Arach
*twirls*
- 36
- Posts
- 18
- Years
- Under your bed. =3
- Seen Feb 5, 2010
((Yay! Thank you! =3 I know this is really, really long, but after this catch-up intro, it should be my last fanfic-chapter-length post. XD))
She was awoken by the crash of a rock, flying through her window.
In a flash, she was sitting up straight in bed, frozen on the spot, shock-still as her reeling mind tried to register what was going on. She'd gone to bed early the night before, at about eleven; late for her, early for New Year's Eve. The night had been quiet. A glance at her alarm clock revealed it was eight o'clock, about the time she usually woke up at. Only this wake-up call wasn't a pleasant one.
The rock--no, it was a brick--had hurtled through the lower left side of her window, which was thankfully positioned between her bed and her desk, on the wall adjacent to her headboard. This way, the glass had sprayed all over the floor, and not on her. The brick had skidded over ten feet into the room, nearly knocking against the door. This meant that nearly the whole floor was littered with shards.
Trying to control her rising panic (with only minimal success), Jenn's fumbling hands reached for her inhaler, and she took a long gulp of air. From the newly made hole she could hear angry shouting; she recognized some foul four-letter words, but most of it was garbled sentences mixed with despairing wails. All of a sudden, her father burst into the room, looking haggard but relieved to see her in one piece, his shirt askew, his labcoat smeared with something--was that blood? His shoe crunched on the glass, and he stepped back. Without a word, he left, and came back with a broom. In a few quick strokes, he'd cleared a path for her.
"Get your things, darling," he ordered, as calmly as a man in his situation could. Deeply troubled, Jenn could only gaze at him with fear. With a sigh, he walked up to her closet and began to pull out clothing, which he threw onto her bed.
"Put these on, it's cold out there,"
"What happened, daddy?"
The man paused, his daughter's suitcase halfway off the shelf. He then shook his head and yanked it off, and began to fill it.
"The star--" he began, and didn't need to specify which star it was, "--is gone. And with it, apparently, are all the pokemon in the world."
He had his back turned to her, letting her process the information as she changed. Her eyes welled up with tears, her body was taken by tremors. Her mind went blank, her mouth ran dry; she couldn't even begin to imagine what was going to happen next. She swallowed stiffly.
"Where are you taking me, daddy?"
He sighed again, "I'm sorry, darling, but you're going to go stay with mom for a while, alright? I have to stay here. There are rioters all around the compound, and it's only going to get worse."
"Rioters?"
His rueful smile didn't ease her, "well, people need to blame someone, so of course they turn to the specialists, who don't have any more of a clue than they do--but enough. Here, you can brush your teeth once you get to your mother's. Now quickly, get dressed!"
While most of his team lived outside the compound, Brian Murdoch was the Museum's project leader and, no longer tied down by a wife, had decided to move into the nearby Space Research Institute with his daughter; it was close to her school, for one, and saved him a lot of time and energy that he could later invest into helping with her homework or cleaning up their rooms. Only three other researchers, all of them single men, lived there. It was a lonely environment, and not the best for a teenage girl, but Jennifer loved it. This was why she was shaking as she pulled on the stockings, woolen skirt and sweater her father had given her. She felt ill, her body running hot and cold all at once, at the thought of leaving this place, especially for her mother's flat.
Dressed, she was yanked out of the room and led down a few flights of stairs. In the common room of the compound--the safest room, it had no windows and was unnacessible form the outside--she was offered a fast breakfast and was introduced to Officer McCalla, who would be escorting her to Viridian city. He seemed friendly enough, but like her father, he looked exhausted, and even though he was young, he seemed to have aged ten years in a night.
"So here's the plan," he told her, and she already didn't like where this was going, because it involved her participation and she hated that, "it's chaos out there, so we're going to run together, alright? You and me. You're going to keep your head down--you can bring your purse, I'll take your suitcase, but hold onto it tightly. We'll take the police car or of the city, and then we'll go by motorcycle. Is that alright with you?"
