September 17, 2013 by Mark Lidstone

Rising – Chapter 1 – Blood

This is the first chapter of my new Vote Your own Adventure series. You control the outcome by voting in the comments below.

VOTING IS NOW CLOSED! TUNE IN FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER COMING SOON.

Hip hop and flashing strobe lights invaded Gwenn’s senses like the effects of a cheap drug laced with household cleaner. And not that all-natural crap either. She struggled to push aside the sea of people with one hand while cupping her nose and mouth with the other. She hadn’t checked the damage, but she could feel a warm, thick liquid oozing between her fingers and down her face.

Gwenn had no idea where the bathroom was, or even who owned the house, but she needed to get away from the havoc so she could clean herself up and think. Though at that moment the only thought she had was: what the fuck am I doing here?

It was a question that had been popping up more and more often and the answer was always the same: George. George was Gwenn’s beer-chugging, high-fiving boyfriend of six years. He was a social butterfly with enough jokes and party tricks to get him through a thousand toga parties. Gwenn however, had more books than she had Facebook friends, preferred the company of fictional characters over actual people, and owned more action figures than makeup. They were complete opposites. Yin and Yang without the harmony. But it hadn’t always been like that.

Gwenn met George at a comic shop when she was sixteen. They’d spent the entire afternoon arguing over who was better: Frank Miller or Neil Gaiman. The debate ended when they agreed that it didn’t matter how good either of them were, Alan Moore trumped them both. He’d invited her to the opening night of The Simpsons Movie and from then on out, they were inseparable.

They’d spent their time together watching old sci-fi movies, reading, and attending conventions. They allocated one night a week apart to put some time into single player campaigns. The next day, they’d reunited to share war stories and plot twists. It was as romantic as two nerds could get. But there was always this sense of insecurity that George couldn’t get past. No matter how much she’d accepted him for who he was, he’d always wished he was someone else.

After high school, they had both gotten into the same university with full rides. Gwenn scored an academic scholarship while George’s was athletic. He may have looked like a football player with his broad shoulders and giant arms, but George was one of the top tennis players in the entire province. Once university started, the jocks welcomed him with open arms. It was then that something clicked in George’s head and he took on the role of the drunken, loud-mouthed frat boy. Once he’d become popular, he’d made it his mission to get Gwenn accepted as well.

He had his work cut out for him. To Gwenn, bathing was optional and makeup was out of the question. Her closet was mostly empty, with only a few pairs of jeans, t-shirts, and hoodies. She hadn’t even owned a dress until six months ago when George brought her a tight, black number that he’d insisted she wear. It was the night of their first party and he’d wanted to make a “good impression.” He had seemed so happy with the sudden attention he was getting that she’d agreed to suck it up for a night. She’d squeezed into the dress and found a makeup tutorial on YouTube that turned heads.

She’d spent the entire night laughing at his jokes, pulling a thin piece of fabric out of her ass, and watching as her highschool sweetheart slipped away. After a couple of months there was no trace of the man she’d fallen in love with. He’d been completely replaced. Her life had become a teenage girl’s spinoff of The Thing and she didn’t have the guts to buy a flamethrower.

She had hopped it was a phase he’d eventually fall out o but it had been six months since that party and things had only gotten worse. This wasn’t her first bloody nose.

She continued to blindly move through the house as drunk, sweaty bodies swayed around her, blocking her path at every turn like some kind of beer-drenched labyrinth. Finally, she caught sight of the staircase which led to the second floor. She held back a squeal of triumph and began pushing her way over. Somewhere a strobe light switched on and all the movement in the room staggered.

She briefly pulled her hand away from her face. Her palm was covered in blood which dripped onto the floor. Gwenn pushed her way around a small group of girls, cupping her face again to avoid getting blood on their expensive dresses and pretty shoes. She had finally found a clear path to the staircase.

She stopped in her tracks and her heart skipped a few beats. The last three people she wanted to see were standing at the foot of the stairs.

Accepting that there was no way around them, Gwenn put her head down and attempted to slip past unnoticed. She even got up a couple of stairs before a giant mitt grabbed her shoulder hard enough to make her wince. She was yanked from the stairs and into the arms of Ken Wallace.

