I wake up to the sound of weak pounding on my bedroom door, and I squint at my alarm clock. It's only 3:30 AM. I switch on my bedside lamp to see that the comforter is all disheveled, and Bree is no longer with me. I try to wipe the sleep from my eyes and look at the door. Bree is on her knees, banging on the door.
"Hey, Bree, what's wrong?" I get up and rush over to her.
"No, no," she says, "I'm too weak, let me die!" I recoil slightly, then put a gentle hand on her shoulder. She firmly grabs my arm and pushes me away violently. "Don't touch me!" she screams, punching me in the stomach. Now she is hysterical. "Please, please don't infect me. I'd rather die! Just let me go!"
"Hey, hey, Bree, wake up, it's just a dream, wake up!"
"No, no, Mackabias," she sobs, "they killed you! I must leave! Please, Nat, help me!"
Nat knocks frantically on my door. "Macky, is everything alright? Can I come in?" She doesn't wait for me to respond and shoves the door open. I manage to move Bree just before the door hits her.
"Thank you, Nat!" Bree wails and clings to her. "The train, it almost hit me, it's a wreck!"
"Bree, wake up," I say again, pulling her off of Nat.
"Macky, get away! They killed you. You're one of them now!" Bree is trying to scramble away again. She gives one last cry before falling on me, crying into my shoulder. She is sweating and shaking with adrenaline. I wonder why my parents haven't come up yet, after all, their bedroom is directly below mine. They must be having the best sleep right now. The thought doesn't occur to me that they might have been kidnapped.
"Please don't tell Mom or Dad about this," Bree pleads with us.
"Okay, I won't. Is it okay if you tell me about your dream?" I ask Bree. She doesn't say anything.
"Do you want me to leave?" Nat asks, already beginning to walk away. "I can leave."
"No, it's okay. Stay." Bree starts telling us about her dream. "I was in this room, crying because the Rogues had kidnapped you, Macky. They had probably taken Mom and Dad, too. Nat wasn't with me, but I knew she was safe because she had power."
"What kind of power?" asks Nat.
"I don't exactly remember. It's a little fuzzy."
"That's okay, Bree," I say, "carry on." I am still holding her in my arms.
"Two Rogues found me and kept me as a slave, but they didn't infect me, and I didn't know why. Oh, I think it was because I was too weak. The infected Macky tried to make me stronger so that I would make a good Rogue soldier. After several attempts at strengthening me seemed successful, they locked me in an observation room, where they tested how I reacted to different experiments.
Finally, I couldn't take it anymore, and I started banging on the steel door. Macky must have been on the other side with enough humanity left in him to help me escape. But I thought he only did it so he could infect me. To prevent this, I told him that I was too weak and wouldn't make a good soldier, so I told you to just let me die.
Then, I was suddenly out of the compound and flung back in time, standing on a railroad crossing where the compound would be in ten to twenty years. So, by then, this was all before COVID-19 and the Vexon Rogues. Nat came down from the sky after time-traveling too—it's like in certain dreams where you know what's about to happen, what's happening, or what has happened, even though you have no real way of knowing.
Anyway, there was a train heading for me, but Nat, wearing a futuristic suit of armor and a jetpack, got me to safety. And then, suddenly, the timeline sped forward, but the train was still chasing us. It crashed into the compound, or no, the compound suddenly appeared in the middle of the track, causing the train to wreck. Then both the train and the track disappeared back into the past."
Nat and I listen to Bree's intense dream, wide-eyed.
"Then the real Macky, you," she places a hand on my chest, "you told me it was just a dream, and then I woke up in your arms."
"Okay, so first of all," Nat starts. "That is totally insane! And second, do you think any of it is real?" I look at Nat, just as confused and wondering as she is.
"Who knows for sure?" I say, "But I think Mom and Dad need to know about this."
"But you promised," Bree says, hurt. I gently set her down, then run out of the room. Moments later, I bolt back into the room.
"Mom and Dad are not in the house," I say, panicking. Bree and Nat eye me from my bed.
"They're probably in the warehouse then," Nat says, reasonably. But something inside me says she is dead wrong.
