Meet You There: a Short Story

Meet You There

- Melody Z.

A small, simple bedroom. Light grey walls and dark grey furniture. Faded light comes in through half-open shutters. A man is buried under white sheets on the double bed. A yellow Post-it note lies on the second pillow. Freddie stirs, reaching across the bed for something — someone — next to him. Finding nothing, he frowns slightly, he’s usually the first one up. He stretches and opens his eyes, blinking in the grey-white light flooding through the window. “Honey?” he calls, quickly scanning the room for anything unusual. His gaze lands on the Post-it. Still frowning, he picks it up and turns it over. Slowly, a wicked grin makes its way onto his face. MEET YOU THERE the note says in bold, rushed letters. Freddie gets out of bed, eager to face the day.

He gets to work a little late. As he settles at his desk, the captain comes out of his office and walks to him, a tired but resolute look in his eyes. “Sir?” Freddie asks. The first explosion resonates through the precinct. Officers rush to the windows to see a mushroom-shaped cloud of purple smoke rising above the city. Freddie lets out an exasperated sigh as frantic orders are shot left and right. He apologizes to the captain as he grabs the equipment thrown at him, quickly checks his messages before running to catch up with his colleagues who are hurriedly climbing into their cars. “Don't worry, man,” his partner, Val, says once they’re on the way. “I'm sure she’s fine.” That's what I'm worried about, Freddie thinks. He checks his phone for the sixth time. The cars pull up to a barricade blocking the street. Various pieces of broken furniture litter the road. All the remaining parked cars’ alarms are going off, lights blinking on and off. A broken fire hydrant spews water on the pavement mixing with the sweet-smelling lilac smoke that seems to constantly shift and shimmer, constantly move but never dissipate. A muffled rumbling reaches their ears. “What kind of twisted bombs are they using now?” Freddie hears one of the officers say. A second explosion echoes through the street. Instinctively, they all drop to the ground. A jet of fluorescent green light splits the sky behind the barricade. The smoke suddenly falls to the ground like a heavy cloak of fog concealing the officers’ feet. They wade ankle-deep in thick purple fog around the barricade, squeezing between a rusty motorcycle and half-empty trash can, pushing off a torn lampshade to reveal a scene of organized destruction. Debris is being sorted, stacked, and treated by the Collectors, then fed into a cleansing device that processes them to create the neon substance

that was shot through the sky moments earlier. The rumbling sounds more like the petrifying roar of thunder, vibrating through Freddie’s rib cage. Lines of recruits stretch across the square, all the way to a second barricade a hundred or so yards away, waiting for instructions. In the centre of it all stands Nina. Her dark hair flows around her shoulders like water cascading down a cliff. She’s wearing a mask, like her followers. Her pale hands in purple fingerless gloves dance before her, sending people from one end of the street to the other, assigning jobs, giving orders. Her gear contrasts with her light skin. Another jet of the fluorescent stuff zips through the air making her glow. She seems ethereal. Freddie watches her. Captivated, as always. He swears he sees her wink his way. He shakes himself back to reality before shooting whispered orders to the officers. The squad carefully proceeds to encircle the Collectors, hiding behind pieces of forgotten debris. Freddie notices a few terrified faces behind a flipped car though they don’t appear to be in any immediate danger. His eyes follow Nina as she walks to the device spitting out neon jets of green stuff. She passes her hand over a screen, the rumbling fades into a weak gurgle before stuttering off. As if pushed by the same force, the recruits all rush to the edge of the square, blowing the officers’ cover. Freddie is ready. "Clear out the witnesses, they're innocent!” he calls, springing into action. Two men on his left rush to a terrified family herding them through the barricade then turning back to help others. Three officers on his right pull out their guns and aim effective bullets at the fleeing Collectors. Val is by his side, guarding his six. Small puffs of bright white smoke erupt all around them. The crowd of Collectors thins out fast. Through the noise and commotion, Freddie sees Nina drop to the ground and crawl towards the buildings on the other side of the street. He sprints to her— The ground shakes, his knees buckle, he hits the ground, hard. Rubble flies across the square, obscuring his view. Ears ringing from the force of the explosion, Freddie pushes himself up on his knees, spluttering. A quick sweep of the street establishes that no one is seriously injured. He can’t tell where the bomb came from, or who detonated it. Freddie spots the officers pressed behind chipped pillars, flipped tables, and loose doors, eyes darting around in search of a flash of black or purple movement. A charged silence settles. They’ve reached a standstill — the Collectors either hidden or escaped, the officers still prowling, hunting. A shot. A muffled screech. A thud. Freddie watches, as if in slow motion, as a body hits the ground. Silence, heavy as the rapidly dissipating purple fog, envelops the street again. He glances in the direction of the shot. Val is standing stock still, something much like terror painting her face when Freddie catches her gaze. Long locks of dark hair streak across the road to the body’s side. Freddie breathes out a sigh of relief. The squad closes in on Nina instantly, pointing guns at her head, one officer even pulls out handcuffs. Val jogs up to them, stumbling a little, in a state of shock. Nina protectively pulls the body — a woman’s — in her lap. Cradling the head, she delicately removes her mask. Oblivious to the weapons aimed at her face capable of killing her in seconds, she brushes light, trembling fingertips down her follower’s face. Freddie hears whispered words before she reaches for the woman’s wrist. Nina snaps one of the bracelets, a thin metallic cable, and throws it on the ground at Freddie’s feet. There's a spark, a crack, and smoke. Thick, opaque, white smoke, causing the surrounding officers to cough and cover their eyes. In a few seconds, the smoke clears. Nina's gone.