Desired Life

Chapter 8: Rescue Mission

Chapter 8: Rescue Mission

  “Where are we going?” Maia asks me after we’ve left the party.
  We had to wait, since it was Maia’s party and she couldn’t just leave as if nothing happened. So here we were, on our way to find Natalie and her new hideout. How I know where her hideout is is unbeknownst to myself, but I don’t care as long as I am able to save Annabelle.
  John! I hear someone scream inside my head. It sounds as if Maia were speaking into my mind, which she discovered just recently that she can actually do that. She’s the Mistress of Minds after all. Annabelle’s voice rings inside my head. I’m not sure whether it’s my mind playing tricks to me or if it’s actually her speaking to my mind.
  “I don’t know what’s it’s called, I just know that we have to get there quick,” I respond.
  The thing about teleporting is that when I don’t know where I want to go, I don’t risk the chance, especially considering the fact that it may be somewhere completely different and it might even get me killed. Plus the fact that, four persons at once is something that I’m not sure I can actually do. Sure, last time I teleported was to Maia’s house, but I do know exactly where her house is. Natalie’s hideout is a place that I don’t know its location. No risking lives anymore if I can help it.
  “What are you planning to do when we get there, then?” Maia asks.
  “That is another thing that I don’t know,” I admit.
  “Great,” Maia mutters.
  I drive through the streets, looking here and there, describing the scenery that flashes on my mind to Maia, Diane and Hansel. I am a bit impatient, because when it comes to the Corporeal Hybrids, they will do everything just to get rid of one Outsider. And I’m sure that Natalie captured Annabelle knowing that we would try to save her. Just, maybe, more than four. She possibly expected a prey of a couple more. Lawson, my mind whispers. What is it trying to tell me? I mean, yeah, sure Annabelle’s last name is Lawson, but I can’t do anymore with her last name than I can stab someone with a piece of Styrofoam. Practically, the information that my brain has been giving me for a while is useless, with the exception of the discovery of Annabelle’s hideout. But is that a deeper connection between Annabelle’s mind and mine, or is it just a hunch? I’m not really sure about what is what anymore. At least not after discovering that Ken had been hiding his Outsider part for a long time.
  As we pass across a street, I come back to my senses. Something flashes past my eye and I notice that I’ve just passed the street we are looking for.
  “It’s back there. Hold tight, this is going to be a rough turn,” I advise.
  I take a sharp turn and head to the street. It is lined with apartments and tall buildings that tower above the small houses beside them.
  “Get out of the car silently,” I whisper.
  They all do as I say and slowly we make our way to an orange luxury shop a few yards away. I can clearly see a picture of the orange luxury in my mind. A girl is carried past the door as she fights with all her might against the woman that is taking her. Annabelle. My mind instantly comes back to its senses after the small sighting I had just a little while ago.
  We stand in front of the shop, Diane guarding us in the back, me standing right in front of the door, just a few inches from it. I push the door open as silently as I can, but it all fails as the door strikes the wind chimes and they rattle loudly. I hear footsteps coming to the front of the shop. There, I see a frail old woman standing, her skin wrinkled up. But her eyes are out of place. They look golden. Like, actual golden. And then, as she props her elbows on the counter, I notice that where her left hand should be, a stump of skin replaces that place.
  “Natalie,” I think out loud.
  The old lady’s face suddenly shines warily at the voicing of the name, but it quickly slackens back to the old, sweet face of a lady.
  “You can’t fool me, Natalie,” I tell her.
  “Dude, she’s an old woman. She can’t be Natalie,” Hansel whispers in my ear.
  “I’m telling you it’s Natalie,” I say.
  “How did your hand disappear?” I ask the frail woman.
  “I worked as a chemist. But one day, something went wrong and a flask made explosion. There went my hand,” the old lady responds in a voice too strong to be an old woman’s voice.
  “Just what happened to Natalie,” I imply to my friends.
  “Let me see what’s in the back of your shop, then,” I demand.
  “Oh, no. That’s of personal interest,” she responds, her voice taking a dangerous tone.
