Chapter 17, Plagued

In this segment of The Catalyst, Isis Mantella and 'Blue' are caught in an unlikely situation. Isis wakes up with the slight recollection of the events that happened before -- Blue is hurt.

Chapter Seventeen

Plagued

 

       The scenery is unlike home; possibly because I have been away from my streets for far too long. I look around at the muddled sky and picture myself back under my sheets dreaming about The Garden of Viraga. I lift my hand in the air to test the transparency. Strangely, I am not like I once was, I am still able to see through my fingers.

        “Eos, why are we in CountsPoint?”

        But they are nowhere to be found. I scan my surroundings, running back and forth, wondering where on earth they could be. Then I hear it, I hear scuffling and Blue’s grunts down an alley way positioned between two thick buildings. He kicks out from something hidden under a long cloak and hood and then disappears around the corner, inching further and further into the dark alley. My feet move without thought, I race to find Blue. There is nothing that can compare to the feeling in my chest at this moment.

        Fear? Dread? Anticipation? What irony.

        I can admit that I am scared out of my mind; what on earth is happening?

        Blue emerges just slightly, just enough so that I can see he is knocked completely unconscious and inches from my running soles. I try to skid to a stop but my feet fall from under me and I cascade down onto his torso.

        Even with my impact he does not wake up. I shake his shoulders constantly but there isn’t even a hint of breathing. His chest doesn’t rise; his skin is pale and blue-green veins eek from underneath.

        There’s a noise from behind me and I whip around hoping to see who did this to him… but there’s no culprit, it’s Eos. My chest deflates with relief.

        “Eos!” I cry, “Eos I don’t know what happened to Blue but we have to help him.” I attempt to lift Blue from under his arms and hoist one arm over my shoulder. “Eos!” I say again, but he is looking at me strangely. His eyes are no longer lit with the all-powerful knowing and eccentricity. No… he’s looking at me with sadness.

        “Eos?”

        “I am sorry, Isis.”

        A gentle light exuberates before my eyes and then everything sways. I fall under Blue’s weight and clutch at my side. I am awake long enough to register the ache burning. And then everything fades.

        The simple words whisper through my skull as a bit of a taunt, Destroy or be destroyed: There is no option.

҉

It’s cold and it’s dark and I’m shivering all over. There are thick cylinder coats blocking my vision, making my brain swim as it recovers from suffering the haywire. I remember everything. Eos that incredulous betrayer, how could we not see it?

And then I ask myself… how could we have? We were experiencing a world that we never knew before, and the knowledge that he provided only fed my need to know more. How could I have thought that he was going to betray Blue and I? Even hurt us. And then my chest heaves, Blue.

I sit up too fast and watch the surroundings whirl for seconds too long until finally I am for certain I know where I am… or I have an idea at least. I am in a cell buzzing with what I can only imagine to be energy that �" if I touch it, I’m sure �" will singe my fingers off. I back away from the glowing yellow bars and search the room for Blue. There’s a single metal door before me, no windows, the room is lit only by the energy of the bars, and then I realize… these are not the only bars in here.

There is another set of yellow energy wafting away just diagonal from me… and lying on the floor completely unconscious … is Blue.

        “Blue!” I call. “Blue!”

        It’s like an electric burn hotter than the bars in front of me that spasms when he doesn’t respond. I knew he was unconscious before and I know that we are in an unworthy predicament, but the likes of him being… gone… cannot register in my mind. What sort of monster would do this to him?

        “Blue?” I cry once more, and impulsively I grab onto the bars, ignoring the energy firing up and down my core. From the impact, I am thrown to the other side of the cell and slam hard onto the cold ground. My fingers scream an angry red and shake from the power. Why on earth would he be here if he wasn’t alive? Did they place him here as a reminder. What a sick joke. And of course Eos knew how to hurt me. I have never wanted to hurt anybody more than I wanted to right now. Our bad judgment led us to this predicament. How on earth did we think that we could trust a man who showed up in people’s dreams? How could we not see the signs? My skin feels different. The cold ground and my numb fingers suddenly feel alive, almost like a bubbling factor has raged inside my lungs and began to span out across my body. The heat hat penetrated was different than this energy in front of me. This heat was strangely warm … almost … comforting as it paneled within.

Before I could register what this feeling was, in just the slightest whisper I hear him, “Isis?”

“Blue?”

I hear a weak sigh; he’s scooting across the grounds.

“Don’t touch the bars,” I warn.

“They got us didn’t they?” He croaks.

“It was Eos, he betrayed us.”

“He was only working under someone more superior than him.” He grunts loudly and pushes until he is leaning his back against the wall.

“How could you defend him, even now?”

He takes a deep breath, “I am just being reasonable.”

I sigh, “Blue.”

He opens his eyes and even with all the yellow bellowing in this small room, I can see the gold stand out from all the rest. They are weak and dim, he has suffered too much. “Let me heal, Isis.”

I retrace back to the corner of my cell. I can only relate this feeling inside of me back when I broke his scepter and he completely ignored the fact that I saved his life. The time I shut myself out and laid in the hut with only the cushion for comfort. But there is no comfort for me in a place like this. There is only me and the wet ground for stability. I can never imagine why it has taken till now for me to feel hurt with only a few words. Back home, it was nearly impossible for someone to throw a great deal of hurt, and this one boy manages to tear down my walls in three simple words. Every time it has been a simple sentence that tucked me back into my shell.

He mutters something; I have to lift my head off of my forearm to hear what he has to say. It is so weak; I strain to hear his words.

“You can do one of two things: you can look at the world right side up, or upside down. I tend to look at it sideways and sail my way through the currents.”

“Why are you so optimistic at a time like this? There is nothing good about our situation.” I ask Blue.

“There’s a lot that you don’t know, Isis. You’ll see. This is exactly where we need to be.”

Everything ignites under my skin. I can feel my blood race and boil hot, my lungs give in, and my unsteady pulse accelerates. I am tired of being the one left out. I am so sick and tired of not knowing anything simply because no one will tell me. What else is there for me to know? The feeling is back but it barrels onto me like a gush of hot wind.

“Blue,” I begin, but then I am suddenly cut off by the laughter emanating from the other side of the metal door. It slides open with a screeching groan and three figures walk in. I am shunned by the look of so, I can recognize their faces anywhere. They are different: no rags, absolutely zero signs of dirt caked on their faces, and instead of two pistols, there are assortments of weapons stationed around their hips.

She smiles down at me flashing her bright white teeth, “It’s about time we’ve met. You have caused a great deal of trouble.”

Author's Note

Comments? Edits? I would LOVE constructive criticism. I understand that this is vague and readers will not have a structural background of the events because this is a chapter in the middle of the book, however, let us look beyond that and deliver comments pertaining to grammar or say interest. Please be gentle, but a hard push in the right direction is welcomed. If you do not like this, please explain to me why. I am a bit sensitive about my book, but as a writer I should learn to overcome harsh comments, right?