KevinFred
patreon
The Scoop of the Century - Chapter 3
🕑 Added 2023-01-09 00:56:50 +0000 UTC8:42AM
Though all commercial airlines across America had been grounded, the skies were not completely abandoned. Military aircrafts patrolled to keep look out for the titanic woman, whom had not been seen since last evening. The night had gone by with an uneasy peace. Cities across the country were dark and the few that somehow maintained power now suffered from an inundation of travelers in search of a safe haven, or perhaps just a sliver of normalcy, flocked to them. For the first time in a long while, Americans now feared the prospect of a new day and what fresh and bizarre horrors it would bring. But while life at the ground was still in chaos, the skies were still, and military planes weren't the only ones that pierced the morning sky. Wealthier denizens of the country had far more options and they were not going to let trivial concerns such as a mandate against private planes stop them.
One such individual was a man named Kirk Rogers, the son of a wealthy banking family. They were no Rothschild or Rockefeller, but Kirk's family had still amounted a fair share of wealth over the years through their various trades in the financial sector. And like any rich tycoon, not all of their dealings were not necessarily above board. Kirk's older brother had actually gotten his start at the infamous Stratton Oakmont, the brainchild of the self-proclaimed 'Wolf of Wallstreet'. Family connections had kept him from landing in too much hot water, but Alfred Rogers had still served a year in a posh, low security prison. It had basically been a long vacation in a cheap hotel. Kirk was likewise no stranger to such loose play with the rules. As such, it would surprise virtually no one familiar with him when he offered his hired pilot to fly him from the lavish ski resort in Rockies of Colorado, back to his large home in California. Such trips were unlike him. Most members of his family lived in L.A, which was why he often spent his time elsewhere, be it the ski resort or his penthouse in New York City. But with the insanity that had occurred yesterday, he felt obligated to return to them. And with no power at the resort, and his cellphones not working, his resolve was only strengthened. His pilot, however, was not so willing.
“They're not going to shoot us down,” Kirk had responded when his pilot had informed them that they would inevitably pass over the Mojave Desert. “We're not the threat. Worst that'll happen is we'll pay a fine. And that's even if they catch us. With everything being down, they're probably just in the dark as we are.”
“It's not the military I'm worried about.”
Kirk did not respond immediately. He stood with his hands on his hips, staring off in the distance.
“She was closer to Vegas.” He finally said. “If we stay clear of there we should be fine. Assuming she's even there.”
“Where do you think she is?”
“I don't know where she is.” Kirk replied. “Nobody does. Nobody knows where she even came from. Could be on a whole other planet for all we know. I'm still going to L.A.”
“I really wouldn't advise, sir...”
“Then I guess it's good I don't pay you for advice.”
And so, Kirk Roger's private jet flew its course that morning, cruising at about fifty thousand feet. The crew were tense, but Kirk Rogers simply reclined in his chair, quietly looking out his window. His nerve was perhaps helped by the two glasses of brandy he had consumed already. Whether he was simply watching the world pass by or keeping look out for something else was anyone's guess.
…
You step out into the daylight, adjusting the brim of your hat to block the sun's rays for searing your eyes. When your eyes have adjusted you glance around to get your bearings. You're deep within the center of the desert, and you don't see any signs of life around. That's good, but you'll still have to be careful. You got a chance to acquaint yourself a little yesterday, but there's work to be done and you need to act fast.
Slowly, you draw a deep breath and then step about ten paces. Then you stop and turn, examining the ground. There are two minor indents in the ground (well, minor for you, perhaps) but otherwise the earth has held. You can't help but smile. Your actions yesterday were not simply for sight seeing, though that did delight you just as well. It was good for you to feel the ground beneath your feet, familiarize yourself with how it reacted with your steps. You can adapt. It may take some trial and error, but with time your steps will become lighter and bring less harm to the world around you. It'll never be completely safe, of course (not with your size), but its something and you'll have to take it. You're not oblivious to the damages you've caused thus far. It pains your heart, but it is not without its uses. They're disoriented now, unable to communicate. They'll be slower at retaliating against you. The damage will buy you time. You're not afraid of them hurting you. They do not have that power, of that you're confident. Still, while violence is not in your nature, they will not see that. Any action, no matter how small or innocent, may seem like aggression to the ignorant.
