Chapter Text
Drip. You feel the world lurch around you, pinwheeling and somersaulting. Drip. Your chest rises and falls, pain coming from your side and chest. Drip. You groan, and open your eyes to the most beautiful shade of yellow. That is until you feel yourself being pulled back into the darkness, and your eyes slip closed once again. For the final time. Drip.
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You jerk up, sweating heavily, your thin sheets clinging to your wiry frame. Your hair clings to your back and face in wet strands. You brush them out of the way, and back into the rest of your hair. You look around the dark room, seeing dark shapes in the shadows that you recognize as your dresser, nightstand, and backpack. You lean back on the bed, slowly collecting yourself.
When you deem yourself calm enough, you begin stripping the bed, collecting the salt stained sheets and covers. You open the door to the rest of your apartment. You pass the bathroom and guest bedroom, and walk into the open living room. You walk past the spacious kitchen area, and into the laundry room. You set the load down into the washer, and get the warm water running, sighing in frustration at another late night laundry run. You dump some detergent into it, and close the door, muffling its sound to a soft mechanical hum.
Your feet tap against the cool wooden floor of your living room, and you dodge past a love seat, and sit on a fluffy couch, kicking your feet up on an ornately carved coffee table. You fish for the remote, and after finding it, turn on the TV with a soft sigh. It turns on, the volume a bit too loud, and you turn it down while you flip through the channels. You leave it on an old Dr.Who episode, one of the originals. You happen to enjoy the original series, particularly a certain curly haired one with an extremely long scarf.
You glance at the clock on the DVR, and find it to be three in the morning. You lean your head on the back of the couch, tuning out cheesy sound effects. You think back on your nightmare, and consolidate what knowledge you gathered from it with the others you had been having. You remember them all clearly, as if they had not been dreams, but memories.
In some you were in a dark snowy forest, or a lava filled gorge. There were many where you died. Usually due to a large goat or a yellow flower. Sometimes you could feel chalk and dust in your lungs, choking you. You would see delicate creatures fall and crumble under the power and might of your tiny hands, well, not so tiny. The dreams appear through the perspective of a child, not an adult.
They had been going on for about a month, and you couldn't shake the feeling that something was going to happen soon, something big. You feel the hairs on your arms stand straight up, but they just as quickly settle. Your head snaps around your apartment, scanning for any threat that may loom in the shadows. Your eye catches on a vase of flowers, a gift from a work colleague. You glare at one of the bright yellow blooms menacingly. As you stare it turns to ashes.
You blink and sigh. Just another thing you'll have to clean up. Damn, this is really starting to get out of control. Along with the nightmares awoke something else within you. Ever since the first one, there has been a faint buzzing in your mind and chest. After a week, it had grown large enough to give you chronic migraines. Until one day, it snapped.
It happened in a bar. A boy approached you, obviously extremely inebriated. He tried to kiss you. Didn't turn out so well for him. Or anyone really. He received a face full of fire. Or, to be more exact, his face caught on fire. As did the bar. It was ruled out as an accident in the kitchen, but, of course, the next day, the pressure on your mind had been replaced with the faint buzzing.
Being the physicist and scientist that you are, you messed with what you had discovered. It was just in your nature to poke it with a stick. Halfway through the week you were floating pencils and mugs in the air. In the comfort of your apartment of course. Not that there weren't a few mistakes along the way, but that's how science happens.
You could levitate items, but only for brief periods, and teleport over short distances. You also found that sometimes if you weren't paying attention and were agitated is some form, frost would form on your fingertips. The moment you noticed it, the frost melted however. Sometimes, though, if you were angry, something would catch fire. Like the flower. Shoot. I have to clean that up.
You stand up and remove the flowers from the vase. You set them down carefully next to it, and sweep the ashes into the watery bottom of it. Your fingers hesitate over the ash, and you bring your hand up to your face inspecting it. You clench your hand and take a deep breath, and release it, averting emotional meltdown. You walk around the kitchen bar to pour the gray water into the sink. You refill it with clean water and replace the flowers in it. The vase finds itself settled exactly where it was before.
You reseat yourself on the couch, and lay down. The TV becomes your focus, but your mind begins to shut down. You feel your eyelids droop, and you feel your limbs go limp, relaxing into sleep.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You snap awake at the sound of your alarm. You sit up quickly, and grab the remote to turn off your TV. You stand up, and receive a sense of vertigo for your trouble. You stand there a moment, regaining your balance. You march irritatedly into your room and hit the power button on your bedside alarm. You grab your charging phone and check it for messages or calls. Nothing of any importance.
