Escape From Thera: Chapter 1

This door was locked. What a shocker. Wrapping my hands around the handle I turned and with a stiff creek it broke. Staring at a rusted silver door handle and the wall of a door in front of me, I felt this summed up the past few days perfectly. Actually, my entire life since the asteroid.

Brushing my hair back off my face I turned and stared at the sky. It was a bright orange, a fiery color like the actual fruit. Not that pastel evening sky shit but orange as the fucking fruit. The sun was hanging around somewhere up there but I didn’t want to see it. I just wanted to find some shelter for the rest of the day. But more burning dusty air would fill my throat until I got this door open. Hot burning days and somewhat balmy cool nights. Happy days.

The wrecked city stood around me, casting long shadows over the once busy streets. Upturned asphalt, blue plants shoving their way through the rock and former civilization. I could spot overturned shells of cars, stripped of their tires, bumpers and lights. It was the same in any other part of the city. Stripped and picked clean of any substance and uniqueness. Just an empty carcass of something once beautiful.

Turning back to the door I stared at the former handle. Rubbing my pale black temples, I let out a slow breath. I could do this. Doors weren’t an obstacle for me anymore. Even now I could hear the gentle whisper of it calling out to me. Begging me to reach my mental fingers out and grab hold. It was like having a doll at my finger tips that just begged to be moved, to dance, to be alive. I couldn’t not do it.

I was green as all hell at this so I took a few steps back. My boots slipped on the side walk and I stumbled into the street. Pinwheeling my arms I struggled to keep myself up right and then stamped into place.

“Great start Jenny.”

Talking to myself. Of course. That was a great place to start. My stomach growled in response and I glanced down to glare. This wasn’t the time for hunger. Now was the time for focusing. Focusing and superpowers.

Adjusting my backpack to be tighter I put my game face on. Flexing my fingers in front of my face I felt the pull. The clay was in front of me needing to be molded. My fingertips had strings attached, just floating there ready for me to pull and guide my creation to life.

My eyes narrowed on the door, trying to block out the glass windows on either side of the door. Block out the massive Icks: Sporting Goods sign along with the faded fire sale signs. The only thing that my eyes could see was the large rectangle that was the door.

The strings from my fingers latched onto the edges of the door, from the corners to the frames and hinges. My powers spider webbed across the door until it was entirely covered. With a sharp breath both I yanked my arms backwards. The strings went taut and I could feel the door fight back.

But I was stronger.

Fingers going rigid I felt the door give way finally. With a loud bang that ricocheted off the city walls the door went flying off its hinges. I watched it for a moment, watching it spiral end over end into the distance. When that landed it was going to make noise. Attract attention.

Diving forward I ducked into the building. I gave a fleeting thought to catching the door but it was too far gone and I was in the dark. Mostly. Sunlight streamed in, catching the flecks of dust that danced on the air.

I waited, already mid flinch at the mere thought that something was going to come bounding after me. It was silent. Score one for the metal detector/magnet. The dull echo of the door hitting the ground finally hit me. Taking a few musty air breaths, I tried to get my bearings.

There was a kiosk. At least a former kiosk in the center. Racks of clothes lined both sides of the aisles. Knocked over aisles of fishing gear, sporting gear, hunting gear and gear gear. Probably wasn’t a whole lot left. Most of the place was empty. Spare socks and pants legs were close by but I doubt they’d be my size. The green floor had mutated to a healthy yellow which didn’t make any sort of sense. That’s apparently what a space meteor could do.

Taking a short breath, I kept walking past the kiosk. The fridge with all the snacks were wiped. Surprisingly this one was still working. The faint glow and hum from within was nostalgic. Back when it would be filled with chilled carbonated beverages. Cost maybe 2.50 for instant refreshment. Would go great with something hot and greasy.

I paused. Putting both my hands on the fridge I sank to my knees and pressed my forehead against it. Fucking freezer hums was making me wish for the better days. This was truly the lowest hell I could be in. I wanted to cry, just curl up on the ground and let it all out.

I wish my mom were here, she’d know what to do. Know what to say. Give the best hug in the world. But she probably dead. Who am I kidding, she’s dead. Dad and papa are dead. My little brother Jeri’s dead. Everyone’s dead. Everyone’s fucking dead.

I couldn’t hold it in. My shoulders shook and the tears just exploded out of my eyes. I gripped the doors of the fridge and cried my hair curtaining around my face. I tried to breathe but hiccups took over, wracking my lungs with the loss of everyone. My tears stained the carpet with regret of everything I didn’t say. The things I never got to do.

I missed them so much, the vice of grief squeezing my heart like it did yesterday. And the day before and the day before and all the way back to when that fucking meteor shattered my whole world. The whole world period.

Fucking apocalypse now. I went from stressing about mid-terms to struggling to survive in a wasteland. That was at least ten months ago and I was still struggling. Still barely able to wake up in the morning. Sometimes I wanted to just die. I’d almost let it happen a few times. Just end it all.

