The Quarry

Transcript of the Counter-Argument for the Demolition of the Quarry - October 12th

The arguments herein were presented following an incident in which a man with unchecked abilities was shot and killed near the Quarry. Army soldiers stated he represented a clear and present danger to the community.

The mayor finished his arguments regarding a resolution to demolish the old quarry, to stop squatters from residing within it. His claims of potential criminal elements being given free reign resonated with many of the concerns of the public.
The mayor looked down at the teenager, clearly she was unaccustomed to public speaking. "Don't be nervous," he said with a chuckle, remembering back to his first time speaking in front of a crowd.
The girl locked eyes with him, and a passion seemed to overtake her.

"You say "Don't be nervous,"

but I'm not nervous in the least.

I tried to keep it civil,

Now it's time to unleash the beast.

I tried to play it your way

I tried to keep it cool.

But I don't talk like you do

So I won't play the fool.

The walls are closing in on us

the army's here in force.

We're about to run aground

And just NOW you're plotting course?

I assume you somehow missed

just how many people died;

the school is crushed; innocent blood ran deep;

There's armed soldiers just outside.

The army's not invited

to the city council meetings

I fear attendance would take a dive

if there were military beatings

Our town's upon a precipice

the time for action's now

The only question we should ask

is the simple question "How?"

How do we keep the death toll low?

How best might we stay alive?

We can't win a war on numbers

if one person outnumbers four or five.

Stop thinking of them as enemies

We can't resort to putting 'em down.

We're locked up in this quarantine

We all need some peaceful ground.

What if your powers flare up

whether you're angry or you're not?

Should a bullet put between your eyes

be the only end you've got?

We went to the middle of nowhere

now we have plenty of space

Nobody should be hurt that way

so stay back, just in case.

We're learning to control it

by living day to day.

Give us a chance to self-regulate

And I promise we'll be okay.

Call the Quarry a danger zone

Let everybody know.

So if anyone starts to manifest

They'll know that's where to go.

So let us have our haven.

It's old, abandoned, unused.

But it takes us and accepts us,

Even those the city refused."

Vote was called for demolishing the quarry. Nearly unanimous against. A resolution was advised to make the quarry a respected area for those with powers to self-regulate without fear of collateral damage or violent intervention. Unanimously voted for.

Love at first Bite, Chapter 4

  Agent Red turned to look behind her when the pressure change caused her ears to pop.  The mirror wall behind her was sliding to the side, revealing a much larger room with a slender table. There were only two chairs, one already occupied on one end, and the other near to Agent Red. The only ornamentation on the table was a glass display cube in the center. She couldn't read the words from this distance, but it was unmistakably a skull. A trophy of the woman at the other end of the table, and perhaps a warning.
  At the head of the table sat a woman that had the air of authority, and the glare of the guilty. Her eyes were beginning to have wrinkles, despite looking otherwise barely over thirty. But that was a hazard of the job, seeing horrors unfathomable to the populous, and watching your humanity slip away.
  "Am I to understand you are the Queen of Hearts?"
  "I am. And am I to understand that a red-level agent is in my presence?"
  "I am. I assume by this point you've already started verifying my statements, so let's cut to the chase. I will continue the mission I was given, without intervention or reporting to you, using this base and its resources. When I am not on mission, I will have my own room to maintain security, and will not interfere with this base or its operations."
  "No."
  "As you've stated, I am a red-level agent. Protocol demands.." but Agent Red was cut off.
  "Protocol demands that advanced notice be sent for the transfer of reds. Protocol demands hand-off of the red. And protocol demands that I lock anyone falsifying their identity in the brig to await questioning. So far you're just a kid that opened a briefcase and decided to go on a goose chase. Press your luck and you'll be lucky to even make it to the brig. Or we can sit, have a chat, and spare both of us the hassle of waterboarding you."
  Agent Red looked into the eyes of the woman across the table. She was a bit older, but still fit. Her hands had long ago run red with the blood she had spilled, but it was a mere trickle compared to the river Agent Red had been responsible for. The Queen may have been older, but just by looking into the dark void of her eyes, Agent Red knew she had left her humanity years before her. She looked around the room again, still bare but for the table, skull, chairs and occupants. She thought about her options.
  "Three questions."
  "I'll ask as many questions as I need to."
  "You either can save us both time and choose to ask three questions now, or torture me for information, even though I've been trained not to talk since before you started bleeding. Three questions and three answers; or as many questions as you want, but no answers."
  The older woman stared back at her, sizing her up as she had from the moment the wall had slid open. Her eyebrow had raised at the recent outburst, though, and she took a moment to choose her words carefully before responding.
  "Three questions, off the record, so I can judge if I can trust you in my base. If I determine you are, no detention, no torture, I spare you a room, but if I need you for a mission, you're part of my team."
  "My mission takes priority over the missions of this base. If you agree, ask your questions."
  "How did Monochromatic Dawn find you?"
  "I was lucky enough to be in an orphanage that sent psych evaluations to local governments bodies. The Dawn got wind of it and took me into custody."
  "How long ago was that?"
  "Twenty-two years... three months... and seven days ago. Approximately."
  "That's a rather specific answer to be called approximate."
  "The more thorough my answer, the less reason you have to distrust me, and the sooner I can get back to what I should be doing."
  "Well then. Last question. And now that you say it's dust, there's little reason not to disclose it. What happened to the original agents stationed at Monochromatic Dawn?"
  "It was before my time there."
  "Only by a few years. I'm sure people talk."
  "Rarely to a red agent. But there were documents. Redacted, of course."
  "What. Happened?"
  "There were two scientists funded and supervised directly by the military. Dr. White and Dr. Black. Codenames, probably. No government oversight, and no ethics committee. They were told to find a cure for cancer, by whatever means necessary. Bodies would come in regularly, sometimes not yet dead, just terminal. Dr. White made a break-through in his research, and was preparing for testing on cadavers. Not wanting to fall behind, Dr. Black went directly to live human testing. He referred to a Subject Zero, but something went wrong. No documents were found after that, and instead of witnesses, the base contained corpses. Less than there had been staff members. Original theory was that they were taken as hostages, until we realized they were being infected and turned.  Since then it's been mostly about containment, and collecting the information that was lost about the experiments."
  The Queen of Hearts opened her mouth, but was quickly interrupted by Agent Red. "Those were your three questions. I have been awake for nearly thirty-six hours straight. I trust any other concerns you have can wait until you've upheld your part of the arrangement."
  "As you wish," the Queen said, standing and opening the door behind her.
  Agent Red stood and went to follow her, glimpsing the small plaque on the skull's display case as she walked. It had only two words. "Subject Zero."

