Alex Mars knew quite a lot of parts and how they worked in a motorcycle-but definitely, had no idea how to drive the damned thing. In addition, its owner apparently hadn't left any guidelines, nor helmets on the handles for easy access.
But since letting their parents die only because he didn't know how to drive a motorcycle was utterly insane. He would just have to learn it as he drove.
He got on the leather seat, and Lyra followed and climbed on behind him. "The thing is, I don't know how to drive," Alex panted as he jabbed anything on the thing. "Just do it-we're out of time. The Military or the Rebels might have already gotten to them," There was no exclamation point at the end of her sentence, but the urgency was suddenly so great in her voice that Alex was kicked out of his daze and he somehow, got the right button and brought the thing to life. He pressed another one with his thumb and the motorcycle now jerked forward, as if it had been ready to pounce, ready to be used and race.
"Here we go-hang on tight since I don't know what might happen from now on," Those words are definitely not comforting at all, he thought, and just as he felt Lyra put her arms around his waist tightly, and hoping that they would make it, he let his thumb and motorcycle to take over the trip from now on.
So off they went.
During the first 5 minutes(and to a fast vehicle like the motorcycle, everyone knows that 5 minutes are extremely lengthy), he drove like hell-that was the exact definition. Ther feet skimmed brick and cement walls, a garbage can, a lamp-post, and at one curve, at which Alex Mars' thumb gunned the motorcycle unnecessarily hard, their feet actually skimmed the ground a great deal. At least we'll survive on this trip-or let's hope so, Alex prayed as he willed for his thumb to be less insane and less overreacting to sudden curves and bumps on the road.
However, after those disastrous and traumatic 5 minutes, his thumb had gotten the hang of it, and let his brain cooperate in the maneuvering of the vehicle-thus, by the time they reached the main center of their city, the wheels were flowing smoothly, while their feet were far away from any obstacles along the way.
"We should go to yours first," He shouted as he slowed the thing down, taking in the view of the streets he had walked or driven on in the distant past. Back then, everything had been good at least superficially, with the people strolling, doing their things, walking to school and work, but of course, it wasn't the same right now, unfortunately. Surprisingly, on the main street, he found the streets packed with people, some protesting, some marching, some just hurrying to get out of the city or some trying to hide. Also standing amongst the frenzy of the civilians were the Military-who were holding up their guns proudly in the air, threatening all, some looking for protestors, others looking for the Rebels and Prodigies, and the citizens, who were screaming and running around, crying helplessly like piglets soon to be slaughtered in the slaughterhouse. Alex was astonished to find a few civilians still walking solemnly through the frenzy of those panicked piglets, holding banners, and home-made weapons of their own, something very strictly banned for citizens to do.
Though the scene was tragic, infuriating, and impressive to watch compared to the silent and blood-splattered street they had just been at, the two had no time, for their only and closest people in life were probably far more in danger than those running round and round in the streets.
"Down the street-it's actually near here," Lyra Cannes hollered back to him, her arms and hands around his waist sweaty and tight, while eyes pointed at a wide and long street packed with cars frantic and trying to leave the city unscathed-which the military and the Rebels were probably going to disturb. "Alright," Alex nearly had to force the words out of his mouth, since, for a second, the illusion of his parents and the Martyr came shimmering to his head, but knew that letting Lyra see her sister would comfort her down-and from seeing her suffer from the mental shock of everything in her life, he just wanted to let her calm down after years of waiting to see her sister.
So wordlessly, he gunned his motorcycle down the street, avoiding all the pack of cars, weaving in and out, hands sweaty like Lyra's, anticipation and tension flooding him with the now so-familiar sensation of adrenaline. No driver looked at him and recognized him as the now-famed Alex Mars, and Alex Mars himself was relieved by that for now.
After going down the street for minutes, the crowd started to thin, for they were getting a bit away from the center of the city there, so he started to speed, going anywhere Lyra was pointing at till he heard something above their heads. And with horror that galloped into their chests at the same moment, they both realized that it was the white helicopter that they had seen just some 5 minutes ago at the nearly-empty street.
Alright, we've both been identified-we're all doomed, he thought as he looked up and saw the helicopter for real.
And they were right.
Fuck, he thought. Those badass Rebels. They were back once more.
The second he realized who they were, he knew that things were going to get bizarre from then on, and that he was late. But at least, he found that the helicopter wasn't headed directly towards him and Lyra even this time, for its nose was pointed toward something else-it was a gleaming building, tall and proud, with a single antennae sticking out, everything inside able to be seen from outside, looking official.
