NaNoWriMo Post #3

"...her heart rate is stable, her breathing is normal, everything seems to be fine, sir."
Antonio was sitting in Katie's hospital room, listening to her doctor read off her stats. Her father, who had driven down to the hospital in Lubbock from Amarillo, listened to the doctor numbly. Katie's parents weren't in the medical field at all; her father was a truck driver for an oilfield and her mother was a secretary at one of the elementary schools in Amarillo. When the doctor finished listing her stats, he paused and looked at Antonio.
"As far as I can tell, she'll be fine as soon as she wakes up. There doesn't appear to be any concussion. If you need anything, please page a nurse. We take good care of our own here at Covenant, so we'll have everything you need ready to go." The doctor waited for Katie's father to nod, then left.
"Tell me again what happened," Katie's father said to Antonio, as soon as the door had swung shut. Katie's status as a lab tech, and one who'd been at Covenant for several years, had gotten her a private room and the attention of one of the most well-respected doctors at the hospital, Dr. Silas Luna.
"The whole cafe just went loco, like I told you," Antonio said wearily. "It was like an earthquake, and Jack with the beanstalk." Her father hadn't believed him the first five times he'd told the story, and he really wasn't up to explaining it again, especially when he was starting to suspect something was targeting Katie.
After all, no one else had reported seeing wild plant growth in all of Lubbock. The first time he'd noticed it, Katie had just walked into the room. In fact, every time he could remember a plant event happening, Katie had been there.
Katie's father threw up his hands and stood up. He walked out of the room without saying anything else. Katie's mother hadn't been able to get off work to come to the hospital, so that left Antonio alone in the room with the unconscious Katie.
He'd seen her chart, and he knew that everything the doctor had said was accurate. He knew that Katie would wake up once she'd recovered from the blow to the head, and he knew that she would be just fine, but he was still wracked with guilt that he'd let her get hurt while he was trying to protect himself.
He reached over and took one of Katie's hands in his own. Her father had intimidated him too much for him to do something like that before, but now that they were alone it was okay.
"Katie, I really want you to wake up," he said. "I'm really sorry that this happened to you. I should have been able to protect you, to keep you safe."
A gentle tap on the door gave him warning to let go of Katie's hand. The door swung open, and a man in a white lab coat over what looked like a black jacket and dark pants walked in. There was something odd about his eyes, but he started speaking and Antonio didn't want to stare.
"Mr. Tido, you're needed in the downstairs lobby," the man told him. "There's someone asking to see you down there."
Antonio stood. "Do you know who it is?" he asked, picking up the satchel he kept in his locker at the hospital, containing a few changes of clothes, toothpaste, deodorant, and a few other necessities.
"She didn't tell me, I'm sorry," the man said. His voice was curiously flat, and he seemed really disaffected from what he was saying. Antonio wondered about it for a moment, then decided the man was just at the end of his shift. Lord knew he was taciturn enough when he was at the end of a busy day of work.
The man led Antonio toward the elevators. They rode down the five floor drop in silence. Antonio tried to get a look at the man's eyes without being obvious, but the man seemed to be trying to catch a short rest, and had his eyes closed. When the elevator dinged, signaling their arrival, he seemed to power back on and stepped out of the elevator.
As they walked through the hallway from the hospital to the lobby, Antonio started to feel a little odd. There was something missing, something that wasn't quite right.
They reached the lobby, and a white, blonde woman wearing sunglasses, a black jacket, and black pants turned to face Antonio and the man he was following. Antonio wondered how she'd known to turn. The woman was walking toward them, so he forced a smile on his face.
"Hello, are you the one asking for me?" he asked, being careful with how he spoke. He didn't know this woman, but if she was asking for him he didn't want to put her off. Sometimes, white people assumed he was a cholo just from his accent.
"Is this him?" the woman asked, looking at the man he'd followed. Antonio noticed he was still keeping his eyes heavily lidded.
"It is," the man said.
The woman turned to Antonio and thrust her arm out. In her hand was a newsboy cap, one of Antonio's favorite hat styles. "For you," she said coldly, probably looking at him. Her glasses were remarkably dark; he wondered how she could see while she was inside.
He took the hat and thanked her politely. She dropped her arms to the side and stared at him, obviously waiting for him to put it on. His smile was becoming much more strained from all the strangeness, but he put the hat on obligingly. His hair looked terrible from a night sleeping in a chair anyway. As the hat slid onto his head, he felt a very strange sensation, like something swirling in his mind, before his eyes rolled up in his head and he fell forward.

"So really all you need to do is get onto the Marsha Sharp Freeway heading north, and take the second exit you see."