Love at First Bite, Chapter 3

  There was another knock at the door, louder this time.
  "Shouldn't you answer it?" asked the rookie below her.  She looked down at his face, having already forgotten who she'd taken into her bed this time. Clearly he was a fool, though, unable to enjoy the moment she had chosen to bless him with.
  "Come in," she called out, getting out of the bed. The door began to open and the rookie quickly tried to cover up in the blanket. "Men," thought the Queen of Hearts, "they pretend to be brave, yet are afraid of others seeing their body. Cowards, the lot of them."
  The door now open, her second-in-command took one look at the room before staring intently at his own feet. Prince Charming was one of her best field agents, but the queen enjoyed torturing him with discomfort. His modesty was outdated, and he was becoming so as well.
  The rookie, meanwhile, had bundled up in blankets trying to make it look like he wasn't present.
  "Your majesty, an agent is here from Monochromatic Dawn. She says it was attacked."
  "And I told you I was busy. That was a mere half hour ago," she said with clear disgust, her eyes focusing on the pile of blankets.  "Do you forget so readily, Prince Charming?"
  "She's a Red, your majesty."
  Her eyes grew wide, and she blurred into motion. She grabbed her bra from her trophy cabinet, it was among her collection of skulls. Her pants slipped on in a flash, the leather nearly skin-tight. Her eyes swept the room for her other missing apparel before she grunted in frustration and headed for the door.
  "You should have gotten me sooner. What do we know about her, Charming?"
  "Nothing. There was nothing about her in the database, and," but he was cut off.
  "Of course there wasn't. Reds aren't given a file. As far as paperwork is concerned, Reds don't even exist. Admitting that they do would be admitting the mission is failing. What has she said or done? Tell me everything. Every detail. And send the videos to my room so I can review whatever you miss, Charming."
  "We first spotted her in the woods, walking here with a briefcase. She announced herself as Agent Red, and did genuflect. I opened the lake, and she entered the waiting room, sat facing away from the door. She says he partner broke protocol and was taken out by a landmine, so she's alone. Possibly the last survivor."
  "It could be a trick. When was the last check-in from Monochromatic Dawn?"
  "They failed to check in this morning, your majesty."
  "Damn it. Do you have any good news?"
  "No activity behind her in the woods. She wasn't followed."
  The Queen of Hearts opened the door to the welcome room, and looked through the sliding glass wall at the mysterious Red.
  "Charming. Why is there a crack in my waiting room's wall?"
  "She slammed a document against it. The White Rabbit Protocol."
  "Great. Not only a Red agent, but one that thinks she's a lawyer." The Queen took a deep breath and lightly massaged her forehead, collecting her thoughts. Being half-naked would not go over well with such a rule monger, especially one that had already been given the run-around by someone lacking authority.
  "Give me your jacket, Charming."
  "What?"
  "I said hand me your top. You already screwed this situation up more than enough, we need to show her we're on the up and up."
  Prince Charming mumbled, but unbuttoned his uniform and handed it to the Queen.
 "Make sure I get videos of the events, ready the rookie's room for her, and let him know he's on standby to give her the tour, Charming. Now get out of here," she said, pressing the button to slide open the glass wall. "It's time I do some girl-talk."