"The National Network Control Center-they are trying to disconnect any phone calls and everything, except theirs," Lyra's voice told him that her eyes were wide open. "Well, that's acceptable-we're not related directly to the demolishment of that building for now-" His ears had barely recovered, but knowing the urgency of Lyra, was starting back the motorcycle quickly when Lyra suddenly cut in as if she had just realized something, much more frantic and shocked than ever before. "Jesus, Al, you're wrong-my family lives in the slums right next to that building!"
It was the first time she had shrieked.
"Bullshit, hold on to me-for real," Even before his sentence had ended, he had twitched his thumb and hand, and the motorcycle flew down a short alley, but it was never fast enough. He could imagine when Lyra's reaction when she might find her family hurt or trapped inside the remnants of the Networks Building, and knew that things worse than hallucinations and uncontrollable fits would attack her involuntarily so well-and he cared about her. He just did, he himself knew.
Now the helicopter was hovering over the building with its massive power, wind hitting them both on the back and face like a tragic shower of wind. Rebels were leaning through the open doors of the helicopter again, their own hair flapping around here and there, aiming two giant guns installed and connected with the helicopter at the building's windows. Alex Mars considered shouting to them to stop, but knew that he had no voice to reach the guys-nor would they listen to him even if they heard him-they might even consider shooting him and Lyra down first before destroying the building itself.
"Stop!" Lyra hollered and knowing that their speed was too great, Alex slowed the thing down as quickly as possible, then let Lyra jump after uncurling her arms from his waist and jumped off himself, letting the motorcycle hit the ground on its side-not that he cared. Lyra was now already streaking in her true major Prod-speed toward a grey, plain and old house with a tiny field, its shutters pulled down on its few windows, all of it situated right next to the Center, which the damned Rebels had started releasing their fire at the windows with their keen acuteness, the clear windows shattering and falling in a million pieces, each shining in the grey light of the day-some even fell on top of the roof of the house Lyra was running to. We're very much out of time, Alex realized.
He himself pushed aside an originally dilapidated fence into the small garden carefully as Lyra Cannes threw open the front door and went inside, now fearless of anything, but urgent so much instead. Alex followed her in, but just before his eyes looked to the interior of the small house, he noticed now that the guns of the helicopter had finally ripped a small section of the Center and bits of steel and wood were raining down onto the roof of Lyra's house.
Shit, shit, shit. Things couldn't be worse than this... he thought.
The house smelled of ale, beer, wine, cigarettes, and, a bit of marijuana, and a dusty old wallpaper was stained with some red thing that had dried into a deep dark red color-wine or blood, he knew, and he could guess that it would be more blood than wine, and the reality of Lyra's words when she had explained her childhood came to him, and it reached his heart, and he felt sick-the girl had been raised in this horrible environment...
The living room and kitchen were no good either. It was stained, dirty, all covered with broken glass and plate pieces, jugs and water and stuff splashed here and there, and he cringed. He tried to ignore, tried to let his brain focus non what it always did-yes, Lyra Cannes-and let his... no, forced his eyes to look for her, for Lyra had vanished so quickly into the depth of the house in her great urgency.
He found her upstairs in an empty room, streaked to only a bare, grey cement wall and floor and ceiling-she didn't look like her introvert self, but like her extrovert self, eyes so fast and darting, having not even time to do her usual calculating. Even before he could call after her to warn of the things going on outside, she had already run away to the other room on the same floor.
He followed her desperately once more and found her small posture frozen and tense.
Before her was another room the same size as the previous room, but still with a bed and wallpaper pasted to it. On a small desk stood a single small notebook and a few pictures with broken frames, while the window was streaked with dirt and dried rain. And on in front of the desk stood a woman and a small girl, smaller than Lyra, with her same brown hair-the woman had the girl pulled tightly to her chest, eyes shut closed, shaking both of them in a pace too fast to be called rocking, nor too slow to be called trembling, as if the small girl was her doll or something. A tear pushed itself from those closed, tired and weary eyes down her cheek, then dripped onto the girl's brown hair and she whimpered like a strangled but too tired-to-resist animal. It worsened when a huge shudder vibrated through the entire house from above-the Center was still being demolished-and the two hugged each other closer. Yes, each other, my friends. The smaller girl had also was hugging her.
A single astonished, cracking fragment of her voice escaped Lyra Cannes' frozen lips at the moment as she started to shudder. Alex watched as her finger raised themselves toward the two, who seemed unaware of the 'intruders' and her feet inched toward them silently. Alex himself was now also as astonished, though not with the same intensity, and he stood behind her as Lyra breathed in and out of both the women's space.