As you turn, a sound reaches your ears. A plane. From your past experiences, you've grown accustomed to picking this particular sound. It's close. In fact, you almost swear it sounds higher than...
Suddenly you see it. A small dot gliding right in front of your eyes. Had you taken a single step you would have walked directly into it.
…
Kirk Rogers did not know Chuck Stephens, but the journalist would have been able to sympathize with his plight. Suddenly, she was there. Despite gazing out the windows on both sides of the plane, seeing vast miles of land, Kirk had not seen her, had not even heard her. All the same, she appeared.
The stewardess, a pretty middle aged lady whose name he frequently struggled to remember, screamed, dropping the bottle of brandy she had been carrying to refill Kirk's glass. Rogers had only begun to swing his head towards her when the plane violently jolted in a nasty bit of turbulence. The stewardess fell to the ground, narrowly avoiding smashing her head against Kirk's armrest, and then began to scramble for an empty seat to buckle herself into. Kirk, meanwhile, gripped the arms of his chair so tightly that his knuckles turned white. He had time to realize he was not going to die in one of the big beds in his many estates, but rather by plummeting out of the sky and crash landing a fireball. All to see the family he typically strove to not see. The irony forced a laugh, even now.
After another big jolt, the plane abruptly came to a stillness that worried Kirk, who was suddenly sure they had either stalled or maybe they were already dead and just hadn't realized it yet. A glance out the window next to him showed they still seemed to be flying. No signs of the plane dipping towards the ground. He thought he could hear the pilot loudly swearing...
He heard the stewardess groan and he looked towards the windows to the left on the other side of the plane.
Outside, he saw a pair of the biggest eyes he had ever seen. She was far enough away that he could see both, though they encompassed the entirety of all the lefthand windows in the compartment. 'Far away' was a bit of a cruel joke. As immense as she was, and she WAS immense, a single step would probably do more than close the gap; she'd ram right into them. Probably wouldn't even feel it. But that doesn't happen. Instead, she is still, and her massive eyes stare right at the plane. Later on, Kirk Rogers would tell his family that he swore she had looked directly at him. Her eyes were a deep, rich green color, the sun's light gleaming brilliantly in her pupils. It was as awe-inspiring as it was terrifying.
Nothing could be done. All Kirk could do is watch as the plane crawled, at a now agonizingly slow pace, forward.
…
You stand still, watching the plane glide by. Any move you make now could throw the plane out of the sky. So you wait patiently for it to move out of your way. You can't help but smile. Such a humble little thing, yet amazing in its own right. No use to someone like you, of course, you've never needed such a thing. But the cleverness of those not graced (or perhaps cursed) with your position to conquer skies they had no business conquering was to be admired. After a few moments, the plane was at a safe distance and you would continue past it, offering a small wave to it as you went on your way.
…
Kirk waited for the behemoth of a woman to raise a hand and swat his gnat-like plane out of existence. When a smile stretched on her red lips, it sent chills down his spine. But, she did do anything but watch until the plane was far from her. Only then did she raise a hand. And waved.
Then, she began to move, disappearing from their view for a brief moment, leaving only her long black hair flowing behind her. Then, she reappeared on the right side of the plane, walking off into the distance. Despite her gait seeming slow and methodical, she still outpaced the plane by miles. From his window, Kirk beheld a perfect view of the towering woman. Though he had been one of the few to not see her yesterday, he had heard descriptions. A wide brimmed hat, white blouse with frills, leather pants and thigh boots. Red hand bag. This was certainly the same woman. She looked like a woman he would have encountered at a cocktail party among other men of Kirk's caliber. He watched her go until she deviated enough from the plane's course that she was no longer visible from the windows.
