Ven: Part 2

Ch. 19 After the aftermath

Everything in me wants to scratch my cheek off.

The stitches are tight, and the wound is itching as it heals.

I sit, my leg restlessly tapping a hole in the carpet, mute and mostly deaf still, while everyone dashes around in a mad panic.

The Turncoats showed up not long after I came to.

From what I was able to hear it's not good.

Old man Ro had rallied those that stayed behind to come rescue us, Jack had healed everyone's concussions and injuries. Miraculously no one died from any stray debris, although more than a few people are still holding themselves defensively after coming close to losing a limb or two.

The Turncoats hadn't been much better off.

They had reports from everywhere.

Every single World Government soldier, operative, agent, or leader had vanished, leaving behind an explosion that damn near wiped whoever was around out.

They were making plans to send aid.

I wish I could talk to tell them to stop planning and start doing.

A hand lays itself on my shoulder.

"Here," Jacks gruff voice barely registers. "I planned for this."

He thrusts a small metal ball into my hands.

I depress the button at the top.

Relief floods my body as my injuries heal, the stitches fall from my face as small lengths of string, my muscles pull themselves back together. The tumult of the room hits me full force and I breathe a sigh of relief.

"Thanks," I stand up.

A buzzing in my pocket draws my attention.

I slowly pull my phone out of my pocket.

The screen says Jacob is calling.

"Better take this before they realise I can talk again," I say to Jack, showing him the screen.

"Probably." He walks past me and into the fray.

I answer and lift the phone to my ear, walking out of the room to the almost quiet of outside.

"Hey! You two okay? Did you get hit too!?" I say into the phone.

"Ven, it's me." A female voice comes through the phone.

I freeze, my breath catching in my chest.

"How are you using this number?" I say slowly.

"Come home, Ven, we miss you."

It's Chi.

My little sister.

She sounds so grown up.

"It's not really that simple..."

Everything in me wants to go.

"Please, Ven, come home."

"You can't be serious!" Vick shouts over the tumult in the room.

"I am," I respond evenly, my deep voice carrying over to him, "we need to know why she has Jacob's phone."

"Why is this up for debate? We don't even know what's happening! We need to plan and prepare!" Monda's cheery demeanour has vanished, his sickly-sweet smile replaced with a grimace and a sweaty brow.

Voices begin overlapping each other, everyone has an idea that's better than someone else's. The problem is that they're just that.

Ideas.