The smaller girl was the first to realize their presence, and she turned around in the woman's hold towards them, equally flabbergasted.
She had the same brown, chocolate-brown eyes-Sarah, it was, Alex realized. So the other woman was... the two girls' mother? The half-out-of-her-mind mother?
It seemed illogical to him, and though he liked illogic, this still made no sense to him. The insane mother was hugging her second daughter instead of trying to harm her?
As he wondered, Sarah gasped and stayed like that, her mouth open and frozen, as much as her own older sister. That mouth finally closed shut when the house rumbled once more, dust falling from the topmost corners of her room.
"Lyra?" She asked, and Lyra Cannes nodded quickly, not bothering to hide her quick speed. By that time, the mother had realized that the hug had gotten a bit strange and fearfully, looked up and took in the scene-her own oldest daughter and some unfamiliar boy right behind her. Her mouth also fell open, but less, and her reaction was quicker-it was as if she had expected her older daughter to return everyday. The woman stumbled forward, even as the roof started to shake more from the falling debris of the Center and grasped a bony finger on Lyra's shoulders with human speed, though it was still almost as quick as Prod-speed. Lyra didn't shrink away from it, but let herself be held and nodded into her mother's eyes. And all the while, Alex watched the beautiful scene, thinking as if he was watching some movie for free...
"Oh, Lyra..." The woman put forward and was craning her forehead to meet her daughter's when...
Alex Mars heard it first as always-the falling sound of something ahead of his head... unfortunately, something huge.
"I'm sorry, but we've gotta move now-" he was declaring when it happened.
That moment, her oldest daughter's name became one of the poor woman's last words.
There was a light tearing sound at first, during the first second, and the edge of some steel structure, well to be exact, the letter C-one side white, the other red-dipped into the room, creating a ragged hole on the weak ceiling-Shit, it must be the huge lettering near the top of the Network Control Center. He made the connection from the information during the second the thing hit the ground-then, he shook out of it. Lyra had managed to tug her family out of direct contact with the sinking piece of steel, the two who weren't Prods struggling. Since Lyra's mother and sister had been alive all along, he and Lyra just had to save them and get them all out safely...
He dove to them as more pieces of hard steel started to rain down on them-how lucky and coincidental it was for the Rebels-for they were both harming the country and the Raiders. He threw them all to the ground just as another letter, an E hit the house, crashing deeper than the red one and shaking the structure as a whole once more.
"Shit, we have to get out of here!" He shouted, getting up in the brief seconds before another steel beam fell on top of them once more and staggering back. Sarah and her mother both were clinging to Lyra as she also got up, grabbing Mars' shoulder for support, while eyes darted faster ever around the room-they finally stopped at the door of the room. "We have to go out through the door downstairs, then out of the house!" She yelled.
"I can take your mother," Mars could only get a nod in response and he, awkwardly got hold of the shoulders of Lyra's mother and they leaped over a steel beam-a huge 'l' for 'Control' before breaking through the door, Lyra with Sarah following right behind. Just as they turned around to watch the now collapsing ceiling of the second floor, they all saw some spark.
Right-there just couldn't be no wires and electricity and neon inside those letters, Alex Mars thought-just as a tiny flame snaked out from beneath the 'l' they had just leaped over.
"Shit, shit, shit. Go, Lyra, go!" He yelped as the flame bloomed up and hissed at them before leaping at the wooden desk, consuming up the notebook and the entire desk to its legs in seconds. Sarah whimpered a second before Lyra whisked her away, running down the stairs with her so fast that her sister's legs barely touched every step.
In front of him, shoulders still in his arms, their mother looked down at the first floor with an astonished look.
Alex knew that the only choice was to call her ma'am, and sighed before yanking his gaze from the growing-and insane-fire. "Ma'am, I know you don't know the heck who I am, and also know that you are not believing anything going on today. But for now, you have to-" He pointed down the stairs. "-trust me." "Alex!" He heard Lyra yell for him, and he shrugged. "Let's go," He concluded.
Doing his best to imitate Lyra Cannes' uncanny speed, he dashed down the stairs, feet barely touching each stair also, and fortunately, so, fortunately, Mrs. Cannes had managed to hang on to his frame and as soon as they got on the first floor, they looked up to see that the fire had spread outside, now hissing down at them, while more steel and dust rained down on them, now the impact shaking the walls of the first floor.
"Out the door, now," Alex said as the fire started to leap down the stairs, going from the left to the right at each step. Alright, now the run to the door was quite easy, so short and quick, but then...
