The boy righted himself, his head pounding as he slowly came to. Everything felt twisted, reversed somehow and his hands trembled with a nervous energy. He coughed hard, before flashes of memories passed through his mind. Hearty laughter – his own, a impassioned cry of fury for a name he didn’t recognise, and a fallen building far beneath him.
It was strange and hard to understand. The moments were memories, his own but not his own. It felt like looking through the eyes of another.
“Shit kid, you ok?” a voice said. The boy looked up confused, his mind still foggy. He shook his head violently, dispelling the dreariness before pounding himself in the temple with a fist. The pain centred him and his eyes focused on the man in front, ski mask and all.
“Yeah”
“Good. I thought one of the cops got you” the man said, pulling away from the boy. “Now quick, help us load this shit into the van before Spider-Man shows”
The boy nodded and stood, starting after the man. As he did so he heard the sound of sirens in the distance. An almost debilitating ecstasy brought about by the thrill of danger washed over him, brining a grin to his face. But there was something else too. He felt strong. Really strong.
An immaterial weight crackled beneath his finger tips, the manifestation of his ecstasy. His smile widened underneath his mask as one thought passed through his mind.
Today’s gonna be a good day
-
Gwen stared at the scanning chamber, Rosita at her side. They both remained silent as they stared at it, the bitter nature of the situation all too present in their minds. The tube had been moved from the wall and lay horizontal to the floor, steady beeps emitting from the monitor connected to it in a constant rhythm. A heartbeat.
Lucas lay inside. Not her Lucas, the lost one from the second universe she was so desperately trying – and failing – to understand.
She glanced down at the monitor and parsed over the readings again. Given what she’d figured out over the last two days, they weren’t good. They were terrible, far worse than they should’ve been at this stage.
The very forces that made him up, ones that didn't belong in this universe were decaying. That was her best assessment, and really only a crude summary of things she didn't understand. Things she couldn't understand. Not without more info.
She glanced back to Cindy who sat on the gurney in the first aid section, wrapped up in bandages dotted with spots of crimson.
A part of Gwen - the scientist - wanted to ask questions, to figure out exactly what happened down to the minutest detail. But the human part of her knew that’d be wrong. Cindy was stressed enough, she didn't need Gwen grilling her for any and all info.
She turned back to the chamber, taking in Lucas 2. She studied him, and watched as he glitched again, unidentifiable shapes and edges spilling from his form, the outline of his body almost indistinguishable from the rest of the universe, yet so clearly different. Then he was normal again, fast asleep like nothing had happened. But Gwen knew what the glitching meant.
Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.
Cellular decay.
Every time the glitches happened, part of him died. Small clumps of cells. In the hair, the skin, the lungs. Everywhere and anywhere. And it was getting more frequent, more violent, the clumps of cellular decay growing bit by bit. If she didn’t do anything, if he stayed here, like this, he was going to die. Of that, she was certain.
She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. It’d taken her nearly three full days just to figure out what the problem was, and now she had only one to solve it.
Great. Just fucking great.
She released the nervous tension from her bunched-up shoulders and focused, calming herself. Every second she spent complaining was a second wasted. She needed to focus on saving him. Her brow furrowed. There were only really two options. Get him out of here – back to his world, or stabilise his condition. Both equally as impossible right now.
Her brow furrowed further and she felt the wrinkles the action caused etch into her skin. She released her brow and rubbed at her forehead lightly as she stared at the mess in front of her. It was at times like this she wished Peter were still here. She scrunched up her face in frustration, and turned away from the monitor, her footsteps echoing lightly through the empty space.
“Where’re you going?” Rosita called out to her.
“Back to that school. I need to check out that loft again. It’s important somehow” she responded.
“I’ll come” Rosita said.
“No. Stay here. Watch Cindy and Lucas”
“Come on, I can help"
"Rosita"
"Emi’s nearly finished with clean-up. She can w-”
“Just watch them, ok?” Gwen said curtly.
Rosita scowled but nodded, crossing her arms. Gwen turned away and threw off her lab coat, then pulled on her mask. In a smooth, dancelike motion she leapt forward and fired a web, shooting up and out of the roof hatch. She landed on the roof and paused, the cool summer night’s air washing over her.
She always forgot how nice the view from up here was. It felt nice to appreciate it, if even for a moment. Though any longer would be wasteful. She cracked her neck then turned on her suits GPS.
It was time to get to work.
-
Lucas’ dreams were filled with darkness.
An endless sea of darkness, fear and emotion. He’d been feeling good for a while, well most of him at least. The life he’d built around himself had distracted him from the scars he bore. But that was over now. Because of the memories.
The unease. The fear. The darkness that hid his monster. His best and only friend, drenched in her own blood as he'd held her. Her scream, a desperate cry for life, for help, that would not come. Then the endless cackling.
The sounds alone were enough to hurt him.
But that wasn’t the worst of it. The scars were simply newer and completely his own. But the emotions ran deeper. To a place he’d tried to forget a long time ago.
The screech of tires. Screams. The sound of his father crying out. Fire. That raging and burning fire he’d never, never be able to forget. The fear and the running. The running had come so easily.
Then it was different, mild flashes against a sea of black. His mind found peace in the quiet, but it wad only temporary. The memories returned with a force, enough to strike him in the heart, where he felt the core of their emotion.
The truancy. The power. The fun he’d had with it. The fear too. And the chaos all of it had wrought on his life. His older sister blaming him, yelling that it’d “All been his fault”, and the despair it’d brought. The attempts to forget. The self-hatred. The gun.
The memories were powerful, they resonated with him in a way he couldn't quite explain. He felt like he’d experienced it. Some of it he had. They were memoires, memories that were so close, so familiar, but still ones that weren’t his own.
And he knew that. He could see the disparity, feel it. But the emotions didn’t fade. The scars they'd re-opened remained. He’d been reminded. So terribly reminded.
He'd tried to forget the fire for so long now. But a part of him knew he didn't deserve to.
-
My eyes flew upon and I cried out, pushing forwards as my body righted itself. Glass shattered against my outstretched hands and a yelp sounded from off to the side as the shards exploded outward. I fell forward and crashed to the floor hard. My breathing was heavy, and sweat poured off my body, pooling onto the ground. Tears streamed down my face as my hands trembled, my dad’s shouts echoing in the back of my mind, along with the images of fire.
“Shit” I muttered, the floor cracking under my claws “Shit.”