Re: Lisa the Legend
Karania: Hi again! Good to see you back here. Thanks for the reply, and I'm glad you plan to catch up on the latest chapters at some point.
Everyone: Chapter 62 is here! I hope you all enjoy it. I've decided to get back to my roots with LTL: I always worked on 3000 - 4000 words per chapter for an average chapter, so I'm trying to get back to that from now on, though there will inevitably be some exceptions. Nonetheless, this new approach seems to be working. After eight months of planning and storyboarding, as well as wandering around in the wilderness with the actual writing of the story itself, I decided to just do what I used to do when I first started writing this: just enjoy it.
So, I wrote this chapter and I enjoyed it. I hope you do, too.
Cheers!
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Chapter 62 – Union Supremacy.
Lisa withdrew her arms from around Gavin’s shoulders.
“I really have to go, Gav. My parents’ll be here any minute now.”
Gavin wiped his face brusquely, as though determined to remove the tear that had just fallen in the most masculine way possible. The aura of solemnity that had fallen over the two of them following Lisa’s promise was suddenly broken; it was as if the moment had never existed.
“Yeah, okay,” he said, in a tone of forced casualness. He pulled further away from Lisa and slid quietly off the bed. For a second, Lisa wondered where on earth he was off to; then she realised he was headed for the toilet door. “Oh, before you go,” he added, a hand on the silver doorknob, “I meant to ask – do you still have my camera?”
Lisa racked her brains for a moment. “No. Did I ever have your camera?”
Gavin shrugged. “I think I chucked it in your backpack when we were on Mount Fairfax.”
“We were being shot at, and you thought to protect your camera,” she replied with a grudging smile. Sometimes Gavin was so illogical it was amusing. Endearing, even – though she would never admit it to him.
As if he could read her thoughts, Gavin flashed Lisa a dumb grin. “Anyway, could you go grab it for me? It’d be good to have something to record this trip to Cianwood on.” Without waiting for a response, he swung the toilet door shut with a soft thud.
Natu, who was still pecking fussily in his bowl of seed, gave a nervous tweet as Lisa made to exit into the corridor.
“Don’t worry, you’re not being abandoned,” Lisa said dryly. “I’ll be back in a moment, and Gavin’s just having a pee.”
She closed the door of room seven softly behind her, hoping not to bring any attention to herself. To her surprise, the blue-carpeted corridor of the Richardson Ward was, once again, completely devoid of human life. Maybe the nurses had gone on strike? There was no cause to complain, in any case: there was no one to impede her movements this time.
“Crap,” she muttered under her breath as she re-entered her room. She had completely forgotten about cleaning it, or packing her things, for that matter: her open suitcase looked like it had vomited clothes all over the thin, institutional carpet; the sideboard, meanwhile, was still strewn with old newspapers and a haphazard assortment of personal items – a couple of empty plastic water bottles, her pokégear, an uneaten packet of crisps from the last time Marina visited, her hairbrush and the belt for her pokéballs. She glanced hopefully at the clock to find that it was quarter past ten. Maybe her parents would feel like pitching in to help her pack? She couldn’t help but chuckle at her own hopeful naďveté.
Fishing around in her backpack, she soon located, beneath layers of junk and long-forgotten articles, Gavin’s camera. It was wrapped in what she had always assumed was one of her old yellow crop-tops; it was, in fact, an old, baggy T-shirt of Gavin’s. Lisa unfurled the T-shirt and examined the camera. She had always liked the look of it: it was a bulky, black camera with a large lens attached to the top of it; Gavin still preferred film to digital photography. Perhaps its nicest feature was the thick, durable strap, which, when worn around the neck, always seemed to give Gavin the appearance of an investigatory journalist.
A sudden, loud slam jolted Lisa from her thoughts. She stood up and glanced around the room, but it sounded like the noise had come from another room – maybe even another level – in the hospital.