The day had been, all the time, marked as a catastrophe from the past(if you believe in fate, you should understand this pretty well), the second Lyra and Sarah and Alex Mars had been born. Yes, and the catastrophe-the real one, occurred just at that second.
Guessed it? Uh-huh, uh-huh-the National Network Control Center collapsed on the house, and so unfortunately, entirely.
Literally, it really did.
One second, the house had managed to stand, even with three huge red and white letters piercing the roof of the house, sand and dust raining down in the inside, and a crazy flame racing around here and there, increasing itself in intensity by consuming all that wood and cement. But the next, everything-yes, everything-had been pierced, raining down, and most of all, burning like hell.
Those sparkling, thousands of windows now crashed and showered over the entirety of the house and the roof collapsed as if prepared while crazy and random stuff-computers, antennae, keyboard-rained through the giant hole over the house. And this, as if not enough, was topped by the work of the flame, which had grown to a monster, shown everything beneath it with orange and red and blue as if celebrating, and, jumped onto a wooden beam, which, somehow, fell right in the path of Mars and all the three Cannes.
While the mother and Sarah gaped, thinking that it was too late and hell had finally come to them, Alex's brain whizzed around and he turned and found a steel, small old stool. And even before anyone could say something, he swung it like a baseball bat at the wooden beam that beamed back at him with its fire.
The steel pushed the heavy beam a bit, and he could feel the heat-somehow similar to the heat he had experienced at the desert-wash to his hands gripping the stool, which was also starting to melt and send the heat over to his side. But he knew this was the only way, the only way to resolve all problems...
He pushed the stool further and the beam, getting double-attacked by the demolishing powers of the flames and the stool's pushes, finally gave up and a tiny, narrow path to the door had been made.
"Sarah," Lyra pushed her sister through the path and the girl timidly stepped through the [ath and exited through the front door, onto the glass-showered porch and turned to watch the entire episode as the others started to shimmy through the path. While Mrs. Cannes dragged herself through the jagged path, Alex Mars could just feel a sigh of relief escaping Lyra Cannes.
After the woman had gotten through the path of the beam and was limping to the front door, he let Lyra go in front of him and he watched, just willing the frame fo the house to stand a tiny bit more, for nothing to fall onto its damned roof...
But the worst catastrophe of the day was yet to come, my friends. Yet.
And now it happened.
The frame of the house, as much as he had hoped so sincerely, finally, gave up, as if it had waited for its perfect timing to kill them, to extinguish their hope of survival and escape from the house.
There was a giant ripping sound, then the humongous creak from the last beams supporting the house and everything fell, everything showered, everything rained down as if gravity had simply gotten too strong.
It was an amazing and grotesque sight to watch as the front door collapsed and the windows shattered at the same time as if a group of boxers had boxed on them at the same second. Yes, it was exactly as if they were on the Titanic-and as far as Alex knew, only a minority had survived...
Another beam fell and somehow, as if by some prank of Satan, it fell on the woman, who had still been making her way slowly to the door.
It banged onto her feet and pressed her down and she flailed. The beam worked like a loose shoestring-to the two Prods, it seemed as if lifting the thing off was easy, but whenever the woman had nearly pulled her leg out from beneath it, she just couldn't do it.
He had no time to stop her when Lyra just tore through the narrow path, tearing herself in the process here and there, and reached her mother in a few seconds and started to pull. He himself got on his knees and crawled like hell, and while he still ended up with reared skin and clothes, made it to them and helped her pull up the beam, but...
Shoestrings that are lose are supposed to trip its wearer at the last second. And it worked the same in the situation-the beam was simply too heavy and long.
But they tried, and like hell they did. They kicked, wrestled, tried to lift it up, while time ticked by, more parts of the house showered down on them...
Then the woman spoke, voice somehow clear and pure and soft, as if she was coaxing them, as if they were 5-year-old kids.
"It's useless. You should go-you both deserve it. Lyra, dear, I ruined half your life, and I don't want to ruin it any further by making you die along with me. Though I don't know your name, boy-" She raised a shaking finger and pointed at Alex Mars. "You have been brave. And Lyra-" She looked up at Lyra, tears welling up and threatening to spill over her wrinkled, wasted skin. "I'm so proud of you. You did all that you could," And with that, she pressed away her tears, now determination plastered on her face. "I at least should die brave, if I haven't lived brave, you know," She held out her hand as the glass from the Center fell like snow on them, onto their hair. Not knowing what to do, the two both grasped it. The woman gave them a light squeeze, then thrust them off with sudden strength. "Go," She added.
