Dan & Phil: Not of This Earth

17 | Powers Unknown

Word Count: 1873

     "Phil, where's the remote?" Dan shouted from the couch. His MacBook sat on his lap, opened to Tumblr, and the fireplace was ablaze nearby.

     "I don't know. Where have you looked?" he shouted back from wherever he was in the apartment.

     Dan looked to his left and right, unmoved from his browsing position. "Everywhere."

     Phil came into the room with a tea towel thrown over his shoulder and a spatula in hand. "Well, the last I saw it – you didn't actually look, did you?" he humoured, placing his hands on his hips.

     The taller Gem gestured to the couch cushions. "I looked everywhere! What are you talking about?" The smile on his face was unmistakable.

     "You're such a pain." Phil scanned the room and found the remote immediately. He picked it up from their chair and tossed it at Dan's hip. "Are you at least working on the book?" he asked, taking a brief seat by Dan and eyeing his laptop. "You're not."

     Dan swiped the track pad to reveal a document full of text. "I was, thank you. I'm taking a break." He crossed his arms and leaned his head back. "Are you working on the book, smart guy?"

     "I'm working on dinner."

     "Uh-huh, that's why you're letting it burn?"

     "It's not burning. It's simmering."

     "How do you know?" There was silence before Phil quickly stood and sprinted back to the kitchen. Dan's laugh bellowed throughout the den as he watched Phil scramble across the room and out the doorway. "What a spork," he sighed, flicking on the TV. He turned to a news channel and sipped on his nearby glass of ribena.

     "Good evening, I'm George E. Evans, standing in for Harold Walker and tonight we bring you..." Dan maintained his attention on the older human on the TV until a British Bake Off gif crossed his Tumblr feed. He focused on Tumblr for a while, completely tuning out the news anchor's voice.

     His phone buzzed beside him and he tended to it for a moment, figuring it was nothing more than a tweet. He, however, did a double take when the words "STATE OF EMERGENCY" caught his eye. It didn't say much more than "take cover" and "be prepared to evacuate your home."

     "What the...? Phil, get in here!"

     Phil came into the room holding two plates of Thai stir-fry and his phone wedged under his armpit. He placed them on the table and sighed. "I saw it. What does the news say?"

     Dan shoved his MacBook to the side and turned up the TV's volume. George Evans was still blabbering about something in politics. In a matter of seconds, he hurriedly turned to a few other channels, who were all still talking about the latest politics and crimes. "Come on, someone bloody get on the same page," he grumbled. He left it on BBC News, frustrated. "Phil, what do you say?"

     His flatmate had crossed his arms to hug himself. He stood uncomfortably as his eyes flickered everywhere until they landed on the TV. "One of the Diamonds sent a ship. It's heading towards Ireland," he said breathlessly. He placed a hand over his gem's placement.

     "Breaking news: a ginormous, green hand has been spotted in the skies over the United Kingdom. Our scientists have calculated its trajectory and believe it will hit Ireland's East coast. We advise that –"

     "Jesus Christ, Phil, we have to do something!" Dan declared, standing from the sofa.

     "Like what? There's no way we can even get to Ireland – who would even fly us there? And if we could get there, what would we do?" Phil made a small whining noise, his eyes wide with worry. "It's a Diamond ship. We have to tell the military they can't fight it!"