Eating her porridge without thinking, she nodded numbly. Her mind seemed to have shut down. 'This isn't happening, it's not, it's not, it's not', she told herself, trying to keep the fright down. Her father sat next to her, a protective arm around her shoulders. Once her bowl was done, she was led into the lobby, dressed in her cap, a scarf and her long coat. To her horror, the bay windows gave her a full view (and concert) of the clash between the angry mob and the riot control officers; with no Growlithe or Arcanine to protect them, the squad was relying almost entirely on tear gas and tazers to keep the people under control.
She realized: it was like this everywhere, now.
Unable to take it in, she blacked out.
She woke up in the back of the police car, feeling light-headed and dizzy. For a second she tensed, unsure of where she was, until the memories came flooding back and she groaned. Officer McCalla paused in the middle of a radio transmission, glanced at her in the rear-vew mirror, and contined to speak in clipped tones with whoever was on the other end. It might even have been her mother, for all Jenn knew.
Soon he was done, and put the device down.
"Are you alright?" he demanded, as she struggled to sit up.
"I-I'm f-f-f-fine," she stuttered, a common side effect of nervousness in her. He nodded, turning back to the road.
"There's been a change of plans; we'll be driving to Viridian city, because they need the extra car--they just got one trashed."
At her stricken look, he bit his lip, "sorry, you didn't need to her that. But yeah, it'll take a bit longer before we get there."
It was a day's hike from Pewter to Viridian, assuming one took the direct route through the forest. The roads, however, took a long detour so as to avoid harming the native pokemon, which amounted to about the same time. In essence, they wouldn't reach Viridian before nightfall. The clock on the dashboard read 10:36 AM. This was going to be a long ride.
Her Pokenav, a gift from her mother, began to buzz: it was a text message from her friend Melody.
Where r u? Did u see Fluffy
'Fluffy' was Melody's Jigglypuff, and her pride and joy. With shaking fingers, Jenn managed to text back:
No I didnt, Im in a polic car were goin 2 viridian
Wtf why?
Cuz the SRI is 2 dangerous my dad says
I know about da riots, does he know wa hapened?
No nobody knows
No more messages came after that; Melody was undoubtedly off looking for her pokemon, like everyone else. Jenn was somewhat happy about it all; no more pokemon meant no more nasty bugs, slimy fish, gross burgers, no more sour milk, no more rampant high cholesterol--she wouldn't be the only vegan in her class anymore. Not to mention pokemon freaked her out; they could bite you, burn you, freeze you, shock you, and do all sorts of just plain nasty things. She would never say that out loud, of course--she'd probably get killed.
Feeling the panic welling up again, she took a puff from her inhaler and stared out the window at the scenery. Her father had been right: not more Miltank or Tauros in the farms, not more Pidgey in the air, nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
They pulled up at the Pokemon Center around 6 'oclock. Blinking wearily, hungry and tired from a day of stressful phone calls and other sorts of nail-biting, Jenn wobbled out of the car and into the street. She belatedly realized where she was, and frowned. The pit in her stomach seemed to get wider.
"Why are we here?"
Officer McCalla pulled her suitcase out of the trunk, set it down and pulled up the handle.
"Your mother's flat is in the same district as the police department, and there's a lot of unheaval around there at the moment. The Pokemon center is about the only place people won't touch," the policeman explained. Sure enough, slipping out of the sliding glass doors was Officer Jenny, in casual clothing, the heels of her boots click-click-clicking against the stone stairs.
"Jennifer! Thank goodness!" The woman exclaimed, ebracing her daughter fiercely. Disliking close physical contact, Jenn tried to get out of the hug, but her mother was adamant. After a moment, Jenny finally let go, and gave McCalla the report of the day, along with his next set of orders. Waving goodbye, the two watched him drive off.
"Was the ride alright?" The older woman asked, leading her daughter into the white building. The teenager couldn't help noticing how, despite the makeup, her mother's wrinkles seemed so much more apparent today than usual; everyone she met seemed tired somehow, completely out of steam.
