Nobody is ready when they are kidnapped.
You don't get to pack up a bag with old pictures, maybe something to do like a coloring book, or a way to tell someone 'Hey, I'm stuck in another dimension. Can you do me a favor and save me?'
I brought with me the clothes on my back, my school ID that's worthless until we get home, a poop bag for our dog, Oscar, and two scratched up loonies that have gone through a washing machine more than their fair share of times, which is also worthless here.
-A/N: Loonies are a form of Canadian currency, same are toonies. And as an American, those an amazing names for anything official-
I woke up this morning in a really sentimental mood. Not for any real reason, and I try not to be sentimental. It's easier to be here if I don't think about everything from before we got here. Thinking about almost anything from home knots my stomach, so if I'm not thinking about it optimistically, I don't let myself think about it at all.
But I couldn't shake the feeling and here I am now, kneeling on the carpet in my and Lola's room.
Sunrise happened before I woke up, which is weird for me, especially weird because I went to bed really early after being insanely tired. This is even weirder considering nothing out of the ordinary happened to make me tired. AND Lola was up before me. But now that Marcus is here, Lola getting up early is a fairly normal occurrence.
She stays up late talking to Marcus, and I typically wouldn't count my sister as the annoying type. I'd consider her playful at times, but she's mature enough to know when she's getting annoying, I think she's been slipping on her filter.
They talk and play board games and kiss. Fortunately for me, they are at least quiet with the last one, but Lola's flirty laughter sometimes leaves me pressing a pillow into my ears and humming to drown it out.
A time that earbuds would be absolutely fantastic.
I am the only heartbeat in the house, Lola and Marcus are out together doing who the hell knows what. Scavenging I hope, cause imagining my sister kissing anyone still leaves me mildly disgusted.
I twidle my striped yellow t-shirt in between my hands, well, it was yellow. Now it has a dagger sized hole in the back and more of it is a threatening shade of crimson than yellow. Once we got here I didn't bother washing it, I put on the first shirt I could find and disregarded this one out of sight. And even though I never wanted to see it again, I couldn't bring myself to get rid of it.
My black sweatshirt is in the pile too with a barely visible sew line, and the bloodstain is only visible on my school's name printed on the front corner. I loved this sweatshirt for so long, so I decided to wash it as best I could and fix the hole.
But I still haven't been able to bring myself to wear it again.
I dig my hands into the pockets and pull out the two loonies and crumpled candy wrapper. Letting the familiarity of it wash over me like a weight that is either falling into my chest or off my shoulders. Maybe both.
I grip the golden coins tightly in my palm and press my eyes shut, letting a single tear fall down my cheek. One I know I can let out with nobody here.
I open my eyes back to the open closet and take a breath.
I'm done being sentimental for a while.
I stuff the wrapper and loonies back into the sweatshirt, but a crinkling erupts from the pocket. Not the kind of noise that could come from either of those things. I bring the sweater closer to my eyes but there's nothing but dark cloth.
I turn the sweatshirt around, revealing one of those inside pockets. I call it a secret pocket, even though it's not very secret it still isn't accessible from the outside of the sweatshirt which makes it cool enough.
I dig around inside and pull a sheet of paper out. Well, not a paper, one of those polaroids. But I've never used a polaroid camera, the image box is black like someone covered the lens. It's heavier than I thought a polaroid film would be.
But I don't know how it would've gotten here, I know nobody who has a camera for this. And even if I did, why the hell would I keep a blank picture in my pocket? If I knew I had a blank picture in my pocket I'd just throw it away.
I look at it closer as if it could reveal some hidden message, but nothing is there.
Could it be the EAA?
It wouldn't have been tough for them to slip a picture into the pocket of my sweatshirt, but the real question is why. Why bother giving me a blank picture and put it in a place that I surely wouldn't be quick to find?
It makes no sense.
I flip it from the side with the black box to the blank back in front of my face. Looking for something. There isn't even a brand name, but it's slightly heavier in the spot a brand name should be.
Caught in a focused trance I barely notice the rapid knocking on the door.
"Cass! Can I come in?" Even while saying it she keeps on knocking like a little kid with no social skills.
I slip the small picture under my sweatshirt and stuff it all together into the closet, hurrying to stand back up, "Yeah Lola, what's wrong?"
She bursts through the door frantically wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt, probably pajamas, "Do you know where Marcus is?"
I pause, "I thought you two were out together."
When I woke up Lola wasn't in her bed. So when I couldn't hear them chatting away I assumed they left. It's not like I can get much of a gage to when people wake up when no clocks work. For all I knew I woke up five hours later than normal.
"What? No. I just woke up and he's nowhere. Did he mention going to Nayan's or something?"
I shake my head, "I haven't even seen him today, weren't you together?"
She glances back out the door to nothing, and different areas of the room as if he could be hiding in a corner, "No, we fell asleep on the futon. But he wasn't there this morning and he isn't in his room."
Ew. Ew. Ew.
I push the existing image of them making out far from my mind.
How selfish am I? Marcus could very well be missing and I'm worried about what could've been going on downstairs last night.