Lisa appraised her messy room once more and sighed heavily; it wasn’t going to be a fun job. Still, it seemed like she was going to have enough time to do it: her parents were running late. Slinging the camera over her neck (why shouldn’t she get the chance to look like a reporter for once?), Lisa moved over to the window. Though it was rain-splattered from the overnight storm, it still offered a comprehensive view of the regal Redwood City as well as, closer to hand, the hospital carpark. Lisa scanned the four rows of parked cars, not really expecting a result; she did a double take when her eyes fell upon her father’s white sedan. Yes, that was it: a late model Holden, EC number-plates, an Ecruteak Fruitbats bumper sticker on the back window. She squinted harder. The car was empty; her parents must be on their way up.
Gavin could wait, she thought. She would go and stand outside the lift to surprise her parents. She jogged down the corridor, past the empty nurses station (were Emma and her colleagues at morning tea?) to the silver face of the elevator. She eyed the illuminated numbers above the sliding doors: the lift was still on the ground floor. A long moment passed, in which Lisa could hear nothing but the low buzz of the ducted air-conditioning and, on one of the lower floors, a couple of voices. After perhaps two minutes, the small number ‘1’ lit up with a soft ‘ping’, followed by the number ‘2’. Lisa readied herself, excited to see her parents – and maybe even Wes and Jean – again.
The number ‘3’ lit up with a soft yellow glow; a cool voice said, “Level Three” and the silver doors slid open crisply.
And there, sprawled on the carpeted floor of the elevator, was Emma’s body.
Lisa wasn’t sure if she screamed or not; certainly, she tried, but she could not tell if any sound came from her throat. Her ears had suddenly filled with an otherworldly static, her temples tingling from the volume of blood that had rushed to her head at the grotesque sight before her.
It couldn’t be real – it couldn’t! It still looked like Emma; her face was still whole and freckled, her auburn hair still tied back off her face. Lisa’s eyes scurried over the scene, unblinking, affixed to the horror. Emma’s garb was no longer white; dark crimson blood, almost black, had blossomed over her chest. The carpet was visibly soaked. A silver clipboard lay open in the corner of the lift, the pages within it torn.
A single bullet hole had burned through it.
The silver doors slid shut with an efficient whirr. Lisa stared at them silently, at her reflection: the pallid mask of horror on her face, her hands contorting, clutching at thin air, the camera slung casually over her red jumper. Her brain reeled; her stomach churned; she knew she was going to throw up. Then the cool patient voice repeated itself patiently, “Level Three” and the silver doors slid open once more, and there was the corpse, still horrendous, still dead, still covered in blood.
This time she knew she screamed.
Everything happened at once. Suddenly, someone was holding her from behind. She didn’t even think to fight them; her stomach lurched and she doubled over, retching horribly.
“Lisa! Oh my God …”
It was Gavin. He had an arm around her waist, physically supporting her, but at the sight of Emma’s body, the little strength in his weedy arms gave out. Lisa fell to her knees, trying to avoid the pool of vomit. She lowered her head, closing her eyes, trying to regain focus. She was suddenly aware of the voices present nearby: some of the other patients in the ward been alerted by the sound of Lisa’s scream. However, even above the cries of shock around her, she could hear new sounds: loud thuds, gunshots, shouts and screams on the lower floors.
The unmistakeable sounds of battle.
The elevator doors slid shut again. Steeling herself against the terror, Lisa wiped her mouth on her sleeve and, pushing herself back up to a kneeling position, turned to face the corridor.
Gavin was kneeling beside her, his eyes grey and unseeing. Behind him, five other figures had emerged into the corridor from their rooms; two were jogging toward the lift, while the others remained hesitant at the thresholds to their rooms.
“What’s going on?” cried a wheezing male voice.
“Are you alright, love?” called a second, a female.
Lisa didn’t have time to speak, to warn them. As her two fellow patients arrived where she and Gavin knelt, the silver door opened once again, the robotic voice as cool as ever.