On the other side of the hospital's lobby, a short woman was speaking to a man behind a counter in the gift shop. The woman was obviously only barely paying attention, looking over her shoulder constantly. When the man sounded like he was finished, she flashed him a brief, insincere smile, thanked him, and left the gift shop, along with the kitschy keychain she had pretended to be interested in buying. The man called after her, but she ignored him.
She strode into the main lobby of the hospital, eyes fixed on what was going on across from her. She was short, with pale skin, dark black hair and dark eyes. She wore a simple black t-shirt and blue jeans, with a blue denim jacket over the shirt and black working boots. Her eyes had dark shadows under them, and her nails were bitten to the quick. She wasn't wearing any makeup, and her ears weren't pierced at all. Her hair was cut right under her ears, and it looked like it hadn't been washed in a few days.
Her dark stare was aimed at a man and a woman, both dressed all in black, who had just caught a Latino man who had stumbled. They helped him to his feet, and let him go when he could stand on his own. His face was slack, like he was asleep, but he tottered after the two black-clad people well enough.
The woman who watched them followed, keeping a reasonable distance behind and holding her phone in her hand, ready to pretend to be absorbed in writing a text if any of them looked back, but none of them did. She followed them into the parking lot, where they got into a nondescript white car.
Her phone buzzed, and she glanced down at the text message she'd actually gotten. "Hey Janice, you coming in to work today? We've got a new truck for you" it read. She shook her head, and looked up. The white car was started, and the reverse lights were on.
Janice cursed and darted to the right, moving far more quickly than her stature might suggest she could. Her car was parked a few rows down, and she mashed the unlock and ignition button on her remote as she ran up to it. She climbed in and slammed it into reverse, backing up quickly and scorching down to the end of the row, hoping to catch the white car before it left the parking lot.
She saw it pulling out onto the street, and accelerated after it. Even though it was a bright sunny day, she flipped her heater to full blast. The air coming out of her vents made her sweaty and made the inside of her car stuffy, but she didn't even crack a window, she just focused on following that car.
It took her through the city, avoiding the major highways, until it reached the intersection of 82nd and Indiana, which was on the very southern edge of town. Janice stayed back as the car slowed down, and when its blinker went on, she watched carefully to see what street it took, planning on driving past casually to not cause undue suspicion.
A moment later, she stopped at a stop sign, and looked left and right. A wave of disorientation hit her, and she shook her head violently. She'd been following a white car, and watching it turn onto...
She couldn't remember. She'd been driving, and then she'd been at a stop sign. There was no intervening space, no memory of where the white car had gone. She was still on 82nd street, driving east. She turned abruptly right, pulling into a parking lot so she could turn around.
She slowly drove back down 82nd, trying to recognize where she'd been when the car had vanished. She came up on Indiana, and turned left. This had to be where they'd gone.
Again, that intense feeling of disorientation swept over her, but she clenched her teeth and pushed back, trying to use the ability she'd only discovered a few short days ago. All around her, the air seemed to flicker with reddish light, and the temperature in the cabin of her car dropped a little, despite the heater's roaring. The disorientation faded, and she found herself driving down a road toward what could only be described as a fortress.
It took up an impossible amount of space, sprawling across what had to have been a neighborhood at one point. Flags were hung from every possible surface, covering the black stone with a bright array of multicolored fabric. Looking at it, Janice could feel that dizziness building up in her head, and she roughly forced it back.
The little white car was still outside of the fortress. It looked like the two black clad people were trying to get the Latino man out, but he was either fighting back or just completely unresponsive. They were pulling, using all of their strength to get him out of the vehicle.
Janice mashed her gas pedal to the floor, rocketing forward. When she was close enough, she hit the brake and swung the wheel hard right, sending her car into a slide. She stopped a few yards away from the white car, and unbuckled so she could jump out of her car.
The man and woman successfully pulled the Latino man out of the car, but Janice's appearance distracted them and he fell ungracefully to the ground, lying there in a sprawl. Janice didn't give them time to react; she thrust both hands at them, fingers splayed. Flashes of red light flew from her hands, and struck both of them. Their black jackets flashed and sparked, but the force behind her attack wasn't diminished, and sent them both staggering backward.
Janice rushed forward, and picked up the Latino man, slinging his arm over her shoulder. He was quite a bit taller than her, but she was strong and had no problems mostly carrying him. She walked backward toward her vehicle, focusing on the air between her and the two who had kidnapped the man she was supporting.
They had gotten to their feet, and silver light was starting to swirl around both of them. Janice's brow furrowed, and she concentrated fiercely. A curved red wall, barely visible in the bright sunlight but definitely there, flickered into being between the two groups at the same time the woman made a throwing motion.
An arrow of silver light shot toward Janice, shrieking as it tore through the air. She kept moving steadily backward, and put every ounce of willpower she had into the red wall she had created. The silver arrow struck the wall and splintered, arcs of energy coruscating across its curved surface, but her protection didn't falter under the onslaught.