Love at First Bite, Chapter 2

Chapter 2  (Chapter 1 Edit: stopped at a motel, not hotel)

  The motel's mattress was covered in files. A pistol, maps, passwords, money, protocols, and enough other documents to make someone's head spin spilled from the mattress onto the floor. Agent Red looked over it again, piecing through the puzzle one last time, to make sure she had enough to move forward. White Rabbit Protocol was disorganized, unsophisticated, tedious, and worst of all, well documented. She hated that, it made it too easy to fall into the wrong hands, but she would have to bite her tongue. Today it just might have saved her life.

  She looked at the closed blinds. Only a little light was making it into the edges of the room. She glanced at the digital clock, and saw it was already 6pm. She wouldn't have time to sleep if she wanted to make it there tonight, and dusk would soon be coming. She'd driven the car until the gas sputtered out, though, and they might have it tagged from the base. She would have to hotwire a civilian vehicle if she wanted to get there tonight.

  "Great," She thought to herself. "One day without the base and I'm already going back to being a criminal. Maybe I should just take a cab... into the middle of nowhere... that wouldn't be the least bit suspicious," she stung herself with the sarcasm, but it hurt less than her past. She started putting the documents back in the briefcase, then the money on top of it, just like protocol required. She already had a pistol on her belt, but would keep the other ready. Never hurt to have a back-up plan. As the last of the five thousand dollars found their place in the briefcase, Agent Red looked to the window again. "Good. Sunset. Time to move out."

  ---

  She left the car a few miles up the road at a diner for truckers. When they realized it was abandoned, it wouldn't arouse too much suspicion that way. At least, it wouldn't cause as much suspicion as being abandoned near a man-made lake that had more than a few warning signs. This way if a search was done, it would be in the forest, they likely wouldn't think to check the lake.

  And so she walked, briefcase in hand, mile after mile after mile. The sounds of the owls accompanied her journey, the constant question of "Who?" digging into her subconscious. Was she still that little girl from decades ago? Was she just another street rat, plagued with thoughts no sane mind would have?
  "No. No," she said to herself, speaking out loud to drown out the query of the forest, and saw the shimmering lake come into view. "I am Agent Red, of Monochromatic Dawn. A light shines from the hilltop where our base once stood. I humbly request an audience with the Queen of Hearts." She set the briefcase down at the edge of the lake, knelt on it, placed her hands on the back of her head, and waited. And she waited. Her arms began to grow tired and she wondered if she had somehow ended up at the wrong lake. Her thoughts began to wander again, but then she noticed something was different. The owls were silent.

  The ground rumbled, and the lake water shifted. Two glass partitions had risen from the water, and now slid apart, revealing a stairwell beneath the beach of White Rabbit Lake. Agent Red stood, lifted the briefcase, and headed down. At the bottom was a small room, clearly intended as an interrogation room. She looked at her reflection in the glass and scowled, sitting down in the chair that sat facing away from the glass. She was breaking protocol, but this was one exception worth making.

  She looked around the room as the wall began to slide back, returning the lake upstairs to a serene, pristine scene. In the room there was the typical table in the middle, one chair on either side, and the lamp in the middle. A few panel lights in the ceiling, and plate glass along one wall for onlookers. She looked around the room again. One, two, three walls and the glass. There was no doorway in sight.

  "Agent Red, was it?"
  "Affirmative." A moment passed.
  "What is the status of Monochromatic Dawn, Agent Red?"

  "Dust and ash. They attacked during patrol," Agent Red answered. Her words hung in the air too long. Perhaps her inquisitor was having a moment of silence for the fallen, she thought.

  "Where is your partner, Agent Red?"

  "Agent Green broke protocol, attempting to enter a tainted zone. Only good it did was taking one landmine out of play." Again, silence was the first response.

  "It's rare for a red agent to grace our humble abode. We don't seem to have any of your files in the database. Please identify."

  It was her turn to take a moment of silence this time. Something was off. "By whom am I being interrogated?"

  "This is a conversation, not an interrogation."

  "I requested an audience with the Queen of Hearts. Identify." Again, silence. Longer than the others. They had her locked in a room without exits, but she didn't even know who they were. Clearly, though, not the right person to speak to.

  "I say again, I requested an audience with the Queen of Hearts. Until I am speaking with her, this conversation is over." She expected a pause this time, but it didn't come.

  "The Queen is indisposed."

  "This.  Takes.  Priority."

  "That is up to the Queen to decide."