“Level Three.”
The man, overweight and in his thirties, stopped in his tracks, his eyes bulging. The woman, who was younger and fitter and had already reached Lisa’s side, fell to her knees in disbelief.
Abruptly, Gavin grabbed Lisa by the shoulders. “Leese …” he gasped, his face still white as a sheet, his voice tight with terror.
“I know, I know …” Lisa spluttered back. There was no need for words or questions. Somehow, the Union had found them.
Gavin looked at her imploringly. “What do we –” he muttered, cutting himself off as the female patient began to shake silently.
Lisa closed her eyes and hummed. It was an old method, but it was tried and tested. She forced the air past her larynx in a long, unbroken rhythm, focusing on slowing her heart rate down, on thinking clearly. She remembered back to a time not so long ago, when a bullet had pierced her back; when the Union agent on Mt Fairfax had pressed his boot down over her throat, threatening to kill her.
It’s not that bad. I haven’t been shot yet.
Oddly comforted, she continued to hum. Footsteps were pelting down the corridor of the Richardson Ward; the other patients were coming to investigate the source of the commotion. Lisa harnessed her thoughts.
We need to get out of here. We need to get them out of here.
BANG!
Everyone in the corridor jumped as sharp explosion rent the air; it sounded like an enormous firecracker, though Lisa flinched at the thought of what it actually was. The shouts from downstairs were constant now, and louder; it sounded like there were people fighting in the stairwell beside the lift.
“What’s happening?” demanded the overweight man of nobody in particular.
Lisa’s mind was churning over the same question. She was slowly piecing together a theory of what had happened. The Union must have gotten wind of the fact that she was to be extracted from the hospital today. They had launched an attack on Redwood Hospital in the same manner as they had attacked Olivine’s Hospital two weeks ago. Although judging from the roar of chaos below, Lisa thought grimly, there might be more than six casualties this time.
Mum and Dad!
An electric panic surged through Lisa’s body at the thought. Had her parents stepped out of their sedan and walked right into a Union siege? Were they downstairs fighting right now? Or had they ---
She couldn’t even think it.
“Okay, everyone, listen up,” she said abruptly, addressing Gavin and the five other patients in the corridor. She knew the toughness in her voice sounded forced, and feeble, but someone had to do something, and it seemed that she was recovering fastest from seeing Emma’s body. “Out of all of you, who is in the Guard?”
The overweight man and younger woman looked at Lisa with mild incredulity; the other three patients, who were considerably older and had just arrived, seemed unable to even hear her address.
“What’s the Guard?” asked the younger woman eventually.
“Lisa – they’re not members,” Gavin whispered.
“Aren’t they? Dad told me that eight Guard members were sent here from Mt Fairfax.”
“Yeah, a month ago. They’ve already been discharged by now. We’re the only two left.”
Lisa surveyed the ashen faces surrounding her and knew that he was right: not one of the patients seemed to have a clue what the Guard even was. As she exchanged a sober look with Gavin, a whip of realisation struck her in the face: it really was up to the two of them to take charge.
There was the unmistakeable crash of glass shattering in the stairwell beside the lift; a male voice roared, “FUCKING COWARD!”
“OKAY, EVERYONE INTO MY ROOM, ROOM SEVEN!” Gavin bellowed suddenly, getting back on his feet.
The other patients didn’t need to be told twice. The overweight man cast a dubious glance at Gavin, clearly unhappy with being told what to do by a teenager, but the other four responded without argument, scampering back down the corridor as quickly as their respective illnesses allowed. The man hesitated before following them.
“Oh my God,” Lisa breathed, as Gavin helped her up. “Okay … so we need to get our stuff … I don’t have my pokémon or my Buzzball or anything …”
“Get what you need from your room, meet me in mine,” Gavin said swiftly, already jogging toward the rooms.