"It was...fine," she replied. Predictably, the Nurse at the counter looked even more worried and dreadful than everyone else. Her eyes were bloodshot from crying, her skin so pale and sickly it was almost gray, her hair is disarray. She was a wreck.
"I'll take over for you at the counter, Joy; there's no need for you to stay up when you're so tired," Jenny reasoned soothingly, reaching over to her friend, who had resumed weeping. Meanwhile, Jennifer looked around the pokemon center lobby, seeing quite a few trainers (ex-trainers? What were they now?) sitting at the couches, watching the latest news bulletins on the television. Nothing good, undoubtedly.
Relieved of her duties of taking phone calls and answering impatient, panicked trainers, Joy seemed to visibly hold herself better, as if a weight had vanished from her shoulders. She led Jenn down the halls to her room; simple, with a isngle small bed, a table and a bare window. Too tired to complain, Jenn simply sat on her bed and said nothing until the Nurse had left.
She cried for twenty minutes straight after that, curled up in a ball on the creaky fold-up bed. Her life had collapsed and she simply didn't know how to deal with it and why was this happening?
Sniffling, she wandered outside again, went to the communal bathroom to be sick, then headed for the lobby after a good dose of mouthwash. She hadn't brushed her teeth or showered or anything and she felt so disgusting, that alone was reason enough to puke. Furthermore, her stomach wasn't growling, it was roaring, leading to even more acute nausea. When she asked her mother if there was any food left, however, she was told she would have to wait another hour--supper was scheduled at 7:30 for residents at the Center.
Jennifer actually contemplated going out and getting food herself, not that her mother would have let her; but just the thought of what kind of chaos awaited her out there was too much. Instead, she meandered over to the couches and selected a seat, hunkering down with a battered paperback, hoping to read the hunger and fear away. She was having pangs, and her stomach snarled angrily. A kind young trainer pulled an apple out of his bag and handed it to her, with a sorrowful smile. He might've been saving it for a precious pokemon. Thanking him quietly, she took it and devoured it almost completely. There was nothing left to do but wait.
She was awoken by the crash of a rock, flying through her window.
In a flash, she was sitting up straight in bed, frozen on the spot, shock-still as her reeling mind tried to register what was going on. She'd gone to bed early the night before, at about eleven; late for her, early for New Year's Eve. The night had been quiet. A glance at her alarm clock revealed it was eight o'clock, about the time she usually woke up at. Only this wake-up call wasn't a pleasant one.
The rock--no, it was a brick--had hurtled through the lower left side of her window, which was thankfully positioned between her bed and her desk, on the wall adjacent to her headboard. This way, the glass had sprayed all over the floor, and not on her. The brick had skidded over ten feet into the room, nearly knocking against the door. This meant that nearly the whole floor was littered with shards.
Trying to control her rising panic (with only minimal success), Jenn's fumbling hands reached for her inhaler, and she took a long gulp of air. From the newly made hole she could hear angry shouting; she recognized some foul four-letter words, but most of it was garbled sentences mixed with despairing wails. All of a sudden, her father burst into the room, looking haggard but relieved to see her in one piece, his shirt askew, his labcoat smeared with something--was that blood? His shoe crunched on the glass, and he stepped back. Without a word, he left, and came back with a broom. In a few quick strokes, he'd cleared a path for her.
"Get your things, darling," he ordered, as calmly as a man in his situation could. Deeply troubled, Jenn could only gaze at him with fear. With a sigh, he walked up to her closet and began to pull out clothing, which he threw onto her bed.
"Put these on, it's cold out there,"
"What happened, daddy?"
The man paused, his daughter's suitcase halfway off the shelf. He then shook his head and yanked it off, and began to fill it.
"The star--" he began, and didn't need to specify which star it was, "--is gone. And with it, apparently, are all the pokemon in the world."