She bumped into her vehicle, and turned, letting the shield drop from her attention. It would hold until enough force was brought to bear on it. She wrenched open the back door, sliding it open and unceremoniously dumping her unconscious burden into the back of the car. She tucked his legs in so that the door wouldn't close on them, and turned back to get into the driver's seat.
As she turned, her protection shattered into red sparks that quickly dissipated. She didn't wait for a clear visual, she just sent another pair of red bursts of light flying toward where she thought the kidnappers would be while getting into her car. Once she was in, she hit the gas and turned hard right, getting away from the fortress as quickly as she could.
"Should have put a shield on their car," she said, breathing heavily as the adrenaline washed out of her. She kept the heat up, though. She'd found that her strange, mystical protections worked best when she was in hotter surroundings, and she wasn't one to question. If it ain't broke, don't fix it.
"You okay?" she asked, speaking over her shoulder. A rough moan came from the back of her car, and she smirked. Once she got him away from the people that had tried to murder her, she could work on getting this tall, dark, and actually fairly handsome man someplace safe.

"Oh time was meant to play a part/In taking care of broken heaaaaarts..."
Miranda woke suddenly, in a room she didn't recognize, with terrible 90's country music blaring at stupidly high volume. She instinctively clapped her hands to her ear and curled up into a ball before she thought to look at her surroundings.
She was on a large, very comfortable bed, with intricately decorated sheets, impeccably matched comforter and pillowcases, and a full canopy. She hadn't slept in a canopy bed since the last time her parents had brought her to stay at her Abuela's house when she was a small child. The room itself was just as lavishly furnished, with deeply polished mahogany furniture, curtains that matched her bedspread framing a window with a fabulous view of fields of some puffy white plant, and lovely but muted wallpaper. It screamed "prison" to Miranda.
She swung her legs around, trying to ignore the music that had now changed to what she recognized as George Strait, and tried to get up out of the bed. As soon as her feet touched the floor, though, a ripple of light spread across the comforter, and the tassels on the bed skirt literally reached out and wrapped around her ankles, then yanked upward, extending impossibly far to deposit her back on top of the bed. Miranda stared, mouth agape.
"Oh, dear, I didn't mean for that to happen," a pleasant female voice with a thick southern drawl said. Miranda spun around on the bed to face a woman who had just walked into the room.
She was not very tall, with deeply tanned skin, though Miranda could tell she was white. Her hair was thick and beautifully curly, tumbling down in a waterfall of dark chestnut ringlets to frame a gorgeous face. She had on several earrings, impeccable makeup, a beautiful silver necklace that matched her dangly earrings, a daring asymmetric blue top with lighter slashes of azure blue across a deep cerulean base, and a slinky black skirt that went down almost to her ankles, though it had a slit scandalously high. Her feet were clad in gorgeous blue pumps that matched her top perfectly, complimenting her sky blue eyes.
Miranda took all this in in a moment, jaw still dropped from her apparently-living bed, and now with this impossibly beautiful woman. "H-hello," she stammered. "I'm Miranda."
"It's a pleasure, Miranda," the woman said, smiling and revealing perfectly white teeth. "My name is Victoria, it's lovely to meet you." She reached out a hand, from which a delicate bracelet of pearls and silver wire hung. Miranda shook her hand hesitantly, not wanting to make this woman consider her a barbarian or a brute.
"Do...do you know how I got here?" Miranda asked. "The last thing I remember is being attacked at the mall."
"Oh, honey, no I don't," Victoria said, her smile crumpling. "I found you passed out on the road near my house. I just had to stop and pick you up, you looked like you were in terrible shape. I brought you up here to let you sleep off whatever happened to you. Would you like me to call a doctor?"
Miranda shook her head. "No I...I think I'm okay. Thank you though, I can't tell you how grateful I am. How far away from Chicago am I?"
Victoria laughed, a sound like tinkling bells. "Chicago? Oh, honey, you're in deep West Texas!" Her laughing face faded again. "Oh, no, you must have been kidnapped and taken all this way...you're so far from home!" She reached forward and grabbed Miranda's hand between both of hers. "Anything you need, you just tell me, okay?" she said, her face serious. "I feel responsible for you. And don't you even think about being afraid to ask for something, honey."
"I'd like to call my friends, let them know I'm okay," Miranda said. "What day is it?"
"It's Thursday, twelfth of October," Victoria told her. Miranda shook her head.
"I've been unconscious for three days?" she asked disbelievingly. "I have to call my friends." She freed her hands from Victoria's, and patted her pockets, but her phone wasn't in them. "Did I have a phone with me when you found me?" she asked, panic starting to bubble up inside her.