“Gavin – wait a sec!” Nothing seemed clear – they didn’t have a plan, they didn’t have time to organise their thoughts. “How are we going to get out of here?”
As one, they glanced at the stairs; shouts were issuing from somewhere very near the door, accompanied by what sounded like the grunt of a Machoke.
Gavin cleared his throat.
“Lisa – the lift.”
“What?! Gavin, are you mental? That’s obviously how they got Em – oh!”
Lisa’s eyes found the panel above the silver doors. The number ‘3’ was no longer illuminated; the lift was slowly descending to the second, first … ground floor.
“Come to my room, we’ll work something out!” gabbled Gavin, his voice breaking slightly.
Together, they sprinted down the corridor, Gavin’s camera bouncing wildly on Lisa’s chest. Reaching Room Four, Lisa veered off. It seemed ridiculous that her room was so quiet, so perfectly ordinary, while downstairs, battle raged. As she quickly scooped up her possessions and crammed them in her backpack, something bright caught her eye. Through the window, she saw a burst of flame, blinding even in the mid-morning sunlight; a second later, the sound of the explosion rocked the windowpanes, though they did not break. Forgetting about haste, Lisa gazed, mesmerised, at the scene outside. The fighting had spilled out into the carpark: people in civilian clothing were running about, ducking between and behind cars, dodging the blaze that had just taken hold of one of the cars. There were no guns visible, though jets of fluorescent green light were being fired through the air. It seemed the Union had brought their stunners to the fight. An array of pokémon had also been introduced to the meleé – from what Lisa could make out, there was a small swarm of Beedrill overpowering what looked like a Pythir.
“LISA, HURRY THE FUCK UP!”
“Right!”
Feeling stupid for having been distracted, Lisa grabbed the last couple of things from her nightstand – a couple of cards and photographs, and her wallet – and threw them pell-mell into her backpack. Sweeping the room one final time, she farewelled her suitcase of clothes and bolted for the door.
As she stepped into the corridor, Lisa felt her spine flood with fear. Fifty metres away, the lift pinged softly and a cool voice said, “Level Three.”
She had never run so fast in her life. Doors flashed by her until she reached room seven; no sooner had she ducked inside it than a voice behind her shouted, “STOP!”
Gavin and the other five were already clustered in the room, apparently trying to open the window. Lisa slammed the door shut behind her and clicked the lock into place.
“Gavin – someone’s already here, someone’s coming for us!”
There was a collective squeal from the other patients; a second later, Gavin gave a grunt of triumph as he flung the window open.
“Go, Skarmory!” he cried, hurling a pokéball at his feet. A burst of radiant light revealed the sleek, metallic form of the steel-winged pokémon.
“Slash the security screen!” Gavin ordered fervently. “Everyone else, stand back!”
The five adults backed away from the window. Lisa let her mouth fall open as Skarmory raised a gleaming scythe and, in two deft strokes, reduced the security screen to shreds of metal frame and wire.
“Gavin, THAT’S your plan?!” screeched Lisa, losing her cool completely; she had just seen Natu fluttering about the ceiling in distress.
“You got a better one?”
“FOR GOD’S SAKE, YES, YOU CAN TELEPORT!”
Gavin let his eyes roll back in his head in bitter realisation. “Fuck – I forgot.”
“What do you mean, he can teleport?” piped up an elderly woman in a nightgown, who was clutching an empty bedpan as though it alone might protect her from any attacker.
“My Natu – and – my pokémon –” Gavin muttered dismissively, urgently pulling pokéballs out of his pockets. “Staryu, Girafury – go!”
As the room was enveloped in bursts of blinding light, there was a sudden pounding on the door.
“OPEN UP!”
The younger woman shrieked; the elderly lady raised the bedpan above her head.
“LISA, GAVIN – OPEN THE DOOR!”
“GO TO HELL!” screamed Lisa, backing away from the door and aligning herself with the patients.
