Imposter syndrome, p.28
Imposter Syndrome, page 28
We continue driving slowly through Madison, with no movement detected. I feel myself begin to relax a little. Maybe they really did move on to Portland. That means we have another hour and a half before we have to really worry. Thank god. I let out a huge breath that I didn’t even realize that I had been holding in. My racing heart begins to steady itself out, but my slight trembles are lingering.
“So, they did move onto somewhere, do you think Portland?” My mother asks, scanning the area outside of her window.
“I think either Portland, or Augusta, maybe even Waterville.” Stokes responds, “I’m not positive, but it sure looks like they’ve moved on from here.”
“Well, that’s great, but we’ll be going through all those towns you mentioned. We’ll run straight into them!” My mother exclaims, throwing her hands up in the air out of frustration.
“I can try to go around them, but it’ll take longer, and I think it might be riskier to be in the car than going through town. I can manage it. It won’t be a problem, and that’s assuming that’s where they went to. Don’t fret until the danger is right on top of us, there’s no use to it.” Stokes bites out, his impatience beginning to wear through.
“Okay.” My mother concedes, continuing to scan our surroundings in silence.
“If there’s any movement at all, let me know, Amelia. Keep watch on the back, look through the trunks window, too.” Stokes demands, and I oblige. I turn in my seat, and stare out of the back window, glancing back and forth in its pane. I see the rows of cars fall behind our vehicles path. I can see the same bodies we passed this morning, and catch to the side Blue’s previous owner’s body, undisturbed on the sidewalk. It was just a few hours ago that we found her, but it feels like a lifetime.
Suddenly, I feel the car halt, and I hear Stokes mutter under his breath, “what the-.” I snap in my seat, facing forward and look out of the front windshield. I feel like I was punched in the stomach, and my chest is pumped out of all air. I feel like I’m fighting for breath as my head begins to ache, and my heart begins to burn. Fear takes hold of every muscle, every nerve in my body, and I feel like I’m on fire.
In the street ahead of us, there are rows of bodies in the same uniform, the same uniform we saw the soldiers at the National Guard Headquarters wearing. Some of the bodies are mostly intact, while others are clumps of flesh with tatters of camouflage sticking to the wet blood and mutilated organs. I see guns laying on some of their stomachs and their chests, but there are what look to be like hundreds of guns scattered across the asphalt ahead of us.
It’s like a battle ground. There are bodies thrown into windows, their corpses hanging out over the sharded glass with their legs missing, or their heads gone, which ever half of their bodies are inside the building or hanging out. There are bodies splayed on top of each other with their stomachs emptied out, just cavities. Like a pile up of discarded meals. I feel vomit begin to creep into my throat, it adds to the burning sensation I’m feeling all over the rest of my body, but I shove it down.
Our headlights are giving us a front row look at the carnage ahead of us. The reflection of the blood puddles, the glossiness of the organs, and every single tear of the flesh. So. Much. Flesh.
“Is that?” My mother utters, her voice cracks under the pressure of her trying to force words with no air.
“Yeah.” Stokes croaks, I see his mouth is hanging over, staring wild-eyed at the gruesome scene that unfolded ahead of us.
“How’d they kill them all so quickly? That’s impossible. There must be hundreds.” My mother whimpers.
“They must be in large groups or something now. I don’t know, I don’t know.”
“Why didn’t the guns kill them? I mean look at all these weapons, surely-” My mother fumbles, before being cut off.
“It looks like they were jumped before they even had the chance to fire, they were probably taken by surprise.” Stokes interrupts. “Or they couldn’t pull the trigger on someone they loved.”
The heaviness of the situation befalls me quickly. There is no way to eradicate them, they’re not bugs, there’s no way to exterminate them, they’re going to kill us all. They have the advantage in every way. They took us by surprise. They can play on our emotions. They might not be able to enter our homes, but they have powers of persuasion that can make even the strongest of men crack. If none of those heavily trained soldiers could survive, what makes us think that we can?
