The trouble in her eyes were more than evident. Trembling, her arms clasped into embracing her shivering knees. It was cold yet the morning light seeped through the windows. She was unable to get enough sleep. No, she didn't felt any sleep coming the whole night. She gazed away from the eyes that probed her mind. Burning yellow, the rose reflected light like it will never wilt. The sight reminded her of the figure that saved her from the hungry flames. The thought was like hell on earth, every time she tried to remember everything again from a single question.
"What happened back there, Heather?"
A dark man with graying hair asked the question one more time in his brown blazer. He had his eyes fixed on her as he sat on a stool beside her reclined bed.
Heather's eyes were filled with fear. It was an obvious detail that remained constant in the last 9 minutes the two inspectors had asked the girl with the question.
"Heather, you have to tell us something, we understand that this is a tough time for you but there are a lot of people out there who lost important persons in their lives, and just like you they are searching for answers. You can be of help to them, Heather." His sincerity showed compassion in every word he said. But it wasn't enough to break the thoughts of the girl to her own.
"Ms. Van Aalderen needs more time, Randall. We would have to return when she is ready." the other inspector that stood by near them placed his hand on the dark man's shoulder.
"Listen to me, Heather. We are here to help you, any simple detail is going to be very significant to our investigation, if you can at least tell us anything, anything that you saw at that moment..." the dark man insisted. His colleague tugged his shoulders for him to back off but his hand was brushed off as the man lunged forward to ask her one more question, "Did you see anything... like lights?"
Heather caught eyes with the inspector, breaking her stare at the blank point in the air. The lights. The dark man had a look of relief upon gaining a reaction from the girl. In his mind he claimed, I knew it. I knew it.
"Randall?!" the other inspector's eyes grew wide as he pulled the dark man away from the girl. "It is obvious Ms. Van Aalderen would need some more time before we can obtain any necessary information. Now, move away from the girl." His strength came from the brutish physique he had, pulling Inspector Randall away from the witness. Both of the inspectors looked back at the girl who now had her hands wiping the tears on her cheeks.
"We'll have to talk to you again Ms. Van Aalderen when you're ready, I hope by then we would be able to hear your story. Thank you and have a good day" He pushed the dark man out of Room 705 along with him. Once outside, the brute man pulled Inspector Randall by the collar, "What is wrong with you? How far are you from her for you not to notice that the girl still hasn't recovered from what happened to her and her father? You do not suggest her answers insignificant to what we're trying to solve here"
"It's all over the news, Murph. Something strange went on in that intersection. Press will be swarming the survivors any moment, it is best we get to the information first. Didn't you see the clip? There were strange lights rising from the flames."
"This is not going to be another 9/11, Randall, so stop obsessing about your alien invasion fantasies when we're at work, I suppose you know that when you're at work we're supposed to do your job. Now do your job like your wife and try not to give attention to the tigers at your neighborhood."
921Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡdN1Ka5D0zh
***
Another busy morning. Another day that only seemed to blur every truth that might have been spilled. A few miles from the hospital, the ash stricken intersection has began to be a depressing early morning scene for every car that passed by the rerouted directions around it. Police Line Do Not Cross. They were strapped along barriers and street posts, circling the center of the burnt and erased X spot, almost 70 feet in radius. Totally wrecked, the huge gas truck was already towed out of the area after photos have already been documented for evidence. 19 other cars that were unfortunately part of the explosion were moved one by one using tow trucks. With an overturned bus left at ground zero, shades of black and gray covered most parts of the intersection, with an occasional spark of sunlight from glass shards on the street from the broken windows of the nearby buildings. The intersection crumbled from the center that branched to a spread of lines like veins.
In his uniform, Dr. Pearson knelt down on one knee and touched the dark line on the road just outside the yellow line. It was like trace from a blaze of fire, a large stroke of a matchstick. As his finger dipped into the soft ash it felt as if the flames struck the tip of his nail. He held his hand in shock, it felt so real, but his mind was only playing tricks on him, he claimed. Looking up, he found a young man looking over the remains of the accident. He wore a thin tanktop and a beanie, his black jeans were on low rise, he had a black jacket on his arm. The words Live, God-free were tattooed on his chest. Odd as it was, the look on his face was blank. Slowly, he walked the opposite direction, every step getting further from the doctor's view until he was out of sight, lost among the people that hurried on the sidewalks. It was the direction toward the hospital.
