Becca Betsy

A 55-year-old man, with black hair and brown eyes, the same hair and eye color as mines, Paul, my father. He was standing breathless in front of me and smelt like blood. Fresh blood.

“Dad, what are you doing here? Hiding in the bathroom? Really? You scared the hell out of Mrs. Betsy,” I said as I gestured my hands in the direction of Mrs. Betsy’s room.

“Lia, I know, I’m sorry. We have to get out of here. They’re after me,” he said in a worried tone.

“After you? Did you discover something illegal?” I questioned him.

My father looked at me and in a serious tone, he said, “The sun, the sun is going to collide with Earth. We have, a little over a year. Look the calculations are right here.” He flips open the laptop and shows me the coordinates of the sun.

“I checked the pinpoints of the sun many times now. The sun just keeps getting closer to us.”

I looked at him with confusion, “How? How is that possible?”

“I don’t know. I tried to go back to the lab to do more in-depth research, just in case, my findings were incorrect, but when I went back, they shot my entire research team. There’s only me and John alive. We barely got away. I came back to take you. We have to go to back to our family now. Like immediately.”

I look at him with disbelief. There’s no way. Why would they kill them off? Wouldn’t they want to know this information?

“Tell them you have a family emergency,” he insisted.

“Okay, okay, just let me say goodbye to a few people first,” I said as I tried to recollect my thoughts.

“Okay. When I get there, I’m going to take them up north to our cabin house. Meet us there and bring a first aid kit or something to treat a bullet wound,” he said.

“Bullet wound?” I asked concernedly.

“John got shot in the leg,” he said in a grim tone.

“Shot? He got shot?! This is beyond inhumane now. He needs medical attention right away…like at a hospital,” I said with an anxious, concerned tone.

“That’s why I’m asking you, Lia, we can’t go to the hospital, they’ll find us immediately.”

“I work at a nursing home now, I don’t know how to treat a bullet wound or anything even close to punctured wounds to the body,” I said loudly with a disturbed tone.

I continued anxiously, “It’s been too long, I don’t remember, or no, I don’t know how to treat a wound anymore.”

I, in fact, still remembered, from an ER nurse, to now working in the nursing home, my skills never dulled. I was just in disbelieved that my dad’s co-worker has been shot and not just from anyone, but from the system that was supposed to protect us.

My dad grabbed me by the shoulders. “Calm down, Lia. On any given time, I’ll understand, but now, right now, we don’t have that kind of time, just bring it, I believe in you. Just remember what you learned or what you remember to treat a wound. We’re out of time, I must go. Meet us at the cabin.”

I tried my best to take in my father’s words, but I was preoccupied with the thought of how much blood was coming from the bullet wound, and what my brothers would think. I have to quickly get out of here and get to them.

Mrs. Betsy…

I can’t leave her either. I stayed in place motionless and soundless.

My dad looks in the storage room and reads a white box that says, “First Aid Kit”. He lets go of my shoulders and reaches for the box and places it in his arms.

“Look, I’ll tell your mom to treat him as best as she can. Just worry about getting out of here for now,” he said.

I wake up from my spiraling.

“Alright, make sure mom, Sen and Will are safe. I’ll come as soon as I’m done here,” I said.

I open the storage door to see if the hallway is clear. No one. I signal my dad to head out. I watched as he disappears down the hallway. I head towards the direction of Mrs. Betsy’s room. I didn’t want to leave just yet. Not with Mrs. Betsy in her condition, this isn’t her first anxiety attack.

“No…no, dad, I’m sorry. I won’t do it again,” Mrs. Betsy said in a fearful tone. I looked over to her, Mrs. Betsy was speaking in her sleep again.

My hand reaches over to her, I gently caress her shoulder, hoping she snaps out of her nightmare. It doesn’t work.

“Please, please I’ll listen this time dad,” she insisted in a distressed tone. I tried to caress her shoulder again.

“Mrs. Betsy, everything is going to be alright, you’re safe here,” I said softly. Her struggle comes to a halt. She didn’t spoke another word. Mrs. Betsy was sleeping with content this time.

I look over to see Becca’s face on the portrait. Maybe, if I can find her, Mrs. Betsy will be in good hands. I head out to the hallway to the open room, to find a computer. In the search bar, I look up Emily Betsy. I click on her emergency contact.

No contact shows up on the screen. No Becca. Nothing.

I search Mrs. Betsy and her family’s name on the net. A few news articles pop up, I clicked on one of the articles, brushing pass the title. As I scrolled down the article, my eyes were only fixated on one name, Becca.

I found it.

Becca Betsy.

As I read the sentence, my heart sinks to my stomach but it felt more like, my body was falling through the ground, and I was losing my grip on Earth. Just phasing through every particle and matter. I closed out of the browser and walk to the restroom. I head to the last stall. Sadness filled me, but I couldn’t let out one cry. I stared restlessly into the deep blue stall.

I shake my head in disbelief. This isn’t the time to mope around. Memories of my family fill my head. I need get up and go to them now.