When they landed in L.A, his pilot immediately resigned.
...
Chuck had only managed to sleep maybe an hour. Probably less. The endless commotion outside, not to mention the knowledge that planet Earth had seemingly been invaded by a massive entity, and the stress that came with both of those, took its toll. He'd been able to find some quiet in an empty office in an upper story and even when sleep couldn't be found, he lay on his back staring up at the ceiling. Questions racked his brain, ones that the entire country were likely thinking right now. Occasionally he would doze off, only to be awoken by some racket from outside or screaming from some argument inside. People were leaving. Lanard was trying to prevent this as best he could, reminding them of the anarchy that had seemingly befallen the city. However, many of these people had families to get to and they would not be stopped. Earlier in the night, when the sight of the towering woman was still fresh in their minds and they were plenty shaken, their resolve had not been there. But now that the sun was beginning to rise, with police swarming the streets and at least some feeble attempt at getting traffic moving was underway all to the sound of military helicopters, people were feeling more emboldened to try and get home. Chuck himself had considered trying to leave, to get back to his apartment, but decided against it. He had no family waiting for him at home and his parents, both retired, were vacationing in Europe, so they were safe. No doubt they would be worried sick and trying to get ahold of him, but at least they were far from the situation for the time being.
That was another confounding element of the whole situation: danger. Were they in danger? If a giant monster like the one in Cloverfield had landed down on Earth and started a rampage, he figured he would be far more stressed than he was now, but he would at least understand the situation. But this wasn't Cloverfield, or any other Sci-Fi movie he'd seen for that matter. They weren't dealing with some horrid abomination dripping acidic spit and biting people with some inner jaw; or absorbing people and then making perfect duplicates of themselves to sow chaos; or even some extreme hunter that would stalk them in jungles for sport. No, this was just a lady. A incomprehensibly massive lady, but a lady all the same. A human one, by the looks of it. Aside from her height, he'd seen no physical differences between her and any other woman. And she had shown no signs of violence so far. When she had appeared yesterday she did not destroy the city, but instead stepped clear over it. Radio chatter had described her walking, sitting near lakes, and looking around, all while marveling at everything she was. But no reports of her wiping out entire cities, stomping on military vehicles, or anything of malice. She had even waved. Yes. During everything that had happened, he had almost forgotten it, but now the image came back vividly: her standing over the city, bending down, and wiggling her fingers down, smile and all.
He reached up and rubbed his eyes.
It didn't make sense. If she wasn't here to destroy the Earth, why WAS she here?
“And where did she come from?” Chuck Stephens asked the empty room. “And WHO is SHE? What is she?”
Questions, questions, question. There were interrupted by pounding, pounding, pounding. Someone banging on the door to his room.
“Chuck!” Lanard Glass's voice barked as the door. “Get downstairs?”
“What?” Chuck, who was unable to fully sleep but still groggy, asked.
“The radio!” Glass replied, wildly gesturing with his arms. He was wound up. “She's back!”
The two men hurried back to the cubicles downstairs. Everyone who remained was standing around Paul Wallace's desk while the old man sat next to his radio, which was currently emitting nothing but belches of static.
“Any idea where she's headed?” Lanard asked when they approached.
“North.” Paul replied, looking up at the two men. Chuck remembered his tone from the night before, how he had been hopeful that The Giantess wouldn't come back, that whatever had brought her here no longer interested her. The defeat was plain on his face, but there was something else. Chuck couldn't tell, but it didn't look like anxiety or fear. Excitement, perhaps? This was probably the most exciting thing that had happened to the old man, or any of them, in years. Not to mention, the situation had made Paul an important man. He was the owner of The Radio, right now they're only connection to the rest of the world. “She's almost in Nebraska right now.”
“Nebraska!?” Lanard replied, a look of shock on his face. “Christ, I went to wake Chuck and she was just in Utah and now she's in Nebraska!”
