CHAPTER 7: The Mission
As the Cherry Bomb rumbled on towards her destination, I gazed out the window. A monochrome landscape presented itself under the thin sickle of moon. The road below us was hardly three yards wide, a scratch in the side of a cliff with a deep ravine below. A few glints from the depths told me that water rushed; probably a river.
“Excited?” Pete asked, popping my bubble of concentration. His hands shook like mine, bottom lip falling victim to his gnawing teeth.
I answered him in a shaky breath, mirroring his posture. “Kind of. Are YOU nervous?”
“You’re the one I’m nervous for, newbie.”
“Whatever,” I muttered. I wiped my sweaty palms on my pants, swiping a chunk of bang behind my ear. ACDC played in the background- their way of getting pumped up, the chorus line ‘I’m on the highway to hell,’ replaying. For some reason, it didn’t exactly set the mood for me.
Anthony sat up front with Ben, their conversation muffled by music. I watched his lips form words without any undertones of hostility; unlike how he talked to me. My feelings were still confused for that boy. It wasn’t that I liked him- I mean, I had Pete; a perfectly nice, funny, and attractive male around my age. Anthony was just…mean.
Even when he didn’t address me I felt inferior around him- like he was some elder of the degenerates or something that didn’t have time to associate with others. But it was just around me. The way he talked to everyone else was respective and polite, even. The only reason I could think of as to why I would affect his behavior so was because of that one cold night so many days ago- when I attacked him.
Maybe if he liked me I wouldn’t feel guilty about it anymore.
But wait- I didn’t care what he though, I just…wasn’t used to be treated like I was the gum on the bottom of someone’s shoe. Sure, I had been ignored most of my life- but that was different.
But why was I dwelling on this? Why did I KEEP dwelling on this- the subject of Anthony? Did it bother me so bad that someone might possibly hate me?
I turned to Pete, ridding my mind of negative thoughts. His eyes flitted from Anthony to me- he had been staring too. In that half-second that I caught him staring, I noticed his face- it was dark and deep, like he had been thinking painful thoughts, or remembering something unpleasant. When his eyes focused on me, the emotions disappeared and were replaced with a plaster mold.
My first instinct was to ask him what was wrong, but the little voice in my gut told me that he was a guy, and he wanted to deal with his feelings by himself. I couldn’t remember what cheesy romantic comedy that was from, but the advice seemed valid enough so I followed it.
“So what are the rules again?” I asked. We had gone over the ‘rules’ countless times before, but I was at a loss for an interesting subject at the moment.
Deep, complaining rumbles omitted from Pete’s throat. “We’ve gone over this a million times!”
I shrugged, thankful for the filled silence. “I forgot.”
He gave me an annoyed expression, ending its reign on his face with a single upward tug of his lip. “The main thing is to remember to stay hidden, and stay back. We can handle this; you’re only here for the experience. But if you happen to be caught up in a bad situation without one of us, then use what I taught you. You remember how to knock a gun out of someone’s hand?”
“Yeah,” I replied, though the memory was faint. The only thing that registered was a bare chest and heat. A lot of heat.
“Good.” Pete scooted closer to me. I blushed at the sudden proximity. My heart went into hyper drive, my throat swelling like a middle school girl with a crush. I chastened my body inwardly.
“So what was your first time like?” As soon as my lips uttered the words, I mentally slapped myself. It sounded like a question from a lame truth-or-dare game.
Pete snorted, his imagination sparking too, but answered the question seriously. “It was rough. Back then, it was just Ben, Anthony, Rick, and I. On our first mission we didn’t have any weapons except for our pocket knives. We all knew a little self-defense, but hardly enough to keep us alive-“
“So how did you? Not get killed, I mean.”
Pete’s brow furrowed, suddenly becoming animated. “It was awesome, Banner- I was surrounded by three Blades, each of them aiming a pistol at me, when all of a sudden Rick snuck behind one behind me. He got him in a choke hold and knocked the man out with the butt of his own pistol. It was something out of Mission Impossible-“
“But with less Tom Cruise,” I said, pouting.
