Tag - 1990s
It was the fire that called Elvira out that night.
She gazed at the burning watchtower through her binoculars, and as she recognized the arsonist’s handiwork, a familiar sensation rose within her—she was closing in on her target. The sensation swelled, and she spurred her horse down the hillside into the desert valley.
The crimson explosion filled the night sky, far enough from the city to avoid any damage.
The Silver Guardian wasted no time. The police could handle the cleanup. He might have saved the day, but there was one more life that needed saving.
In a flash, the hero of Invictus City soared through the air across the metropolis, black hair and cape flapping behind him.
What I wouldn’t give for a chocolate cupcake. Unfortunately, Dad’s grocery shopping never included desserts. My snack would likely consist of veggies and hummus. I dropped my backpack and scrunched my nose. It’d been so itchy lately.
At least I’d get cake tomorrow for my sixteenth birthday.
I stiffen as the mold tightens around my body, compressing it into a different shape. My breath comes hot and fast. It’s not like I was wearing my own skin anyway, but that doesn’t stop me from panicking. My mold is in Vernon’s safe, locked away for when I have further use of it—meaning when I stop working for him. Which, at this rate, may be never.
The mold cracks open. I’m free and wearing a different skin.
“Come with me.” The officer doesn’t even blink.Read it now
The zombies had the stronghold surrounded. But what else was new?
Kicking my feet up on my desk, I clicked on my handheld recorder. “This is Commander Corinthia II—that’s ‘Cori’ to my friends, ‘Commander’ to the rest of you—with an update on our situation. It’s day…” I glanced at the walls of my concrete room. The hordes of tally marks looked like the desperate clawing of the undead. “…day unknown of The Z Siege. The Oasis is holding up fairly well.” What could zombies do to a concrete fortress in the middle of a desert? Arm themselves with cactus battering rams and charge?
Silver beams of moonlight poured in at the open window. Hushed surf, whistling frogs, and rustling leaves lulled me as I shifted on the bed, still dressed in old combat pants and a red, cropped tank top.
Like a lingering scent, Kavan’s presence filled the room. The back of my hand brushed my lips with a soft, butterfly touch.
Kristen yawned and answered the doorbell—fuzzy pink robe and all. A smiling, thin, sharp-nosed man in a garish suit stood on her mat.
“Good morning!” His grin grew even wider. “I represent Catharsis Effigies Inc., and I’d like to interest you in our one-of-a-kind product.”
“Sorry.” Kristen shifted to close the door. “I have a really full day.”
I hopped onto the bus with music still bouncing through the wires in the back of my head. The hydraulic hiss of the door cut off the cries of the doctors running to catch me. I waved at them as the bus pulled out and joined the flood of neon San Diego traffic under the rose gold sky.
The visual should have been concerning, but, hopped up as I was, the pearl white road and amber horizon seemed more or less normal. People ogled me with dark faces rimmed in blues and reds.
My heart is pounding, a steady reminder that any misstep could destroy everything. There’s nothing for me outside; my value is here now. I can’t tear my eyes from the beautiful people that fill the room. My breath hitches in my chest. I tighten my fist around the drive carrying my invitation. It’s all that keeps me from questioning my presence. Everything around me is the height of popularity.Read it now
“What the hell are you doing here?”
Neal was surprised that Lena, who was staring down his reflection in the vanity’s mirror, hadn’t asked the more obvious question: why was Neal aiming the gun at her back? Or maybe it was the right question; he still hadn’t pulled the trigger.
I phase into the spirit realm, bottled storm in hand. Ethereal mist presses in on me from every direction. Supposedly, ghosts can find their way through it by instinct. Some stay here for decades, unraveling, their fragmented thoughts contributing to the haze.
My Laura wouldn’t do the same. She’ll be at the station,