“She's...gigantic.” Paul said with a tired shrug. “Biggest thing I've ever seen. Took her no time at all to cross the whole country yesterday. That's why there's only static right now. They can't keep up with her. Anyone else further up ahead watching her may not be able to broadcast a signal. Power's still out in a lot of places I reckon.”
“Anything different about her?” Chuck asked.
Paul gave him a queer look. “What do you mean 'different'? She's more different than anything I ever seen in my life!”
“I don't know what I mean,” Chuck admitted. “But have they said there's anything different about her? Bigger? Smaller? Is she behaving differently? Anything?”
“Nothing that we've heard...” Jacob Rimsley, perhaps the only intern remaining in the building, spoke up.
“Same as yesterday...” Paul concurred. “Just...walking around.”
“Just hope she doesn't come walking around here.” Gerald Briggins, the security guard, said. He wasn't wearing his uniform, only the white undershirt that he had beneath it. His small fro, which was starting to gray, was a bit unkempt, and there were circles under his eyes. He hadn't slept well.
“I hope so either,” Lanard said, glancing around. The room was now incredibly empty compared to yesterday. Leslie Milton, along with several other employees, had vacated the premises, leaving only them, and a handful of other employees. Chuck saw a lot of faces that he recognized but didn't know the names of. They worked on different floors, different departments. The Daily Occurences were no Washington Post or New York Times, but the offices were still moderately big. To see the place so deserted now was almost creepy.
“You think the others will be ok?” Chuck asked.
“I worry that they won't be even if that giant woman doesn't come back,” Lanard replied. “Things look like they're only KINDA getting back to some sort of civility out there.”
“No they ain't,” Gerald said. “Still a lot of abandoned cars. They've had to push some cars aside just to free up space. No one's going anywhere fast. They might even have the city on lock down.”
“They very well could,” Lanard agreed.
“If you ask me...” Jacob began. But before he could say more than that, Paul shushed him.
“Quiet!”
Everyone went silent. Through the static, a voice was faintly speaking. Paul rotated one of the knobs and the static softened.
“...now passed the state line into Iowa...” The voice crackled through the static.
“She's already...!” Lanard started.
“SSSSHHH!” Paul hissed.
“...military has engaged with the...the uh...giant woman but nothing but machine gun fire at the moment which seems to have had no impact on her. We don't know if heavier ordinance will be used but for now military helicopters are following her and, I think I can hear some jets above as well, so...” A hiss of static interrupted him. “...clear over Des Moines, my god! Right over it! I can't imagine what those people are going through right now, my goodness. If you just tuned in, The Giantess has just stepped clear over Des Moines, Iowa. Thankfully, she seems conscious of cities and towns and is apparently trying to avoid them but...my god, I can't imagine how many she's stepped on at this point. I have noticed though, in contrast to last night, she doesn't seem to be leaving any tracks. Yesterday, she left gaping potholes in the ground, but somehow she isn't doing that anymore. I don't know how, but then...I just really don't know anymore folks, this is absolutely mindblowing that I'm even seeing this right now, I...”
Static burst through the radio so loudly that Paul had to turn down the volume.
“She's not leaving tracks?” Lanard asked. “Is that what I heard just now?”
“That's what I heard.” Chuck nodded.
“At least she's looking down...” Gerald spoke up, not raising his head. “But...damn! She stepped over the whole city of Des Moines!? Is she really THAT big!?”
“She is.” Chuck said. “You should see her. It's...quite a sight, to say the very least.”
“Well, with any luck I won't have to.” Briggins said, knowing full well that was wishful thinking at best.
“I can't believe they actually tried shooting her.” Jacob said. “If she really is that big a machine gun isn't gonna stop her...is it?”
“Doesn't seem to.” Lanard replied softly.
“They'd need a nuke,” Paul said, absently as he turned the knob of the radio. Whatever broadcast they had been listening to, the signal had been lost. “She's too big for anything else.”
“I don't even know if that would work.” Chuck said. “You saw how big she was, Paul. Even a nuke...”
