2019-2020 Various Short Stories

“Experiment”

by Josh Gilbert

Going into that pawnshop was a mistake. I sped up, fleeing the crime scene via a network of small alleyways behind the storefront. My lungs heaved, the cold air burning them like fire. Behind me, the sound of dogs barking mingled with the wail of police sirens. K-9 was here. My chances of getting away plummeted lower than ever. I ran around a sharp corner and leaned up against the side of an abandoned brick warehouse. Nothing made sense: the body inside the shop, covered in stab wounds, the policeman walking in right as I pulled the knife out the body and tried to stop the bleeding. How could they think I killed her? I was trying to help.

I had caught my breath by now, and set off again, jogging at a more reasonable pace this time. I rounded another corner and came to an abrupt stop. Ahead was a heavy set police officer, barely able to restrain the German Shepherd he had on a leash. His eyes opened wide in surprise at me appearing right in front of them, and the dog went crazy, lunging against its restraint. I immediately took off in the opposite direction. Despite my efforts, I heard rapid footsteps as the dog gained behind me. I ran through another bend in the alleyway and saw a barbed wire fence ahead that was taller than myself. At first I thought I was finished before realizing it was my salvation. I was nearly exhausted by this point, but managed to speed up. I lifted my arms up and jumped the fence just as the dog caught me. I shouted in pain as its jaw closed around my left ankle and kicked with my other leg, causing it to temporarily relinquish its bite. Using the opportunity, I finished pulling myself up and fell over, landing on my left shoulder and going into a roll. I hopped up and looked at the dog on the other side of the fence. It was pressing its face against the fence and trying to bite through it, coating the chain links in saliva.

“Can’t climb without these,” I said to the dog, holding out my hands and flexing my fingers, before looking down and seeing they were covered in blood. The realization hit that they must have been shredded by the barbed wire. I was still examining my wounds when I heard the crunch of a foot on gravel behind me. I had barely begun to turn around when something hit my head and everything went black.

* * *

I lapsed back into consciousness. I was lying prone on some creaky metal bench. My skull was throbbing. I forced my eyes to open and saw a blinding light which only worsened my headache. I let out a groan.

“Ah, look who’s finally awake.” The gravelly voice came from my right. “Get up, you scumbag.” Without waiting for me to follow his orders, a pair of rough hands grabbed my collar and pulled me off the bench. I wasn’t ready and collapsed onto my knees. My eyes had gotten used to the light by now, and I looked up in front of me to see a police officer who was nearly as wide as he was tall. “Get up!” he said again, and once more pulled me to my feet. With a shove, he pushed me into an adjoining room with height markers along one wall. I felt numb, and barely reacted as a man took mugshots of me. I heard a voice calling out the statistics of my arrest.

“Name: Stefan Geoffrey Marx. Gender: male. Race: Caucasian. Age: 18. Height: six feet nine inches. Weight: 258 pounds. Apprehended November 28, 1961 in Atlanta, Georgia...” the voice continued to rally off information about me while I blankly stared forward. My trial was two days later. The jury was already convinced of my guilt and wasted no time in locking me away.

* * *

I had to stoop to walk through the door into the office. Inside was a man of medium height in an immaculate black suit and wearing ridiculously dark sunglasses, especially considering the fact we were indoors. He gestured for me to sit down in a chair in front of his desk. I obeyed. We stared at each other for over a minute before he finally broke the silence.

“Do you know why you are here, Stefan?” His voice was crisp and official, but at the same time had a menacing undertone that let me know I would be punished if I lied.

“For a crime I didn’t commit.”

“That is correct.” his acknowledgement of that fact startled me. “I work for the CIA. That woman whom you found dead was a wanted weapons trafficker. I had an agent eliminate her minutes before you walked into that pawnshop.”

“ You mean you know it’s a mistake?” I exclaimed. “You’re gonna let me go?”

“Please, it was no mistake that the police arrested you. You have certain qualities which are desirable for a little… experiment we’ve been conducting: no living family members, from a foreign country, and your stature is unique to say the least. We killed two birds with one stone; eliminated an enemy and framed a man whom we could use. If you cooperate with our project for the next year, I will have you released with a new identity and a clean record.”

“You little-” I began, but, realizing it would be pointless to insult him, said, “You know I have no choice but to accept.”

“Of course.” He showed a toothy, unnerving smile. “You will be a valuable asset for MK-Ultra.”

