The Dawn of the Lost: Prequel to The Lost and the Wicked

Summer Moore (17-year-old High School Senior)

Year: 2101

Location: New York City

The sun unceremoniously makes its way over the dark clouds, shining for the briefest of moments before being completely engulfed again.

“Now remember, Summer,” says Kendra or, as I like to call her, ‘Stepmother from hell.’ She isn’t the usual evil stepmom one would think of (the ones who yells at you and puts you down all the time). No, Kendra is all smiles, always flashing that fake, rosy grin. But like a rose, she’s full of thorns. The biggest one being that she’s only with my dad for his money. If only he could see that the way I do. But he’s much too blinded by the blonde hair, curvy figure, and long legs that the woman half his age comes packed with. “I will pick you up from school at three o’clock on the dot. After that we’ll meet your dad at Rosemary’s Ice cream for some rocky road. How does that sound?”

I roll my eyes and look out the car window, glad that we’re driving into the high school parking lot. It means I won’t have to deal with her much longer.

She stops the Lincoln and turns to face me. “You know, I used to come to this school. Unlike you, I was quite popular and was voted prom queen.” She grabs my dark blouse with a face of disgust. “You’re not bad looking. Perhaps if you considered wearing some girl clothes for once, and not this gothic trash, you would get a boyfriend.” Her hand travels to my hair and I flinch back. “It wouldn’t hurt you to let this hair see the salon once in a while. People will confuse you for a boy. Why, when I graduated I fixed my hair in the most beautiful of—”

“Speaking of graduation,” I interrupt. “When was that? Three years ago?”

Her smile disappears. “You shouldn’t worry about that,” she says through clenched teeth. “Instead you should be thinking about your own coming graduation. You’re a senior after all.”

“
Whatever
.” I open the car door to leave. As I do, she reaches for my arm.

“You should really be nicer to me. I care for you.”

I toss her hand aside. “Don’t touch me. You’re only with my dad because of his money. If he wasn’t a CEO, you wouldn’t even look his way.”

“What if I am?” she says smugly. “I’ve already convinced your dad to send you to Europe to study. Soon you won’t be around to mess up my plans.”

Every ounce of my body wants to attack her, to slap her across her perfect face. Not only for what she said, but also for everything she’s done. Dad and I were a team. Inseparable in everything we did. That was until this bimbo showed up of nowhere, snarling after his cash and trust funds.

Instead of hitting her, I take a calming breath. After all, I did promise my dad I would be civil. As I step out of the car I make out the voice of Mingo, the radio DJ, talking about some type of attack in California. I only catch the words ‘creatures’ and ‘sand’ before I slam the car door. The tires of the Lincoln screech loudly as Kendra pulls out of the parking lot and into the street, disappearing into the distance.

Attack on California?
A flash of worry rushes through me. My stepsister lives in California. But I’m sure there is nothing to worry about. California is such a big place. She’s probably safe and sound, tucked in bed.

“Hey, Summer!” a voice calls from behind me. I turn to see Andrew, the captain of the football team, staring back at me. He has his usual red and white letterman jacket on. I don’t think I have ever seen him without it. Kind of sad really. Flanking him are half of the football team. “Your older sister is hot. Hook me up with those digits.” The boys erupt in a fit of snickers.

Stupid pigs.
“Get lost, Andrew!”

“Maybe we can get lost together behind the bleachers. I’m sure even you can appreciate a good time.” The aroma of his musky cologne hangs in the air.

“No, thank you. I have no interest in becoming one of your floozies.”

He smirks, moving so close to me that we’re now face to face. “Aw, I like my girls feisty.”

Against my will, I feel my face grow warm. Andrew might be a jerk, but he’s insanely cute. He has a perfect mix of muscles, mesmerizing smile, and light yellow eyes. “T-too bad I don’t like you.” Before I can get more flustered, I stomp away.

“Aw!” jeers the crowd of boys.

“She told
you
,” says a dark-skinned boy.

“Turned down cold, man,” adds another.

“That’s fine,” I hear Andrew say. “She’ll come along sooner or later.”