  "Bullshit," said Agent Red, opening the briefcase. They money fanned across the table as she got the document regarding agent transition. She stood and slammed it against the glass, her eyes staring into the reflection of her scar. The glass gave less resistance than she'd expected, and she heard a small crack. "Now get me the Queen."

LOVE AT FIRST BITE (Chapter 1)

  Agent Red's pale skin seemed to shimmer in the moonlight, her ruby lips breaking the otherwise black and white night.

  She looked across the barren parking ramp, and impatiently stamped her foot. She checked her watch, ten minutes late, this was just like him. She heaved a sigh and headed for the warmth of the car.

   "Sorry," his voice startled her, she hadn't even heard his approach, but he was right next to the car. "Things got a bit... heated," he said, dropping the flamethrower for emphasis.

  "You're late. Again. We should be halfway back by now. Put it in the boot and let's go."

  "You should be happy. We're getting closer, Red."

  "I'll have plenty of reason to be happy when there are no more of them in town, Agent Green," she snarked, slamming the car door.

  Agent Green fanned out his trenchcoat and sat in the passenger seat, nodding gravely. "I thought they said there was supposed to be a den in there. But it was pretty bare, a few sleeping bags and piles of clothes. I lit it all up, anyway. They won't be back."

  Agent Red glanced at the dashboard. Where else would they be at one in the morning, she wondered. She looked down again as the speedometer crested eighty, and noticed she had a quarter tank. It would be enough to get back, but she would need to refill before patrol tomorrow night.

  "HQ, this is Envy and Blood, nest was ashed but no roaches present. Heading back to the roost, over," Agent Green called into the walkie.

  The car rushed along the rural road, trees and fields whizzing past. Silence loomed in the air as they waited for the response.

  "I say again, no roaches found, Green and Red returning to base, over," said Agent Green on the walkie.

  "Battery's probably just dead. You forget to charge it again?"

  "That only happened once, Red. The problem isn't the battery. And I've got signal. Only thing missing is response. When was the last communication from base?"

  Agent Red checked the clock. "It's been over an hour. I was busy wondering why you were running late. Besides, it's Agent Blue on comms tonight, and he makes you seem downright responsible. Probably just fell asleep, or wandered from his post."

  "Blue might not be a stick-in-the-mud like you, Red, but nothing gets in the way of his comm time. On nights we patrol he won't even let me touch the walkie."

  "Well, you are just a rookie, Agent Green. Base is just over the next hilltop. Nothing to fret over yet. We'll find out the real story soon enough," Agent Red said confidently, yet was readying her sidearm, so the rookie followed suit.

  As the hilltop met the horizon, the base came into view. A burning wasteland was all that met their gaze, the barbed wire melting in the heat of a hundred fires where hours ago buildings stood.

  Agent Red skidded to a halt in the middle of the road, staring at the burning carcass of their base. "White Rabbit Protocol."

  "What?" burst Agent Green, "Aren't you at least going to check for survivors? This isn't the time for protocol!" He said, slamming the door behind him as he ran for the entrance.

  "It's always the time for protocol," muttered Agent Red.

  There was a flash, and Agent Red winced. Her ears were ringing from the explosion, but she felt the car shake a moment later. She lowered her arm to look out, and saw Agent Green's lifeless body, his eyes still open, staring into the cab of the car. His left leg was missing, just a nub near his hip.  He must have stepped on a mine, Agent Red mused, too shaken by the recent events to allow any emotion into her thoughts.

  The window shattered inward, his leg no longer missing. Agent Red changed gears, and the car began speeding backwards, leaving the shattered remains of both the former agent and the former window on the road.

  From the debris of the headquarters rose a shape, and it called out to the speeding vehicle. "You thought you were predators. You will only ever be prey."

  The car spun quickly as Agent Red changed gears again. She drove as far as the gas would take her, stopping at a hotel shortly before dawn. She took the briefcase inside with her, put the "do not disturb" sign on the door handle, and closed the blinds. It was going to be a long day.

A New Start

Too long I have quoted Vanilla Ice by believing "Anything less than the best is a felony." This should be viewed only as far as one's attempt should be the best they can give, but anything less than the best... just needs editing. One need not always create things of perfection, and in fact that is one of life's great joys. Not being perfect doesn't make you, as the previous quote implies, a felon. Indeed, it serves to make you human, to remind you that you may not be perfect, but that you can improve.

This blog hasn't been updated in two months. Not because I haven't had ideas, not because I haven't written. It was because life got busy, and then I withdrew. After being away from it, I felt like a failure, rather than simply like someone that had made a mistake. Every day grew harder, with me thinking of a post I could make to redeem myself and begin again. A comic about a boy who woke up late and said something to the effect of "Guess I'll try again tomorrow" was a common thought about how I could break back into blogging. And I thought about using New Year's as a fresh start, but again found it intimidating.