* * *

I walked into my new cell and saw a bunk bed, the top half of which had a scrawny kid fiddling with a rubix cube on it. His eyes opened wide as I entered the room.

“Jee wizz, you’re huge!” he exclaimed. Already I knew he would most likely talk my ear off. “I’m Derrick.” he held out his hand and I shook it.

“Stefan.”

He spouted words off almost faster than I could comprehend them. “You look about my age. I’m only 17 and got locked away cause I stole a lot of stuff. May have robbed a few people, too. I’m so lucky that they lessen sentences if you cooperate. Is that why you're in here? What’d you do to get locked away? Actually, if you killed someone, I’d rather not know. Anyway, my stepparents sure were angry when I got arrested. I never liked them anyways. I’m actually happy that I’m here cause now I don’t have to put up with them. Do you have parents?”

“To answer your questions, nothing, and they died in a car wreck about a year ago.” he didn’t seem to register the last part, but was intrigued by the first answer.

“What do you mean, nothing? Are you one of those guys who claims they were framed for their crime? Cause I won’t believe you.” I considered telling him about the CIA’s involvement in my arrest, but realized it was so outlandish, he would probably think I was a liar or insane. I was about to make up some lie about stealing cars when I heard a gunshot down the hall outside the cell, followed by a yowl and more gunshots. I looked through the cell bars and suddenly a streak flew by, running impossibly fast. It was met further down the hall by several soldiers with rifles, who promptly shot it down. Immediately, the body, whatever it was, was surrounded by soldiers who obstructed the view of all the curious prisoners trying to catch a glimpse..

“What on Earth was that?” I looked at Derrick’s face, waiting for a reply, and noticed it was pale and bloodless. He shook himself, and then replied.

“It was nothing. You’ll get used to it.”

“Get used to what? Why do you look like you’re about to be sick?”

“It’s just, well, they’ve never got this far into the complex.”

“They?” he was silent, and I repeated myself more forcefully.

“The experiments,” he said, ending the conversation with that grave note.

* * *

I anxiously waited outside the solid steel door. Awaiting for my first “treatment” with the people running the experiments. Eventually, the door opened and out walked a prisoner muttering incoherent phrases. He staggered a few steps before vomiting blood all over the floor. This did nothing to ease my thoughts.

“You may enter, Subject 257,” said the voice from the room, addressing me by my serial number. I followed the voice’s instructions and walked through the doorway. Inside was a chair surrounded by frightening medical instruments: needles, scalpels, and other tools that did not look the slightest bit pleasant. There was a doctor in front of me, or at least I presumed he was a doctor. “You may sit, Subject 257.” He gestured to the chair. Reluctantly, I did as he asked. “Restrain him.”

“Wait, restrain?” I asked. “What are you going to do that requires restraining?” He didn’t answer, and two soldiers walked into the room and proceeded to tighten straps across my arms, legs, chest and head. 

“Allow me to introduce myself, Subject 257. I am Doctor Faust. You are part of the greatest scientific experiment of the millenium. What is to come will no doubt be painful, but you had the grace to volunteer for this, and you will be rewarded if you survive.”

“If I survive?” I started to thrash against my restraints, but to no avail. Doctor Faust merely smiled at me, put on a gas mask, and held up a needle.

“Day one for Subject 257,” he began, probably for someone recording that I couldn’t see. His voice was muffled from the mask. “Starting with LSD injections and electro-shock treatment. Will close the session with psychosis chemicals. Commencing experiment.” My entire body spasmed as the chair jolted me with an electric current as the doctor stabbed the needle into my arm. The shocks repeated two more times before I blacked out.

* * *

The dreams were like no others I’d ever experienced. They would alternate between being fuzzy, as if seen through a blurred camera lens, to having a clarity better than any human eye could manage. The visions were so utterly bizarre, yet it felt like I was seeing what had happened in the past, without ever having actually been there. I saw a room with stark white walls. Inside, a patient was floating in a tank of translucent green fluid. His body was hooked up to tons of wires, and he was being injected by needles containing a silver liquid. My view shifted in closer to his face. Suddenly, the patient’s eyes opened. They were pure red. His skin rapidly lost all color. He began thrashing, breaking the glass tank in which he was held and falling to the floor. The doctors panicked, trying to hold him down, but to no avail. He picked one up by the throat and threw him twenty feet into a wall. There was a gunshot, and the creature, for that’s what the patient now was, let out a yowl. More gunshots ensued as the thing ran out of the room.