Ignoring the rest of their heckles, I swing the door open and hurry into the hallway. The sounds of dozens of voices mix together into a buzz of indistinguishable noise. The hallway is long, with dozens of red doors at each side. Many kids stand together in uneven groups, which in itself isn’t too surprising. What is surprising is what they’re doing with their phones. Usually, they are texting, or taking selfies on them. But right now, they are all huddled in small groups, gagging over their phones. I bet whatever their looking at is something stupid. Some useless celebrity break-up that affects them in no way, shape, or form. Or maybe another picture of some famous person’s newborn baby.

My insides twist. I never understood people’s obsession with celebrities and hanging on every detail of their lives. They’re just normal people, albeit better known, but regular people nonetheless.

Sighing, I walk around the huddled groups and head upstairs. As I pass them I catch little snippets of their conversations.

“My dad said it happened early morning, about one.”

“I think they landed in Europe and Mexico, too.”

“The Japanese are calling them Daitengu. Some sort of demons, I think.”

I climb the stairs in silence and reach the second floor hallway. It’s more of the same. Groups of people speaking in hushed whispers.

It’s now that I notice that their usual smiles are gone. Most of them look worried and scared. If I didn’t know any better, I would say I was at a funeral. Which wasn’t too far off. It was finals week.

The loud sound of a thousand birds chirping suddenly bursts in my ear, causing me to jump
. Stupid bell
. Whose bright idea was it to have a lot obnoxious bird chirps replace the classic rings?

“Did you not hear the bell ring?” asks Mrs. Todd, a short stubby woman with way too much make-up on her face. She stares back at me through wire-rimmed glasses. “Well, Miss. Moore. Are you simply going to stand there all day? Get to class.”

“Y…yes, I’m going.” Quickly, I stammer away toward my class. Mrs. Todd has always been a pain in the ass, but ever since her divorce a year ago, she has become intolerable, handing out detentions and referrals for the smallest of infractions. I, myself, was sent to detention just last week for not ‘being in the school spirit’. Apparently, wearing a black leather jacket on ‘Spirit Friday’ when everyone else is wearing the school colors of red and white is a crime now.

“What are all of you doing just standing there?” I hear Mrs. Todd shout behind me. “Get to class!”

“But Mrs. Todd,” complains a boy’s voice I don’t recognize. “There is something going on in California. It’s some sort of att—”

“You need not worry what is happening in California. Get yourself to class. Now!”

I turn the corner and walk into my homeroom. Room 32. The shiny floor has clearly been polished. The windows look extra clean as well. I can almost see my reflection of off them. Antique red curtains hang at the edge of the windows. Five rows, containing six desks each, stand in even lines. The whole place has a homey, warm feeling that I’ve always enjoyed.

Ms. Lopez catches my eye. “Hey, you’re the first student here, Summer.” I feel her deep blue eyes staring a hole into my back as I move around the room. “Are you ready for the exam?”

“Yes, I think so,” I lie as I take a seat in the very last desk of the middle row. Truth is, I haven’t even bothered to study. I don’t see the point to it. The scores aren’t even going to be used to tally our final score. It’s just another dumb test that we have to take for the state. But I don’t have the heart to tell Ms. Lopez that. Of all my teachers, she’s the one I tolerate the best. Maybe it’s her calm demeanor, or the way she always lets me make up work, even if it’s a week late.

“I hope so,” she says, pacing around the room. Her blue loafers squeak loudly against the pristine tile. “Where is everyone?”

“They’re all outside in the hallway glued to their phones. You know how they are. Don’t expect them for a while.”

But just as I finish talking, the rest of the class trudges in, herded by the red-faced Mrs. Todd. “You would do well to keep your students in line, Ms. Lopez,” she hisses trough bare teeth. “They’re outside being good for nothings, while you are doing the same.”

Ms. Lopez remains quiet and nods, showing no sign of emotion. “You have a good day too, Mrs. Todd.”

Angered by Mrs. Lopez’s indifference, Mrs. Todd storms out of the room, mumbling loudly under her breath.

