Saving a Superhero

20: Real World+Alarms

I feel like this needs a little clarifications as this scene shows a big change between drafts. Originally none of the girls knew what their powers were or how to use them. That's why this scene doesn't really fit. My apologies.

By the time I found my way back into the lobby, Grace was sitting on the couch by herself. Her face was drained of color and her mouth was gaping open wide enough to catch a few flies if she stayed still long enough.

"Harper's gone." I paused, trying to think of the most delicate way to break the news. "She's not coming back." Okay, maybe delicate wasn't in my vocabulary.

"So are Kennedy and Rory. Kennedy has finals and Rory-" Her voice broke. Out of all of us, her and Rory had been the closest from the beginning. If she deserted her, then nothing was going to mend that wound. "Rory said she didn't sign up for this." Grace wiped away a tear with a rough hand.

My gut twisted. "We can't do this without them."

"I know everything's easier with all of us, but maybe-"

I breathed in a deep breath, held it for one, two, three, four seconds, and released. Four seconds of contemplation and a lifetime of regret, that's all I was good for. "That's not what I mean. Harper made a point. None of this bothered us when we were separated. Maybe we'll get lunch together sometime, but for now it's time to return to the real world."

My hand rested on her shoulder, consoling her, for half a second. "See you around, Grace. Try not to get kidnapped again soon." I couldn't even manage a smirk, but one corner of Grace's lips lifted in a quick, tight lipped smile.

And then I picked up my duffle bag and reentered the real world.

The real world happened to be a metro terminal as I waited in line with my ticket. The underground--sheltered from the rain and providing a warmth full of humans, but warmth nonetheless--was bustling with life. A quick scan of my ticket, walking through the turnstile, and then I was navigating the tunnels to catch the northbound train.

Maybe Jenna and Josie would know what to do. Maybe they would if I could tell them what really happened. Instead, they would ask if I was okay--which I wasn't--and I would say I was fine, because no one wants to hear about what's really wrong. Then they would hug me and give me notes from class and show me the work schedule next week and we'd try out the newest recipe and I'd go back to being a culinary student.

There were no empty seats in the car, so I took my place, standing with a dozen people I'd never seen before and would never see again. And then we were cruising through the tunnels with a jerk and I was leaving the past behind me even though I'd promised to remember it not two hours earlier.

Remember.

What an interesting concept, especially when I couldn't remember a fair portion of my high school years, which would be considered a blessing if I had miraculously forgotten all the low points of the four years--like the time I puked in the middle of the dance floor after going to homecoming by myself freshman years, definitely a moment I'd like to forget.

Instead I had forgotten important pieces of who I was. Who I am.

My eyes fell shut, taking comfort in the foggy memories that played such a big part in my life.

I shook my metaphorical fists at the metaphroical fog. Stupid forgetting, I shouted in my head, the words thundering through my skull and shaking my bones. With my meatphical fist I pounded on the fog. It looked like one way glass that was bent on hiding the other room from me, forcing me to take a look at myself.

But I'd studied myself for twenty years in this interrogation chamber, and I was done.

Again I pounded on the foggy glass and something miraculous happened. It didn't shatter in a spray of deadly shards that floated in the air like sequins, but it cracked. A thin line spread from bottom to top and, for once, I remembered.

The images didn't come until much later, when I fell asleep in the early hours of the morning after everything that would transpire that day, but, while standing in the crowded car of the Baltimore metro, I heard memories that I'd never heard before.

"What does it matter if we remember any of this? Without all of us, we're practically useless."
A heavy sigh that couldn't belong to anyone else but Kennedy. "If we remember everything we're vulnerable and powerless."

"But we aren't perfectly safe without the memories."

And then, there was my voice, cutting through the fog. It was a weird experience, hearing your voice say things you can't remember saying. Part of you was certain that it couldn't be you, but then there was the subconscious voice in your mind whispering that of course it was you, who else would it be?

"Whatever we decide, that's what I'll do."

And then the crack in the glass sealed, but not before I knew what I had planned and what everyone agreed to.

With the realization, my eyes flew open and I was hurtling toward the floor of the car.

Around me, alarms pounded against my senses and red lights burned holes in my eyes. Between the flashes of light, darkness crept closer and closer, like it was moving in on me, stalking its prey. A million and a half thoughts ran through my head, solutions that were both possible and impossible, but then I reminded myself of what I'd said earlier: with Hudson, nothing was impossible.

And with Juliet, I was going to make sure no impossible situation was going to get in my way of living through the day.

Through the ongoing torture of every sense I had, I wobbled to my feet, pushing against the empty seat next to me to raise myself off the dirty floor. Dust and general yuck stuck to my palms as I got up off the floor.

My legs were still wobbling beneath me and I clutched at a pole to pull myself upright. With measured, careful movements, I wiped one hand at a time on my pant legs, trying to clear off the gritty layer on my sweaty palms.

Aside from the blaring alarm, there was only silence. Maybe not the deep silence found in the middle of the woods or, more accurately, on the moon, but there was still the heavy presence of nothing but the hum of the city and the buzz of electricity in the tracks. There was the oppressive weight of no human voices.

That, of course, was a strange sound in the middle of blaring alarms and dizzying lights.

When I managed to open my eyes, which was quite the effort without going crazy, I found that the car that had previously been full of enough people that I'd been forced to stand was now empty.

The lights pulsed behind my eyes for a few more irritating seconds until I had a brilliant idea.

Gathering all of the focus that wasn't diverted to the lights, I began to imagine the normal silence of a city. No voice, no alarms, just the hum of life that buzzed through the air.

A headache brewed in the front tip of my brain, but I pressed through it, not sure if it was due to the alarms or overexertion.

The alarms aren't going off. They shouldn't be going off. My reality is right.

I repeated my chant over and over, trying to persuade the universe that I was right.

Then, after a headache that threatened to put me writhing on the ground like a bug on its back, the noise dimmed before finally disappearing.

Remember: My reality is right.

-m burton