“It'd get the job done.” Paul replied firmly. A bit too firmly. Perhaps he was trying to convince himself as much as anyone else. “Maybe they'll need two, but it'll get her. It has to. She can't be THAT big.”
No one replied to that. And fortunately, there was hardly any time to, for a new voice suddenly began speaking through the static.
“...on her. Eyes on her! We've got visual! She's walking right along the state line between Illinois and Wisconsin! We're trying to follow but she's very fast! She...” More static belched from the speakers.
“Is she going towards Lake Michigan?” Chuck asked.
“Maybe.” Lanard replied.
“Why would she?” Jacob said.
“She sat down by the great lakes yesterday.” Chuck said. “Maybe something about them draws her to them?”
“But what would...?” Lanard began but he was again shushed by Paul.
“...roaching Lake Michigan...” The voice on the radio said. “She's...she's stopping, she's stopping! Now she's...wait...what is she...?”
The static picked up and everyone huddled around the radio, trying as hard as they could to listen.
…
You come to a stop. The great lake lays before you. It may not look so great to you, but it is still beautiful. You enjoyed sitting by these lakes yesterday, the scenic view of the sunset over their waters filled with a peace that you so desperately needed. But even then you had sensed something amiss with the lakes. More than that, you could smell it. The waters were poorly taken care of. Pollutants fouled the once pristine lakes and mucked their natural luster, as well as endangering everything that lived inside them.
Just as you endanger everything around you, the voice of doubt spoke clearly in her mind, why are you any different?
You shove the thought away. It's true that you might be a danger, but you can also be more than that. The knowledge you carry from long travels is invaluable, even the darkest doubts in you cannot deny that. And that knowledge is the key to everything.
Reaching into your red handbag, you bring out a long pipette and a small test tube. Carefully, you squat down and examine the surface of the lake. You see somethings floating in the waters, but not much. The lake has not reacted much to your presences, its waters still calm. This physical world will warm up to you, of that you're sure (at least you hope you are). But those that are native here are still hostile. You've heard the vehicles following you, have heard their weapons fire potshots at you. They won't harm you, not physically at least. Emotionally, it is draining. You understand their fear, or at least you try (if you're honest, you've never shared their perspective), but it still hurts you. It makes you feel unwelcomed, a feeling that you're all too familiar with. Each time you hope it will be different, but it never is. And yet you keep trying. Why? Perhaps because you are compelled to. Perhaps because there is nothing else for something like you to do. But, more likely, it is because you are tired of being alone.
Slowly, you dip the pipette into the water and draw a big sample out of the lake. Then, you stand and unscrew the lid to the test tube and empty the contents of the pipette into it. You then hold the tube up to your eyes and examine it carefully. There are things in the water, which is not surprising. You can't be certain if any of them didn't wind up inside, but you're reasonably certain this did not happen. You carefully place the tube into your bag and then pull out another and repeat the sequence. By the time you're done, the lake has drained a little, but not by too much. You place that tube into your bag, along with the pipette, which has finished its job. You won't be able to use it for the other lakes, lest you taint the samples. Fortunately, you've brought several of them.
You hear more flying vehicles approach and you begin walking. You are not afraid of them, but you don't want to hear the sounds of their weapons again. You're not sure if your heart can take much more of that.
…
Static blared again from the radio as the signal was again lost. Paul cursed under his breath and began twisting the knobs again.
“She took water from Lake Michigan?” Jacob asked in a tone of quiet bemusement.
“What she do that for?” Gerald asked, looking at Chuck and Lanard.
“No idea.” Chuck replied. “But...” He stopped, not sure what to add to that. The confusion was back. If the voice on the radio had reported that she had begun stomping on cities, he would at least understand that destruction was her intent. Yet The Giantess again had gone off script for massive invaders and had, instead, drawn water out of Lake Michigan. Why? What quality did the water of Lake Michigan have that was of any interest to a seeming goddess that had appeared out of nowhere yesterday?