Pete rolled his eyes. “Yeah. But anyways, I knocked another one’s gun out of his arm and started freaking fist-fighting with him. Seriously, these guys had no training at all! And then, I punched him in the throat and kneed him in the solar plexus. The third, who was fighting with Ben or Rick behind me, let a loose one fly and hit me in the bicep,” Pete held out his left arm, skimming his finger on a mottled formation of skin.
“I should have gotten nerve damage. But I didn’t.”
“So you have healing power or something?” I said, amazed. Though most of the things we talked about consisted of degenerate-related topics, we had never come across Pete’s abilities. Without thinking, I reached out to touch the scar. Its texture was surprisingly soft, sort of like a wrinkly apricot.
Pete withdrew his arm as quickly as I had touched it, and finished talking. “My muscle tissues are engineered to take in more oxygen, so I’m stronger than most people too.”
I rolled my eyes. “You expect me to believe that? You’re as skinny as a rail and your knees are almost bigger than the rest of your legs.” At this, Pete frowned.
“Whatever. Just let me finish the story.”
“Fine,” I said, laughing through my nose.
“Anyways, like I was saying- I got shot. I was gushing out blood, and I look to Rick. He was getting beaten into a pulp by a Blade. So, I reach over to a body beside me, pull the gun off of him, and shoot him dead in the back of the skull.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You lie.”
Pete held up his hands. “No, I swear!”
“Oh really? Where was Anthony in all of this?”
“He was helping the degenerates get into the Cherry Bomb. One of them was shot by a Blade. Another attacked Anthony. Like how you attacked him a few weeks ago.” Pete chuckled as I glanced over to the front towards a certain brown-headed boy.
“Was it a girl-degenerate that attacked him?” I asked. That would make sense as to why Anthony was so angry at me; he didn’t like to get beat up by girls, and was probably already sensitive towards the situation.
Pete looked over to Anthony as well, smirking. “Yeah,” a small snort escaped me at my correct assumption, “her name was Ella.” My blood froze at his use of a past-tense verb.
“Was? What do you mean WAS?”
Pete winced, as if regretting even mentioning it. He scratched his head, eyes apologetic. “I don’t-“
He was cut off by an emotionless voice. “Ella died.” Anthony appeared out of nowhere, suddenly at the back seat. His face was slate, the face of a warrior statue; his ocean eyes now hurricanes with dark storm clouds overhead. It was scary face. Even Pete, our assumed leader, looked a bit startled.
Whoever this Ella girl was, Anthony obviously had some serious history with her. Did she dump him before Phoebe? Either way, by bringing up the subject I had once again gained a little bit more of Anthony’s hatred.
Suddenly, the van came to a complete halt that threw me forward, making me face-plant into the back of the back seats. Classy, Banner- you know just how to catch your crush’s attention; fall into an awkward downward dog position whilst sticking your bony butt in his face.
As I pulled myself up, for some reason my cheek stuck to the pleather, creating an awfully suggestive ‘schluck’ sound and the feeling of being slapped. When I looked back to see if Pete had seen that, I was relieved to see that he had begun crawling in the back seat towards Ben. The only person who had seen my major fail was Anthony. For the first time, his eyes held humor. He held a fist to his mouth as if to keep laughter from spilling.
I narrowed my own at him, a silent warning. “Shut up. You don’t get to laugh.”
Anthony’s eyes held a slight twinkle of humor in them. “And why is that?” he asked, sounding amused.
I opened my mouth to retort, but Pete cut me off- saving me from saying something that would set Anthony off. “Anthony- you’re going to help me get the rogues-“
“Rogues?” I blurted.
“Rogues are degenerates that aren’t with us yet. Anyways, Anthony, you are going to help me get the rogues to the van. Banner,” he turned to me, “you will keep watch out. Stay outside, don’t wander off, watch out for Blades, and call my name if you see anything, okay?”
I nodded firmly. Though my role as a watch-out was kind of kind of disappointing (I mean, the loser was always the one to keep watch out), I was sure to listen to Pete.
“Oh, and another thing,” Pete said as he opened the back doors, letting a blast of frigid air in, “don’t go near the rogues.” I nodded again and jumped out of the van, the fake leather surprisingly insulating. It was hard to get used to the climate in Carson City; by day it was a bajillion degrees, dropping to polar temps by eleven p.m. I reached down my back to feel of the rough stitched snakeskin, perhaps for luck.
