Four - Natalie

For several unspoken seconds, the outside elements shouted through the open door. Her wet black hair coiled down her long, thin face, around her wide, green eyes and pale nose, and resting inside her mouth, which hung open, frozen in shock. Her skin and clothes were just as soaked, as if she had swam to our island.

Her lips quivered. “It is you, isn’t "“

Her sentence was cut short when I roughly grabbed her left arm, my right hand still holding the flickering lantern. I pulled her inside Nowhere, and spun to the left on my right heel, yanking her in the same direction. My left leg bent back at the knee, and made contact with the open door, which swung to the left, nearly closed. My left foot touched down and continued my momentum, the kitchen spinning before my eyes, until I had finished my 360 degree spin. I locked my left arm, shoving the dripping wet woman against the front door, closing it shut.

She yelped in surprise and pain, as her left shoulder took nearly the full impact on the door. I felt the most distant regret at hurting her. The small puddle of emotion was fully overshadowed by my zealous devotion to Zoey’s safety. This won’t have been the first time a pretty woman had attempted to lower my guard before her associates moved in for the kill.

Our faces were inches apart. Drops of water clung to her long eyelashes, refracting the lantern light. Her green eyes were deep, beckoning me to fall into them. Like Susan’s. A faint smell of freshly laundered linen clung to her hair and clothes. This woman wasn’t just pretty " she was beautiful. And I found myself becoming increasingly uncomfortable to be so close to her. It made me dislike her and distrust her even more.

“Who else was outside with you?” I growled, tightening my grip on her arm.

Her face twisted in pain. Fear dominated her eyes and her head shook quickly as she stammered “Just " it’s just me!”

“Don’t lie to me,” I forced my voice to remain a low growl, to not wake up Zoey. “I saw you on the beach. Who are you traveling with?”

“No " no one!” She panted. “Please, you’re hurting my arm! I’m not here to hurt you!”

My left arm very suddenly seized up. An unseen pressure, just under my armpit, pinched down like a vice. It forced my hand open, and she pulled her arm back, rubbing the spot I had squeezed.

I didn’t try to restrain her again, but neither did I move away. I stood in place, bearing down on her, keeping her backed against the door. “How can I trust you?” I finally asked.

She kept massaging her left arm. Her lips pouted, and her beauty finally became unbearable. I turned on the spot and walked deeper into the kitchen. When I turned back to face her, she remained in front of the door. A puddle of water sat at her feet, freed from fabric, skin and hair. Her eyes remained locked onto me, confusion in them. Or maybe it was fear.

“It is you, though, isn’t it?” Her tiny voice seemed much louder than it was, breaking the silence.

I lifted my arms up and dropped them to my sides again, frustrated that she wasn’t answering my question. “I don’t know. Who is it I’m supposed to be?”

“Well,” she took a step toward me, wetting still dry parts of the floor. Her eyes had grown excited, hungry. “If you are Jim Fisk, then you’re the inventor of the Light Battery.”

“Get out.” I was done talking. No good would come from this conversation. How she would even know these things didn’t matter. I took several menacing steps forward, pointing at the door behind her. “I don’t care how you got here; I don’t care where you came from, just leave now.”

“Wait, wait, wait!” she pleaded, backing against the door again. “Do you care about Izuho Higuchi?”

I stopped mid-step. She stood, braced against the door; not for fear of my advance, I realized, but in determination to stop me from opening it. The pattering sound of her dripping clothes filled the silence. The lantern swung from its handle, causing our shadows to sway from side to side.

“Who are you?” I suddenly felt like I needed to know everything about this woman. How could she know Izuho and me? She wasn’t involved in the Energy Fold Project, I would have remembered her.

She tentatively stepped away from the door again. She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders importantly, and said “My name is Natalie Hall, and I know your friend Izuho.”

My guard was down before I knew what had happened. I ran my hands over my face and through my hair. “Wait…You know him? As in, he’s alive?” I suddenly found myself standing directly in front of her again; not in a threatening way.

