Athens
2014
Kino Makoto and Hino Rei sat in Catastasis's Café eating classic Greek cuisine and chatting about the exciting sights and sounds of the capital and its surrounds.
"I love this city. Usagi was kind to pay the way for her class members to be a part of all of this. Just part of that big heart of hers; she is such a sweetheart. We have also, in Beryl, a great lead singer and friend," Rei said, finishing her last piece of fish. She patted her mouth with her whiter than white napkin and reached for her glass.
"Yeah, tonight's show should be awesome, and speaking of which, we should get going soon to be onstage in time. Oh, by the way, I love the guys here; they're sooo dreamy and mysterious. The beach, the fashions and the shopping has me reeling. What a haven of European delights!"
"Mako-chan, tell me about it…"
"I wonder, Rei; that new song you're writing, Dragon's Tears, are you ready to rehearse that for the second show tomorrow night?"
"Yup... Mamoru has booked a recording studio for the EP. We'll be doing the studio disk to package with the live tour box set. Isn't that cool?" she gushed.
"You bet."
Both girls' attention then gravitated to a police car across the street opposite the restaurant. It had been raining, amplifying the blade of electric blue issuing forth from its flashing light, the siren silent.
People milled around something that both women couldn't quite make out. It was a brilliant white object, like polished marble. One girl screamed. Then the crowd dispersed and ran in every direction, a look of sheer terror upon each face.
Three leather-clad officers pulled up on their massive black motorcycles, these vehicles looking more like metallic insects than bikes, their white helmets and dark goggles also giving the men an almost insect-like appearance. One of the policemen barked into a radio while his comrades cleared the way for the medics to get through to the victim or victims.
The cops looked hot Makoto thought as she looked to the sky. The storm fading, the clouds snarling as the moon deigned to show itself.
"What do you suppose that's all about?" Makoto asked, standing up and peering out the window for a better look.
"Crime scene I would say. I don't know. Big cities everywhere seem to have a reputation for that sort of thing, and Athens is no different I guess. I am feeling some major vibes and they're not good; you?"
"Yeah, I have to focus as the power is rising. Shall we finish up our meal and leave before we start to glow?" she chuckled, as both girls made light work of their last mouthfuls of food and washed it down with some spring water, leaving the money on a small wooden platter in the center of the table.
Rei caught sight of the hostess and dropped a few tokens in the woman's hand, as she knew the manager would get the formal tips and she figured the young girl to be a struggling student and should have something for herself alone. The girl smiled her thanks.
"These are solid gold," she whispered in a hush.
"Yes, free tokens to the Dark Empress Butterfly concert tomorrow night and afterwards, redeemable at your local exchange for cash," Rea said, closing the dark haired girl's hand shut, patting her wrist, "You're a student, me too. I know funds are hard to come by, this is a gift from the Gods, so use it wisely, ne?"
"Y-yes, thank you, and I will definitely enjoy the concert... thank you again," she said, staring wide-eyed long after the two tall women who seemed almost to glow had left the restaurant.
Recovering herself, she smiled and slipped the tokens into her apron and returned to the kitchen to bring patrons their orders.
---
They stepped out into the night air and moved to the other side of the road to get a better look at whatever had caught the attention of the crowd.
"I don't like what I'm picking up, it feels awfully familiar," Rei said, clenching her hands into fists as the sound of clicking heels echoed off the glass and stone facades as they approached the cordon.
---
It was horrible; the face, like a creature of nightmare. It was reminiscent of a kindly grandmother assuming the countenance of evil after a childish slight. As a little girl, she would imagine the boogieman would capture her soul and whisk her away from her family and friends never to be seen or heard from again if she disobeyed her parents. This was not a dream but a vision of horror. She hovered off the ground, suspended by an invisible force. She was naked, the creature drawing a blood drenched pink rose over her body, chanting in some weird language she could not understand. The flower defiled, its hot wet petals touching her that felt as if they'd burst into flame as if from a dragon's tongue made her shudder in horror.
The thing with the stone body regarded her in curiosity. Rochelle whimpered as blazing red eyes bored into her soul. She shrank back.
Medusa thrust the flower into the frightened girl’s mouth. Rochelle spat out the metallic substance, yanking her head away coughing and screaming. The hideous snakes atop the creature's head, stone denizens of darkness, then lunged at her. She jumped to a state of chilling wakefulness and sobbed into her hands.
"Oh, what a terrible nightmare!" she gasped between bouts of crying, wiping her mouth with the sheet. Thankfully, there was no blood. She felt her heart thundering inside her chest and rubbed her eyes that were caked with grit, "I got to get out of here, and how did I get here in the first place? Where are the guys, and what happened to me?" she whispered into the emptiness she knew to be a hospital ward.
Rochelle was frightened for her friends and for herself. Something had hurt them all, something evil. She climbed out of bed, feeling the cool air upon the skin of her back and her behind. She wore only a hospital smock; the cotton garment loosely tied exposing enough of her flesh to make her feel vulnerable. Stumbling in the darkness, the cold stone floor under her feet sending shivers of dread through her body as she knelt down, gripped her thighs, digging in her hot-pink nails into her tender skin and closed her eyes for a moment or two to catch her breath.
So much had happened: the memory loss, that ghoulish dream. Sighing, Rochelle opened a nearby locker, and found what she was looking for. Surprisingly, her cell phone was intact. She stripped off and dressed. She sat back on the bed and sent a series of text messages to her friends and to Marla Keaton, her cousin in the Peloponnese doing her thesis on Botanical specification in the region. Last, she sent her parents a text message. Her fingers working furiously, for a sense of dread and urgency now punctuated her every action as if she'd never get the chance again. She had said she loved them. Strange she thought, as her parents had not evoked such a response before, for their relationship had always been estranged. Her father a stockbroker in NYC and her mother a well-known Native American artist and writer were too busy to spend enough time with their daughter who wanted to pursue her dream of becoming an archaeologist, and more important, wanted the love and approval of her habitually distracted parents. She didn’t put her sandals on for she had to be as quiet as she possibly could to get out of this place undetected.
Sighing, she gathered up her courage and slipped down the corridor to the lift, the ‘ping' of its opening doors made her squeak and jump. Fortunately, nobody heard and she slipped inside and sighed with relief, lulled for the moment by the humming motors of the lift and the lights upon the console.
---
The sounds of a Rurutia track, elements came from the waiting room off to her left, she smiled. She loved Rurutia.
Rochelle surveyed her new surroundings. Everything seemed more lucid, louder, and textures almost hyper-real. She couldn't explain it, but something had changed about her; not so much the environment, and it bothered her big time.
Then she saw the matron, head down, reading or working on her computer her dark hair tied in a tight bun at the nape of her neck. Rochelle figured she would look pretty with her hair hanging loose, for the face was youthful, though not without worry lines; part of the territory of working in a big city hospital she surmised.
She shrugged, pushing her tumble of gold over her shoulder. Rochelle bit her lip and stepped forward. She knew this was the moment of truth. She would bluff her way out. She could not stay here any longer and the need to escape the claustrophobic surrounds of the hospital was driving her into a state of panic.
"Hello there young lady, you should be upstairs in… the emergency ward number 189. I have your identification data on the computer screen right here," the woman said in a pleasant Greek accent. "Rochelle Acoma, Dr. Suzanne Sara will be examining you tomorrow and you must stay until then. Now, let me arrange for somebody to help you back, sweetheart."
"But I must leave…now!" she heard her voice grow more insistent, deeper, almost commanding, and not her own. She was never rude like this and lost consciousness.