I woke with a start. I was lying back in my cell, drenched in sweat. My surroundings swam before my eyes, and my whole body was aching, particularly where the needle had pierced my skin. That dream, or vision, or whatever it was; it had ended eerily similar to when that “experiment” as Derrick called it escaped.

“Don’t worry, the first time is always the worst,” Derrick said, trying to reassure me.

“Really?”

“No. I just said that to make you feel better. They actually start to add more chemicals that make you feel less and less okay.” With that last sentence, 25 years in prison sounded like heaven compared to this.

* * *

 He was not lying in the slightest when he said the experiments would get worse. Every time Doctor Faust experimented on me, he added more chemicals (primarily LSD), hooked me up to more machines and monitors, and still gave me that same, empty smile every time I struggled. My dreams during the sessions would get more and more vivid. I kept on seeing similar experiences to the first one; subjects being mutated in a matter of minutes, turned into creatures with unnatural abilities. I still had no idea if they were visions of the past or just drug induced hallucinations. The days turned to weeks, then months as I endured the horror that came with the sessions.

 Derrick remained an optimist and chatted incessantly, even though the experiments affected him worse than me. He would be dragged back into the cell by a pair of soldiers and thrown on the ground, where he would lay unconscious for sometimes hours. Once he awoke, he normally had a fever and would vomit several times. Despite this, we became pretty good friends during our incarceration. We would talk about where we came from, what life outside of the complex was probably like right now. Thankfully, the experiments only happened once every week. Gradually, the hours ticked by. There were few options for entertainment in the facility, with the exception of a workout area and a cafeteria. I had no trouble with the other subjects. Mostly, we all just kept to ourselves, but I did find out that not all of us had the same experiments done. Some had gas treatments which kept them awake for up to a week, and their mental statuses were monitored during that time. Others bore horrific scars from where the doctors performed surgeries on them.

Eventually, several months had passed since I arrived. It was June sixth, and I was due for another experiment. I walked into Doctor Faust’s office, but was greeted by two soldiers rather than the doctor. They each grabbed one of my shoulders and ushered me into a seperate room, which unfortunately looked very familiar. The room was large and had stark white walls. There was a tank of green fluid in the center. I tried to break free from the soldiers, but one of them hit me with the butt of his rifle. The blow rocked my skull, and my vision blurred before I passed out.

* * *

I woke to see the room dark, lit only by a spinning red light. There was an alarm blaring. I shook my head and the shapes focused into people, fleeing in terror. I heaved myself to my feet, and searched for the source of the commotion. The soldiers escorting me were gone. In an adjoining hallway, I saw flashes of light as a gun was fired. Some men in lab coats ran out of it, and a soldier backed out behind them. He continued to fire down the corridor. I had a hunch I knew what was going on, so I ran and hid in a corner behind some medical equipment. I was just in time, as a monstrous creature leapt into the room, grabbing the soldier. He let out one brief scream before it bit his throat, silencing him. It slowly stood up, reaching a full height of seven feet. Its limbs were long and spindly, and it had several bullet wounds which dripped dark blood; a startling contrast against its pasty white skin. The creature turned my direction, and I saw its blood red eyes look straight at me. I was frozen with fear, unable to flee. As it took a step towards me, I heard shouting. More soldiers ran into the room and opened fire. The beast howled in pain and fled the room, with the soldiers hot on its tail. The moment they left the room, I ran. I had to get to Derrick, had to warn him of what was going on. I reached the main cell block and figured it would be a miracle if he was even still alive. There were several bodies in the large hallway. Many of the cells were open and empty, and the same alarm was going out here. I ran down to mine and Derrick’s and looked inside. The door was wide open. He was there, hiding in the back.

“Derrick,” I whispered as loud as I dared. “We have to get out of here.”

He stared at me for a moment before replying, “It’s out there.”

“I know, but at least we can run out there. You’ll be cornered if it catches you in here.” Derrick started to stand up, then his eyes widened.

“Duck!” I didn’t question his order, and we both hit the ground just as the monster leapt over our heads. It crashed into the bunk and flailed as the whole bed fell on top of it. As we fled the room, I turned and tried to shut the cell door, but its long arm reached out and grabbed Derrick’s ankle, yanking him into the cell. I ran. It hurt to abandon him like that, but there was nothing I could do. His screams echoed behind me.