You set it back down, and open your closet in order to choose what to wear. You pull out a pair of faded jeans, a gray long sleeved shirt, and red and black flannel. The jeans slip easily over your hips, and you pull the two shirts over your toned torso. You rub your hands up and down the flannel, enjoying its worn softness. My lucky shirt. You think fondly. You search for a pair of socks, and find one after a minute of searching. They are black and fluffy.
You slip the socks on over your cold feet, and wiggle your toes once they get warm. You grab a pair of iron tipped black combat boots and set them near the front door. You walk into the kitchen, and open the stainless steel fridge. You contemplate several different meals, before settling on your favorite breakfast food, French toast. You pull out two eggs and three pieces of toast. You crack them into a plate, and whisk them into a light yellow sludge.
You dip both sides of all the bread into the egg. You set a pan on the stove, and allow all three pieces to cook, letting each side sizzle. You pull the French toast from the pan and onto the plate. You open a cabinet and pull out a powdered sugar shaker. You sprinkle heaps of it onto the bread, and eat it standing up. You sigh in pleasure when you finish it, your stomach full and your sweet tooth sated. You walk around the kitchen, cleaning up, dumping your dishes into the sink.
You go back into your room, and grab your black leather knapsack. You hug it protectively, your most valued notes and physics books inside. You set it next to your boots, and walk to the closet next to the door out of your abode. You pull out a black puff vest, with a faux fur lined hood. You pull it on, and slip into your boots. You heave your bag onto your back, and grab your phone and keys before leaving your apartment.
You walk into the silent hallway, and lock the door behind you. You walk over to the elevator, and press the down button. You enter it once it arrives, and descend from your fifth story home. You walk out the front doors, feeling slightly more awake, but having the feeling that you may or may not need lots and lots of coffee at the lab.
When you walk outside the early morning dawn greets you, and you give a contented smile at the closest star to your home. You turn your face to the morning breeze, and breathe in a deep breath. You stay that way for a moment, until returning to reality and searching for your car. You find the old black Chevy Silverado sitting in the quiet parking lot.
You unlock it as you approach, and pat it affectionately, giving a small smile as you slip into the drivers seat. You pull out, and make your way down winding roads, through the small town you live in, Ebott. You look at the peak of the mountain as you drive towards the lab. They happen to be in the same general direction, so that helps.
You pull off the main road about halfway up the mountain, and pull onto a gravel side road. It's times like these when you are happy you own a truck. Meaning pretty much every day for the past three years. You pull up to a pristine white building that is maybe 2,000 square feet. You park next to the other cars (all three of them).
You grab your bag and jump out of the truck, checking the time on your phone. Only eight fifteen. Nice. Wow, I'm actually early for once. You push open a metal door on the side of the building, punching in a four digit code before entering.
Sound billows out around you, escaping in a rush of air as you open the door. Huge generators sit thirty feet in the ground, whirring and beeping. You walk on a metal bridge suspended above them, unconcerned. You stop just before you reach a fork in the bridge, pulling out a pair of nice earplugs. You take a left at the fork, and descend to the generator level.
The sound is nearly unbearable at the base, but the earplugs help. You walk straight until you reach another door, this one white with a metal handle. You open the door easily, closing it behind you. You take out the earplugs just in time to hear the door seal itself shut, sealing off any sound.
You put the plug in your pocket and walk through more white halls. What is it always with labs and white? Do they have a vendetta against eyesight? You grumble tiredly as you again open a glass door into a small hallway. There are three rooms on each side, and one large communal room directly in front of you. You turn right and enter the hallway, and take the lst right, I to your own personal workspace.
It is a mix of order and chaos. Your desk being the chaos, and the rest of the room….well, not exactly order. You place your bag under your desk, and set a hand on your laptop. It's mostly for work purposes, but you can't say that you are particularly attached to your phone either. Strange for one driven by and creating technology. It is what it is though. You just have no need for social media. Anyone you want to keep track of you can call, or talk to in person.
You open the laptop just as one very excitable, very energetic, and very awake brunette walks into your office. You give her a flat stare as she smiles at you. “Good morning boss lady!” She practically yells in your face. She has her hands behind her back, and you know she has something. You smoosh a hand against your face in misery. “Good morning Kaitlin.”
The girl absolutely beams at you. “You seem grumpier and more apathetic than usual. You need your morning dose of coffee?” You nod enthusiastically. She gives you a sweet smile. “Well lucky you, your intern knows exactly how you like it. That intern being me, and you being you.” She sets the coffee down on your desk, and you scoop it up immediately, nursing the hot drink.