Standing up, he blocked the view of wannabe photojournalists who were taking pictures like it was some tourist spot. He walked back to his SUV parked on the side of the road.
921Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡt6AUIgFOVX
***
With arms crossed, Damien stood a few feet away from the television. On his side was the girl who was eager to see what was displayed on the flat flickering surface of the screen. It was the early morning news. At this time of the day, they should be having their breakfast, but the report was too hyped to ignore. Eyes glued toward the clip the reporter carelessly reacts to while on live television, Damien squinted.
Replayed over and over was an amateur video that has been soaring in hits, an overnight sensation that topped all trending topics in different websites. Close encounter. Zoomed into focus on some guy wearing a dinosaur hoodie walking down the sidewalks, the clip suddenly cuts immediately to a devastated intersection where the flames rose up almost over 16 feet high. The air was filled with black smoke covering the entire frame of the shot. Steadily, the frame moved as it observed the wrecked cars merged into one napalm but what appeared next was the talk of the town.
Inside the thick black smog were lights that looked like lightning bolts creeping through every empty space possible to fill in. Like veins, the lights cracked out of the dust. All of a sudden, it brightened up and took off like a rocket, the smoke swirled in its trail as it vanished into thin air. Rewind. Play. Pause. In a blurred still image, the light formed an 'M', with lines on both sides spread like two large wings.
Wings. The word echoed through Heather's head as the reporter speculated. 38 million hits.
In no time, Damien had his computer along with him, opened up the browser to check the clip for himself. It wasn't hard to find. The clip was even on the front page of well-known news websites. It was entitled, "Mysterious Sighting on Intersection Crash?"
Now with 47 million hits on its latest update.
Watching it the second time but now with full control as to what part of the video he would like to see most, he pounded on his finger on the pad and the clip was sent to a halt. Pointer tracing back in a drag, the clip restarted. Smoothly until a sudden jump in shots. Repeating his process a third time, he had his face inches from the crystal screen. He turns up the volume as the shot on the second part of the clip played. "No way." Damien whispered to himself. "What is it?"
"This clip isn't a combined file of two shots. It's a single take cut in half. It was edited, as if the guy who took this, took something out."
"Why do you think so?"
"Look at this, the clip starts off as calm, he follows this guy then all of a sudden the shot changes to this devastated intersection."
"He accidentally turned off the camera when the crash happened right before his eyes, Damien, he was startled" Heather countered with her first impression.
"Exactly. But in this...he wasn't. The grip on the frame was as steady as if it was mounted on a rolling tripod. If he was startled when the crash happened a few feet in front of him, he should be having shaky hands enough to call Cloverfield part 2. Right now as he tries to capture the moving flames, shouldn't we be hearing a single, 'Oh my God' or any reaction from the guy who just got a VIP ticket to a gas truck's demise? No, he was silent. And you know what creeps me out? It's as if he knew the crash is going to happen and he went there just to make his very own short film."
The thought lingered in her mind. She watched the clip over again as if she was in there taking the video of her own disaster. It was painful to watch. It reminded her of the flames that swallowed her body as she let the force throw her into the air. Damien looked into her eyes. It reminded her of the calming presence she felt as her winged vigilante held her close in his bare arms. Somehow, she felt troubled.
The two of them walked down the morning halls of the hospital. Intent on making a visit to Heather's dad who is now kept on a private room, the pace of their walk was faster than usual. The sun was nowhere in sight inside the enclosed walkways, no window to invite the light in, only with synthetic lights were the corners of the halls illuminated. There was no telling if it was day or night in this set up, only the clocks at the front desk of each floor held the authority over time. With Heather leading the way, Damien kept on babbling about what he just realized from watching the popular clip.
"Live-God-Free" He thought out loud one of the things that was on his head.
Hearing the term, Heather went to a full stop, staring at the broken tile on the floor. There was a ring in the bell. Leveling on her side, Damien stopped to check if she's okay. With just a look he asked her, What's the matter?
"What did you say?" she asked.
