The Nibiru Effect

Memory 9

I'm trapped. Cornered. Pinned down.

My heart races, my brow drenched in sweat. My clothes are riddled with holes, no doubt a result of the countless stone fragments that pummeled me during my crawl to safety.

My legs give out under the weight of my despair. I crumble onto the staircase and sit there, breathing heavily as the impossibility of all I experienced in the past hour overwhelms me. Symbolic dreams. Mysterious symbols. Ancient letters. Guns that shoot invisible bullets. Is any of this real? I'm tempted to step out of cover in the hopes that death will put an end to my nightmare, but I resist the urge on the off chance it's real.

The adrenaline of near-death soon starts fading, and an irresistible urge to peek overwhelms me.

Unseen projectiles still fill the air, yet few make it near my hiding spot. That's probably because Salt 'n' Pepper sprays bullets like they are fireworks on Canada Day—they are everywhere. Every once in a while Scar Lady and Angry Dude peek out of cover and let off a few shots, but Salt 'n' Pepper dominates the confrontation. Barbie remains behind cover, waiting for a clear shot.

I watch until a stray bullet hits the wall mere centimetres from my face. I duck back behind cover, only barely avoiding the barrage of tile and concrete fragments.

I take a moment to think things through. Scar Lady and Angry Dude were running away, which seems to indicate they're the victims. The fact that Salt 'n' Pepper shot first further solidifies this theory. The only detail that doesn't fit is the fact that Barbie seemed genuinely sorry when she apologized for her partner's insensitivity.

What if I'm wrong? What if Scar Lady and Angry Dude are the bad guys? What if they're all bad guys? For all I know, they're all good guys, though that seems unlikely. Good guys don't go around shooting up subway stations with weird whistling guns. For now, I decide to hold off on passing judgment and focus instead on staying alive.

The shooting eventually stops, and I risk another glance. Barbie and her grey-haired partner have left the safety of their hiding spot and are now halfway to the next row of benches. Angry Dude lets off a shot. It misses its target but nearly takes my head off. I duck back behind cover.

The next time I look, Salt 'n' Pepper and Barbie are halfway across the boarding platform. A few shots ring out, and I retreat. When I look again, Salt 'n' Pepper and Scar Lady are fighting. I'm not sure what happened to their guns, but neither of them seems to need them. They punch and kick with the accuracy of black-belt martial artists. Salt 'n' Pepper's hits pack quite a punch, but Scar Lady has the advantage of speed. She dances around her opponent, dodging his attacks and countering them with quick, but powerful strikes.

A few metres away, Barbie has her gun pointed at Angry Dude, whose hands are raised in surrender. I'm about to refocus on Scar Lady and Salt 'n' Pepper when Angry Dude makes a move for the gun. I instinctively dive for cover, but no shots ring out. When I look again, Barbie has Angry Dude pinned to the ground, the muzzle of her gun pressed to his back.

Salt 'n' Pepper and Scar Lady have also stopped fighting, but only because the grey-haired soldier somehow managed to overpower his opponent. He straddles her frail body, his powerful hands wrapped around her neck. Scar Lady struggles to break free, but she's no match for the raw power of the hulking soldier.

I watch, powerless, as Salt 'n' Pepper squeezes the life out of the woman who may well be the only person—aside from my mother—capable of answering my many questions. Seeing the life drain from her face changes me. I overcome my fear—something that has only happened once before—and do something so stupid it might just work.

I step out of cover.