Ken was well over six feet tall with solid muscle everywhere except his stomach, which had become bloated over the last two years due to his obsession with beer and hotdogs.

“Look who it is,” he said. “It’s Six’s girl.”

Six was the shortened version of George’s nickname: Sixpack. Unfortunately, he didn’t get that name because of what he had hidden under his shirt.

“Just let me go, Derp.” He hated when she called him that and was usually very vocal about it.

“Jesus Christ,” he said. “What the fuck is wrong with your face?” Charming.

Before she could pull away, Derp snatched Gwenn’s hand away from her face and erupted into laughter.

“Did Six do that?”

“It was an acc-”

Before she could finish, Derp grabbed her by the shoulders and spun her around so his buddies could have a look. She tried to break away from his hold but his fingers only tightened causing her to yelp in pain. She had no other choice but to submit to him.

The room remained blurry even after she’d stopped spinning. She rubbed her eyes to clear her vision and her hand came back streak with mascara. She had no idea when she’d started crying but she knew she had to cut it out – she wouldn’t see any pity from these guys. She took a deep breath and tried to look her foes in the eyes. A task which was a little difficult because Alan and Hal were actually really good looking and Gwenn had trouble looking at them without blushing.

They were twins with almond coloured skin, and lean bodies. They were just tall enough to look slender instead of lanky and wore fitted, well-tailored clothes. If George and Derp looked like Hulk, these two looked like Spiderman.

They didn’t laugh when they saw her but they were both grinning locked in a Cheshire grin. They may have been pretty but they were no different from Derp.

“Oh, shit,” Allan said. He covered his mouth to stifle a laugh. “Looks like Six needs to work on that donkey punch.”

Gwenn wasn’t really sure what a donkey punch was but it got a laugh from the other two stooges.

“What do you tell a woman with two black eyes?” Hal asked. The other two went silent, waiting for the punchline. “Nothing. You’ve already told her twice.”

With that, the three of them burst into laughter. Derp let go of Gwenn and doubled over, gripping his sides.

Their comments rarely got to her. She’d been subjected to their sense of humour on countless occasions and had learned to shrug it off. Just another straw resting on the camel that was her evening. But it had been a long night and the camel’s legs were ready to give out. If she didn’t get out of there soon, she was going to have a breakdown.

She resisted the urge to sprint up the stairs and hide in the nearest closet. She wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of thinking they’d won. Instead, she sauntered off while they laughed, stomping her feet on each stair.

At the top of the stairs was a long, narrow hallway. Other than a few tiny holes that were once covered by pictures or art, the walls were bare. Whoever was hosting the party must have taken them down to save them from death by drunken university kids. Marijuana smoke clouded the entire floor and diluted the lights leaving it dark and gloomy.

Gwenn could still hear the music from below her and the bass sent vibrations into the soles of her feet. Thankfully, the further she walked, the quieter it got.

The drunken conversations were replaced by noisy sex erupting from behind doors with articles of clothing hanging from the knobs. At the end of the hallway, she found a door with a torn piece of lined paper taped to it. Hidden amongst the crudely drawn dicks and tits was the word “BATHROOM.” She tried turning the knob but the door was locked. Defeated, Gwenn rested her forehead against the wood and let a tiny sob escape.

A familiar, muffled voice barked from beyond the door. “Occupied!”

Gwenn snapped to attention. “J-Jude!” She wanted to scream the name but the only thing that came out was a shaky stutter. She pressed her palm against the door like it was the only thing between her and salvation. “It’s Gwenn. Please, God, let me in.”

The door swung open but it wasn’t Jude’s face that greeted her. Instead, a tall, well-groomed man stood in the doorway.

“Bruce,” she sighed.

It took everything she had to resist hugging him and crying into his chest. She was happy to see him but not surprised. It was rare for him and Jude to be apart.

“Oh my God,” he breathed. “Your face.” Instead of letting her in, he stood slack-jawed in the doorway. Gwenn pushed him aside the best she could before squeezing into the tiny bathroom. The floor was littered with toilet paper and empty beer cups. She went right to the wide mirror and struggled to see her reflection among the lipstick drawings and finger smudges.

