First all the adults were Gone
Then came the Hunger
Lies''''' were spread
Fear''''' filled the streets
Then in the middle of Darkness came the Light
They think it’s all over. They think the FAYZ is done, but it’s not. There’s one last shocking, heart-hammering, thrilling adventure. Get ready for the next adventure:
The fan-fiction by A. V. Christine
==One: 71:58:57 ==
Syria Benice Listine-Jones stood looking out her top floor hotel room balcony at the town below.
It contained a newly rebuilt town hall, a still partially demolished church, a new McDonalds, a daycare next to a hardware store, and a single school. Syria could also see the long stretch of houses, some rebuilt, some still charred and burned, some completely gone. She let her gaze travel east and saw a building not that far away from the one she was standing in. The building used to be a reform school. Then, as she looked farther out, scanning the length of the highway her eyes finally came to rest on an inactive nuclear power plant.
This was Perdido Beach, a town that, for the mundanes, seems to have lost its sense of logic. For Syria, on the other hand, the town seems to have only become more logical.
Sighing, Syria trekked back into her hotel room, shutting the balcony doors behind her.
She breathed in the smell of the room, a heavy, bleachey, Windexey, smell from the sanitizing of the room that had occurred a few days before. A hotel room full of parentless kids could get messy. Now and then Syria uncovered small things the cleaning crew had missed, cigar butts behind a couch, a small faded red stain next to the sink, a bullet hole in the balcony floor.
Syria sunk into the leather recliner in front of the flat-screen TV and turned it on. A stern looking brunette reporter was standing just outside the Perdido Beach City Limits. Syria noted how disgusted the reporter looked, having to stand there, so close to a possibly still radioactive, blood-bathed freak town.
“This Thursday will mark the second anniversary of the beginning of the Perdido Beach Anomaly.” Many pictures of different children filled the screen. Syria was able to pick out five of them in a heartbeat, Sam Temple, Caine Soren, Diana Ladris, Brittney, and Drake Merwin. “Two years ago everyone over the age of fourteen was zapped out of the town and a mysterious dome came down around the perimeter of Perdido Beach, cutting the forsaken children off from the world. In three days we will be holding the memorial for those who died at the newly rebuilt Perdido Beach town hall. Sam Temple will also be speaking out for the first time at the-“
“Don’t remind me!” Syria groaned shutting off the news report. She stood up, her nervous dread returning.
It was in three days and she still hadn’t found the Prince, or the missing Gemini. How had so much precious time escaped her? There were less than seventy-two hours left.
She ran her slender caramel-colored fingers through her thick gold-blond hair. She could do this. She’d helped ultimately save Sam, and even Caine, at the last minute dozens of times. What made her think she couldn’t do it now?
Syria started throwing her few personal items into her bags, a bottle of detoxin for venom bites, her spare clothes, a hair brush, a golden cross necklace that technically wasn’t hers. Then she made sure everything else was with her. Her jade necklace was still tied around her throat, her katana slung across her back, a throwing knife in its sheath at either side of her hips, and a revolver tucked into her waistband. She still disliked the feel of the cool handle against the small of her back. If it wasn’t for its importance she wouldn’t have picked it up in the first place.
The phone rang.
Syria ignored it. It was probably for the owner. Most likely some tourist or Anomaly Enthusiast that wants to book a room before the memorial.
Then she saw the Caller ID. SM PHSYCIATRICS printed in blocky letters flashed across the hotel phone’s screen. Syria lunged for the phone. She picked up on the fifth and final ring.
“Stephanie?” Syria asked.
“Syria! I almost thought you wouldn’t pick up.” The voice on the other end was calm and gentle, dripping with the kind of cautious kindness that only physiatrists and teachers could master.
“Stephanie, what’s wrong? What can’t wait another five minutes?”
Syria heard a sharp intake of breath. “It has to do with their therapy.” Stephanie began, “I can’t be there, you know, because of the conference. You’ll have to take my place.”
“Why can’t Eliana do it?” Syria tried to suppress the incredulousness that tried to work its way into her voice.
“She’s going as well.” That was all Stephanie said, as if those four words were going to make Syria agree.
Syria slowly let out her breath. She didn’t have time for Stephanie’s games. “Less the seventy-two, Stef, this’ll only waste precious hours, minutes, seconds.”
“Or save time!” Stephanie argued. “Get them to trust you, to help you. Then it’ll all go by faster!”
There was a long pause where Syria didn’t say a word. Stephanie had a point she decided. “Fine, I’ll go.”
“Thank you.” Stephanie replied before hanging up.
Syria threw the phone onto the recliner. It bounced off and then slid under the TV stand. She didn’t bother picking it up as she walked out. Her footsteps were muffled in the carpeted hall. Good, she needed absolute quiet while she was seething.