  Her eyes turn a dark shade of red, almost black. I raise my arm and open my hand, making the palm of it face the old lady.
  “Well, it’s of my personal interest as well,” I confide, taking a daring tone.
  The woman stands there unmoving. But with surprising speed, she sends tiny grains of sand that bite into my skin, creating tiny holes in it. I hear my friends wince in pain as the grains of sand burn our skin. I take a step forward and send a blast of force. She instantly dodges the force of energy and disappears past a hole in the wall. She turns back to her usual form, turning around a corner, her red hair flowing behind her.
  I run behind her, turning and turning in the endless corners of this shop. I think I’m lost when I hear a scream. Annabelle’s muffled voice rings from within a wall. I decide to follow it and check if it actually leads me to its source, which it hopefully does. I run after the scream and try to tell my friends, or at least Maia, where I am with the use of telepathy. Maia has been teaching us how to link with one another via telepathy, so that in case of emergency, we don’t have the need to talk verbally.
  Anyone that can hear me, I’m searching for Annabelle. Near the bathrooms there’s a door to the basement! Look for us there! I call at my friends.
  I notice a trap door open and close rapidly, red hair disappearing behind the closing door. I open the trap door behind Natalie and enter the room. I stand in front of a dark room. Lights turn on and I can see a figure standing beside a container. A really big, cylindrical container. Annabelle sits inside a chair, which is placed in the middle of the container. She seems unconscious, as her head is bent low and she has her eyes closed now. I notice stains of blood running down her arms and tiny holes in her pants. She looks beaten up and tattered. A tube is placed at one side of the container, waiting for contents to be poured from it. Natalie smiles and she presses a button in her hand. I hear what sounds like water running down the tube, but when it comes out of it, it comes out really wrong. It is a yellowish liquid which runs down the tube. A painful flashback comes to my mind. I see a girl screaming her head off as a yellow liquid burns her skin. Acid. That’s what’s inside the container. It takes time for the acid to finally reach the legs of the chair, but as soon as it touches them, they start burning and consuming under the powerful substance.
  “What do you want from her?” I ask Natalie.
  “Me? Well, I am doing my job. Hunting down Outsiders, you know,” she responds honestly, but still with a vile smile creeping on her lips.
  “Outsiders? She’s not an Outsider!” I claim, doubtful of the words escaping my mouth. Is she, really, human? The question looms above everything.
  “Oh, you innocent young boy. She is as human as you are. Yet she’s full of darkness and strength. Makes a good prey.” Natalie purrs as she walks around the container.
  The metal of the chair sizzles as the acid corrodes and consumes the metal.
  “She hasn’t done anything!” I exclaim.
  Natalie looks at me, her head bent slightly diagonally. “The fact that she is an Outsider is enough proof of her little innocence.”
  “What are you talking about? You are an Outsider as well!” I request from her.
  “Yes, but I’ve learned my position. You, untrained teenagers, pose a threat to humans.”
  “Is that what they tell you at the C.H.?”
  “And a bit more. But it’s reasonable information,” she concludes.
  As soon as she finishes talking, I see Annabelle wake up. She stares at me for a couple of seconds before she breaks into a fit of screams. I watch with excruciating pain as the acid starts eating her skin slowly.
  “Stop it!” I shout at Natalie.
  “Why don’t you try to stop it? If you manage to take the control from my hands, then you will be able to stop it,” Natalie dares, showing the control.
  I attack her with my fists, not caring about the “don’t hurt women” rule. She dodges them and with an impressively strong open-palm blow, sends me flying backwards, where I smash against a wall. I rise from the floor and send a wave of energy at her. She blocks it with her bare hands as if it were just air. Then, she runs at me, taking a knife out of her pocket and slashing fiercely at me. I dodge blow after blow, but sooner than later, she impales the knife on my right shoulder. I take the knife from my shoulder. I slash at Natalie with renewed strength, hearing the wails of Annabelle. Lucky for me, I hear shouts from upstairs coming closer. Natalie strains away from the fight for a couple of seconds, giving me enough time to slash at her with my wolf claws. As in Teen Wolf, I slash at her with my wolf claws and fight her off for a bit longer. I dodge another blow and quickly stand up, bringing my fist to her jaw. She falters, and so I grab her jaw, pressing my thumbs against her tender skin below her mouth, breaking the skin, locking her in the fishhook lock. I apply some strength with my telekinesis and rip her jaw away, my heart fiercely pumping with adrenaline.