Natalie smiled at me and somehow managed to get even prettier. “Yes. I met him about a year ago; not too long after…” Her voice trailed off. She looked around the room uncomfortably, then looked back at me. “But he talks about you all the time! You two invented the Light Battery together!”

A deep sigh and a weak smile escaped me. That was indeed Izuho: modest to a fault. I walked back into the kitchen and motioned to one of the cramped seats at the dinner table. Natalie quickly approached the seat, leaving a smattered trail of water in her path. After she sat down, I took two water bottles from their cupboard and offered one to her. Water, at least, wasn’t something Zoey and I were running low on.

Natalie eyed the broken seal on the cap suspiciously, but only barely hesitated before opening the bottle and taking an experimental sip. There was hardly a transition between this first sip and downing the entire bottle in one go.

As Natalie nearly inhaled her water, I said “Izuho invented the Light Battery. I just helped engineer it.”

Natalie let out a sharp, heavy gasp as she finished the twenty ounce bottle. She held it out in front of her, a look of longing on her face. Or maybe regret.

I hesitated before offering her the other bottle I had taken out. She accepted it without a second thought. This time, she finished half the bottle before she stopped, apparently sated at last. She placed the bottle on the tabletop, breathing heavily.

“Thank you,” She whispered, “I had to eat like three packages of ramen before I swam over here; and I hadn’t had too much to drink before that either.”

I did a terrible job at hiding my shock. I reflexively stood up, only to be stopped halfway at an uncomfortable angle by the unmoving table and bench. I sat back down, the backs of my knees sore. “How did you get past the fish?”

Natalie held her hand out for me to see; her fingers spread wide. “I can make an empathetic connection with anything I touch. Just simple emotions or physical stimuli. If I concentrate, I can extend the connection a short distance through space.” She shivered slightly. “Luckily, I didn’t have to get that close, because the water’s actually a really efficient conductor for it.”

I stared at her for a long time. Her hair had finally stopped pouring water like a faucet, and had slowed to a steady drip. The tabletop had become quite wet. Natalie seemed just as keen to stare at me; her eyes continuously ran all over me, like I was some kind of celebrity.

Finally, my thoughts caught up with me. “Wait…How did that keep you safe?”

“Oh! Well, I can’t fabricate a feeling or emotion; it has to be something I’m personally feeling at the time. I had to eat the rest of my food in one go, so I could broadcast feeling full. They’re still just animals; they won’t eat if they’re full.”

I heard her explanation, but I had left the moment again, lost in thought. Natalie tilted her head, concern on her face. Or maybe it was confusion. “’You have one too, right? Some sort of mutation, I mean. This isn’t the first you’ve heard of it, is it?”

I forced myself to concentrate on the conversation. Something was bothering me; some half-formed thought bobbing just out of reach. My eyes refocused and I looked Natalie in the eye, though this almost made me lose focus all over again. Finally, I nodded my head. “My cells regenerate when I hit REM sleep.”

Natalie nodded in understanding. “Oh, that’s different; I haven’t heard of a mutation that regenerates before…Jim, what’s wrong?”

A separate, clearer thought filled my head: I don’t know why, but the news that other survivors had been mutated bothered me on some sort of subliminal level. “I’m not sure…I didn’t realize other people had been mutated. I guess I always assumed it was just us.”

Natalie’s eyes grew wide. She gripped her bottle tightly; the popping sound of crinkling plastic came from under her stark white fingertips. “So you WERE traveling with someone!”

My stomach felt like it had been filled with heavy stones. I tasted blood as I bit down on my lip, suppressing a reaction that would confirm my slip up. “I thought I saw two sets of footprints on the beach,” Natalie continued, more to herself than me, “but the second pair just vanished after a while, and the only times I caught sight of you, I didn’t see anyone else.”

I thought back to the beach and how I had picked Zoey up and carried her until we had arrived at the wooden sign. From a distance, we must have looked like one single person. Thinking fast, I cleared my throat loudly, and said “No, no; I wasn’t traveling with anyone; I was referring to someone who died a long time ago.”