“But what?” Briggins asked.
“I...” Chuck paused, running his hand through his hair. “I don't know. But it's strange, isn't it? I mean...it sounds almost like she's...she's...”
“Taking samples.” Lanard said.
“Right.”
“Almost like a scientist would.”
“Right.”
A pause followed this. A long one. Even Paul stopped fiddling with the knobs of his radio, his gaze slowly drifting.
“That's crazy.” Gerald finally said. “That's just crazy talk.”
“This whole thing is crazy, Gerald.” Chuck said.
“Yeah, but...” Briggins shook his head. “That's just nuts. Absolutely crazy.”
“What do you think, then?” Lanard asked.
“I don't know.” Gerald replied, firmly. “And I don't want to know. Paul's right. We need nukes. We need to take her out before she takes us out.”
“Is she trying to take us out?” Chuck asked. “Reports keep saying she's stepping over cities, instead of destroying them like something out of Independence Day.”
“I don't know.” Gerald repeated. “But do you really wanna take that chance?”
Chuck didn't answer. Truth be told, he didn't want to take that chance. But he also didn't know if humanity even possessed the ability to stop The Giantess. If she WAS a god, then what good would one or two nukes do? That knowledge was something he wasn't sure he was ready to face; the knowledge that every weapon would be rendered useless in the face of the immense woman. And so he kept quiet.
“I think we should just kill her.” Gerald continued. “Light her up and knock her out.”
Jacob began to say something and then didn't. Chuck wondered if he was having similar thoughts as he was.
“After all, if...” Gerald began, but he was shushed by Paul.
Yet another voice came out from the radio. The Giantess had traveled up Wisconsin into the Upper Peninsula of Michigan to Lake Superior. The same scenario played out as before. She pulled out a pipette and took two samples from the lake and put them into her purse. Then she stepped across the small gap between the Upper Peninsula and the Mitten shaped peninsula and took samples from Lake Hudson. Then, she traveled south. The radio lost signal again, briefly, but then another voice was telling the same story at Lake Erie. Then, she began to head north again, most likely heading towards Lake Ontario. As they listened, Chuck began to wait for tremors. She was in the state again.
The signal was again lost and another was again found. Sure enough, she took samples from Lake Ontario too. The military, having seen her actions, had been waiting for her, but were, at this point, still not taking any direct action against The Giantess.
Finally, a tremor rattled the building. Then another. Screams began to swell from outside. And everyone ran to the roof of the Daily Occurrences.
…
You place the last two test tubes into your bag. More flying vehicles have converged on you. This makes you nervous as you strive to avoid them. They keep their distance, but their speed pails in comparison to yours and you still have to manage your movements carefully. Slowly, you manage to weave through them and continue on your way. You've acquired what you need for now.
As you walk you realize that you are, once again, close to where your first arrived yesterday, your tracks in the ground still painfully visible. They compel you to check behind you to make sure you're not leaving new ones. You're not, and you breath a sigh of relief as you continue.
…
Pandemonium has returned to the city as screams of panic erupt from the streets. But Chuck isn't interested in looking towards the streets. He is, once again, looking at the towering woman from the roof of the Daily Occurrences. There was no mistake, it was the same woman from yesterday. She was not, luckily, heading for the city, but rather passing by.
“Holy shit!” Gerald Briggins gasped. His mouth hung open and his eyes were wide. It occurred to Chuck that the man had not yet seen The Giantess. Chuck wondered if the man's notion of using nukes had wavered a bit.
“Is she coming this way!?” Jacob Rimsley cried. The young intern had not been brave enough to come out onto the roof. Whether he wanted to be close to the exit in the case the building began to show signs of collapse (as if he could reach the bottom floor from up here before that could happen) or he just wasn't prepared to see the sight of the behemoth of a woman bearing down on his entire world was anyone's guess.
“No!” Lanard yelled over the din of panic from below.