This is my blog, though, so I needed to remind myself that I wouldn't be breaking in to it again. There is no one to be intimidated of, but myself.

So, I didn't do my hour of writing today, but I wrote the above, and (before having problems sleeping) I wrote the following on a social networking site, in response to a friend posting the attached link with a condescending comment.  Perhaps readers believe this shows my political views or perhaps readers will see this as me playing devil's advocate, in either case, I do not intend for this blog to be about politics, and am simply using this to show that even in small quantities, such as social networking sites, I am still writing (and doing so in a manner I take pride in).

The Story

The idea of this is flawed on so many levels. He was taking from the top to add only to the bottom. So much of what we have today is based upon the work of those that came before us, like computers, the internet, calculators, refrigerators. Having these things did not diminish the lives of those that came before us, nor did it cost them anything. They were not paying time to create these things, they were investing their time in the community as a whole. It wasn't just the homes of Lewis Pasteur and Nikola Tesla that became better places to live, but also those around them.
Knowledge is not a finite resource, to be given to one it does not need to be taken from another. It is like a flame, by which you may light many candles, and yours does not dim any more than it would have.

There are many finite things that do not work for sharing, of course. Time is one of the largest. You can't have 1 doctor with 3000 patients. Actual mineral resources also can't be shared evenly on a large scale, but that is why scientists are looking into better fuel sources, such as solar and electric power. And though insight can be given, that does not mean it is listened to. As the saying goes, "You can lead a horse to water, but you can't make it drink." But each generation leans a little further left, until it becomes so far left that the whole scale tips, making the old middle the new right.
Yes, there have been problems, many times, in history where the youth have been misled, and their naivety was preyed upon by their elders. That's why things like racism still exist in the world. But in the larger scheme of things, going left tends to be better for humanity.