Gwenn had a distinct look. Her nose was a little too small for her face, and her cheeks were a tad bit round, but there was no denying her beauty. She’d left the house that night wearing a tight, white dress with and pink lipstick. She had done her black hair in ringlets the way George liked it. But now, blood covered her face and stained the front of her dress. Her eye makeup smeared from her puffy eyes and down her cheeks and her hair was soaked in sweat. She looked like Carrie on prom night.

The damage wasn’t as bad as she’d expected. The bleeding had stopped and there were no visible wounds. She’d always been prone to frequent nosebleeds and it really didn’t take much to set them off.

Gwenn turned on the water and grabbed a couple of Kleenexes from the box on the counter. As she did, she caught the reflection of a red-haired, green-eyed girl sitting on the edge of the bathtub. The girl sighed before turning her attention away from Gwenn and back to her phone.

“Sixpack strikes again,” Jude mumbled.

Gwenn ignored her and gently wiped the blood from her lips.

“Jesus, Gwenn,” Bruce said as he closed the door.

“It was an accident!” Gwenn shouted. She tossed the soaked Kleenex onto the counter out of frustration.

“Oh come on, Gwenn!” Jude fired back. “It’s always an accident!” She got up from her seat and slammed her phone onto the counter. “Come here,” she said, grabbing a Kleenex from the box. She turned Gwenn away from the mirror until they faced each other and gently dabbed at the blood on Gwenn’s nose.

Gwenn let Jude clean her off but shame kept her from looking Jude in the eyes. Instead, she focused on the swirling black ink that stared at the base of Jude’s neck and disappeared under her shirt. It was the top of an elaborate tribal tattoo that covered the majority of her body. Including parts Gwenn has never seen. She had three piercings that Gwenn knew about: her left eyebrow, right nostril, and the left side of her bottom lip. Each hole was filled with a thin, black hoop.

Gwenn was jealous of Jude’s style. She’d always thought she’d get a tattoo when she went to college. Her and George had even planned to get matching “Player One” and “Player Two” tattoos. But the new George would have none of that. The only tattoo he’d permitted her to have was on her lower back. And that wasn’t happening.

“What are you guys even doing here?” Gwenn asked, changing the subject. “You know this is a party, right? Not a D&D game.”

Now that the excitement was over, Bruce’s attention had switched to his phone. “We’re being social,” he said.

Gwenn smiled for the first time that evening but winced when a sharp pain shot through her nose.

“This is being social?” she asked. “Hiding out in the bathroom?”

“I needed a break,” Jude said. “Too many drunk idiots trying to get up my skirt.”

Gwenn eyed Jude’s torn jeans. She couldn’t remember ever seeing her in a skirt.

“Nobody here wants to ‘socialize’ with me,” Bruce said. “The girls think I’m gay…”

“Because you are,” Jude interrupted.

He wasn’t. He was just well-dressed.

“…and the guys all want to fight me. So I’m just following Jude around in hopes that the slightest bit of her charisma will rub off.”

Jude snickered.

“Of course they want to fight you,” Gwenn said. “These guys are all meatheads and you’re probably the only one here who looks like he could handle his own. You’re like the final boss of the party and everyone wants their name on the leaderboard.”

Bruce smiled. “This isn’t high school anymore. I haven’t wrestled in over a year now.”

“Nobody wants to wrestle you, dork,” Jude said. “They want to fight you. Don’t forget, I was there the last time someone provoked you into a fight. It didn’t last long.”

Bruce shrugged and went back to reading something on his phone. Jude finished cleaning the blood from Gwenn’s face and moved on to makeup duty.

Nobody spoke for a while and the silence irked Gwenn. She knew they were silently judging her or, even worse, pitying her for putting up with George. Bruce typed frantically on his phone and the clicks were maddening. Occasionally, there was a knock on the door which Jude followed up with the same “occupied” she’d given Gwenn.

Agitated by the silence and overwhelmed with the need to explain herself, Gwenn spoke up.

“It really was an accident, you know. He was telling some stupid story, which never actually happened by the way, and I got in the way and his elbow…”

“Holy shit!” Bruce interrupted. His attention was still on his phone and his thumb swiped across the screen as he read. “Jude, how are you not looking at twitter right now?”