I ran down the hallway, taking a right into the cafeteria, reasoning that there had to be an exit near the kitchens in case of a grease fire or something. I passed a fallen soldier and picked up his rifle. I had little experience shooting, but figured the only target I had was big enough not to miss. I reached the serving area and vaulted the counter easily thanks to my height. I ran through an ajar door and entered the kitchens. Immediately there was a low growl and I saw it. Only ten feet ahead of me was the beast. Being this close, I noticed how the most terrifying part about it was how humanoid it was. As if sensing my thoughts, the thing actually smiled at me, red eyes gleaming as it did so. I pointed my gun at it and prepared to open fire when I heard another growl from behind me.

I turned around and saw another one of the monsters. This one was about the same size but jet black. Here I was, surrounded by two nightmarish creatures, with only a rifle that seemed to have little effect against them. I got ready to shoot when the white one leapt over my head at the other, tackling it to the ground. I couldn’t believe it, but they were fighting each other. They grappled ferociously, biting, scratching, neither able to gain the upper hand. The sight was almost surreal; the pitch black mingled with the stark white, making me think of the yin yang. The white one was already wounded, however, and the black managed to lock onto its neck. The white gave a few kicks as it tried to free itself, then went still. I knew I was the next target, and noticed a huge propane stove behind the monster. I aimed my gun and shot. A massive explosion ensued, blowing me backwards.

I forced myself to stand, despite my burns. I grabbed my stomach and felt a piece of shrapnel protruding from my gut. My left ankle was broken. The corpses of both beasts were next to each other, burned to a crisp. I turned around and saw the most beautiful sight imaginable: the red glow of an exit sign. I stumbled toward it, the sounds of more yowls and gunshots behind me barely registering. So what if there were more. So what if I was grievously injured. I was free. I pushed open the door at the sign and gazed out at the desert of Nevada. I had been informed of my location when I arrived. I took a few more steps then collapsed. I tried to drag myself along but couldn’t find the strength. I had nothing left, so I just pushed myself up into a sitting position and watched the sun begin to set. There was a rumble. A mound of dirt a quarter mile away rippled upwards. Suddenly, it was gone, replaced by a blinding flash which expanded into a fireball. The light completely blinded me, like staring into a thousand suns. I sighed as everything got warmer. I knew what this was. Here I was in Nevada, a bomb testing site, and the CIA was cleaning up its mess. They had probably stashed it underground near the facility as a safety measure. The warm glow reached my skin, embracing me and the facility in nuclear fire.

“No Mercy”

by Mai Lei Long

“Claire! Are you up? You’re going to be late for work,” my mom yelled from downstairs. Shoot. This was the third time I’d overslept this week. Ricky would kill me. I checked my alarm and saw that I’d set it to 8:00 PM instead of AM. I sprung out of bed. Hastily, I pulled on a faded blue t-shirt and my ripped skinny jeans.

“Don’t forget your lunch,” Mother called from the kitchen.

 “I won’t,” I yelled back, grabbing my backpack. I pulled my chocolate curls into a ponytail and rushed down the stairs into the kitchen. I snagged my lunchbox and dashed out the front door.

 “Be careful! Love you!”

 “Love you too, Mom, and I will be!”

Ever since my brother died in a car accident, Mom and Dad were always telling me to be careful. It wasn’t a coincidence that the time Aaron met his demise was directly after the government found out his best friend was a member of the Revere Garde. If the government suspected you were conspiring with the rebel group, you were gone. My dad lost his job at the Eagle after that.

 I checked the time. Running ten minutes behind, I didn’t need any distractions, yet I couldn’t help but notice the cute guy across the street. I’d never seen him. He must have recently moved to Aster. Our town was small, and everyone knew each other.

 I hopped into my car. His brow was furrowed in frustration. The mystery guy’s car looked like it was overheating. “Hey!” I called at the stranger. “Do you need a ride?”

 He looked up at me and smiled, “Yeah.”

 “Cool, hop in.” My mom would kill me—after Ricky did, and then I’d be dead twice. I’m not supposed to talk to strangers—much less ride in a car with one. But he was cute, so I’d make an exception. He opened the door and got in.

 “You aren’t a homicidal maniac, right?” I asked for the sake of my mom.

 “What?! No!” he laughed richly. “Why?”

