings. They were slightly out of tune, but not bad enough to need re-tuning.

I had been playing guitar for ages - Lance, Rick, Gwen, Carter and I had actually started a band a few years ago, but had to discontinue when Lance and Rick graduated with Sam last year. Luckily, all three ended up going to UCLA, just a few miles down the road, but they had been too overloaded with homework this year to keep the band going. So we just settled on meeting up every once in awhile to play - like we had the night of the party.

Anyways, as I lightly strummed out a few chords, my heart ached. I missed the regular so badly - missed not having to hear about people being murdered every other day by "zombies".

"You gonna play all night or you gonna be quiet so your brothers can sleep?" My dad popped into my room. I glanced up, smiled softly.

"Nah, heading to bed right now," I said, discarding the guitar next to my bed where it had originally been. My dad sat down next to me, his light blonde hair illuminated by the soft glow of my lava lamp. It was a small thing, but it was one of my favorite possessions. It had a black metallic base and cap, but the liquid was dark orange and the wax was light yellow, so it looked like actual lava.

"Dad?" I asked. He looked at me.

"What's up?"

"Is this going to be the end of the world?" I asked. My dad took a deep breath.

"I don't know sweetie," He breathed. I nodded, glancing away. "But don't dwell on it okay? It's not worth that - if we say that this isn't the end, and then it isn't. Get some sleep - your mother and I are going to make some plans tonight. After what's happening every day... We can't risk living here anymore. I'll tell you what we come up with tomorrow, okay?" He said. I nodded, and then struggled with my covers. I was eventually able to slide under them, and then my dad kissed my forehead.

"G'night dad," I called. My dad flicked off my lights, but my lava lamp remained on.

"You gonna get that?" he asked. I nodded. "G'night Finn," he called, closing the door behind him. My room was plunged into a dark room illuminated with an orange glow. I was reluctant to turn the lamp off, but I knew there were fire hazards with the heat. So, after a moment of watching the blobs of wax float up and down, I reached over and flicked the switch, my room cascading into darkness.