When we construct a plan, the three of us make our way through the dank passage that leads to the Season's Warehouse. We search every possible spot they would be, but come up empty-handed. We return to the house discouraged and fearful.
We are in my room again, and I begin scrolling through my contact list on my iPhone when I come across Manny's number. I don't know why it is there, though. I guess he might have typed it in when I wasn't looking—he is invisible, after all. Manny has already messaged me numerous times, but ever since the Vexon news, I have kept my phone on silent.
The first message was mostly random, something about hanging out sometime. Then, the most recent ones begin from yesterday morning. He was giving me hourly updates about COVID-19 and Vexon. And, by the looks of it, he still is. Most of these updates I already know. Stuff like its new name, changing symptoms, and new dangers. Rapid infection, hijacking of brain function and motor skills.
It is 5:09 AM, and this hour's update is a "Semi-full Virus/Parasite Scientific Diagnostic". The message reads:
"Parasitic Symbiote: Escherichia Vexon
Medical diagnosis: Pseudo Exostosis—or in layman's terms—Extreme Vexon Symbiosis Syndrome."
"Now that's quite the update," I think out loud.
"What's that?" Nat asks, and I show the text message to both her and Bree.
"Indeed," Bree says.
There is no way Manny is up at all hours of the day. He must have some kind of algorithmic system to pull bullet points or something from the news and official documents off the internet and send them to people.
I go to the home screen and tap on Safari. A message glares back at me.
"Sorry, Vexon, the Rogues (or whatever you're calling us) is partying, come back later."
So, the World Wide Web appears to be a goner. How did Manny get his information?
"That's it!" I say, snapping my fingers.
"What's it?" Nat asks, looking at my phone once again. She reads the message on Safari. "Jeez, that's creepy. But what's it?"
"There must be some sort of second internet that the Vexon don't know about!"
I send Manny a quick message.
Me: "So, there is a second web?"
For some reason, the words "second" and "web" get censored. Then Manny replies.
Him: "All devices are being monitored, except for the ones that aren't. Be careful about what you say. They don't know about what we know, how, or who."
I understand. The "What": What do we know, and what is the second web? The "How": How did we know about the medical diagnosis—through the second web that the Vexon Rogues don't know about. And finally, the "Who": Who is Manny—an invisible kid, and, I guess, a tech genius.
Since Manny is probably the only invisible person on this planet, he is Vexon's worst enemy.
"I'm going to get some shut-eye," Bree says, getting up from my bed to leave.
"Okay, see ya," I say, and she exits my room.
Bree is now staying in Mom and Dad's room, so Nat and I have the entire upstairs to ourselves. I get up and open the window to let some fresh air in, then sit back down. Nat moves closer to me, and her thighs press up against mine. She leans on my shoulder and wraps her arms around my neck.
"I wish life could be different for us," Nat says.
"How so?"
"We might not have much time left to be together, your parents are gone, and this parasite is deadly." Nat toys with my necklace that hangs loosely around my neck. I set my phone down on the nightstand and lie down on my bed. Nat sprawls out beside me, still clinging to my neck. She is wearing black yoga pants and a white top that leaves a small gap, revealing her belly.
"Has anyone ever told you that you're very beautiful?" I ask.
Nat blushes, grinning. She closes her eyes, then says, "You have, isn't that all that matters?" She opens her eyes, and I reach for the sliver of skin that isn't covered by her shirt. She giggles as I tickle her.
"We should probably get some rest, it's almost six," I say, dipping my index finger into the crevice of her belly button.
"You think?" Nat says, matter-of-factly.
"You can stay in here," I offer, hoping she will take me up on it.
"I'd better not," she says, "who knows what could happen if the two of us are in the same bed for too long."
"Can you just stay a little longer?" I plead, reaching for her waist as she starts to leave, but she won't let me bring her back. She slaps my hand and leaves my bed. But before turning away, she bends down and kisses me.
"That was risky," I say.
"Perhaps. But worth it." Nat walks to the door, and, grinning back at me, she opens it. "Well, see you tomorrow, boyfriend," she says.
When she says that word, boyfriend, the butterflies in my stomach go crazy.
Nat shuts the door, and I know I can rest easy, for now.