“What is it? Who died?” Jude tossed her lipstick back into her purse and snatched her phone from the counter. “Is it Biebs? God, I hope it’s Biebs.”

“Not yet,” Bruce said. “A meteor just struck a few kilometers outside of town.”

With all that had happened, Gwenn had forgotten the real reason she’d gone to the stupid party in the first place. It was the weekend of the annual Perseid meteor shower: the biggest meteor shower of the year. The party was supposed to be celebrating it but instead of marveling at the stars, everyone was inside getting drunk.

Gwenn pulled her own phone from the pocket of her dress, woke it up, and typed in her unlock code: “1337.” She tapped the twitter icon and waited for it to load.

“Wow!” Jude said. There was a devious twinkle in her eye that always showed up when she was being sarcastic. “No, wait. That’s actually really fucking boring.” She tossed her phone back onto the counter.

“Are you kidding me?” Bruce laughed. “It’s amazing!”

“Sure thing, Bill Nye,” Jude said.

Gwenn tapped the “trending topics” link for her area and read the first article tweeted.

“Looks like it broke up pretty good before it crashed,” Gwenn said. “Chunks of it are touching down all over the city. They’re causing some serious damage.”

“Yeah,” Bruce said. “I’m reading that the big one hit the highway outside of town. Traffic is backed up like crazy. It’s Armageddon out there. Pretty sweet.”

“I’m sorry,” Jude said, grabbing her red and black plaid jacket from the towel rack. “I just fell asleep while you two were talking.”

Gwenn and Bruce both laughed. Jude threw her jacket on and opened the bathroom door. They were greeted by glares from a line of freshman waiting to use the bathroom.

“Come on,” Jude said. “Let’s take a look for ourselves.”

“I thought you weren’t interested,” Gwenn said.

“I’m not.” She flashed a smile. “I need a smoke.”

—

On their way outside, Gwenn did her best to hide behind Bruce to avoid being spotted by George. He saw her once but Jude shot him a look that kept him from approaching them. He knew Jude wouldn’t hesitate to call him out and he didn’t want to risk get owned by a girl in front of all his friends. Jude had bigger balls than any guy in the room. She just kept hers on her chest.

When they were outside and staring up at the stars, Gwenn felt like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Space had always fascinated her and as she watched the meteors streaking across the sky, her problems seemed to fade away.

“I’ll admit,” Jude said after finishing her cigarette. “Watching this is a little humbling. I feel…” she paused, looking for the right word.

“Small,” Gwenn said. She knew exactly how Jude felt. Star-gazing never failed to make her feel like a spec of dust in a vast desert.

“Space is fucking awesome,” Bruce said and they all laughed.

The three of them spent the better part of an hour laughing and quoting their favourite sci-fi movies while laying in the grass. Gwenn could have stayed there forever but before long, Jude suggested they move inside. The meteor shower had calmed down and the sky was mostly bare. The event was over and Gwen was yanked back to reality. She watched her friends walk off towards the house but didn’t have the will to follow them.

“Come on, Gwenn,” Jude said. “I’m so cold my nipples are about to cut through my shirt.” Bruce’s eyes shot to Jude’s chest. “What’re you lookin’ at, Twilight?” she asked with a smile. Bruce rolled his eyes and turned to the house.

“Actually, guys,” Gwenn  said. “I think I’m going to take advantage of the opportunity and fade away into the shadows. It won’t be long before George notices I’m gone.”

“Sounds like the best idea you’ve had all night,” Jude said. “Be safe.”

“Keep watching the skies,” Bruce said, elongating the word “skies” for dramatic effect. “You know. Because of the meteors.”

Gwenn laughed. “Thanks, Mulder.”

She took her time walking home. Her stocking feet slapped against the sidewalk with every step while her high-heeled shoes dangled from her hand. She hated heels. But George…

“I can’t keep doing this,” she said to no one.

She felt like she was constantly walking on eggshells. Everything she did was a compromise because giving George what he wanted was much easier than disappointing him. She sighed. Somewhere along the line she’d become the type of weak, female lead that she always hated. If her life was a novel, she’d never read it.

Gwenn analyzed everything for the remainder of her walk home and before she knew it, she was standing at the gate in front of her house.