As I’m looking out the windshield in my daze, I suddenly notice something a short distance from the front of our car. A twitch at first from one of the bodies, barely noticeable at first. “Wait, what is that?” I point forward and squint my eyes to try and focus.
My mother and Stokes lean forward in their seats as the movement creeps closer to us, crawling to us slowly until it’s clearly into our view.
“Oh my God.” Stokes whispers.
In the view of our headlights emerges General Morgan, crawling towards our car before she collapses just a few feet from our front bumper. She’s covered in blood, adorning her ginger hair with streaks of red that look like flames of a fire. Her boot is off of her left foot that it looks to be a bloody stump, like her foot was severed. I can’t be for sure since it’s in the shadows just far enough that I can’t tell if she’s missing it or if it’s just covered in blood from dragging into the puddles of her comrades’ innards.
I can see her green eyes in the distance, sparkling in the bright headlights. Her green eyes are the only thing on her face that are visible through the painted red. Her ginger hair is stuck to her cheeks in the liquid, turning it a darkened red. She tries to push herself up with her hands off the pavement, using her strength to push herself up. She succeeds just long enough for us to see scratches running down her neck and the claw streaks across the chest of her uniform with blood completely soaking the entire front that’s in our view. Her arms begin to shake from the pressure, and she falls back down, her face hitting against the asphalt.
She rests her head against the ground, looking too weak to try and prop herself up again. I watch as she raises her hand straight into the air with streaks of blood running down her arm and soaking into the cuffs of her blood-stained uniform. She lifts her head far enough off the ground that we can clearly see her face, a dark streak of dirt apparent over the red from hitting the asphalt. Although I can’t hear her words, I can read her lips well enough to know what she’s trying to yell, what she’s trying so desperately to signal towards us in her puddle of blood and defeat.
She’s trying to say, “help me.”
19
“We have to help her!” My mom shrieks.
“No, it could be a trap, she could be one of them.” Stokes coldly states, his gaze locked on the once strong-standing woman in front of our vehicle. She looks so frail lying in the street, very different from her confidence portrayed earlier.
“What are you talking about? That’s Morgan, we have to help her, we can’t just leave her in the middle of the road!” My mother throws her hand in the direction of General Morgan who is staring into our windshield with pleading eyes, still mouthing the words, “Help me,” with the occasional “Please” added.
“Do you see any injuries on her?” Stokes asks, his gaze looking impenetrable.
“What? She’s covered in blood, of course she has injuries.” My mother exclaims impatiently.
“Exactly, or to hide that she doesn’t, to blend in with the rest of the bodies.” Stokes declares. “We’re not letting her in, I’m sorry, but we have to protect ourselves. I’m not taking any chances, not at night.”
“We can’t just leave her here, Stokes. They’ll come back and finish her off.” My mother pleads, her voice desperate and raw. “I can’t have that on my conscience.”
“Yeah, but doesn’t this strike you odd, Megan? Out of everyone, out of all those soldiers, the one officer we have a personal relationship with is the sole survivor. That doesn’t seem in the slightest bit odd to you? Not a chance, we’re leaving.” Stokes declares, leaving no room for discussion.
“Wait,” My mother places her hand on Stokes hand that is gripping the shifting gear, “What is that running around the bodies? Do you see it?”
I squint my eyes to catch a glimpse of what she’s referring to when I hear Blue begin to whine quietly, her ears at full attention, obviously following the figure that is in the distance.
“A racoon? Or a cat, maybe? I don’t care, it’s fine, we need to go before more of those things decide to come out.” Stokes states, “I need to find an alternate route, do you know a road around this town, a quick one preferably?”
Suddenly, a crashing sound to my right and a small whine burst out of Hannah’s mouth that snaps my attention. I look over and see her dead tablet on the floor, and her making a grabbing motion with her hands, kicking her feet against her seat. She begins to whine loudly so to keep her distracted, I reach over to the floor of her seat to retrieve it for her. Not that she can put it to any use, but apparently toddlers don’t understand when something’s dead, it’s useless.
