by Apocalyptus » Thu Nov 03, 2011 11:09 am
Sobbing, she slowly pulled herself upright. There was no danger now, at least for the moment.
It had not even begun to sink in that Jones was gone, and the contents of the trolley were still needed by the others, only a few floors away.
The full force of her grief felt like a weight she could hold off for awhile. Of course she would only need to until sunrise, but she wasn’t sure if she wanted to let it wash over her or ignore it completely until then.
She had a few hours to decide, anyway.
She pressed the elevator button again, and stepped back to take hold of the trolley handle. Where Lewis’ hands had been only minutes before.
Sighing shakily, she wheeled the trolley into the elevator. She still had her mirror, which was good.
The storms had never come this close together, but they had become more frequent with each passing week to the point where it was not wise to take anything for granted.
As the elevator rose through the floors, she focused on trying to slow her heart rate and breathing. She still hadn’t decided whether to break it to the others or not.
She stepped out onto the corridor, heading towards the open door. As things were at the moment, none of them had seen the point in keeping things locked.
Hungry sounding exclamations of joy and relief sounded as the trolley preceded her into the lounge room from the mirrored hallway.
Mirrors of all sizes and kinds were stacked up everywhere in the lounge room, reflecting the bright yellow lights into Lewis’ eyes with painful intensity.
Squinting, she could barely differentiate between the fifteen people who had gathered around her excitedly to rummaged through the loot that Jones had paid so dearly for.
"Tim-Tams, score!"
"Potatoes! Now we can make soup... and chips. I bags not cooking, you guys all know I suck as a chef."
"Oh man, soap and rice crackers; I'm in heaven!"
None of them seemed to notice her face dropping further with each remark. She decided suddenly to not tell them about Jones, reasoning that it was ultimately futile. However the next comment sorely taxed her stoic determination.
“Lewis, you even remembered to pick up that extra copper mesh! How did you know? More than that, I don’t know how you’ve been managing to go on these trips by yourself all this time. When we heard the storm start, we thought you may have been caught. At least one of us really should go with you next time we need supplies.”
It was too much. Looking into Larasati’s dark eyes and seeing the gratitude and only a little concern therein pierced her resolve and dragged a loud sob from her as she felt her face crumple.
“Lewis...?”
The concern in Larasati’s eyes deepened and the others dropped their chosen prizes back into the trolley as the realisation dawned that something was wrong. Even Brown looked up from his work, understanding and even sympathy in his eyes.
There was no way she could prevaricate the issue now.
“Larasati, it’s Jones. He’s gone.”
Confused looks were traded amongst everyone but Brown, who sat silently waiting for Lewis to continue.
“Brown was right. I haven’t gone for supplies alone once since I joined the gang here. Jones always came with me. He was the one who remembered to get the mesh for you.”
“Ha, ha. Very funny.” Teelow interjected hotly. “Just because we’re going along with Brown’s idea that we’re being chased around by lightning storms that can’t strike as long as someone’s looking at you doesn’t mean we have to humour every frickin’ piece of nonsense he decides to spout.”
“Enough, Teelow” Larasati said “Let her finish.” she turned back to Lewis “Will you tell me who Jones is?”
“You really don’t remember?”
Teelow rolled her eyes as Larasati hesitantly shook her head.
“He’s your boyfriend! You guys have been together since you were fifteen. Here,” Lewis grabbed at one of the photos that were lined up on top of one of the bookshelf that took up half one of the walls and shoved it in Larasati’s hands “Here’s a goddamn photo of you together last year at your graduation!”
“Lewis...” Farasati handed the photo back to her. In it was Farasati, looking young, happy and proud, holding the proof of a completed Bachelor in Engineering up to the camera. Standing alone.
Lewis stood speechless, looking at the photo.
Brown stood up from the desk in the corner he had been occupying “It’s what I’ve been trying to tell you people all along. It’s not just the storms. This has happened before, to all of us. It’s just the first time one of us has witnessed it since we started living here”
There were uncomfortable mutters, and Teelow forced a laugh angrily.
“Do you think Lewis is making this up, Teelow?”
“I think she’s been listening to you too much. Maybe she got confused when she was running from the storm. Sounds like one got pretty close.”
Lewis exhaled violently “You think I’m some kind of fucking idiot who makes up random people because she heard a scary story from someone else? Jones is-- was real, and the storm caught him. I tripped and looked away. God Farasati, it’s my fault. I am so--” she bit back a sob “ so incredibly sorry.”
“No use apologising now,” Brown cut in “she doesn’t even remember him. You’re the only one who does now, and even you won’t come morning. You’ll remember that you remembered a friend who was caught by a storm, but nothing else. Before that happens, I need you to tell me some things. I need his full name, where he was born or grew up, and his date of birth if you remember it”
Lewis racked her brains for the details, looking at Farasati though she knew she couldn’t help her.
“Um, Thomas... Russel Jones. I think he grew up around Brighton, and his birthday was in February 1990. Sorry I can’t be more specific”
The computer keyboard clattered as Brown hunched over it to enter what she had told him into his favoured search engines.
“Never mind, that’s got it. Here it is, under death notices in the archive database of The Brighton Leader.”
A fit of jostling broke out as everyone tried to manoeuvre themselves a clear view of the screen.
JONES, Thomas J.
14.2.1990-16.5.1995
Martha and Phillip Jones today mourn the loss of their young son Thomas, tragically taken from them at the age of 5 when he passed away in his sleep. Thomas is the third child to be lost to the Jones family, and is survived by his younger sister Emily, 3. Our thoughts and well wishes are with them at this time.
Even Teelow was silent. They all turned one by one from the computer to face Brown.
“This has been happening all over the world for at least the past year. If Lewis hadn’t seen Jones being taken, none of us, not even her would have known that he ever existed past the age of five.”
He cleared his throat.
“I saw it happen to someone close to me, I can still see it happening in my mind. My girlfriend. But I don’t remember anything about her, and I wouldn’t even know her name if I hadn’t written it down. It had all just disappeared from my mind when the sun rose the next morning. I can’t even mourn her.”
Teelow shook her head “But what do you mean, this has been happening worldwide for the past year? How do you know”
“Isn’t it obvious? The storms. According to weather reports, they are everywhere. And have been for the past year. More than that, it’s the population.”
Teelow looked confused “What about it?”
“The child mortality rate. At the moment the population is about 10 percent of what it should be at this point in history.”
Laughing incredulously, Teelow objected “But the mortality rate has been increasing for the past 40 years. Haven’t you watched the news?”
“Haven’t you realised the implications of what has happened to Jones? From what Lewis has told us Jones was one of us until about half hour ago. When the storm swallowed him his history was erased from after certain point after he reached the age of five, as far as everyone but Lewis is concerned. This has been happening on a massive scale for the past year.”
He slammed his fist down on the desk, making the equipment on his desk and the people in the room jump. “The mortality rate has reached 90% this week. We are being decimated as a species and we don’t even realise it.”
WC: 2770, deficit: 2230. Doing better tonight. Going to try to catch up further tomorrow!
E: Already noticed a glaring plothole that will need to be fixed up after November is over.
Last edited by
Apocalyptus on Thu Nov 03, 2011 11:49 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Kimra wrote:Next they'll be denying us the right to say "We'll rape your arse if you don't come to this fucken country."