Chuck watched the woman. The sight of her was just as awe-inspiring now as it had been yesterday. Every question he had conjured during his long, sleepless night came flooding back to him with a powerful surge. Who are you, he thought. What are you, for that matter? Why are you here? What are you doing? But most importantly, just who are you? Who are you!?
…
You stop again.
You sensed something. A voice calling out to you. You hear many things, you've tuned your ears very fine over the years. You are like a planet surrounded by the countless stars in the night sky. The stars often whisper and that's all you're able to hear most times. But on occasion, some voices ring out and you pick up words. This is another one of those times.
“Who are you?” The star asks.
You look towards the star, which, of course, is not a star at all, but a city. Not just a city, but the one you first saw when you arrived. Something in that cluster of stars spoke to you. You want to respond, but you can't. Your voice is like a supernova. It tends to cast the stars off into the darkness and so you keep silent. Curiosity beckons you over to the city, but you resist. It's a large city...a large constellation of stars...and you're too afraid of damaging it to sate simple curiosity.
Still, you look towards the constellation thoughtfully.
…
A chill runs through Chuck Stephens spine as her eyes turn towards his direction.
“She's coming this way!” Gerald Briggins yells and bolts for the door. He and Jacob disappear down the stairwell back inside the building. Paul Wallace hesitates for a moment but then hurries after them. Lanard Glass takes a step back but doesn't quite commit to running.
“Holy shit.” The Editor in Chief mutters.
Chuck barely hears this. He meets the eyes of The Giantess through the miles that separate his from hers. He watches, waiting to see what she'll do. If she starts walking towards the city he might just join Gerald and the others. But for now, he is glued to this spot, his hands tightly grasping the guardrail of the roof. Something in him, perhaps his journalistic instincts, keeps raving the same question.
…
“Who are you?” The star asks again.
You realize that it is genuinely trying to speak to you. Something that has never happened before. Most things shy from you, either in fear or anger or both. This one does not. A surge of excited hope fills you, accompanied by a painful feeling on inability. You can't reply. Maybe you can in some way, but you don't know how. And something makes you believe that the star isn't even aware of how loud its own voice is.
The swell of the flying vehicles reaches your ears. You glance around and see them slowly catching up behind you. You need to get moving and return home for now. But you turn back to the city, back to the star. The pain of indecision cripples you, immobilizes you. This is a first and you simply cannot pass it up without doing something. Without giving some kind of response.
After another agonizing second, you make your decision and open your mouth.
…
Lanard Glass finally loses his nerve and runs back to the stairwell. He yells for Chuck to follow but he doesn't. Chuck barely even hears him. Something has come over the face of The Giantess. As she looks towards him (she can't be looking at you, she just can't be, but...), her expression changes. She looks as if she heard her name called while standing in a crowd of people and has turned towards the direction of the voice. She looks as if she's heard something. Then, her attention is drawn behind her for a moment. When she glances back towards him (she's not looking at you, no way she is, it's just coincidence), she hesitates.
Then, she raises a hand up against her mouth which opens. Nothing comes out but she mouths something. And Chuck, in a moment of either agony or excitement (he can't decide, even later), understands every word.
I hear you.
She lowers her hand and simply looks at him intently (not AT you, towards you), waiting. Chuck stands there, frozen. His body is aching, his head begins to throb. He feels as if he is actively going insane, his mind finally being unable to accept what it is seeing, detaching itself from reality.
My name is Charles Stephen, he thinks, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. The thought brings him back a little bit and he focuses on it. Clings to it. Clings to it. Clings to it.
And then the thought disappears, leaving nothing but darkness.
…
The star shies from you, receding into the night, but you still feel its presence. It cannot say more now, but it has said more than any other has and that will have to do.
You must leave, the flying things begin to surround you but you take one last look towards where the star was. Its gone for now. But you will find it again and you will tune your ears for its voice again.
For now, you begin walking among the metaphorical stars again, stepping delicately to avoid crushing any of them. Eventually you find your way back to the desert and back home again.