  Her tongue hangs out of her mouth as she now lies dead on the floor. I take the control from her hand and turn the acid off. It pools around Annabelle at knee height. My mind turns wild as the chair beneath her breaks and burns quickly in the acid. I lift her from the acid pool a bit, enough as to not let the acid touch her anymore. She breathes heavily, but it lightens as she realizes that she isn’t burning up anymore. I turn around as I hear that my friends break into the room. I place Annabelle on the floor. Diane runs to her side. Maia and Hansel gasp when they see the disgusting jawless form of Natalie lying on the floor. But suddenly, she rises and she opens her eyes. They glow a bright red. She runs at me, but I send a rippling wave of energy at her feet and she stumbles. But she looks creepier crawling on the floor, leaving a trace of blood behind her. I feel energy all around me. An incessant wave of energy bursts accidentally from me and Natalie’s form is enveloped in acid as it floats over to the container. A limp arm grasps the edge of the container as the last humane part of Natalie tries to maintain itself from burning without much succession as it falls, strength less, into the pool of acid.
  “Let’s get out of this sick place,” I command.
  I take Annabelle from below her armpits, Hansel taking her right arm as I take her left arm, and we carry her out of the shop. As soon as we leave the basement, the only way out of the shop is a straight hallway.
  “What happened here?” I demand.
  “What are you talking about?” Maia asks.
  “The hallway. There were several diverging paths,” I remind her.
  “No there weren’t. There was only one path,” Maia answers.
  “I also remember seeing more than one,” Hansel and Diane say.
  “Natalie was able to manipulate minds. And you’re a Harrison, the Mistress of Minds. Maybe that makes you invulnerable to any mental trick,” I whisper, connecting the dots.
  “What did you say?” Maia inquires.
  “You are invulnerable to mental tricks because you are the possessor of the mental realms,” I repeat.
  “I…I guess that’s good,” she responds.
  We enter the car and take a feeble Annabelle to the Safe House, where she is taken care of by Louise.
  “You have been of great help, Louise,” I admit.
  “Thank you,” she answers happily.
  I turn around and leave the place. I sit just outside of the Safe House, thinking about all the events. It’s crazy how so much can happen in the lapse of three weeks. Nearly a month has passed since the incident in the building. It makes me feel weak and horrible, thinking about it all. Grindel, Annabelle, Kate, and every other person that ended up either injured or dead just because of me. It all just makes me want to die. It doesn’t feel good at all, but there is nothing I can do to help the feeling.
  I stand and walk to the car. It’s Maia’s parents’ car that we got borrowed. It hasn’t got a scratch from all the things we did just now. Not even its tires seem wasted from the harsh turn I did. I turn around and look up to the sky. The sun has gone up. It has been there for a little more than half an hour, so that means that it must be nearly six in the morning. I decide that it’s time to go home. I turn around and make as if to teleport home, but Maia comes out of the Safe House to talk with me.
  “It’s lucky she has you, you know,” she says.
  “Yeah, it’s lucky she has me,” I mutter.
  I look down at the ground, disappointed and angry at the fact that most of what’s happening to my friends is my fault. All of it can be blamed at me.
  “You do know you don’t have to come with me, right?” I tell Maia.
  “I know, but I want to.”
  “Maia, you can’t come with me all the time. It’s dangerous for everyone. Even for me, and I am the one supposed to kill them all just because I’m the Adams.”
  “Well John, no leader can be a leader without followers. We are your followers, and we fight at your side if we must. Think about it,” she declares.
  She turns around and re-enters the Safe House. This time, when I turn around, I do actually teleport home.