“LISA – IT’S DAD – QUICK, WE HAVE TO GET YOU OUT OF HERE!”
“THAT’S NOTHING LIKE MY DAD’S VOICE, YOU ARSEHOLE!”
There was a violent tshkk tshkk tshkk as the door erupted in a screen of smoke and dust; the Union agent on the other side was firing something at it.
Lisa spun round to Gavin. “Hurry!”
Gavin was appointing a patient to each of his pokémon. Staryu was assigned to the eldest lady; Girafury, being a larger beast, took a couple in their fifties. Natu fluttered down onto the shoulder of the young woman; however, she shook him off.
“I have a Pidgeotto,” she said softly to Gavin, her tone almost dream-like as she dropped a Fast Ball to the ground.
“Fine then, fly, good luck!” said Gavin shortly to the woman, as her Pidgeotto materialised and she climbed onto its back. “Okay, Natu, you take the fat guy!”
“EXCUSE ME!”
“Tu tuuuu …”
Natu fluttered onto the rotund man’s sizeable shoulder; the woman’s Pidgeotto gave a courageous squawk and took flight into the sunlight.
The door gave a violent shudder; a large crack appeared down the middle of it. The man on the other side was now shouting for back up.
“Gavin, for the pokémon to teleport somewhere – they need to have an idea of what the place they’re going to looks like, don’t they?”
Gavin bit his lip and nodded. “Yeah, and I don’t think they’ll be able to move very far at all if they’re carrying humans. Let me think, let me think …” He began to scan the view through the wide open window.
“Think faster!” urged the man in his fifties, holding his wife’s waist with one hand and Girafury’s mane with the other; the door was shaking so violently it appeared to be seconds away from snapping in two.
“OF COURSE, THE ACACIA RIVER!” Gavin roared. “OKAY, NATU, STARYU, GIRAFURY – LOOK OUT THE WINDOW – SEE THAT RIVER, SURROUNDED BY ALL THOSE TREES? SEE THAT ONE REALLY TALL TREE? LOOK AT IT, MEMORISE IT, GO THERE NOW, GO, GO! EVERYBODY ELSE HOLD ON!”
The patients quickly grabbed on to their rides; Natu, Staryu and Girafury each gave a proud battle cry and disappeared in three brilliant flashes of hyacinthine light.
Suddenly, the room felt much larger; only Lisa, Gavin and Skarmory remained.
“Okay, so you’re going to teleport us yourself, right Gavin?” Lisa asked, hoping her assumption had been right. “I mean, you said you got your powers back …”
Gavin nodded calmly. “Yeah, I think I can do it. It’s only, what, five hundred metres away, maybe a kilometre at the most. Return, Skarmory,” he added swiftly; Skarmory dissolved instantly in a globule of scarlet light, returned to his pokéball.
“You can’t hide forever, girl!” snarled the Union agent at the door. A chunk of wood splintered off the door and tumbled to the ground; whatever was being done to the door was obviously working. “We didn’t come here today to fail!”
He took another shot at the door; a larger chunk of wood broke away; a hole was now gaping, through which Lisa could see a pair of hands grasping a stunner.
“Well, prepare to!” Lisa shot back, grabbing hold of Gavin’s hand. “You ready?”
Gavin nodded and clasped her hand tightly, but it was as far as they ever got; a bolt of electric-blue light sizzled the air and struck Gavin directly in the chest.
“NO!” Lisa screamed, as he dropped, a soundless deadweight, to the floor.
There was a cackle of triumph as the door finally split in two; a black boot kicked its way through the cracked panels of burnt timber. Lisa gaped in shock: Gavin was not moving; he could not teleport her away …
A yellow-toothed, Hispanic-looking man stood in the doorway, his dark eyes agleam with victory.
“Hello again, Lisa. It really has been too long,” he snarled, levelling the stunner at Lisa’s chest and swiftly pulling the trigger.
Originally Posted by mr_pikachu
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