She tried to shake away the thoughts that threatened to smother her. George would be at the party for another few hours and she wasn’t going to spend them brooding. She had a hot bath and a Jim Butcher novel waiting for her.

Gwenn pushed against the gate and wasn’t surprised when it didn’t move. The hunk of rust spent more time stuck than not and it definitely went along with the theme of the night.

“Fuck me,” she sighed.

After tossing her shoes over the fence, Gwenn carefully hoisted herself up onto the chest-high pile of brick. She’d given up trying to salvage her dignity at this point and didn’t even attempt to keep her dress from sliding up over her hips. When she hopped down the other side, her foot slid on the damp grass and she face-planted into the dirt.

She groaned when a familiar pain returned to her nose and she squeezed her eyes shut until it subsided. When she opened them, she saw a large rock on the ground only a few inches from her face.

“Well, that could have been tragic.” She pushed herself up to her knees and winced as a sharp pain shot through her calf.

The rock was strange. It didn’t look like anything she’d ever seen before. It was around the size of a basketball and bone white. There was very little light but she could tell it was covered in tiny grooves. A seven foot trail of dirt and burned grass stretched out behind it towards the side of the house. She knew then that it was a piece of the meteor.

She reached out to touch it but when her hand got a few inches away, a loud whirring noise erupted from the meteor which had started spinning rapidly. Gravel and rocks shot everywhere as it attempted to dig its way into the ground.

“Now that’s cool,” she said. She grabbed her phone from her pocket and opened up her camera app. This thing was going online. She leaned forward until her phone was a few inches from the rock. She positioned her finger over the record button but before she could tap the screen, the meteor stopped spinning.

She lowered her phone and cocked her head to the side. Everything flashed white and the ground below her exploded, sending Gwenn tumbling downwards.

She only fell for a few seconds before landing with a thud on a cold, metal surface. Her ears rang and her entire body hurt. She didn’t move for a long while, too shocked to even realize what had just happened.

When the spots faded from her sight, Gwenn pushed herself up on shaking legs and looked around. It was too dark to see anything but she could tell she was in a small room. She tried to piece together what had happened. Moonlight shined through the ceiling, outlining the hole she had fallen through. The meteor must have damaged the roof of some old bomb shelter causing it to collapse. Luckily, she wasn’t that far down and felt confident she could climb back out.

But before she could attempt the climb, something started clicking just a few feet away from her. It sounded as if someone was slowly turning the dial of an old safe. The clicking continued for a few seconds before being replaced by the whirring noise similar to the sound made earlier by the meteor.

Gwenn ducked and covered her head in fear of another explosion. Instead, tiny lights that lined the walls turned on one by one until the entire room was illuminated.

This was no bomb shelter.

The room was a perfect cube, expanding roughly eight feet in each direction with no visible entrances. The walls matched the shining metal of the floor and, other than the missing ceiling, there were no signs of the explosion. Whatever had happened must have completely disintegrated the ground but somehow left her unscathed.

The only thing in the entire room was an object made of the same metal as the rest of the room and looked a little like a desk. It was mounted to the wall across from Gwenn. She approached it cautiously.

Wedged into the middle of the desk was the meteor. In the light she had a better look at the surface. Its outer layer look like a kind of transparent skin wrapped around a clump of colourless crystals. The skin was covered in glowing, gold veins. The veins pulsed and it looked as though power was pouring from them and into the desk.

There were four panels on the surface of the desk: two to the left of the meteor and two to the right. Each one glowed a different colour and was marked with a different drawing.

The green panel had four symbols: a flame, a droplet, a tree, and three wavy lines.

The blue panel depicted a creature that looked more monstrous than human. It had a large head and an average sized body.

The red panel showed the same creature but this one had an average sized head and a large body.

The final panel glowed without colour. In the middle was a simple, black skull.

It was obvious that the panels were buttons and it was even more obvious that Gwenn had to press one. How could she not? She’d fallen through the ground into a metal room with nothing but a machine powered by a meteor. The curiosity would drive her insane.

“Bruce is going to shit himself when I tell him about this,” she said.

But which one should she press first?

A: Green

B: Blue

C: Red

D: Colourless