He had his back turned to her, letting her process the information as she changed. Her eyes welled up with tears, her body was taken by tremors. Her mind went blank, her mouth ran dry; she couldn't even begin to imagine what was going to happen next. She swallowed stiffly.
"Where are you taking me, daddy?"
He sighed again, "I'm sorry, darling, but you're going to go stay with mom for a while, alright? I have to stay here. There are rioters all around the compound, and it's only going to get worse."
"Rioters?"
His rueful smile didn't ease her, "well, people need to blame someone, so of course they turn to the specialists, who don't have any more of a clue than they do--but enough. Here, you can brush your teeth once you get to your mother's. Now quickly, get dressed!"
While most of his team lived outside the compound, Brian Murdoch was the Museum's project leader and, no longer tied down by a wife, had decided to move into the nearby Space Research Institute with his daughter; it was close to her school, for one, and saved him a lot of time and energy that he could later invest into helping with her homework or cleaning up their rooms. Only three other researchers, all of them single men, lived there. It was a lonely environment, and not the best for a teenage girl, but Jennifer loved it. This was why she was shaking as she pulled on the stockings, woolen skirt and sweater her father had given her. She felt ill, her body running hot and cold all at once, at the thought of leaving this place, especially for her mother's flat.
Dressed, she was yanked out of the room and led down a few flights of stairs. In the common room of the compound--the safest room, it had no windows and was unnacessible form the outside--she was offered a fast breakfast and was introduced to Officer McCalla, who would be escorting her to Viridian city. He seemed friendly enough, but like her father, he looked exhausted, and even though he was young, he seemed to have aged ten years in a night.
"So here's the plan," he told her, and she already didn't like where this was going, because it involved her participation and she hated that, "it's chaos out there, so we're going to run together, alright? You and me. You're going to keep your head down--you can bring your purse, I'll take your suitcase, but hold onto it tightly. We'll take the police car or of the city, and then we'll go by motorcycle. Is that alright with you?"
Eating her porridge without thinking, she nodded numbly. Her mind seemed to have shut down. 'This isn't happening, it's not, it's not, it's not', she told herself, trying to keep the fright down. Her father sat next to her, a protective arm around her shoulders. Once her bowl was done, she was led into the lobby, dressed in her cap, a scarf and her long coat. To her horror, the bay windows gave her a full view (and concert) of the clash between the angry mob and the riot control officers; with no Growlithe or Arcanine to protect them, the squad was relying almost entirely on tear gas and tazers to keep the people under control.
She realized: it was like this everywhere, now.
Unable to take it in, she blacked out.
******
She woke up in the back of the police car, feeling light-headed and dizzy. For a second she tensed, unsure of where she was, until the memories came flooding back and she groaned. Officer McCalla paused in the middle of a radio transmission, glanced at her in the rear-vew mirror, and contined to speak in clipped tones with whoever was on the other end. It might even have been her mother, for all Jenn knew.
Soon he was done, and put the device down.
"Are you alright?" he demanded, as she struggled to sit up.
"I-I'm f-f-f-fine," she stuttered, a common side effect of nervousness in her. He nodded, turning back to the road.
"There's been a change of plans; we'll be driving to Viridian city, because they need the extra car--they just got one trashed."
At her stricken look, he bit his lip, "sorry, you didn't need to her that. But yeah, it'll take a bit longer before we get there."
It was a day's hike from Pewter to Viridian, assuming one took the direct route through the forest. The roads, however, took a long detour so as to avoid harming the native pokemon, which amounted to about the same time. In essence, they wouldn't reach Viridian before nightfall. The clock on the dashboard read 10:36 AM. This was going to be a long ride.
Her Pokenav, a gift from her mother, began to buzz: it was a text message from her friend Melody.
Where r u? Did u see Fluffy
'Fluffy' was Melody's Jigglypuff, and her pride and joy. With shaking fingers, Jenn managed to text back:
No I didnt, Im in a polic car were goin 2 viridian
Wtf why?
Cuz the SRI is 2 dangerous my dad says
I know about da riots, does he know wa hapened?