First she plays Maia’s overseer, then her hunter, and now Stephanie’s shrink. God, what’s next? Even though angel blood ran in her veins Syria was feeling anything but holy.
Sam Temple pushed open the large double doors that led to a long well-lit corridor. He was followed by Astrid Ellison, Sam’s girlfriend, Diana Ladris, a close friend of Astrid’s, Edillio Escobar, one of Sam’s two wingmen, his boyfriend Roger, Quinn Gaither, Sam’s other wingman, Dekka Talent, a lesbian girl that Sam heavily relied on, and Inger Duporte, a kid who used to have incredible powers during the FAYZ.
The group was heading for their monthly therapy session. Ever since the FAYZ they’ve been attending these hour long sessions that didn’t help them at all. Stephanie, their therapist, was extremely insensitive. She would ask them some of the dumbest questions like, “So, Sam, how many kids did you have to kill?” or, “Diana, talk about this Caine boy. Did you like him?” The sessions always ended with someone storming out, bursting into tears, or both.
Everyone was silent as Sam threw open the second set of double doors. The seven of them had agreed to say absolutely nothing during today’s session to see if it would aggravate Stephanie. That was another thing about her; she was always so calm and happy. Sometimes Sam just wanted to smack that stupid smile off her face.
Sam stopped as he took in the room.
The session room was in the basement of the church in Sacramento. The room has a low ceiling so that when Sam got on his tip-toes he could touch it with his fingertips. The walls were gray with flaking paint and were stained with water damage. Seven chairs were set up in a line in front of a long black table. The set-up was the usual but the person there was unusual.
A girl was sitting cross-legged on the table, her eyes closed, meditating. She had dark, caramel colored skin and waist long curly golden hair. Freckles dusted the bridge of her nose and her cheeks. She wore sweatpants and a tank top and Sam couldn’t help but stare. She looked like she had some muscle, like she could do some damage if someone ticked her off.
“Are you gonna stand there with your mouths open or are you gonna close that damn door and take a seat.” She demanded. She hadn’t opened her eyes. How would she know they were staring slack jawed at her?
“I’ll take a seat.” Edillio said before plopping down in a seat. Everyone else did the same.
For the first time the mystery girl opened her eyes. They were a bright hazel and if you glance at her real fast you’d think they were gold. “Good, ya’ll feel like listening today. I’m Syria Listine-Jones, but please, just call me Cerie.”
"Okay everyone! It's betting time!" Romeo shouted towards the spectators, or the vultures as Sadai called them. "Tonight we have Prince, 150 pounds six foot nine undefeated two year, versus Skelhound, 230 pounds seven foot even undefeated three year! Who votes Prince?" He looked at the Vultures expectantly. None of them raised their hands. The odds weren't exactly in his dad's favor, exactly how Romeo wanted it.
Romeo was only eight, but was a whole lot smarter than most eight-year-olds. He had realized that if he stacked the odds against his father people bet more on the opponent. This meant that Romeo split less of the winnings, and got a heck of a lot more cash.
"Okay then," Romeo said, "I think I'm gonna throw 100,000 onto the table!" A vulture with a dizzying amount of piercings snorted. Another just shook her head at him. Stupid kid, They were probably thinking. Yeah he was so stupid, until his dad fought.
"I'll put down 500,000!" A tall man shouted out.
"I'll hike up to 500,000 myself." Romeo shot back cooly. This guy was a serious sucker.
"One million!" He spat back.
"I'll do the same!" Romeo countered.
"Two mil!" some other vulture called.
"Two mil it is!" Romeo agreed.
The tall man looked extremely agravated by Romeo, a mere child trying to upstage him. "Five million, that's that!"
Romeo put on a fake whoa-too-high-for-me-to-top face. "I can only do four."
"Ha!" The man spat. "Now go give that fighter a' yours a pep talk. He gonna need it!"
Romeo quickly jotted down the number before practically skipping to the locker room. As he headed in Chynx was stomping out with a death glare on her face. The floor trembled and above them the spotlights swayed. Chunx was made of pure stone so when she was angry an 8.5 magnitude earthquake was soon to follow.
"What's wrong?" Romeo asked her.
"Nothing, just forgetful people forgetting unforgettable things, like ,for example, a one year aniversary!" Chynx spat out that last past with undeniable scorn.
"Oh. Well then..." Romeo trailed off unsure what to say. He wasn't big on girls or romance. His dad had told him only to go after a girl when she felt right so Romeo wasn't really into crushing on people. Also there was the fact that pretty much every decent girl in Daegon was his dad's age.
"Men just don't understand." Chynx huffed before she stomped away.