California Under Attack: The Tragedy of Kassie

Part 4

I wake up in a puddle.

Flurried by the feeling of liquid, I jolt up to a sitting position, hands poised to fight. It takes me a moment of confusion for it all to rush back to my memory: Where I am, who I'm with, what I am. It slips down on my conscious like sleet.

I'm in West Hollywood with Kalina and her friends Clyde and Olive.

I am a Silencer.

We are still far from morning--my old friend night bears a deep indigo face, his white freckles twinkling brighter than they probably ever have over a city like West Hollywood. The absence of all the lights and regular pollution can make just about any urban place look like the desert at nighttime.

For a moment, looking out at the sky, I feel secure. Half of the reason I love the night so much is that he feels like nice quilt, blanketing me in its warmth and safety. If I only look at one chunk of his carefully scattered celestial pattern, then it's easier to pretend like everything is normal. Some nights I can't even see the mothership.

Today it's simple--divert the eyes a little to the left, and suddenly there's that big black void, swallowing up the stars. Disrupting the peace.

Any other night, the mothership wouldn't scare me. I'd maybe shout something obscene, dare it to shoot me right here if they're really listening. I'd go off about how much I hated them for bringing me Shakes, even though I always assumed prior to tonight that this was just a lie I told myself to feel better about my spiral into madness. Calling my condition a result of their dirty work was my way of coping, not being. Never did I once actually want to believe the Others had even the slightest thing to do with any of it.

Tonight, the mothership makes me shudder. I stifle a grimace, rubbing my hands anxiously against the puddle I've found myself in the middle of. It has always been a habit of mine to toss and turn in my sleep.

Kalina, Clyde, and Olive aren't awake yet. Judging by the way the horizon doesn't have even the slightest hint of a sun coming up, I was probably asleep for only an hour or two at most. My companions, on the other hand, have nothing keeping them awake, and I can't blame them for it. Unlike me, they have no reason at all to be hung up about the Silencers. They don't have any inner Shakespearian dilemmas brewing inside their brains.

I seem to have rolled quite a bit in my sleep. Kalina, who was initially lying near me, is now a few feet away, her arms clutched around her legs. Clyde is even farther, tucked beside the torn edge of the building we'd been using for shelter. The only person near me is Olive--spread out on her stomach near my feet.

SHAKES: Were you sleeping?

I roll my eyes so far into the back of my head, they could never return. The next best reaction would be screaming at him that I'm a human and he needs to leave me alone. (I reckon this particular reaction wouldn't translate well to the people I'm with.)

ME: Well, what do you think, Sherlock?

SHAKES: I believe the name you gave me is Shakespeare.

ME: Whatever.

SHAKES: I'm asking a valid question, Kassie. I can't quite decide if you were sleeping or not.

ME: Why's that?

SHAKES: You were up a few minutes ago. Olive was talking in her sleep.