White Shadows

Chapter 20 - Afraid

***LUCA***

Because today's a day when all the rules are flying the hell out the window, I get my phone out and check it in mid-flight. Looking to my left, I see Russell doing the same thing. He looks back over his shoulder, catches my eye, and tells me to look up Speedy's Twitter.

"You know her?" I ask. Although at this point, should I really be surprised?

"I've got friends in all the Prime 'Verse dimensions," he says matter-of-factly. "Who do you think placed the order for B-Dubs? Not Mr. Mayor - his mind is elsewhere, as it should be in a time of crisis."

Once he gives me Speedy's handle, I check her front page and see it wall-to-wall with warnings sent to her friends. For example: "@Rai_Nova GTFO! The #ReversePacRim is happening! This is NOT a drill!" Taking my cues from her, I navigate to my own Twitter (my brothers and I each have one, which we keep secret from our parents because they don't approve of social-networking) and send similar messages to all my friends who aren't here or in the Second. Which means mostly my basketball teammates who happen to live in the Bay Area, as well as Marco and Gio.

Marco responds by texting me: "Dude, what the hell is going on?"

"No time to explain," I say. I'm moving my thumb across the screen to the tune of The Neighbourhood's "Afraid," for some reason. Guess I picked up some of the twins' always-having-the-music-in-them syndrome. "Just get out of town, ASAP!"

"Is this that stupid saving-the-world thing you've been talking about since yesterday?"

"YES! GET OUT! EVERYONE OUT!!!"

I really hope the caps-lock and extra exclamation points do the trick.

Turning my phone to the CNN site (I must be using boatloads of data right now - there's no Wi-Fi at this altitude, except on planes, and there seem to be surprisingly few of them in the skies today), I see that they've already got the progress of the Second 'Verse forces mapped on a touch screen, along with projections of where they'll be headed next. Said projections being, naturally, the Bay Area by way of Sacramento. The reporter is convinced that the scrivs will follow the major highways as they rain elemental destruction on the towns below them. It sounds like as logical a conclusion as any, especially coming from a guy who's clearly only a few seconds away from a complete mental breakdown. It's not every day everything you knew about the universe changes, after all.

I look down to figure out where we are. We're about three thousand feet above Berkeley, and according to the CNN guy's map, the scrivs are currently halfway to Placerville. That puts us...let me think...about a hundred miles apart, give or take twenty. Assuming we (that is, us and the scriv attackers) can all fly at roughly the same speed, we might find ourselves meeting in midair over Sacramento. Or maybe Davis. Somewhere in that general area.

My phone rings. As much as I'd hate to risk answering it, I don't feel I have a choice when I see the name on the screen. So answer it I do. "Mom, I'm sorry, but I really can't talk r-"

"Luca, where are you?" Mom asks, her voice high with tension. "Please, you need to come back! They're saying these...these things are gonna come here and...and you're gonna go after them, aren't you?"

"Mom, I-"

"It's that guy who came to our house yesterday, isn't it?" Mom asks. "He's roped you into this, hasn't he?"

"He hasn't 'roped me in,'" I say, fighting to keep myself from sounding pissed off. "Alex and Gabe are in this too. And Gideon. And..." I choke up for a moment, then I decide Mom doesn't need to know about the death I've witnessed. Not just yet. "And Paul. Let me help them out."