"What...what did I say? Live-God-Free?" He clarified. A nod was enough for him to explain himself, "...it was the registered username of the one who posted the crash video. I checked his stats, he posted the clip on the same day as the accident, with no display photo, age unknown, location unknown and the worst part is, his Recent Activity indicates that it's a new account and that video is registered as his first. I don't know how it got spread out real fast, but I think he might be some hacker or just about any privileged computer junkie. Yahoo! News certainly brings in a good amount of views"
Names, names. She was never good at this. Most of her highschool life was spent on average. Only average. No wild partying, yet no group study. Most of the time she would walk the corridors alone, minding her own business. But there was this guy who always had his eyes piercing through hers as she passed by the lockers. That awkward feeling of finding out you were both looking eye to eye only to turn away yet with another glance you would still be in each other's eyes. It bothered her. More bells rang. How could she forget? That phrase. She has seen it before. That guy.
"Ms. Van Aalderen?"
She heard someone call her name. It was a nurse from the front desk of the 7th floor. Both of them approached the nurse with the sweet voice.
"You have a call, it's from your brother" the nurse said as they walked toward her. Brother?
You have a brother? Damien shot a look at her. She could only give back a confused look. No.
There was a sudden ache in her heart as it panicked. Who is this caller pretending to be an inexistent relative? Someone from the press who just wants to juice the story out of her? Highly unlikely. She can just hang up if that's the case. The image of her rescuer flipped back into her mind in a split second. Her heart raced. Could this be him?
Quickly, she grabbed the cordless phone but just as she was about to hold the phone next to her ear, she felt the warmth of the hand that gripped her own. Damien gave her that Be Careful nod. The cold surface of the phone brought tingles to her bare right ear. Before she could even speak, the voice on the other end of the line took over. "I know you want answers. Surprise Heather, I've got them. Even before the accident."
"Who is this?" She gulped her words as the beat of her heart thumped outside her chest. Even before the accident. Those last few words went on repeat in her head.
"Eleven, cross the lane at the back of the hospital. I will be on the other side. I'll be expecting just you. Just you. And honey, you might wanna bring an umbrella."
"What makes you think I would..." Furious she replied but the answer was a dialtone. "Hello?". He hanged up. Breathing in deeply, her grip on the phone tightened. Somehow, she felt as if something is at work, that she might be facing something greater than what she has seen.
"Who was it?" That calming voice asked. The troubles in her thoughts were silenced like one alarming blow from a whistle. "I don't know..."
"The one who took the video? The shrink? Or that thing that saved you?" Questions have piled up without a single piece to connect them together. As she handed over the phone back to the nurse at the front desk, she heard her say something about her father being transferred to a private room but the questions in her head blurred every possible decibel that might get into her ears.
Noise. It whirred across the hall. There was emergence in the look of the nurses rushing to a certain room with an open door down the long hall of the floor. Heather and Damien's eyes met. Holding her hand, Damien dragged her along with him as they followed where the nurses were headed. Room 722. She felt her feet planted on the cold tiles when she saw the view from outside the room, her father violently shaking as Dr. Pearson and two male nurses held him down. She pushed herself in but the nurses held her back, telling her to calm down and that they've got everything under control. From the looks of it, they haven't.
The loud rumbling of steel rattled through the closed doors of the room. Voices in distress slipped through the slightest opening possible. No one knows what was going on inside. No. She saw it clear in her eyes, her father fighting back to life.
I know you want answers. Surprise, Heather. I've got them.
Springing up from her seat, Heather walked away from the door and headed straight down the hall. "Hey, where are you going?" worried, Damien jumped up from his seat and tried to follow her but she said, "Stay with my dad, I have somewhere I need to be". Her voice deepened in a command. Unflinching, she headed for the elevator which coincidentally opened the moment she stepped right in front of it. Her eyes were fixed at her own reflection that immediately split in half as the doors slid open. Groundfloor was busier. People walk in and out of halls. Some come in wheelchairs either being pushed by a relative or a young nurse. The indistinct chatter of the patients filled the area. Clutching the side of her hospital dress, she braved the cold surface of the granite floor.
Headed for the back of the hospital where not a lot of people go through, she found her first obstacle. The investigators, Randall and Murph were there having a friendly discussion with security. To her right was the emergency exit, with almost no one making the turn for the door. Think. She glanced up back to the elevators a few feet away from her, the clock claims that it's 10:56AM. Think faster. Observing the movement of each person passing by her as she froze still on the same spot, she noticed the devices attached to the ceiling. The Alarm.