We headed out into the night like ninjas, a sickle blade hanging in the sky and serving as the only light out. In the limited light, I could see Anthony’s form. My own feet found broken glass to step on, making a muffled crunch.
I felt like a ninja; an assassin on a rescue mission. Slowly, we crept up to an abandoned gas station; the aged tomb of gray bone hidden by a cleft in the narrow ridge, its windows shattered, door and sign missing.
Before either of them could slip into the interior, I grabbed Pete’s shoulder. He turned and I embraced his dimly silhouetted awkwardly, unsure if it was okay to hug him. I didn’t want him to go in there. I didn’t want some crazy, rabies-ridden degenerate ripping him to shreds. If he died, it would leave me crush-less and without anyone to talk to. Then I would probably die of depression and social retardation. The least I could do was leave an impressionable goodbye, or something like that.
And then, without warning, Pete bent his head and kissed me. His lips were chapped and not very soft, but the way he moved them made my head get dizzy. It was simple, and too soon it was over. After one more squeeze, Pete followed Anthony wordlessly into the darker shadows.
I put my back against a crumbling wall of the gas station, touching my lips. They felt oddly fuzzy. My heart pumped harder, body buzzing as my nerve endings became frayed. Pete was my first kiss. My eyes closed.
Pete liked me.
A cute, really, really cute boy liked me.
Karson was right! There really was hope for me!
I sighed contently and looked up to the sky. A trio of bright stars caught my attention, and in my dreamy state I wished on them.
The stars blinked, seeming to get closer with each second. A shooting star? But…what was that sound? Stars didn’t thrum, did they?
My eyes widened, blood draining from my face, and brain taking a moment to register the fact that there were Blades in the sky. “Pete!” I yelled.
“P-Pete! Pete!” I exclaimed louder, backing away from the approaching vehicle in the sky.
“PETE!” I screamed, now terrified.
Panic flooded my senses, all which sent an ultimate message to my brain; RUN. It overcame me, swallowing me. I was a doe being chased by the hunter, a rabbit by the wolf. The Monster was back. The only sound I could hear was my own breathing. Just as a familiar warmth came over me memory hit me like a train.
Blood. Cries. Darkness. More blood….
Its air of seduction coated my mind like sex hormones, hazing over reason. I could taste the blood, thick, warm liquid sliding down my throat... My heart fought against it, battling control over my body, my mind- but the Monster was strong.
No! Remember pain? Remember guilt? Remember MURDER?
Blood- Anthony’s- glistened on the pavement, helicopter blades buzzing in my ears, my friend pulling at my side filled my mind. The guilt, the shame filled my heart. It was the memories that beat the Thing off, its sticky evilness residing. I pictured the bullets whizzing past my face, the blood again…so much blood.
In reality, I dry-heaved. Something shook my shoulder. I resurfaced with the urgent voice of Pete in my face. “Come on! Move it!” He pulled me as I stumbled over ground drunkenly towards a certain white chariot. With the helicopter at what seemed like yards away, I threw myself through the double doors as Pete and Anthony pushed a trio of rogues into the backseat.
Just as I breathed a sigh of relief, leaning up against the wall, Pete reached out to shut the doors as the van sped off, an angry bullet sent from above ripping through Pete’s shoulder.
In that second, time slowed. It was like in one of those clique action movies where the pace is slowed, emotions straining as movements are painfully lengthened. Later on, I would say it had happened too fast.
He was knocked backwards on the carpet, Anthony’s grasp just a hair away from his shirt collar as Pete tumbled out of the opened doors of the Cherry Bomb. For less than a third of a second, his eyes landed on mine. His spheres of flint shone with surprise; not even having registered the fact yet that he had been shot. I’m not really sure he even saw me.
A victim to Newton’s Laws, he bounced off the road and dropped off of the deep ravine. My mouth gaped, no sound coming out. Anthony jumped out before even the van screech to a halt, about to charge down the place where Pete had gone.
I froze in my spot, my heart in need of resuscitation Ben the Driver stopped him short, holding him back by his shoulder. Anthony struggled with him until his eyes glistened angrily.
His voice gravel, Ben the Driver hung his head, his voice choking, “It’s useless. Pete’s gone.”
____________________________________
As always, any comments, votes, or even fannings are greatly appreciated and encouraged. :)