It seemed like a decent lie to me, but Natalie sat perfectly still, scrutinizing my stone face. Finally, she shrugged, looking down at the tabletop. “Oh…I’m sorry, I guess I was mistaken.”

It was obvious she didn’t believe me. Her lips pouted again and I found myself feeling guilty that I hadn’t told her the truth. I wondered if this was the presence of her mutation. “So where is Izuho?” I asked, desperate to change the subject.

Her face lit back up. “Oh, back in the city. I was out on the boardwalk, looking for supplies, and I caught a glimpse of you walking over a sand dune. When I decided to follow you, I didn’t realize you were going all the way out here.”

The half-formed thought finally formed a proper question in my head. “Why were you following me at all?” She shifted in her seat uncomfortably. “I mean, nearly everyone I’ve come across in the past year has either tried to kill me to take my food or supplies, or been an outright cannibal. I can’t imagine you haven’t had similar encounters. So, unless I was really desperate, I wouldn’t have risked following someone, especially if it meant swimming a mile through choppy ocean and risking being eaten alive.”

Now it was my turn to scrutinize Natalie as her eyes bounced around the room, from the dark window above the table, to the open cupboard full of water bottles, to the white, plaster ceiling. She bit her lip, strangling her bottle with both hands. Finally, her shoulders sagged.

“The truth is: I know you were traveling with someone.” The rocks returned to my stomach. This time, they churned in place, making me feel nauseous. “And unless I’m mistaken, the person you were with was a child.”

I opened my mouth to tell her to leave again. My intentions must have shown on my face, because Natalie held up a hand, cutting me off. “You don’t understand,” she said, her eyes wide with excitement, “Izuho and I are trying to reestablish some semblance of society, and we’re close! Jim, if we had a child for that society, it would be huge!” Natalie had half-stood up like I had, but in her excitement, didn’t seem to realize she was pinching her legs between the bench and table.

“We have to think long-term, and the generational gap would be dangerously precarious if we didn’t start procreating as a society again until after we got everything ready. We would run the risk of the older generation dying off before the younger generation could learn how to survive on their own; not necessarily from old-age, but with such a small population, just a couple accidental deaths could mean the end of everything we’ve worked toward!”

By the time she was finished talking, she had, seemingly unconsciously, moved out from her seat in order to stand up properly. I stared up at her. She stood strong, defiant. Her fists were clenched and her arms rigid. Her unwavering eyes held me in place, and her nostrils flared. She was determined to not leave without Zoey.

With difficulty, I managed to wrench my gaze away from her deep, green eyes. I stared instead at the salt water pooled on her side of the tabletop. It dripped slowly to the floor. “It’s not safe,” I said in a hoarse whisper.

Several seconds passed in silence. Natalie reached out and put a hand on my shoulder. I felt a warm rush of reassurance spread from the spot where her hand rested, like a warm blanket. It made me feel so protected, like nothing would ever go wrong again. I closed my eyes, reveling in the feeling.

“I know,” her voice filled my ears, just as soothing as her touch, “I can’t imagine what you must have gone through in the past year to keep your child safe…and the thought of bringing her to a place filled with strangers must feel like the most unsafe thing to do after all of that.”

I felt warm tears escape from under my closed eyelids. Everything she said was completely true. And, as if I hadn’t felt anything for an entire year, the burden of protecting Zoey hit me all at once, a freight train of emotion. My cheeks itched as hot tears ran over them.

“But,” Natalie’s voice continued, “you can’t believe that this is a permanent solution. You and your child are surviving…but you’re not living.” I felt my head nod. “Good. So come with me, and we can give your child a real life.”

And then the reality hit me. I couldn’t. We couldn’t. It didn’t matter how tempting a safe life was. I stood up and pulled away from Natalie, out of her reach. It was terrible; to lose the wonderful feeling her touch filled me with; as if a knife had torn through my chest.

“No!” I shouted, my shuffled emotions cracking my voice. “It’s not safe…for you.”