Three Chapters

Chapter 1: Introducing the Fallen


"Amelia Sheppard, it's only second period. Not even fourteen yet and already well on the path to being a real troublemaker. Are you trying to break a record for the most visits to the principal's office?" Mr. Gerritt's secretary inquired.
"Just send her in please, Ms. Markwell," Mr. Gerritt called from his office.
Amelia entered the principal's office as she did at least once a week for the past three years, since her father had left.She shut the door behind her and sat in her usual seat across from Mr. Gerritt.
"What brings you to my office today, Ms. Sheppard?" Mr. Gerritt had already spoken with most of Amelia's teachers, he had asked about her behavior and attitude. All of her teachers had concerns, but Ms. Fererra was the only one that hadn't sent Amelia to the principal's office. In fact, Ms. Fererra hadn't sent any students to the principal's office in nearly a decade. For Amelia to be sent to the principal's office, something major must have happened.
"Nothing! I'm innocent! I was in my seat, sleeping peacefully, when Kayla Locke started poking me. So I turned around in my seat and poked her back. Then Ms. Fererra said I was causing a disturbance and needed to come here, even though Kayla poked me first. She's the one who should be in here, not me!"
"You know Ms. Fererra hates students sleeping in her class, Amelia. Just because she hasn't sent you here before doesn't mean you can use her class for nap-time,"
"Did I say sleeping? I meant sitting. Yep, I was just sitting and she poked me."
"Mhmm. And after she poked you, your reaction was...?"
"Like I said, I poked her back. That's all!"
"Okay, Amelia. And if I ask Kayla and Ms. Fererra, they would say the same?"
"Of course not! They'd probably say I punched her, just to get me in trouble."
"Amelia, if you kept your hands to yourself I'm sure we could avoid these misunderstandings. For now, wait with Ms. Markwell. I'll need to speak with Ms. Fererra and Ms. Locke, then we will see what disciplinary action is needed."
"Fine. Whatever. It's not like I'm ever going to need to know about buoyancy, anyway," Amelia said as she sauntered over to a seat in the secretary's office.
Amelia sat in the secretary's office, thinking about why she was really in trouble. She had been sitting near the back of the class, paying attention to the lesson on buoyancy. Ms. Fererra said they'd even have a project to see what made things float. Amy always loved projects, it was great to be able to work directly with what you were learning, instead of just hearing about it.
But Ms. Fererra had a very strict rule. Under no circumstance was sleeping allowed in her class. Projects were cancelled, discussions became lectures, and everyone had a dreary time if Ms. Fererra even saw a student with their head down. Everyone said that Ms. Fererra should have been a Catholic schoolteacher, complete with the ruler ready to rapp the students on the knuckles.
So when Amy saw Kayla sleeping, she had poked her to wake her up. It was never that simple, though.
"Keep your hands off me, airhead. I don't want to catch any of your ugly-germs."
Amy tried to swallow her pride and just ignore the insult. She was normally called worse, anyway. But Kayla's head was returning to her desk, and that would mean no project. Amy lost control of her temper, and Kayla would probably have a black eye to show for it.
So Amy sat in the secretary's office, twiddling her thumbs and letting her mind wander. It was a slow day in Ms. Markwell's office, barely any phone calls or students. A few parents were calling in late regarding their children not coming in to school, the normal everyday boring blah, blah, blah.
Yet when a call got Ms. Markwell's face to go pale as she ran into Mr. Gerritt's office, Amy took notice. And when Mr. Gerritt raced out of his office yelling for her to go directly to the gym, "no ifs, ands, or buts," Amy showed a willingness to follow the instruction with a blur of motion that was no longer hindered by the school rule of "no running."
"Everyone please report to the first floor gymnasium for a special school spirit meeting," boomed Ms. Markwell over the P.A. system.
Amy burst through the doors, trying to catch her breath. The other students already in the gym looked at Airhead Amy with their usual demeanor of disgust. Amy's eyes sank to the floor, and she made her way to the bleachers. First row, right along the edge. That way she wouldn't make too many people have to sit next to her.
The vice principal came in, and started speaking. More students filtered in while he spoke. Soon the bleachers were full, too soon, because they weren't intended to hold the full student body. Normally the faculty set up chairs for these sort of events, but no chairs were ready. Teachers were near all the doors, counting off the students, making sure none were missing. It was the little details that made it clear to Amy that this wasn't planned, and it was an emergency.
Then, when the flow of students seemed to be ending, yet before they had found seats, the room imploded. The roof came down, the walls buckled, then the bleachers collapsed and finally sank.
Until that moment, Amy hadn't even suspected that the school had a basement. Now she and four other students were stuck in it.
One light was still flickering in the underground room, the rest were probably broken. Amy looked up, but the rubble and broken bleachers blocked the way back.
Amy tried to stand, but she could only find support on one leg. She fell back onto the cold cement, gasping at the pain in her left leg. It felt broken, like when she let the dog out when she was in first grade. Her mom said she needed to be punished. And when the dog didn't come back, her mother's torment could only fall upon Amelia.
Amy looked for something to use as a brace, or at least as a crutch, but her eyes were drawn instead to the other students. Tabitha Almond, one of the girls all of the boys noticed, had her arms around her knees, her pink skirt even more immodest than it usually was. Tommy Tumbletub, the class clown, had the wind knocked out of him, but if Amy knew him half as well as she believed, he would still be thinking of a joke about the situation. Greg Milton was hard to see in the dark because of his all-black clothes, a habit that earned him the nickname "Goth Greg." He was pretty mellow, he'd sit in the back of the class and never raise his hand, but he wasn't really goth. Even now, in the school basement, it looked like he didn't notice, like he had checked out of his body, or was just relaxing and watching some boring tv. The last of the students that Amy noticed was the other Greg, but it was clear that he hadn't made it through the catastophe. It wasn't a student, it was a corpse, crushed by rubble, construction bars sticking out of places that they had no business being in. Now that Greg Morton wasn't around, Amy wondered if Goth Greg would just start being called "Greg."
Amy had to look away from the carcass of the late Greg Morton, it was simply too grisly to endure.
"Well. This day is a real downer," Tommy said, now that he'd regained his composure. Tabitha started crying, and Greg Milton scowled.
"Greg's dead and you're making jokes? Just how insensitive can you be?" Goth Greg asked.
"Greg's... dead??" Tabitha's entire world that seemed to be spinning out of control, so much so that she couldn't even control her tears.
"We fell into the basement. I called it a downer. Because we fell down. Get it? It's funny, don't take it so personally," Tommy retorted.
"Shut your face, Tommy," Goth Greg said.
Tommy opened his mouth to respond again, and probably make the situation worse, but Amelia interrupted.
"Both of you shut your pie holes! I doubt any of us want to be down here longer than we have to, but my leg is broken. So you two can either man up and help me, or get me a crutch so I can at least get away from all of your petty bickering." The rage in Amelia's voice silenced everyone, including Tabitha's cries.
"Wow. Somebody woke up on the wrong side of the bed," chimed in Tommy. It only fueled Amelia's anger further. She began to make a fist, but before she threw the punch, noise could be heard from the gym above them.
Only pure and true terror could cause such awful screams to pass the lips of so many.
"Anybody else thinking maybe we're safer down here?" Tabitha mumbled.
"But safer for how long?" Goth Greg stated.


