Storm Warning

Young and Becoming

The children and their mentors were milling around the common area after a long day of testing. The mentors were off in the corner talking about whatever grown-ups talk about when children aren’t around, and the children were in small groups of 3 to 4 playing games after a long day of work when the screaming started.

At once, the world stands still as the large double doors burst open and a man on fire comes stumbling into the room and falls to the floor with screams of agony. The man is writhing around on the floor trying to put himself out while the room is thrown into chaos. Children began screaming and crying. Many ran to their mentors in fear while others stood frozen in place. Mentors clutched at their charges while others grabbed blankets to put out the burning man. At this point, the smell of burnt flesh has marked every corner of the room.

While mentors hold children close and others put out the fire, I stand huddled in the corner while the world burns around me. The burning man has stopped screaming in agony. I watched as his skin reddened and bubbled with blisters as he laid on the ground. I watched as his clothes became ashes, and the man, himself, no longer gasped for air. With a quick glance in the direction the burning man came from, I can see the last of our group, Danny, standing in the doorway. Danny is the oldest of our group and 2 years older than myself. At 7 years old, Danny is intense. She stands tall at 4 feet 7 inches and can silence a room with her intensity. Her violet eyes shimmer with the reflection of the burning man, and a small shiver-inducing smile curves her lips. Without a doubt, Danny is the cause for the sudden chaos filling the room. As the resident fire starter, she seems disturbingly pleased with her handiwork as she leans with her back to the wall and her arms crossed as she watches others pat her own mentor down with blankets. Not that it would help. He was no longer alive. At this point, we are only trying to save the people still standing.

Danny wasn't always this way. She was taken from her home when she was two-years-old, of what I could only assume to be loving parents, as the large majority of us were dumped or sold into this. She had watched out for our group longer than I can remember, but lately, she was becoming a monster, a weapon of mass destruction. And maybe that was the point of us... to be weapons.

With a rush of running footsteps, several emergency personnel sweep into the room, place the burnt man on the stretcher, and rush him away to another wing of the hospital. We all stand and watch as he is quickly wheeled away before turning toward the group of mentors. Unanimously, they call lights out and demand that we return to our rooms at once. After nods of confirmation, all mentors leave the room and walk in the direction that the burnt man was taken. As they retreat, I hear nothing over the beating of my own heart.

Hours later, my mentor shakes me gently and urges me to get dressed. Nodding lethargically, I do as she says and dress quickly. She puts her finger to her mouth and slowly walks toward the door that leads into the hall.

With a realization, I notice the emergency lights glowing in the hall casting deep shadows that promise bad things. My mentor continues to guide me away from my room to a staircase. Simply following instructions and watching the floor to be sure I don’t trip. I barely notice the changes in the environment until both me and my mentor emerge in a gravel lot. We move slowly around the outskirts of the building and using the shadows to remain hidden. As usual, I failed to question my mentor. She was my protector, my family, and there was little doubt in my mind that she would ever cause me harm.

As we round the building, we sense movement in the shadows of the trees. I am scared and pause to look at my mentor. She urges me to keep moving. She whispers to me, “Run into the trees. GO!” Without pausing, I surge forward and run for the trees before stumbling over my own feet and falling to the ground in front of five other mentors and their charges. My mentor is suddenly beside me. She urges me to stand quickly. Without true understanding, I sense the gravity of our situation as I look into the face of each mentor and at the fear in the faces of the other children.

Almost as sudden as my own fear hits, the alarms from the hospital started sounding with enough of a wallop to cause deafness. I couldn’t imagine the intensity for those still in the building. Just as sudden as the alarm sounded, it was silenced only to be replaced with the sounds of screaming and gunshots. While the hospital is filled with chaos, the urge to rush in to help the children was paralyzing. Children like me. Knowing better than to run back and too scared to draw attention to ourselves, none of us dared to say a word to one another, but the pain and sadness we felt was universal as you looked from one face to the other. Without a word to each other, mentors took the hands of their children and split off in different directions as those left behind continued to be killed off. And that's what it was. A complete culling. A m******e.

            I bolt straight up in bed with my hair plastered to my face with sweat. The sheets are soaked through with the sweat from my fear. I hate this dream. I really do. I have been having it for the last year, but can't find any evidence to understand what I am actually seeing. It just has to be one of those weird, recurring dreams.