Victoria was idly sketching on the bedspread with her finger. For a second, Miranda thought her finger was leaving tiny trails of golden light behind, but she quickly dismissed that as ridiculous. "I believe so," Victoria said. "I'll go check, I put all your things in a box in my safe. You just stay here and rest. You've been through such an ordeal." She patted Miranda's cheek, and left the room. Miranda yawned, suddenly feeling more tired than she could stand. She fell backwards into the incredibly comfortable pillows and drifted off, even the sound of the twangy guitars and warbling vocals of some country power ballad not enough to keep her awake...
"Miranda? Miranda, honey, wake up!"
Miranda struggled to open her eyes, feeling like her lashes were made of lead and glued to her cheeks. "Whaissit?" she mumbled, stretching languorously.
"Honey, are you all right? I came back with your phone and you were sound asleep. Do you feel better?"
Miranda forced her eyes open, and saw Victoria standing worriedly by her bed, one hand resting on Miranda's shoulder.
"I'm just so tired," Miranda said, her voice creaky and hoarse, like she'd been sleeping for hours. "How long was I out this time?"
"I think you napped all afternoon, darling," Victoria said. "Are you sure you don't want me to call a doctor?"
"No, no, it's all right. Did you bring my phone?"
Victoria looked at her, concerned. "Of course I did, honey. Don't you remember? None of your friends answered, and you left all those voice mails?" She fiddled with the bracelet on her wrist for a moment, then replaced that hand on Miranda's shoulder.
Dimly, like it had been a dream, Miranda did recall. She'd tried everyone she even remotely knew in Chicago, but it was like she'd called at the worst possible time. She hadn't managed to get a hold of anyone. The more she thought about it, the more solid the memory became.
"Miranda, darling, there's something I'd like to show you, if you feel up to it," Victoria said. "Can you get out of bed?"
Miranda swung her legs over the edge of the bed. Something tweaked in her mind, as if she expected something to happen when her feet hit the floor, but there was nothing. She paused for a moment, dizzy and distracted, before pushing herself to her feet. "I feel fine, Victoria. What do you want to show me?"
"Come with me, dear," the woman said, leading her out of her room into a hallway just as beautifully appointed. Miranda could barely absorb the tasteful and expensive decorations as they descended a gorgeous wooden staircase with a thickly plush stair runner. Victoria led her through a sliding glass door into what MIranda could only describe as a cross between a basketball gym and a shooting range.
It was an enormous room, with the same waxed wooden floor she expected from a basketball gym, but there were scarecrows with crude targets painted on their chests set up all around the perimeter, as well as a ring of them in the center of the huge floor. All throughout the gym, clusters of people in black outfits were gathered. Each group was doing something strange, but Miranda glanced over them, looking at the room itself.
"I haven't been completely honest with you, Miranda dear," Victoria said. "I'm so sorry for the subterfuge, but I was so worried about your health,"
"What do you mean?" Miranda asked. In the far corner from where she stood, a young man seemed to be throwing silver lines of light at a group of scarecrows. Something about that seemed familiar, but she couldn't place it and focused back on Victoria.
"I didn't find you on the side of the road," Victoria confessed, looking down at the ground, deeply repentant. "A friend of mine brought you to me. He said that you were the kind of person I was looking for, and he was right. But you'd been attacked and you hadn't come out of your sleep for a day, so I wanted you to rest without worrying."
"What do you mean, the kind of person you were looking for?" Miranda asked. "Looking for, how?"
"Miranda, you're very special," Victoria told her, looking her dead in the eye. "Surely you've noticed odd things happening around you lately?"
Miranda gave Victoria what her friends called the side eye; she lowered her brows pursed her lips, and looked at Victoria from her left eye. It was a strange expression, but it was very effective when she was dealing with a customer who had said something very stupid or very wrong.
"When you were attacked, didn't you manage to fight back, at least a little, but without touching anyone?" Victoria continued. Miranda's side eye relaxed as she realized that Victoria was right. Those strange flashes of gray light...and the night of the robbery, something had happened. She knew that the man had shot right at Richie, but the bullet had ended up behind him in the wall.
"How do you know," she whispered.
Victoria smiled broadly. "Because I'm special, too," she said. "Not in the same way, I think, but in the broad strokes." She reached up and tapped the necklace she was wearing. It lit up with an inner silver fire, and Victoria gestured with her free hand, lifting it up above her head.
Silver light flashed from her hand into the air above her head, gathering into a swirling mass of flickering light. It condensed into a tiny ball of brightness, before exploding into a rain of silver sparks. Each spark that fell blossomed into a tiny silver rose for a moment, before it too fell into a shower of petals that disappeared before hitting the ground.
"Beautiful!" Miranda said, awed by the gorgeous effect she'd witnessed.