She speedwalks over to the window, glancing out into the impenetrable fog. Even just from the second floor, the fog is so dense all you can get out of it is a rough gauge of if the sun is up and a rough image of the building across the street.
Defidently not able to see a person.
"He probably just went to Nayan's, maybe he left before you woke up and I just didn't hear him," I say.
This doesn't seem to ease her concern, and she rushes over to the dresser and pulls out a hoodie that she hastily puts on followed by socks and shoes.
"I'm going to go look for him. Are you coming?" She looks at me dead set in the eyes, showing no kind of consideration, just panic.
But it is far more likely that he just left for a bit.
"What? Lola, he'll probably be back soon. We should just wait here,"
She looks back at me with arms crossed and glassy eyes, "And what if he isn't? What if he went outside this morning and the EAA scooped him up? Or if he's a pile of ashes surrounded by a crowd of cheering EAA soldiers? What if he's captured? What if..." she trails off.
I hate to say she's right. I personally don't like Marcus all too much, he's a good person and all but something about him I can't quite place I just can't seem to stand. Which is ironic considering all of our first impressions.
But around here when there are so few people, and a group that kidnapped you and may or may not want to kill you is lurking in the shadows, you typically say something before leaving.
I sigh, "You looked for a note, right?"
She nods quickly, "Everywhere I could think of. So are you joining me or not? Cause I'm ten seconds from leaving your ass behind."
I'm partially undecided, but when I really get to thinking of the possibilities a pit forms in my stomach that couldn't even compare to what Lola must be feeling decides for me, "Yes, of course."
After this Lola rushes downstairs and I quickly put on the tennis shoes. I go back for the black sweatshirt, I consider putting it on but instead just take out the polaroid and stuff it in my existing pocket.
I'll mention it to Lola or Nayan later. Probably Nayan because he's less likely to blab it to Marcus.
When I get downstairs I find Lola hunched over a notebook at the table, scribbling something out.
"What are you doing?"
She finishes writing and tosses the pen onto the table, "Thought I'd make the effort of leaving a note. Let's go."
She marches out the door and I follow her, but she stops right as the door shuts. She freezes up and clenches her hands to the sleeve of her sweater.
"I don't know where we're going," She says quieter than the whistling fog that whips our hair around and rattles the trees.
I take a step closer beside her, "That's ok, let's just start with walking to Nayan's."
She nods, keeping her eyes set on the apocalyptic world around us. Then we start walking in that direction at a pace I wouldn't consider speed walking but a hurried multitasking speed.
I don't know about Lola but I'm really not sure what we're looking for, if Marcus is out scavenging somewhere he won't be in direct eyeshot. We keep our eyes peeled for any kind of red flag, or Marcus.
When we get around halfway to the coffee house Lola's searching seems to grow more frantic. She darts her head around to any noise whatsoever, even though it's just about always our own echo.
She stops walking but she's far from frozen. Her breathing is rapid and audible as if she just ran a marathon and she fidgets with the wrist of her hoodie, "Cass, this isn't working, we can't just walk aimlessly."
"Let's just start with walking to-"
Crack
A shattering erupts from the house next to us that looks just like where we live. I barely flinch but Lola near jumps.
It was probably a table or a mirror that finally gave out, nothing unusual here. After fifteen years without use, stuff breaks and if it wasn't for the only noise besides us being weather, I doubt we'd be able to hear it.
But Lola doesn't seem to see it that way, "I bet Marcus is in there!"
"I-" I begin my friendly defeat but she cuts it after only hearing my tone.
"I don't care what you think," Lola says, "He could be in there, and if you don't think he is you can keep guard or something!"
She storms off down the walk and into the house, already calling Marcus' name which is dulled by some of the strongest winds I've ever felt. My hair whips around wildly and I have to reposition my feet to stay in place.
When Lola and I were younger with our neighbors, and winds were this strong we would do one of two things, both of which involved flying. We would either jump in a gust of wind and hoped something would happen, it rarely got us more than a few centimeters but whatever. Or we would try and be like Mary Poppins and would end up folding the umbrella backward.
A part of me would love to do that but I know that we've got to find Marcus, or at least I've got to humor Lola until we either find him back at our house or at Nayan's
I wait outside, not wanting to be the butt of her sarcasm while she yells Marcus' name and I don't do the same.
I take a seat in the overgrown grass of the lawn of someone... who died.
I liked it better thinking they left. But Marcus was right, I have to deal with it and accept the truth as it is.
I sigh and the end of a branch flies in front of my face, unpicked up dead leaves from whenever they fell last skitter past my feet.
Out of nowhere, I hear a noise, a small noise.
A noise I can't quite place but know that before I got here I diffidently heard a lot. I stand up and listen for it again, which is difficult over Lola's semi-distant yelling and the wind.
Chhhhhhhh
I hear it again, CAR.
It's the engine of a car turning off.
That means the EAA could've got Marcus!
And then I see it, just barely. It's common to see rusted and worn cars around, some even crashed. But a block or two away, just around a corner but not enough to be fully hidden, I see the shiny white metal of a usable car.
I look back at the house, If I yell for Lola they could hear me and leave. If I go in they could leave and I won't know where they went.
I glace between the two and the crusty leaves at my feet. But settle on the front of the car and begin running.