           Without too much further thinking about the recurring dream, I quickly exit my bedroom and walk to the hall closet. With the opening of the door, I hear the music of Rihanna floating around the house while Sarah cooks my birthday breakfast, which she has done for as long as I remember. She screams the lyrics out of time and out of tune, “CHAIN AND WHIPS EXCITE ME!” I chuckle at her musical taste. She tries to hide it and often changes the song as I enter the kitchen. She is expected to be a good role model after all. Little did she know, I liked this song too.

            Shaking my head, I open the closet door and randomly grab a new set of bed sheets. Quickly and efficiently, I strip the bed of the soiled sheets and swapped them out for the flannel snowflake ones, despite it being nowhere near Christmas time. With the old sheets thrown to the side, I rush to shower and dress.

            Within minutes, I am wiping the fog from the heat off the mirror in my bathroom and staring at my reflection. I turn 18-years-old today. I feel no different, and I still look the same though not entirely a bad thing. With my fiery red locks and my piercing green eyes, I have had plenty of boyfriends. With my looks, I am never hurting to attract the attention of the male species. Shaking my hair and sending water droplets flying through the air, I dress in my jeans and birthday girl t-shirt that Sarah buys every year and expects me to wear during our birthday outing. Smiling at my reflection, I scrunch my curls.

            With a spring in my step, I flounce down the stairs and through the swinging kitchen door. Almost immediately, I am greeted with the sounds of Sarah cursing and slapping out a slight fire on the stove. You would think she would get better at this considering she does it every year, but nope. At this point, the fire is tradition. With a soft step, I lean against the wall and watch as Sarah struggles to put out the fire and salvage the bacon. Surprisingly, she did not dump water on the fire like last year, but turned down the stove eye and opened the patio doors into the back yard. The fire went out quickly, and Sarah turned around with a triumphant gleam in her eye. Smiling, I shake my head at her and sit at the table. No point in trying to help. She never lets me.

            She quickly dumps some eggs, bacon, and toast on two plates and comes to sit across from me. She smiles. “Happy Birthday!”

            I smile and shake my head. “Thank you! With the number of years that you have done this, you would think you could cook more than eggs, bacon, and toast.” She scowls playfully at me as I take a bite into the bacon. In the next instant, I am spitting the burnt bacon into the napkin Sarah brought with the plates. “And learn to make bacon…”

            She laughs. She takes a bite of her own bacon as she says, “It is not that bad”. As soon as she finished her sentence, her face changed into a look of disgust as she continued to chew and swallow the bacon. With the bacon lodged in her throat, she struggles to make her point with a harsh, “See?” I smile and roll my eyes. She walks to the fridge and readies her orange juice before taking giant gulps. Back to normal, she coughs and forces out “What are your plans today?” in a breathless whisper.

            I shrug. “Not really sure. I know Maddie wanted to go out for a bit. Derek also has something special planned, I think”.

            She nods with enthusiasm. “Oh yes. How are things with you and the boy?”

            Looking away to formulate my response, I shrug again. “We are good. We’ve dated off and on again since sophomore year and were friends since Middle school. He is a sweet guy, but I just don’t feel for him what I think I should.” I turn to face her to see her looking serious.

           She sensed a teachable moment. “You have given him two years of on-and-off dating. If you don’t feel for him, you need to tell him. Had I known how you were feeling, I would have told you that a while ago. You rarely talk about your feelings, and I rarely feel the need to make you. You are old enough to determine what you share with others, but at this point, you are stringing him along.”

            I sigh and shake my head. “I didn’t know until recently. I felt for him at one time, but that feeling just wasn’t there the last time we got together.” With a final decision made, I round my shoulders. “I will break up with him. Should I do it tonight?”

            She shrugs with uncertainty. “I don’t know. That choice still needs to be yours. In your situation, I would and give him the option to return the gift… especially, if it was expensive or a gift for a girlfriend and not a friend. There is no reason not to do it today. It’s your birthday, and you can do what you want to… meaning…”

            Nodding with my hand up to cut her off with a bemused smile, “Yeah. I knew what you meant. I will break up with him tonight.”