No nobody knows
No more messages came after that; Melody was undoubtedly off looking for her pokemon, like everyone else. Jenn was somewhat happy about it all; no more pokemon meant no more nasty bugs, slimy fish, gross burgers, no more sour milk, no more rampant high cholesterol--she wouldn't be the only vegan in her class anymore. Not to mention pokemon freaked her out; they could bite you, burn you, freeze you, shock you, and do all sorts of just plain nasty things. She would never say that out loud, of course--she'd probably get killed.
Feeling the panic welling up again, she took a puff from her inhaler and stared out the window at the scenery. Her father had been right: not more Miltank or Tauros in the farms, not more Pidgey in the air, nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
******
They pulled up at the Pokemon Center around 6 'oclock. Blinking wearily, hungry and tired from a day of stressful phone calls and other sorts of nail-biting, Jenn wobbled out of the car and into the street. She belatedly realized where she was, and frowned. The pit in her stomach seemed to get wider.
"Why are we here?"
Officer McCalla pulled her suitcase out of the trunk, set it down and pulled up the handle.
"Your mother's flat is in the same district as the police department, and there's a lot of unheaval around there at the moment. The Pokemon center is about the only place people won't touch," the policeman explained. Sure enough, slipping out of the sliding glass doors was Officer Jenny, in casual clothing, the heels of her boots click-click-clicking against the stone stairs.
"Jennifer! Thank goodness!" The woman exclaimed, ebracing her daughter fiercely. Disliking close physical contact, Jenn tried to get out of the hug, but her mother was adamant. After a moment, Jenny finally let go, and gave McCalla the report of the day, along with his next set of orders. Waving goodbye, the two watched him drive off.
"Was the ride alright?" The older woman asked, leading her daughter into the white building. The teenager couldn't help noticing how, despite the makeup, her mother's wrinkles seemed so much more apparent today than usual; everyone she met seemed tired somehow, completely out of steam.
"It was...fine," she replied. Predictably, the Nurse at the counter looked even more worried and dreadful than everyone else. Her eyes were bloodshot from crying, her skin so pale and sickly it was almost gray, her hair is disarray. She was a wreck.
"I'll take over for you at the counter, Joy; there's no need for you to stay up when you're so tired," Jenny reasoned soothingly, reaching over to her friend, who had resumed weeping. Meanwhile, Jennifer looked around the pokemon center lobby, seeing quite a few trainers (ex-trainers? What were they now?) sitting at the couches, watching the latest news bulletins on the television. Nothing good, undoubtedly.
Relieved of her duties of taking phone calls and answering impatient, panicked trainers, Joy seemed to visibly hold herself better, as if a weight had vanished from her shoulders. She led Jenn down the halls to her room; simple, with a isngle small bed, a table and a bare window. Too tired to complain, Jenn simply sat on her bed and said nothing until the Nurse had left.
She cried for twenty minutes straight after that, curled up in a ball on the creaky fold-up bed. Her life had collapsed and she simply didn't know how to deal with it and why was this happening?
Sniffling, she wandered outside again, went to the communal bathroom to be sick, then headed for the lobby after a good dose of mouthwash. She hadn't brushed her teeth or showered or anything and she felt so disgusting, that alone was reason enough to puke. Furthermore, her stomach wasn't growling, it was roaring, leading to even more acute nausea. When she asked her mother if there was any food left, however, she was told she would have to wait another hour--supper was scheduled at 7:30 for residents at the Center.
Jennifer actually contemplated going out and getting food herself, not that her mother would have let her; but just the thought of what kind of chaos awaited her out there was too much. Instead, she meandered over to the couches and selected a seat, hunkering down with a battered paperback, hoping to read the hunger and fear away. She was having pangs, and her stomach snarled angrily. A kind young trainer pulled an apple out of his bag and handed it to her, with a sorrowful smile. He might've been saving it for a precious pokemon. Thanking him quietly, she took it and devoured it almost completely. There was nothing left to do but wait.