 “Just making sure,” I replied. “Although, I should have asked that before you got in the car. Where to?” I asked while backing out.

 “Ricky’s,” he answered, lips quirked up to form a half-smile. “He’s the only mechanic in town.” I glanced at him from the corner of my eye. He was handsome with his tousled golden locks, light gray eyes, and warm expression; it didn’t hurt that he thought I was funny too.

 “Wow, what a coincidence,” I remarked. “That’s where I’m going.”

 “What’s wrong with your car?” he inquired. “It won’t blow up, will it?” He looked around, alarmed.

 “Nothing. I work there, and I’m late. I overslept. This is the third time that’s happened this week.”

 “Maybe it’s fate,” he added while staring at the orange leaves and pastel houses.

 “Fate?” I snorted. “More like a lack of a proper alarm.”

 “Where are my manners?” he started, shifting to face me.

 “At your mom’s house.”

 “Haha. I wasn’t finished, and you killed the moment. Does your boss know about your lack of manners too?” he replied.

 “Touché,” I grinned. “If you think my etiquette is terrible, then wait till you meet Ricky.”

 “As I was saying though, before I was so rudely interrupted, where are my manners? I’m Andrew,” he paused. “You aren’t going to introduce yourself?” he asked incredulously.

 “I would, but then I’d have to kill you,” I responded in faux seriousness.

 “I think I’m the one who should be worried about being stuck in a car with a crazy killer,” he joked. Unable to help myself, I laughed. The gravel of Ricky’s parking lot crunched as I pulled in.

 “Here we are.”

 “So who do I have to thank for the ride?”

 “Prudence, which is ironic considering how late I am and how my boss is very bad-tempered,” I replied, not ready to end our fun just yet.

 “You’re impossible,” he threw his hands up in exasperation.

 “No, I’m actually Claire. Impossible is my middle name,” I smirked.

 “Thank you, Claire, for the ride.”

 “You’re welcome,” I grinned.

“Meet me at nine tomorrow morning at Orange Cafe,” Andrew grew serious. “I have a proposition for you.” 

“Wow, now I think you really are a homicidal maniac,” I joked to hide the uneasy feeling growing in my stomach.

“You aren’t too far off,” he answered with a sly smile. “Don’t be tardy. It’s rude to stand up your date,” he winked as Ricky stormed out of the shop. My boss looked furious. I would have to survive today to make it to tomorrow’s date with Andrew.

 “Claire, you’re late for the third time this week,” he bellowed, towering over me threateningly.

 “I’m sor—” I began, but my boss cut me off.

 “I don’t want your apology. I want you to be on time,” Ricky snarled. His eyes glowed menacingly like twin green poisoned apples.

 “Excuse me, sir,” Andrew spoke up, looking slightly embarrassed yet chivalrous. “I can’t stand by and let her take the blame. I’m the one who made Claire late. My car broke down, and she stopped to tell me you were the best mechanic shop in town. She even offered me a ride. Before she told me about you, I thought I would have to go to Appling City,” he lied seamlessly, and I gaped up at him.

 “Son, if you would drive two hours to get to a mechanic and didn’t know about me, then you must be new here or really stupid,” Ricky snapped. Way to make a good first impression, Ricky.

Inhaling deeply, he turned to me. “Claire, I’m sorry for getting angry at you. I should’ve known after two days, you wouldn’t be foolish enough to be late again.” I bristled. His apology sounded more like a veiled insult and a warning. “Now, why don’t you take care of this young gentleman,” he leered.

Quieter he said in my ear, “You better make him happy or else.” He chuckled mirthlessly. I shivered despite the sun’s warmth. Ricky spun on his heel and retreated. With his inky, windblown curls and arresting emerald eyes, he could be attractive, if he didn’t have a scowl permanently etched on his face. When he first moved to Aster, he was kind. What changed since then to make him so surly?

 “Wow, you weren’t kidding about your boss being rude,” Andrew remarked, breaking me out of my reverie.

 “Tell me about it,” I replied dryly. “Let’s get your car fixed.”

***

Lying in bed, I smiled as I recounted all of today’s events. I couldn’t wait for tomorrow and my date with Andrew. What was his “proposition”? I set my alarm an hour earlier. I didn’t want to be late, and I needed time to get ready. His cryptic message still bounced around my mind as I drifted into a fitful sleep.