“Thank you Kaitlin. You may be a morning person, but I think I can overlook it if you continue to make such fine coffee.” You take a sip, and the heavily sweetened and creamed coffee passes easily down your throat. Kaitlin sits on your desk and looks up at you. “French fry may have found something. He seemed awfully worked up about it. I think he may have stayed here the entire night.”
The moment she says this, you rocket out of your chair. “What? What did he find? Why wasn't I informed?” You interrogate your intern. “I have no idea what he found, or why he didn't contact you. Him being him, it's likely that he got too caught up in it and forgot about reality completely.” She snorts and giggles. Her bob of brown hair sways with her movements.
You growl and charge out of your office, causing more than one head to pop out of an office. You come to the very end of the left side of the hall and knock on the door. You hear a muffled sound and the mechanical whirring of computers. There is no response. You knock again. Same result. “Torrence get your sorry ass out here this instant.” You state this in a lethal calm, both a command and a threat. This receives the wanted results.
A young blond man sticks his head out of the room, hair unkempt, glasses crooked, and green eyes tired but excited. He seems to not be able to focus on you for a moment until he gets a stupefied expression on his face. “Oh yeah. That's right. Boss, I found something.” You stare at him, and he rubs his neck sheepishly. He stands aside and opens the door.
Your office is a clean freak nest compared to this hell of wires. The entire room is filled with cabling and computer monitors along with hard drives and more wires. You're pretty sure that's a super computer he has in the corner. He scurries over to the nearest monitor and keyboard, and types out a few fast commands. You stalk I've, watching him work over his shoulder.
After a few moments of silence, you break it. “So what changed in the barrier?” He glances up at you and back at the computer. “Well, it began fluctuating, sending power surges through the system that we have barely managed to keep in check. It's been alternating between these surges and running nearly dry about once every three hours.” He brings up a graph, and it shows that over time, the amount of time from surge to surge is shortening.
You glare at the computer and chew on your bottom lip. Torrence looks up at you, a silent question. You release a breath. “I don't think there's a way we can stabilize it. However, if these surges continue, one of these times it's going to overload our system. Let's suck it dry.” Torrence’s mouth opens and closes like a fishes, looking at you, shocked. “But that would destroy everything we've been doing!”
You give him an irritated look. “An overload would be just as bad, if not worse. It would risk fire and the lives of everyone here. I say we run the source dry.” You look directly into his eyes, daring him to argue with you. He hesitates, then begins tapping away on his computer. You nod. “Good. I'll go inform the others.” You step outside the wiry hell, and look down the hallway. Or try to. You view is blocked by ffive other persons.
You sigh. They all look at you with mixed curiosity and horror. “Well. You all heard what we're doing, eavesdroppers. We need to drain the power source before the next shockwave hits. At the rate it's beginning to expend energy is too much for our systems. We need to kill it before it gets the chance to endanger us.”
A heavily freckled man with red hair responds with anger. “But what about the power? The station? You know that that is our source of power. If we cut ourselves off, we’ll cut power to our systems!” You shake your head with a sigh. “Derek you know we have energy stored. We can run at least two years on that alone. With this draining were doing, it will all go straight to that extra supply.”
He grumbles, but relents. You glance over the others, making sure they don't have anymore questions. “Alright then. Derek,” you look at the still miffed redhead, “go check the generators, make sure they don't have any mechanical failings.” He nods quietly, running into his office to grab his tools.
You turn to a petite bespectacled Asian girl. “Alice, go make sure the coolers are in place. We can't have our physical generators working but overheating. That in itself is the most dangerous thing we face with this.” She nods slightly, her shyness abandoning her as she runs into her office as Derek emerges from his, tools in hand.
You turn your gaze to an older heavyset man, in his mid thirties. His brown hair has sweeps of gray in it, but his eyes shine with intelligence. “David, go check the seismographs. This thing has caused earthquakes before, I don't want anymore. If there is any change in stability, find me immediately.” He nods, a serious expression on his face. “Yes boss.” He gives the group a salute, and walks into the communal room, going into a side door leading to a dark room filled with machines.
You check with the second to last person on your crew. The willowy blonde looks at you cooly, laptop in hand. “Jenna, go check the computer systems with Torrence. I trust you both, but we can't have any mistakes. Check and double check all of the systems. Make sure we're drawing off only as much power as we can handle. If we're too late, come inform me about when the wave will hit.” She doesn't nod, just walks into Torrence’s computer room.
You walk briskly down the hall, into your own office. Kaitlin follows you, both concerned and excited. “So boss, what're you going to do?” You look at the young brunette, and give her a grim smile. “I'm going to go check the barrier myself.” She doesn't look surprised. Instead, she offers some liquid reinforcement. “Coffee?” “Yes, please.”