Sometimes I’ve wondered if I would have been better off dying in the street. I would have been with my parents in Paradise. It’s a strangely light and dark thought, wishing to be with those I love and wishing to die at the same time. But my life has been dark and strange. For a long time now it’s also been very lonely. Sometimes I imagine a normal life with no wars and without the powers. Though it would mean that I’d never have met my sister. I miss her a lot. It was Donna who found me and woke me up. She gave me my third life. She helped me become human again. Well, mostly human. I was still strong, indestructible, and lived in constant fear of becoming a feral rage monster. But at least I was a person again.
For the record, Donna is not my biological sister. She was American. Parts of her family could trace their roots to African slaves brought to what would become the United States. Her parents moved from Alabama to Texas, which is where Donna grew up. It’s hard to remember some of the details. Her mother was named Lyra. I forgot her father’s name. I think there were aunts, uncles, and cousins. Donna drifted from her family as she got older. There wasn’t a particular reason. Donna described herself as kind of a social hermit. She admitted that she was horrible at keeping communication with people she didn’t see on a regular basis.
I miss my other siblings too. None of us were related by blood but to me they are family. We were not together very long. I wish I had all that time back. Maybe in another life things could have been different. Maybe there is a world where we could have all been together without the darkness and death. I like that thought.
Well, I should get on with it and tell you how Donna found me. This part of the story isn’t easy to tell. Though not because of anything to do with her. It’s not easy because it has something to do with me. The details aren’t complex. Or maybe some parts are? I don’t know. I’m stalling, sorry. I’ve told you about the things I did after my first death. Now you’ll hear firsthand about what the other me was like.
Donna was on a mission with her partner, Alex Morden. Donna and Morden worked as a Black Ops team for the Americans’ Central Intelligence Agency. On this mission they were in Syria clearing a building, going room to room, looking to capture a bomb maker. It was right at the edge of a neighborhood that had been mysteriously quite for a while. They were sent in to grab the guy and get out fast. There were quite a few armed men in the building but between Donna’s ability and the fact that Morden was a solid soldier, they made quick work. Men that stepped into the hall were met with bullets fired by Donna without her even taking time to aim. Point and shoot, she knew when and where to fire so the bullets arrived on time and on target. Donna could sense when and where things were going to happen. When she had more targets than she could handle she signaled instructions to Morden.
Donna briefly took her left hand off the forward grip of her rifle and waved two fingers at a closed door she was passing then fired two headshots killing two men coming at them from around a corner. Morden, following close behind, smoothly and quickly turned to the door and kicked it open. His weapon came up as the door swung and he fired two shots each, center mass, on the two armed men whose guns were down and not yet ready to fire. He quickly lowered the barrel of his rifle to the floor as he turned and caught back up with Donna resuming his position behind her, being careful not to flag her with his weapon. He knew his role in this situation. She took point and signaled threats. He knew her gift. He knew as long as he followed her lead, they could get in and out unharmed. They were a deadly efficient team. Up a stairwell, three more kills for Donna. At the top, she signaled a threat coming from downstairs and Morden got another kill. On the way to the target room Donna got three more and Morden got two. They stopped in front of the door. Donna lost concentration for a second and shook her head. Morden tapped her shoulder. He had an expression on his face that asked, “You good?”
She nodded her head and signaled him to move up next to her. Donna aimed her rifle at the door and Morden did the same. Donna reached over and adjusted Morden’s aim. They had done this move several times. She knew where to shoot through the door and he let her put his weapon on target. She moved her hand back to her own rifle. With her hand holding her rifle’s grip, she counted down with her fingers.
THREE...
TWO...
On ONE they both fired. Immediately after, Morden put rounds into the door lock and handle. He shifted back a step, Donna kicked in the door, and she swiftly moved into an empty room. It wasn’t supposed to be empty. Her momentary confusion was cut off when Morden put a stun gun to the back of her neck. When she started to come to, she realized that she was on the ground, her helmet, body armor, and weapon were gone, and her hands were tied behind her. Someone yanked her up by her hair and put her on her knees. The fact that she could not see or feel this moment coming was almost as frightening as the prospect of impending death. From the time she got her power to this point, she had never experienced not seeing or sensing something coming. A masked militant wearing a suicide vest held a gun to the back of her head. Her partner was sitting in a chair, sipping coffee, looking out the window at fires glowing over a moonlit city. Morden turned his head to his soon to be former partner. He was one of those guys who just naturally sounded cocky.
“You are slipping, Don. I had my doubts that this would work. But here we are.” he said.
Donna was mad as hell. She was mad at herself, mad at her partner, and mad at the whole stupid situation. This shouldn’t have ever happened. Then the situation became stranger. She tried to say something but nothing came out of her mouth. Her mouth could move like she was about to speak but nothing happened. She tried different words and phrases and was nearly able to say things, but in the end silence. When she fought harder it was as if her brain fought against her. Language was suddenly no longer available. Donna could almost feel what she wanted to say and be on the verge of saying it. But it was as if the information needed to complete those thoughts and sentences suddenly never existed. Morden seemed to enjoy the struggle as he sat there, smiling.
“The first time acting outside the plan is always jarring. You’ll get used to it.” he said.
Finally her brain unlocked and she found something to say. There were other questions, but she was unable to ask them.
“How did you do it? You couldn’t do it on your own.” she said.
Donna controlled her voice. She had to at least seem calm and keep enough control to exploit an opening if she was lucky enough to get one and able to carry it out.