Chapter 2: Split Decisions


Goth Greg had used his overshirt and some pvc pipe he found to make a splint for Amy's leg. It was a bit mismatched and uncomfortable, but it was supportive enough that she could hobble away from the recently deceased classmate and begin exploring the basement for a way out, along with the others.
They had originally fallen into a room roughly the size of an average bedroom, it wasn't very spacious, but it would normally be comfortable for their very small group. With the rubble and glowing pale-blue rocks, though, it seemed too tight a fit, and the students were glad to find more space in the adjacent hallway. It was dimly lit, and went in two directions, right or left.
"Which way should we go?" Tabitha asked.
"Yeah, because I spend all my study halls down here, so I know the path," responded Tommy.
"Look! There's a sign. We can follow that if we get some light," Amy said, as the hallway was too poorly lit to read the sign.
"I've got it," Tommy said as he flicked open a lighter.
"Seriously? Why do you have a lighter at all, especially in school. I'm pretty sure that isn't allowed," mused Tabitha.
"I like to plan for getting stuck in the basement after the school is bombarded by alien rocks, of course. I mean, doesn't everyone?" Tommy retorted, his sarcasm running rampant.
"Who cares why he has it? He does, we can read the sign, and it says the stairs are to the right. So let's go already!" Greg advised.
"Wait, guys," Tabitha called out. "What if that comes out at the gym? I don't want to find out why everyone was screaming, least of all by experience."
"We'll be quiet. And if it's too dangerous or whatever, we can turn around," Tommy suggested.
"Besides, this might be the only way up," said Greg.
"I'm gonna keep looking, anyway," Tabitha said.
"I'm not leaving anyone down here alone. I'll go with her," Amy said.
"Whatever. You coming with or staying stuck down here with the ladies, Greg?" Tommy asked.
"The sooner we're out, the better," said Greg said, starting down the hall to the right, right behind Tommy.
"Tommy," called out Tabitha.
"What? You changed your mind already?" goaded Tommy.
"No, I just. Can I borrow your lighter? Just in case. I mean, it is pretty dark," reasoned Tabitha.
Tommy came back and placed the lighter in Tabitha's palm, curling her fingers around it. "Just make sure to bring it back in one piece. I mean it."
With that, Tommy turned and followed Greg towards the stairs, while Tabitha helped Amy along with her broken leg, and went in search of another way out.


