Chapter Text
The sun was shining right in my face. I groaned and tried to smother my head into my pillow to block out the light, but my pillow wasn't there, nor was I actually on my bed, or lying down at all. I squinted one eye open. As I thought, I had fallen asleep in my armchair again. I hate it when I do that for this reason, it's right in the way of the morning light.
I sighed and stretched, opening my eyes fully. Which book had I been reading? It was rare that I got so into a book that I couldn't put it down, seeing as how I'd read all the ones already in my tower, and they no longer held any surprise.
Then I remembered, it was the journal-like one that I had found under a loose floorboard just last week. The beginning had been rather boring, talking about some super powered team getting together, and some agent person dying, but then it talked about a battle of New York, an alien race, and the death of the super team. That's when I'd gotten hooked.
I opened the book to the page I had left it on. It was confusing, it had a location, and a series of instructions, but what for?
I let the thought hang and went to make breakfast, my supplies were getting low, I'd have to leave the tower soon to get more, maybe go foraging, it was strawberry season, I could visit the glades, but they were so open, with so little cover. What if a creature, or an 'alien' as the journal claimed the 8' monsters were called, was out there, I'd never be able to fight one off myself, how I wished I still had Flynn. Or even my mother. Or anyone, really, just someone to spend the long days with.
I sighed and ate the last of the nettle soup from yesterday's dinner, I'd bring the dandelion and mint leaves with me when I went out later.
For now I just sat back down in my chair and opened the journal. I read through the instructions carefully, still not sure what they were for. At the end was a paragraph, hastily written, and what looked like drops of old blood.
"I pray that this will never be needed, that the world will never come to this, but I know how naive such a notion can be. My time on this once beautiful planet has come to close, and I hand the responsibility of the Cure to whomever will read this. Save our world, save yourself and those you love, and go to New York. My prayers are with you."
What did it mean? What cure? Could it cure the world of the Aliens?
I turned the page, it was blank, and the next and the one after that. The whole rest of the book was empty.
I reread the instructions, having a sliver more of an idea of what they meant. And now one line stood out "and all sentient life, but for the ten that begin this massacre, will be destroyed."
I looked up 'sentient' in my dictionary, having never heard the word before.
'Adj - consciously perceiving.'
Consciously perceiving? Did that mean thinking?
Did the cure kill all the thinking minds on earth? That would mean all the Aliens! But, the horrible thought dawned me, that would mean all the humans would die, too.
Ok, ok, ok, I thought, get your mind together.
The cure is activated by 10 people, it kills all people and aliens on the planet, except the 10.
Why would this even be an option? It was stupid, why would they even think about that, how would killing all of mankind make anything better.
Then I thought of another of my books, of the story of Noah, how the world was so horrible, and bitter, and cold, that God wiped them all out, leaving just Noah and his family to repopulate the earth.
'... This once beautiful planet..."
I could make it beautiful again. I could destroy the horrible, and restart.
But what about all the other people, the ones who'd die. Could I do that to them? Would they let me, if they found out what I was planning?
A memory surfaced, of Flynn yelling "Run, Blondie! I'll hold them off, get back to the tower!"
People were dying anyway. Dying younger than they should have. On one of my shelves was a photo book, with a picture of a women who's hair had gone grey, who's face was more wrinkled than not, she sat in front of a cake with a candle that said '70'. Nowadays it was a miracle to reach 40.
Maybe they could go back to the ways things were?
Maybe I could at least try. I decided.