“Sorry Tate. No time for chit chat.” said Morden. “No spare time anyway.”
He gulped the last of his coffee, tossed his cup out the window, and stood up.
“You have been an excellent partner and all, but your usefulness is at an end. As our counterparts in arms like to say, till Valhalla.” he said, mockingly.
He showed contempt for the saying and for Donna. Many, including herself, have used “Till Valhalla” to honor their brothers and sisters in arms. Morden was well aware of it. This was salt in the wound. He walked to the door confidently and Donna was able to let a little anger slip.
“This isn’t over!” she yelled.
He paused for a second and looked back at Donna and smiled.
“Oh sweetie, you really have no idea. Omar, Ahmed, or whatever the hell your name is, be a dear, give me twenty seconds when I exit the room, then shoot her in the head and blow yourself up. Can’t make identification too easy.” he said.
With that Morden calmly exited the room. He hummed the country song On the Road Again as he headed out. Donna was so furious that she almost missed that other little knife twist. She hated it when people used the word “sweetie” in sentences when explaining something. She found it so condescending. Whatever his name was started counting down in Arabic. The seconds ticked away with Donna’s thoughts.
20
“I can’t sense anything!”
19
“Think, dummy.”
18
“The window.”
17
“Too high up.”
16
15
“Might be survivable.”
It wasn’t.
14
13
“Gun.”
12
“Vest.”
11
“Shit.”
10
9
“I’m dead.”
8
7
“Where is that shadow coming from?”
6
5
“There’s something in the window.”
4
“It looks like death.”
3
It was death. Donna closed her eyes.
2
1
The room filled with the sounds of bodies colliding and furniture smashing. Then Donna heard something dragging on the floor so she opened her eyes. She saw a girl covered in dirt, ash, and patches of dry and not so dry blood. A twelve year old dressed in dirty, ripped and worn clothing with wild and matted hair. The feral girl picked up the badly battered body of the militant with unsettling ease and tossed it out of the window. She had a device in her hand and pushed the button on it. There was an explosion that sent dust and debris rushing through the window. The feral girl was not fazed. She dropped the remote and turned slowly to Donna. She vocalized a low growl and cautiously lowered to her hands and knees. Slowly, she crawled closer to Donna. Her dilated eyes were scanning for threats.
Donna’s growing panic in all of this was doubled by the fact that none of what was happening was supposed to happen. As the feral crept forward, Donna started to feel around the timeline gaps that she never knew existed. She needed her ability now more than ever with a monster slowly moving towards her. Fortunately there were no immediate gaps in time and Donna could sense what she needed to do.
“As-salamu alaykum.” she said.
The feral Stone Girl paused for a second then moved forward again. She sniffed the air around Donna. She could smell the gun oil and spent ammunition but didn’t see a gun. She growled.
Donna continued in Arabic, “Your parents. You can miss them now, Sarah.”
Death was not there for Donna. Donna was there for me. Neither I nor the Stone Girl had heard my name in months. She stopped… I stopped in front of Donna, completely collapsed to the floor, and started crying. Like full on ugly crying. Sobbing and gasping for air. Snot and everything. It was bad. I had been the Stone Girl for months at this point. Hearing my name opened the flood gates in my mind. My memories began to wash over the blinding rage that covered my eyes. Now I could cry again. Now I could remember who I was. I could remember my parents. I could grieve for them. Donna pulled me in and held me tight. I had forgotten what it was like to be embraced. Donna cried with me. She couldn’t see or feel the end of our road, but in that moment she could feel the love we would be there for each other and feel the pain of loss that would come years later. Donna only dwelt on those feelings for a moment. We couldn’t stay there.
“Sarah, we need to go.” she said in Arabic.
I pulled away and really looked at Donna for the first time. There was sadness in her eyes, but also kindness.
“I need you to follow me, okay?” she asked in English.
My parents had taught me English so I understood and just nodded. She took me by the hand and led me back into the neighborhood I once stalked. She didn’t bother taking her rifle, helmet, or body armor. I felt a strong aversion to going back to my feral form’s hunting ground , but I didn’t say anything. While I could never fully remember my time as a vengeful, bloodthirsty creature, I did have a sense of what I was and what I had been doing. I knew what the other me was capable of. Because the creation of my other corresponded with the emergence of my powers, I felt that she was a part of them. It meant I lived in constant fear that the monster inside of me would escape and that I would never test the limits of my abilities. No matter how much Donna tried to convince me that the monster was not my fault, I never quite forgave myself for letting her be created. It didn’t matter that the circumstance that created my other self was beyond my control. If saving a life was saving all humanity, what did all those deaths by my hands mean?
Donna led me to an abandoned house that miraculously still had running water. She searched the rooms, gathering clothes for us as I made my way to the bathroom. I stared at the shower and touched my matted hair. Donna walked by and saw me just standing there.
“Hold on.” she said.
She walked away and came back with a chair. She placed it with its back to the shower. Then she told me to sit and lean my head back. I don’t remember how long it took, but she gently washed my hair until all the dirt and blood was gone. Then Donna brought new clothes to me and told me to take as much time as I needed. She would be standing just outside the door. After we both had cleaned up and changed we found the bedroom. There were no beds, only mats. But it was good enough. She knew we were safe for the night so we could both get the rest we needed. Sometime in the middle of the night, I crawled over to Donna and snuggled up against her. She put an arm over me and we both fell asleep. The next day, we left the city that was the only world I ever knew.393Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡTOgBq9NsTb