Smoothly slipping herself in unnoticed, she pulled the lever and at the same moment, the loud wailing was pronounced. In an instant the chatter turned into a rumble as people started to move in panic. Security directed the people to stay calm yet no one would listen at first try. It's an opportunity, most of the security personnel has left their post to attend to the number of people that might run over each other across the halls. Perfect, the two inspectors have joined in to assist in the brief chaos.
With almost a clear exit, she walked briskly trying not to catch attention for herself. Through the clear glass doors of the hospital, she found for herself her next obstacle, a few reporters, journalists and their cameramen, fully equipped. They were scattered just outside the exit, taking a break and noticing the alarms wailing off inside. Some of them barged inside with the lack of security present, just to get a scoop on the internal fuss. With this, she angled her face away from the incoming reporters as they passed by her. There were more reporters just outside the exit doors flung open wide. At the guard's desk there was a single umbrella left on the side rack. Umbrella. Thinking quick, she grabbed the umbrella with both hands and opened it as soon as she got a step to the open doors, strategically covering her face. She walked without knowledge of what's ahead of her, all she cared about at that very moment was to get past the viewfinders.
Step by step she poised her way out of the glass doors and to the open field of reporters and passers-by. Strategically covering her face with the waterproof screen, she got past one, two...three and four cameras with ease. Looking down to her feet and following the lines on the floor, she found her next step to be the danger that is the road. With a flick of the umbrella, she gazed her way forward to see a man waiting at the end of the pedestrian lane. Red Man and cars dashed through, blurring her view of the man every second. His image was smudged like paint on canvass every time a single vehicle went by on speed. Green Man and cars halted to a brake to give way, clearing the increasing horizontal lines on the road.
She braved the cold ground with her bare feet, passing through the thick white marks on the road. There was a sudden panic in her heart as she thought to herself, I don't even know who this guy is. What if he's just another reporter, a private investigator or a madman, one of the relatives of the victims of the incident. Clutching tight on the umbrella, she moved forward without looking back. The number of bars in sight is dwindling, the ledge of the sidewalk can already be seen. Cars honked at her, one, two and three concerned horns as they watched a barefoot girl in a hospital dress cross the lane. Attracting attention, all eyes gazed at her state. Footsteps. More footsteps. They rumbled from behind her. Quickening her pace, she kept her hold on her umbrella as if it was about to be blown by the wind at any time. Right. Left. Right. Left. That sudden panic escalated into a different source, no longer does she care about what is in front of her, what matters is that she get to the other side. With one final step, she got her right foot on the gutter.
One tight grip on her arm got her up on the sidewalk. He had warm hands, she thought to herself as she let him drag her swiftly away from harm. The red light highlighted the standing man icon and cars carried on with the road. He unrelentingly held her arm, guiding her through a slur of people going against their way. They barged inside a small refreshment bar and walked straight without making any eye contact with those that looked at them in curiosity. Forward, he opened the door at the end of the hall and in came the morning light from the other side. Now on a different street, they continued on walking.
Turning to one entrance of tall blue building that reflected the rays of the sun harmlessly, Heather found herself getting uncomfortable being held by the man. She tried to struggle yet his grip told her to trust him. They walked past a lobby where there are hardly any people. Straight for the elevator, the pair waited before the decreasing numbers. With the shutters opened, they went in and she watched the man press the floor with the highest number. 11.
She has not looked at his face yet but they stood side by side. He handed her his black jacket when he noticed that she was embracing herself from the cold. "Where are we going?" she asked yet no answer was given to her. Once on the topmost floor, they passed through narrow halls then found the emergency exit. Going up the stairs to a steel door, she followed the man as he opened the door to the light of the morning sun. The rooftop.
The winds blew stronger and the light was toned down as the clouds hovered in below the view of the sun. The man walked toward the edge of the rooftop and stopped at the safety ledge. He turned to her and gave her a smile. At last, she saw entirely what he looked like. He looked young, with the tattoo Live God Free on his chest. His name was Michael. Yes, he was the same guy who went to her high school. She knew from his smile that he knows that she recognizes him. "What are we doing here?"