As I crouch down, I hear the familiar sound of a window rolling down. I go to lean up to push the button closed when I hear a scratching noise against fabric, and scrambling. A burning sensation floods my back with force, and I hear knocking against the interior plastic of the car followed by a loud thud. I look up and catch the end of the leash dragging against the window glass. A leash that was attached to Blue.
Without thinking for even a moment, I open Hannah’s door and dive out, landing on the hard asphalt, and bouncing my head off the rough surface. The breath is immediately knocked right out of my chest, and I am thrown in a daze. Everything is blurry, and my head can’t seem to focus on anything besides what’s right in front of me. I’m on my side, so I can see in the distance under the car. I make eye contact with General Morgan, whose eyes are locked on mine, and I watch in horror as her face turns into a sinister smirk.
“Amelia!” I hear my mother’s shrieking from inside the car travel through the open car door and echoing in my ear canal. My head is pounding, and I will her to stop screaming, I can’t focus on anything with the screaming.
“Don’t, Megan!” is the next thing that I hear, followed by an onslaught of yelling, and a mix of voices that I can’t quite make out.
I scan my surroundings, searching for the reason I even jumped out of the vehicle. I catch sight of Blue chasing a cat into an alleyway when the cat shoots through her legs and runs towards my direction. I feel relieved as I watch the two of them barreling in my direction before they begin to blur in my vision, becoming grey and white figures in the distance.
I’m in trouble. I can’t focus, I can’t see. I take a few deep breaths, forcing my lungs to greedily take air even though my chest is screaming in protest. This helps clear a tunnel, and I can see Blue running in circles with the cat in front of a building in front of me.
It takes all the strength inside of me to push myself off the ground. My bones ache at the pressure, and my chest heaves at the gravity, but I force it to subside. I look over the hood of the SUV and see Morgan slowly pushing herself off the ground in a similar fashion, standing up to meet my eyeline. She gives me another horrific smirk, before cocking her head to the side, her green eyes piercing through me. Goosebumps crawl down my skin at the exposure.
Suddenly, barking sounds out into the night. I dart my eyes to the source and see Blue running full speed towards me, the cat nowhere in sight. She’s coming for me. I shoot my eyes in the direction of General Morgan and realize she is momentarily distracted by the disturbance. I make long hurried strides in Blue’s direction, praying to meet her in time.
“Amelia, no!” I hear my mother screaming through the car in the distance.
As soon as I reach Blue, I realize I miscalculated my pace, and I panickily try to slow down. I slightly slide against the pavement at the braking, my sneakers scraping against the concrete and skidding up a few loose pebbles. I seize her leash, holding onto it so tightly, willing it to ground me to this cement. I hastily turn around to make our escape, to run back to the safety of the vehicle, but upon facing it, I see that my path to the SUV is now blocked with General Morgan standing directly in front of it. “You’ll die for a dog, but not for your brother?” She hisses, forming her lips into a sinister smile, shaking her head back and forth, before making a “tsk, tsk, tsk” noise with her tongue. “What would he think of that? All those years of protecting you, and in his dire hour, you left him.”
Tears prick my eyes, and quickly push them back. No. I will not let them weaken me. Blue stands by my side firmly planted, tensing against my leg, feeding off my own. General Morgan takes a step towards us slowly. I hear my mother and Stokes arguing feet away from me, they’re literally just feet away, my safety is within reach. The one thing blocking my life and will is this woman. Upon further examination, I realize Stokes was right. She is not injured, she had herself masked to blend in with the bodies. She’s walking favorably, and her speed against mine leaves no disadvantages. She is an imposter, and I’m standing out in the open with her eyes fixated right on me.
I hear some commotion coming from the vehicle behind General Morgan, so I tilt my head slightly to see if I can catch a glimpse. I can barely make out Stokes reaching over my mother who is opening her car door, and him slamming it closed. He’s keeping her inside the car. He’s preventing her from coming to get me. I’m going to die.