Natalie stared at me, a full minute passing us. Her face showed concern. Or maybe she was upset. Finally, she said “What do you mean?” Her voice was quiet, but steady and firm.

My mouth opened, about to speak. “Daddy?” Her voice came from the open doorway, leading to the stairs. I stood paralyzed, unable to accept that Zoey was there.

Natalie’s voice was a whisper, barely audible in the silence. “Oh my god…” She covered her mouth with her hands. Her eyes stared over my shoulder as if she had seen the face of God. Tears streamed down her face, which couldn’t be mistaken for anything short of exuberant.

I forced my face to relax, to hide the stressful emotions I felt. Only then did I turn around. Zoey stood in the doorway, her adult-sized tee-shirt engulfing her like an oversized nightgown. Her right hand rested on the frame. She was staring at Natalie, innocent confusion in her blue eyes. She cast an especially long shadow, being so far from the lantern.

As calmly as I could, I closed the distance between Zoey and me and knelt down to her eye level. I purposely blocked Natalie from her view. Her eyes focused on me, still innocently curious.

“Daddy, who’s that lady?” I heard Natalie gasp behind me, clearly overcome with emotion from seeing Zoey. I was relieved that she hadn’t followed me over to her.

I smiled reassuringly at Zoey. “That lady is just lost. She was just about to leave, so go back to bed, OK?”

I leaned in to kiss her on the forehead. Her head jerked to the side unexpectedly, and I accidentally banged my chin on her head. I instinctively rubbed the spot on her head my chin had struck. “I’m sorry, honey, are you OK?”

Zoey was looking at me still, but her eyes had become unfocused, distant; like she was looking through me, at something miles away. I knew what was coming. And I was scared.

“Who’s that lady?” Zoey repeated, still looking through me.

I stood up and turned around. Natalie was still staring at the spot where Zoey had disappeared behind me. Tears still quivered in her eyes, preparing to leak out at the smallest provocation. “Natalie, you need to leave.”

Her gaze shifted up to me. Her face hardened, and she said in a shaky voice “I already told you, we need "“

“No, you don’t understand,” I cut her off, unable to keep my composure, “it’s not safe.”  I was just glad I was already so close to Zoey before it got too bad. I could stop it before Natalie or I were in any serious danger.

I reached my arm back toward Zoey. But then it stopped. My arm felt as if it had hit a solid wall. I spun my head around and saw Zoey. Her blue eyes were no longer pretty. Blue light glowed from them, like two tiny lanterns. Her face still looked puzzled; it wasn’t too late.

I dug my feet into the floor, pushing against the invisible force holding my arm back. It didn’t budge. “What…” I heard Natalie murmur behind me.

My entire body lifted into the air, and I hovered backwards a couple feet before I touched down again. My arm was still held in place by the invisible vice. “Where’s Mommy?” Zoey’s voice was small and upset.

“Zoey,” I began to speak, but then the air was forced out of me as I was lifted up as easily as a rag doll. My back slammed into the ceiling and an involuntary yell flew from my mouth. The lantern fell from my grasp and landed on the floor, where it broke open, leaking fire onto the wooden floor.

“Where’s Mommy!” Zoey yelled, standing in place. She forced my body tighter and tighter against the ceiling. I felt as if I weighed a thousand pounds; I couldn’t turn my head, or move any part of my body. My lungs strained to inflate with air. I couldn’t speak.

The lantern oil leaked from its casing, spreading the fire along the wooden floor, toward Natalie, who was cowering in the corner. She let out a yelp as the stream of flames licked her feet. She scrambled toward the front door.

The floor rushed up at me as Zoey’s hold abandoned me. I hit the wooden boards and felt a rib crack. The pain sent colored spots across my vision. I heard Natalie scream, and lifted my head in time to see her thrown against the front door.

The pain in my chest multiplied ten-fold as I got to my feet. I just needed to reach Zoey, and I could stop her. I took a step forward. My foot touched down, and vibrations traveled from my foot, up my leg, and exploded inside my chest. I let out a silent yell.