Ms. Lopez waits for everyone to seat before she speaks. “Were you all being difficult with poor Mrs. Todd again? I told you to be nice to her. She’s going through a hard time.”

“That lady is a witch!” exclaims Lucy, a brown haired girl who sits in front of me. She is wearing her cheerleader uniform. The red pompoms stick out the top of her open backpack. “We were trying to tell her about the attack, but she wouldn’t listen.”

Lucy and I don’t agree on much, but for once she says something I can totally get on board with. Mrs. Todd
is
a witch. I’m so focused on her comment about Mrs. Todd that I almost don’t register what she said about an attack.

Clearly, Ms. Lopez is paying more attention, because her small lips twist in confusion. “
Attack
?”

“Yes!” screams Dennis, a wiry tall boy who sits at the front. “It’s all over the news.”

Ms. Lopez looks doubtful, but nonetheless, she grabs the remote and turns the television on. Instantly, the shrieking voice of a female reporter blasts through the speakers. With all the noise, it’s hard to figure out exactly what she’s saying. The caption under her is as clear as day, however. It reads
San Diego under attack from unknown source
. Behind her, tall skyscrapers with dark smoke pouring out of them fill the screen. The skyline looks like a strange mix of orange and black, almost as if the sky itself is on fire.

My insides twist.
This can’t be real. It’s a trick.

“It must be some type of ruse,” says Mrs. Lopez, echoing my exact thoughts. “Don’t panic. Back in 1938, many radio stations broadcasted
War of the Worlds
. Thousand of confused listeners actually believed that Mars had attacked. I’m certain that something similar is going on here. You all know how realistic computer graphics have gotten nowadays.” But despite her words, I can hear the layer of apprehension in her voice.

Suddenly, a red light shoots from the sky on the screen. It falls down, in a straight line, landing at the center of two skyscrapers. A loud screeching sound ensues. A second later, the skyscrapers collapse to the ground, leaving a mushroom cloud of dust and debris in its wake.

The reporter turns toward the mayhem, and then back to the screen. She looks lost, as if unsure if she should continue talking or flee. Before she can make up her mind, the red light spreads from where it landed at an alarming speed. She tries to run, but the strange anomaly is on her in no time.

The image on the screen is suddenly replaced by loud static.

My heart beats rapidly in my chest. “What the fu—”

“Summer!” yells Ms. Lopez. “No cussing on school grounds.”

“We have bigger problems than cussing,” I say, my voice shaky. I know that Ms. Lopez wants to believe that this is all fake, perhaps some cruel trick by some hackers. But I’m not buying it. What I saw was much too real. The class, apparently, is in agreement with me.

They all stand, grabbing their belongings.

Ms. Lopez stands by the door. “You can’t simply leave class.”

“Didn’t you see what just happened?” asks Dennis. “America is under attack. We could be next.”

“Yes,” adds Lucy. “I need to go find a place to hide.”

“You’re all overacting!” shouts Ms. Lopez. “Even if someone were attacking, that’s all the way on the west coast. We’re perfectly safe here.”

“What is that?” shrieks Lucy, loud enough to almost render me deaf.

I turn toward the window where she is pointing. My heart drops to my stomach. Everyone around me either gasps or lets out a shrill scream. Even Ms. Lopez is still, mouth wide open.

Off in the distance, a green mist that obscures everything it touches is headed straight at us. As it moves, it tosses everything that is not nailed down into the air. Cars, hot dog stands, bikes, and yes, even humans.

My throat goes dry as the mist reaches the street in front of the school. A woman clutching an infant in her hands is tossed through the air. Even through the glass I hear the bone crunching sound as she lands on the school’s front lawn. Her mangled heap remains unmoving.

“Everyone hold on to something!” I yell, throwing myself under the nearest desk. A tremendous force rocks the building. I hear glass breaking. From my hiding spot, I watch as a large shard of glass flies clear across the room, impaling Ms. Lopez’s forehead. With her eyes still open, she lands beside me, gazing at me with an empty expression.