The realization floods over me in a peaceful wave, it’s over. I should’ve let Blue go. I should’ve stayed in the car, but I didn’t, I couldn’t, and this is where I am. A dog I’ve only had for a few hours controlled my feelings more than my brother who protected me for fourteen years did. Because I couldn’t make the same mistake twice. I couldn’t let another thing die because I was a coward. She might have gotten lucky when they spared her before, but I wasn’t sure if she would again, and I couldn’t take that chance. The guilt would’ve sent me over the edge.
I don’t regret it. I don’t regret jumping out of that car. This is acceptance, and I’ll die happy with my choices.
I watch as General Morgan takes another step towards me. Her hungry smile widens. Her emerald eyes dancing in the illumination from the streetlights. I begin to lift my foot off the ground to make a run for it, I could slide right by her, and if they could just open my door, I could dive in. If they were poised and ready to rush away, we could make it. But nobody’s opening my door. This is it. I close my eyes while I wait for the impact.
My life begins to play in my head. The moment I met Jemma, licking me in my rocking chair with my mother’s soft arms wrapped around me, cooing at me. Playing tag with my brother in the backyard, and tripping resulting in a scraped knee that he kissed to make better. My father comforting me when I lost my first soccer game. Then comes the cabin. The memories of that night begin to whirl around in my head, like a montage with my brother’s screaming resounding in my ears. It’s deafening, it’s so loud it’s causing my ears to ring.
I hear “Run, Amelia!” over the screaming in my ears, but it’s distant.
“Go! Now!”
“Dad?” I whimper, “Where are you?”
I open my eyes, searching for my father, but all I see is a figure running towards me, arms outstretched, and mouth widened. I throw my hands up, closing my eyes shut again, bracing myself for the impact.
An impact that never comes. What does come is a bang, a crunch, and a thud.
“RUN AMELIA!” I throw my eyes open and standing only a few feet in front of me is Stokes, holding a baseball bat, standing over General Morgan’s body. The baseball bat. Suddenly I’m thankful I held that thing to my mother’s head. I hear moans coming from Morgan as Stokes delivers another blow to her back. He looks at me and screams, “NOW, GO!”
“What about you?” I whimper, standing in my place as he delivers another blow to General Morgan, but this time to her head and I shiver at the wet crunch noise it delivers.
“Just go, Amelia.”
I don’t ask another question. I pull on Blue’s leash and we sprint to the SUV. I throw open the door behind the driver’s seat, and shove Blue inside before climbing in after her. I turn in my seat to look out the window to watch the altercation of Stoke’s and General Morgan, and terror encases me.
In the time it took for me to run to the vehicle, General Morgan somehow got the upper hand, and Stokes is on his back with the bat out of his arm’s reach. General Morgan is straddling him, holding onto his shirt’s collar, slamming his head against the asphalt.
Before I can say anything, the car begins to shake slightly, “What are you doing?!” I ask my mother, panickily. This is now when I notice she is in the driver’s seat and no longer the passenger.
“We’re getting out of here.” She responds coolly.
“We can’t leave him!” I cry out.
“We don’t have a choice, Amelia. They’re too strong.”
I roll my window down until it cannot go further, but it stops halfway no matter how much I push the button. I watch as General Morgan clasps her fingers around Stoke’s throat, and I notice a stream of blood escaping her mouth and hanging over his body. The bat did some damage to her, but not enough. I watch in horror as she lowers her mouth to his face, and I scream out, “NO!” When General Morgan hears my screams, she turns towards me and gives me that spine-chilling smirk that sends my body into shivers. But I don’t turn away, I stare right at her, and beg, “No, please.”
I hear my mother throw the car into gear, ignoring my pleas to stay, to save him. My eyes begin to flood, but I don’t even feel them dropping onto my cheeks. I only know they are because of the blurriness that is disrupting my vision. An honest mercy to the scene that is unfolding before me.