***

 My alarm rang, and I yawned. I was about to hit snooze when I realized that I had to meet Andrew. I jumped out of bed and showered quickly. What was I going to wear? Heels would be too formal, but I wanted to look nice. Huffing, I blew a damp lock out of my face. I decided on a high-waisted, burgundy skater skirt and black sweater paired with ankle boots.

 My skirt swirled above my knees as I walked into the cafe five minutes early. I glanced around and spotted Andrew at a table that was tucked into the back corner. He waved me over. He had styled his bright hair off his face today, and he wore a dark blue, almost black, button-down shirt that made his eyes shine silver. I slid into the hickory chair across from him. He smelled like laundry detergent and something citrusy. “Who knew you could show up early?” he smirked.

 “Whatever,” I rolled my eyes. “So what’s this ‘proposition’?” I asked curiously, resting my chin on my hand. “Am I going to help you rob a bank? Is that why you’re wearing dark jeans and that shirt? I’m afraid I’m not properly dressed to steal anything other than hearts,” I winked.

 “You do look lovely,” he smoldered; I almost fainted. Then he turned serious and leaned closer, lowering his voice. “I don’t plan on robbing a bank, but you aren’t too far off.” He tugged his collar to the left. My eyes widened, and I stifled a gasp. I looked around to make sure no one was watching us. He had the mark of the Revere Garde, a lantern, inked right below his collarbone. Andrew was a part of the rebel group trying to overthrow the federal government. The same one that caused the government to destroy my family.

“We’ve been watching you for a long time. We want you to join, but you have to go through an initiation process first.”

“You guys have been stalking me? That’s not creepy.”

Ignoring my outburst, he continued, “Normally, they wouldn’t have an initiation. However, your brother died a long time ago, so they need proof that you’re willing to betray the government. It would require you breaking into a heavily guarded complex and stealing the federal government’s information,” he conspired. Seeing my shock mixed with fright, he added, “I’ll assist you during part of it since you haven’t been trained.”

 “I—my family,” I sputtered. “Just being here with you right now is considered treason,” I hissed. “Do you have any idea how much danger we’re in?” Aster might be a small town, but it held unique importance to the government. We had the Eagle, which was a protected facility that stores all the data in the U.S. I’d be dead before I even stepped foot on the grounds. “And if I choose not to?”

 “Then I’ll leave,” he answered. “You won’t ever have to see me again.” I knew I couldn’t say no to Andrew. He was far too compelling. Didn’t he know what that look did to me? Plus, it was my chance to avenge my brother.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” I muttered. “I must be a maniac.”

“A rebellious one at that,” Andrew beamed at me, and all of my doubt evaporated.

***

I crept down the gray corridor searching for room 316. Finally, I spotted it along with a muscular sentry at least six feet tall. How was I supposed to get past him? I steeled my nerves and reminded myself that I was doing this to avenge my brother.

Wailing sirens and flashing lights interrupted my train of thought. As I ducked behind a potted plant, the sprinklers whirred to life. Andrew must have set off the fire alarm to distract the guard. Peering around the pot, I discovered an empty hallway. I dashed to the door and tried the handle. It was locked. I spotted a scanner to the right of the entrance and pressed my gloved hand to it. It flashed red. Hurry up Andrew. It flashed green. Quickley, I yanked the knob.

Stumbling into the room, I slammed the door behind me and shoved the flash drive into the nearest computer. It was 75 percent done when the door behind me opened. I snatched the drive and stuffed it into the hidden pocket sewn on the inside of my sleeve.

I dove behind the computers as the guard entered. He gazed around the chamber, and I held my breath. As if hearing my heartbeat pound, his head swung in my direction, and I willed myself invisible. He took a step towards me when someone called from the hallway. He glanced towards me once more and exited. I exhaled and got up from my uncomfortable crouch.

A rough hand hauled me backward into a solid chest. I thrashed, trying to free myself, but they only tightened their grip. Cold metal tightly encircled my wrists as I craned my neck; my captor was the guard from earlier. But how? He left, and I didn’t see him enter.

As if reading my mind, he answered, “Every room is interconnected by passageways. You aren’t a very good spy.” I glared at him, and he chuckled. “Let’s go.” He dragged me to the door. Once I crossed the threshold, I wrenched myself from his grip. I ran two steps before he grabbed me and slammed me into a wall.