"I just had to make sure that we're going to be alone when you hear me out. At this very moment they are looking for you" with a considerable amount of distance, the guy spoke knowingly about everything. That confidence bugged Heather's understanding.
"They? Who are they?"
"Patches..." he answered shortly. With a growing disbelief, Heather could not say a word. "...you are currently off their radar, you're out of the alignment of the path, this is where they come in to patch things up." He knew she wouldn't understand what he was saying, he wasn't surprised, until now he's puzzled himself.
"You said you have answers. You knew the accident was going to happen. How? What is going on? What is happening to my dad?" there was an obvious crack in her voice, like she was about to break into tears. "I need those answers now!"
"The answer is right here" he pointed over the ledge, down the height that they were on. People and cars passed by like ants following an endless trail. It was a rather amusing view to watch all of these people living their everyday lives passing into each other. A man on a bike who suddenly loses his balance and the good man who helped him up, a socialite on the phone as her windblown scarf gets rubbed off on a little boy's face as they went past each other, a man about to lose his temper waiting in line for the phone. They were all individuals.
"Look at the crowd below, Heather. Have you ever walked on these places? Have you seen the same people? Now let me ask you one thing... how many of those people do you think are real people?"
The question hit right into her heart as it pounded faster.
"How many of those are really there walking by the streets? They're there because your mind tells you that this is a crowded place" He continued. "What if those people were actually beings aside from humanity, beings that are among us but we never really notice because we keep telling ourselves this is normal, this is what we're used to seeing every day, this is what we've been waking up to every single morning of our lives. If these beings that pretend to be people blend into the crowd, what are they up to? Why are they here?" He asked in a deep tone.
Heather watched a thief slip his hands in haste to grab a woman's purse. The woman screamed and the people moved aside from the ruckus. From afar a speeding blue car rushes down the road as it moved freely without any other cars along its way.
"Have you ever felt something like some stranger was able to save you from anything that may have happened to you if you get into the same spot at the expected time? Those people that we bump into the pedestrian lane, that asshole that sneaked in line ahead of you, the beggar you gave alms to, the screaming landlady that made your head turn, even the bird that hit your window. How thankful are you that you were late for something because of these things. Did they really happen to real people, are they real people with actual lives that only affected your course, or are they beings nobody knows about because at the most inappropriate time we don't care about the things around us that don't really matter."
The thief was about to run across the street and meet his end but then a homeless man pushing his cart tripped the thief sending both of them rolling on the street with all of the supplies flying in the air. The car went past them inches from slicing their heads off. Trying to get up from his concussion, the thief gets held by the police and the crowd were all gathered to watch the scene. The homeless man stood up brushed his dirty clothes and walked into the crowd. Before he disappeared into the sea of people, he caught eyes with Heather. She almost fell back when she saw this. But what shocked her most was when the homeless man returned the purse to woman, the woman shot back a glance at her as well.
"They are among us. They are watching our every move. They don't care who you are or what you've done. To them, we're merely pieces in the game. Life as it is. They can choose to make things happen to keep you alive. It's a game they've been playing for so long, they succeed. How do you feel now that you realize that our actions are only brought about by unseen and inevitable governance. Do you have a choice? Do we have a choice?"
"What if they fail?"
"Then death comes immediately." He answered, "Our life depended on their actions"
Getting a grip of what's happening, another question popped up in her head, "Then why am I alive?"
With one deep breath he answered, "I can ask myself the same thing"
"Someone saved me. I don't know what it was but I know for sure it felt human. Yet I don't believe anyone could be there at that time. It had wings. He was beautiful. He's an.. he's..."
"An angel."
She looked up to him to verify what she just heard him say. An angel.
"What happened was an intervention... it's not allowed. No. No, it's not allowed. If the Patches failed then death is in the Will. No other force is allowed to intervene."
"What are you saying?"
"That was the error. That was the error. Now I know." His voice sounded of relief, as if he was able to complete the missing piece from a puzzle he's been trying to solve for the longest time. While Heather tried to understand her situation. She felt in her heart that sudden fear. She thought to herself, she didn't come here to get an answer, he led her here to get an answer for himself. Slowly, she pulled back. Taking her steps lightly while watching the man who has his eyes closed in thought.
With one step, she felt someone behind her. With one step, she felt free from her fears.
ns 15.158.61.20da2