Zoey was still concentrating on Natalie. “Where’s my Mommy!” Tears leaked from her eyes, tiny motes of radioactive blue traveled down her cheeks and rested on the floor. The flames made dancing shadows on every surface of the kitchen. Zoey’s eyes glowed even brighter than the fire, creating a second, static layer of shadows behind the dancing silhouettes.

I took another step and tasted blood. It felt like my rib was stabbing every inch of my insides with every movement. Zoey was within arm’s reach. I shot my hand toward her face. It stopped inches from her nose, and I felt my fingers being forced backward.

“No!” I pleaded.

“Who are you! What did you do with my MOMMY!” A sickening crack filled my ears as my index, middle and ring fingers were forced in the wrong direction, the nails touching the back of my hand.

I screamed in pain, and my vision faltered. My entire arm radiated in agony. It was so intense, I forgot where I was until Zoey screamed again, her voice hoarse from the strain. “Where is she!”

My left arm wasn’t being controlled. As I sobbed, caught up in unadulterated pain, I shot my left hand toward her face. It was stopped halfway to its mark as effortlessly as if the air were a brick wall. “Zoey,” I sobbed, “please…”

My entire body was forced through the air again. It was so fast, I couldn’t perceive what direction I was moving, until my head broke through plaster and then wood, and I flopped onto Zoey’s bedroom floor.

I’m not sure how long I laid there, convulsing in pain, drowning in my own sobs. The pain swallowed me, enveloped me, and I was gone.

 

“Please! I don’t know!”

Who said that?

“Tell me!”

Zoey? I rolled onto my side, and paralyzing pain overtook me. I vomited onto the floor. I looked at my right hand, and vomited again. The underside of my knuckles " bloodied, white bone " protruded from my palm. My chest heaved, and I coughed up blood and more vomit.

I saw her; Zoey stood in the kitchen, visible through the hole in the bedroom floor. Electric-blue light pulsed from her eyes. She was focusing on something I couldn’t see.

“Oh, God, please, stop! I’m sorry!”

It was Natalie. Judging from the direction Zoey faced, she was probably being held against the door again. The fire had spread considerably. The entire room glowed orange and red. The spot Zoey stood remained unburned. The entire lighthouse was going to collapse soon.

There was only one chance. Painfully, I inched myself closer to the hole in the floor with my left hand. It was a ten foot drop. If I landed wrong, I would kill Zoey.

I swallowed hard. “I love you, Zoey,” I whispered, and I let myself fall.

The floor rocketed toward me. My left arm was held out. Milliseconds before I hit the floor, my arm fell on Zoey, knocking her to the ground with me.

More ribs cracked, and I could no longer feel my right foot. Nothing existed except for the pain. Pain was all I was; a solid, 200 pound mass of pain. The air around me was pain. There was something else, though. My eyes tried to focus on it.

Walking the line of consciousness, I saw Zoey, lying on the ground next to me. Her eyes were still open. They turned to me and my world melted behind blinding blue light. My left hand groped blindly toward her.

“WHERE’S MY "“

“Boop. Boop. Boop.”

My index finger poked her tiny nose three times. The blinding light faded, and I saw her beautiful blue eyes, as they refocused on me. Once they did, her mouth split in a broad smile. I couldn’t help myself; I smiled too.

“Kehehe, Daddy…”

And then, amid the swelling inferno, my vision went white, and slowly faded to black. The crackling flames lowered to a whisper, and then also vanished, and my body shut down.

Author's Note

One of my writing goals for this book is to include as little exposition as possible. I want the reader to get a vast majority of the information they need through dialogue, or through the active thoughts of the narrator. My hope is to accomplish this in an organic fashion that doesn't also leave the reader constantly back-tracking for missed information. Instead, I want the reader to be able to say "Aha! this explains that thing from earlier! And I figured it out by myself." Anytime this happened to me while reading (or even with TV and movies), it made the discovery mean so much more than if I simply had it all told to me in exposition. Being told "this is important" always felt like I was being told what I had to take away from it, which defeats the purpose, in my opinion.