Staring at my reflection in the door I sniffled. Wiping my tears away slowly I stared at the woman there. Her dusty black skin, thick and tangled curly blonde hair, and green eyes. I wiped the snot dribbling out of my nose. Forcing myself to stand shakily I looked myself over. I needed new clothes. These jeans were ripped and faded. They wouldn’t last much longer. Same with my shirt. My backpack was good though. Built sturdy as all hell.

Going back toward the far wall I could see a few fishing lines still hanging. Even in the apocalypse, no one wanted to fish. I mean I didn’t blame them but still. You could at least use the rod or something like that. I mean I couldn’t but someone probably could.

Continuing past I stepped between the racks that had a few clothes. Most of them were hole ridden and stained with something I didn’t want to know the origin of. I did glance through the ones at my size and couldn’t find any that would fit just right. So, I settled on something a little bigger.

There was another set of racks in the distance but instead I went toward the wall. I looked it up and down at the empty spots, the fishing rods still up, and a few broken cases where BB guns were probably located. What caught my eye was the case above the BB gun case. Resting there was a bow, a recurve bow, that looked shiny and new.

I reached toward one, with its red paint job, hard plastic limbs, and metal tips. Picking it up it felt a little heavier than the one my dad bought me years ago. It didn’t have a sight or a string though. Shame it was such a pretty bow.

Dragging my fingers along the limbs and to the arrows resting zone. The limbs were plastic but the joint connecting unit was wooden. Or maybe mostly wood. I could feel some metal bits there. The grip had some cloth or leather that felt good in hand.

A compound bow would have been nice, more powerful but I liked this. I held onto it as I looked through the entire area for more string. Maybe if I restrung this thing it would be good. I remember being at the very least being able to hit a target at almost 300 ft. If it moved I wouldn’t bet on me hitting it that far out.

My search for new string came up with nothing but I did find at least two dozen arrows and a quiver. All of this was beyond useless because I couldn’t find any fucking string. How was I going to shoot these arrows without any string? It was a fancy paper weight. Dropping the quiver to the ground I listened to the arrows rattle around. A hollow metal and wood sound.

Looking at the bow again I decided to just put it back. I could keep the arrows but the bow was useless. Tossing it away I felt a tug. On instinct I flipped my wrist and suddenly the bow was flying back into my hand tip first. Flinching away I barely caught it before it hit my head.

Turning the bow in hand slowly I held it by the grip and pretended to draw an arrow. In my head I could see an arrow and pulled it back against the bow like before. My old form coming back like instinct, the muscles in my arms and shoulders stretching. It felt good to do it again even if it was pretend.

I glanced at the bow and my eyes widened as the tips of the bow bent as well. I could feel my powers puling at the metal of the bow, strings extending from my palm and manipulating them to me. But there was another one pulling my palm close. My other hand trembled as I held the bow both of my hands wanting to smack together. I felt the tension between my shoulders and my now shaking arms.

Not the first time I’d painfully clapped my hands together because of my new gifts. Like two super strong magnets. Took me a month to learn to turn that off on command.

Slowly I let my hands come together and I felt the tension in them ease. I dropped my imaginary arrow and it all went still. Taking a slow breath, I glanced at the bow and then at the quiver on the ground. Arrows had metal heads.

“I wonder how this’ll play out. Can’t hurt to try.”

Pulling an arrow out and placing it on the rest I immediately felt the arrowhead pawing at my palm. The repulsion was immediate just not strong, just a light tug of my attention. When I started pulling back that was when things started to get serious. The arrow head resisted me as I pulled, wanting to be as far away from my hand as possible.

The arrow came to as full a draw as I could, my arm quivering in the air. The arrow floated at my fingertips eager to be let loose. Turning to find a target I settled on the far wall filled with fishing lures. The ache in my arms was getting to me and I had to let go.

So I did.

The bow twanged and the arrow sailed past my hand. I watched it fly into the wall. Flinching at the sound I whistled and stared at the bow. It was still in one piece. In fact, it didn’t seem any worse for wear. I walked toward the wall and saw the arrow deep in the wall. I could feel shards of the head on the ground meaning it had shattered.

“Holy shit. That’s fucking rad.”

I tried it a few more times before realizing that I was burning through a very limited supply of arrows. A whole dozen arrows wasted but I had the feeling down. Then I scrounged through the store to find some more. I was at least two and a half dozen arrows to work with for the time being. But the reality of the thoughts was there.

I have a fucking bow and arrow powered by magnetism. I’m the best. No denying it. Everyone bow before my genius. Which just left for me to find some upgraded clothes. After a long and arduous search, I found a baseball cap to stuff my hair into, a scarf to wrap around my mouth and nose which smelled better than the air presently, and some cargo pants. I even found some fingerless gloves lying around. I changed in a corner because I was still concerned with privacy while any sort of naked.

Everything had changed around me and no matter how much time had passed I was gonna keep crying about it probably. But at least something good had happened finally. Maybe things were going to turn around for me. At least for the next 24 hours.

Walking toward the front end of the store again I glanced at the sky. I kept my bow in hand, my quiver wrapped around my waist and hugging tightly at my thigh, and took another rough breath. Time to start walking again.