"Go" became her last words. Alex, for her hair was shielding her face slightly, couldn't' exactly see her expression, but heard Lyra shaking and trying to push down her emotions. Meanwhile, the house continued to fall down, now even huge chunks of tiles of the second floor raining down-one landed over the beam holding down Lyra's mother and, he looked away.
"Lyra, let's go," He held her by her shoulders (for the first time) and, surprisingly, she was slack as he turned her around and led her to the wooden remainders of the front door. Still, there was a small hole left, big enough for them to squeeze through by crawling-it was the only piece of luck that had come to them that day, and Alex grabbed it hopefully.
He got on his knees and was going to gesture for Lyra to crawl ahead of him when he noticed that she was still standing, eyes averted to the slack posture of her mother. Shit, he thought. He got back up and touched her shoulder once more, no awkwardness existing between them.
"Lyra Cannes. Look. At. Me. -In the eye," He said.
The thing was, it was as if she hadn't heard him at all and she stared at his eyes, yes, but not into them, but simply at the air where he existed.
"Lyra, please," He pleaded-and in his history, he had never pleaded so desperately.
She finally turned her trembling eyes to his and a sigh of relief escaped him.
"Good. Lyra, there's Sarah waiting for us out there-" her eyes had turned glassy and her face pale once more, so he sighed and got on his knees and peered through the tiny hole.
Just as childish it was, it was just as if he was a tiny kid and was playing 'I spy with my little eye' on a scene he wasn't allowed to see(though he had never even imagined of himself doing that silly thing). He was taken aback a bit when he saw the world outside the house-not burning, not fiery, not hot, not grey, and everything falling down. Well, glass fragments were falling like rain onto the grass even now out there, just like in the ruined house, but less. And the scene still had its original color-not dominated by grey and red-there. And with huge, humongous relief, he found Sarah pacing out there, biting her lip so hard that blood was sipping out a bit. She immediately found him and despite the fact that she didn't know who the hell he was, but only that fact that her sister was working with him, she came running to the hole.
"We'll be out soon," Alex reassured her and with grief as humongous as his previous relief, watched as she stepped back, nodding-bee living that all was fine, that her sister and he would emerge with her mother...
He swallowed and turned back into the grey and red scenery of the house, back to reality, where Lyra was still shaking uncontrollably, eyes insane.
"Sarah's safe-she's waiting for you. You waited so long to meet her, Lyra Cannes. You suffered from nightmares and hallucinations everyday because of your memories on her. Just crawl through this hole, and you'll be with her-forever, I swear," He was once more relieved to see that Lyra had moved her eyes to him and watched as she shook harder, eyes now a bit saner. "Believe me," He added.
The process was slow as she slowly dragged her feet to him and in the light, he saw her face bleeding in several parts, her brown hair coated with dust and glass fragments.
She nodded once, eyes now looking at his feet-but didn't move to the hole to crawl out. And Alex Mars knew that the reason was because of her dying mother, who still sat a few feet away.
The moment was horrifying, and for a moment, he, himself, was back on that field, being wrestled down by those guards, as Andrew stayed weak on that stupid pole, a second before the bullet got him. Ah, the guilt, the pain as if the bullet had ripped his own skin... He still felt the same emotions-they hadn't disappeared while he had been with the Raiders-they had been healing, but they had resurfaced once more...
And one of the only people he trusted, only one he looked forward to, was undergoing through the same experience.
He felt her so well-letting and seeing someone she loved so much die right in front of her very own eyes...
He stepped forward and crushed her frame onto his chest quick, feeling her skin and warmth of the touch-not of direct love or the step that boys take to get the reason to kiss the girl, but because he had to comfort her. He had had no one but the stars of the night that comforted and tried to push back the horrible guilt-and while he deserved it, Lyra clearly didn't, just as her mother had just said. She deserved to be comforted by another close person-and that was why he had just hugged her.
But along with the feeling also came another thing.
He pitied her, enjoyed her smell of sweat and skin, and wished that his action would comfort her as much as possible. He wanted to satisfy, to make her feel better. And he couldn't really describe this feeling, like with those food pills, with simple human words...
His head was so busy and shocked and unfamiliar with such a feeling and it only intensified when she reacted by pushing herself closer to him, skin on skin, tears on tears. She now was sobbing so freely, not like the rough and understanding Lyra he knew, and this broke down his own heart as he watched and felt her trembles shake him.
So they stood like that for an entire minute, holding each other, dust and glass shards of windows raining down, his tears meeting hers, her shakes shaking him, and fire dancing all around them and burning all in its path.