Chapter 3: More Than Rocks

"It feels like this basement is even bigger than the school!" Tabitha groaned.
"Maybe it is. Maybe it goes under the football field or something," Amy said.
"Whatever. Explain to me again why we're only turning left?"
"It might take longer to get to a way out, but we won't miss it this way. If there's another way out, we'll find it."
"So... if you're smart enough to think of that, why does everybody call you airhead?"
"Mostly because Kayla is just a jerk and never let me outgrow it. I mean, last year you were called 'Tumbling Tabi' until your cast came off, all because you fell down the stairs of the second floor gym. But then once your cast was off, everyone just stopped. And you're Tabitha again, no nickname calling you a klutz anymore."
"I think you're wrong. I don't think it's because of Kayla at all. I mean, we need air to breathe, to stay alive. So, an airhead is someone that can save you from disaster. I mean, you did get us organized enough to make it out of that room, even with your broken leg. I mean, you're practically a hero."
"I really wish I could look at it like that, Tabitha. I really do. But I can't. Anyway, here's another door to check," Amy said with resignation. She turned the handle to the fourth mysterious room and hoped it would be better than the three previous dead-end storage rooms they'd found already.
The door swung open and the lights were off, but Amy couldn't make out much past the door frame, but she could barely make out some humming sounds that seemed far away.
"Tabitha, help me find the lightswitch."
"No problem," Tabitha said. "Wanna know where I got this lighter?"
"Excuse me?" Amy mustered, too confused to think of a better response.
"My mom was laying on the hospital bed. The lung cancer was finally just too much for her body to take, even with all the medications and therapies she was doing. She gave me the lighter and said it was her good luck charm, it helped her quit smoking before I was even born."
"Tabitha, I watched Tommy give you that lighter not even an hour ago..."
"What are you talking about? I got this from my mom. I've kept it with me ever since," Tabitha said with just a hint of confusion. She looked around, as though she was lost, finally reaching to put the lighter in her jeans pocket, only to realize she was wearing a pink skirt. "What am I wearing?? Where's my jeans?"
"Jeans? You mean what Tommy was wearing? You're acting weird, Tabitha, but we should be out of here soon. Aha! I found the lightswitch."
The scream that echoed throughout the room was Amy's, as Tabitha was still trying to shake off her confusion. Amy's scream was for a very different reason than fashion choices, though. No, Amy's scream was because inside the room she saw what could only be assumed were aliens, one staring at her while hovering, and the other falling to the ground, with a spaceship crashed down behind them. The second creature hit the ground and laid still as if stunned.
In the moment of surprise, Amy looked up and saw the large hole in the ceiling where the ship must have crashed down. Amy wondered why the room had been so dark a moment ago, despite the sunlight that was pouring in from the hole above them. She decided the aliens were a higher priority, though, and that the darkness was a mystery that would have to be solved later.
The alien that was still flying turned away from the door and went into the spaceship, making a humming noise as it flew. "Do you come in peace?" Tabitha called out to it from the hallway.
"Tabitha, do you really expect them to speak English? Even on Earth that isn't the most common language," Amelia said, growing frustrated that Tabitha didn't seem as afraid as she was.
"Oh. Umm... habla espanol?" Tabitha tried.
"Are you kidding me?? They're from another planet, Tabitha. They -"
Amelia's rant was interrupted by a mechanical whine that quickly grew into a dull roar before regulating into low whistle. Then the machine came into view. The bee-like entity from before was back, but now was riding a contraption that looked a bit like an octopus pretending it was a spider. It had eight appendages around a central bubble, and the bee-thing was inside of it. Most of the arms looked like fairly normal hose, but a few had weird tips at the end of them, or held tools.
The octopodium had a lumbering walk, like it wasn't used to getting around that way. It stopped about thirty feet from the door to the hallway, which was about midway from the spaceship. One of the arms rose about three feet off of the ground and began reaching for Amy. It looked a bit like barbecue prongs to Amy, but it was more squarish, and the material was thicker.
"Amy, what's it going to do with that tuning fork?" Tabitha said while the appendage continued to inch forward.
"What makes you think it's a fork? For all we know that's a death ray, communicator, medkit, and toilet paper all-in-one. Your guess is as good as mine."
"Well, I'm pretty sure it's a tuning fork," Tabitha re-emphasized. The arm, tuning fork or otherwise, seemed to have come as far as it needed, and stopped just ten feet from the two students. It flicked the ground like a whip with the strange instrument once, then the arm zipped back to the octopodium.
The tuning fork continued to make noise, and the bee-creature looked through it at the two young girls, first Tabitha, then Amy. After it peered at Amy for just a moment, all eight of its arms moved in a blur, then the entity turned, climbed on top of the spaceship, then reached and pulled itself out of the basement.
Amy began walking towards the spaceship, but Tabitha ran to the fallen alien. She picked it up and cradled it in her arms as though it was a baby, her hands resting on its chin.
"Tabi! What are you doing? It's probably dangerous!"
"I'm checking it for a pulse, I think it's hurt."
"Tabitha, they could want to kill us. This could be the start of an invasion or something. I mean, seriously, you saw that eight-legged thing that was just here! That did not look like something you wear to meet with friendly neighbors. Or what if it's poisonous or something?"
"Oh! I found its pulse! Well, I mean, I think I did. It stutters a bit. It must have been hurt when it crash landed or something, it's bleeding!" Tabitha was shouting now, upset at the small creature's suffering, even if the cut was little. "We need to help it, Amy," Tabitha continued while trying to staunch the bleeding.
"We don't know anything about its anatomy or biology. We'd do more harm than good. And since you didn't get it the first time, I'll say it again. It might not be friendly. As in, it might want to kill us. Do you understand that, Tabitha?"
"What I understand is that you're too afraid of it to help. You'd rather let it die than even risk it, even if it is friendly. I can't. I can't have that on my conscience. I need to wash out its cut. So if you're not going to help, just sit down and stay out of my way."
Amy didn't feel at all like sitting, and she definitely didn't want to get out of Tabitha's way, but it felt as if someone else had control of her body. She didn't even feel the pain in her left leg as her knees bent and she plopped down on the ground while Tabitha barrelled straight into the ship. Amelia did not like that at all! She tried to calm herself down, thinking to herself, "It's just a weird fluke. Whatever. Go get Tabitha before she does something stupid." She tried to get up, but still couldn't move. Even her jaw felt like it was wired shut, so she couldn't call out for help.
That put Amelia into full temper tantrum. Normally she would be flailing, screaming, flailing, sobbing, wailing, and a lot more flailing (yes, Amelia's temper tantrums involved that much flailing). But there was no flailing, the sobs were muffled by her closed jaw, the only thing making it clear it wasn't just a statue were the tears rolling down her cheek and the rise and fall of her chest while she cried. She imagined herself as it should have been, punching the air and floor, rocking back and forth, and she felt the concrete below her lurch, causing her to roll.
When she hit the next slab and slid to a stop, Amelia winced at the pain and let loose a string of curses at the concrete that has just bucked her off. Her hands went to her mouth, still cursing as it was, unable to believe it was doing something it had done so many times before. And then her hands, oh her hands! Amy couldn't contain her glee at being able to control her body again. The lack of control was the single scariest thing she'd ever faced. Even worse than anything she'd been through at home, and that was saying something. Her victory dance, she thought to herself, was just to make sure everything was moving like it should. Amy looked at the crooked concrete from where she was. It wasn't damaged, per se, it just looked like one side had risen about a foot.
Amy looked back at the spaceship, not knowing what to expect inside, but knowing she couldn't abandon Tabitha.