My eyes blinked open to a white ceiling. Slowly, I sat up and grimaced. My head throbbed. I squinted at my surroundings. The walls were white, and the fluorescent lights blinded me. The well-concealed door had a small, rectangular window. Ignoring my migraine, I got up and surveyed the corridor through it. I gasped from seeing a familiar figure swaggering down the hallway towards me. He wore his usual sneer on his pale face.

“Hello, Claire.”

“What are you doing here, Ricky?” I growled.

“Isn’t it obvious? I work for the government,” he answered.

“My parents will be worried when I don’t come home.”

“They’ll be told you had a wreck and died, just like your brother.  How tragic to lose both children to car accidents,” he remarked sardonically, eyes glittering darkly. My temper flared.

“How do you know what happened to Aaron?” I demanded. “You moved to Aster after the crash.”

“You think it was a coincidence that I showed up directly after your brother’s wreck?” When it dawned on me, the harsh light seemed to shadow his face and elongate it. It made him look sharper, meaner, like a monster from a nightmare.

“You,” I breathed. “You’re the one who hit him.”

“Yes. Looks like you do have a brain in that pretty head of yours.”

“Well, Ricky,” I spat, “If I ever make it out of here alive, I will hunt you down to the ends of the Earth and make your death fifty times worse than my brother’s. I will make sure you suffer, and I will have no mercy.” 

He just stared at me like I was gum on the bottom of his shoe. Slowly, he grinned wolfishly, “I hope you do.”

His phone chimed, and he answered it. He frowned and looked back at me. “I have to check on something. Don’t go anywhere,” he smirked.

Still reeling from shock, I slid to the floor. I was never going to get out of this prison, and my parents would be devastated. The government and Ricky would win.

The door swung open, and I fell onto my back. I looked up into familiar warm silver eyes. Relief coursed through me.

Andrew whispered, “Come on.” Silently, I pulled myself together and followed him. We had gone five yards when the sound of footsteps reverberated through the hall. Andrew pulled me after him into a small storage room.

“Is this the part of the movie where we have a steamy make-out session in the broom closet as a cover?” I asked, panic lacing my voice as the steps grew louder.

“No,” he grunted as he lifted two tiles from the floor. “As you saw when we came in, we have various means of entrances and exits.”

I squinted into the dark void.

“After you.”

I hopped down into the darkness. I heard Andrew drop beside me and the grate of the tiles as he moved them back in place. He clicked on a flashlight that illuminated the narrow tunnel. I trailed after him.

“Thank you,” I told him after we had walked a ways, “for saving me.”

“Of course. I’ll always rescue you,” he answered softly.

“I still have the flash drive. The download wasn’t finished when I unplugged it. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It still has valuable information on it. The important thing is that you’re safe.” We traveled in silence, leaving me time to process everything that happened. I was so distracted that when Andrew stopped, I crashed into him. “Maybe you should consider mercy,” he said over his shoulder as he ascended a ladder. He overheard my conversation with Ricky.

Ricky didn’t deserve my mercy. Andrew knew about my history, but he didn’t know what it was like to lose his brother to someone he knew for years and trusted. I remember when Ricky used to be nice. He comforted me when I was 14 after I was picked on for liking cars. He even offered me a job when I was 16. His menacing smile lingered in my mind. It would visit me in my nightmares from then on.

“We’re about to enter the Revere Garde’s headquarters, so be on your best behavior,” he warned.

“When am I not,” I muttered.

I climbed out of the subterranean passage into a dark green room with a mahogany desk. Behind the large desk sat a petite girl with fiery hair and creamy skin. “Welcome, Claire. Are you ready to join us? There’s no going back, so choose carefully.” I seethed at the thought of Ricky, a pawn of the government, murdering my brother. “Well?” she prompted.

“I’m ready to start a rebellion.” The lady smiled, all teeth.

***

 “We are promoting you to an assignment that deals with the Revere Garde escapee,” the commander’s muffled voice filtered through the phone.

“Here’s the mail, boss.” He scowled at the boy with mud brown hair and green eyes that were similar to his own. How dare he interrupt his prestigious call?

 “Hold on one moment,” he commanded into the phone. “This had better be good, boy.” Taking the letter, he read it. A small, dark chuckle slowly chilled the room.

***

10/21/36

Ricky’s Garage

452 Cherry Street

Aster, Georgia, 39182

Dearest Ricky,

 Consider this my formal resignation. I will keep my promise.

See you sooner than you think,

Claire

"The Heirloom"

by Emily Arnold

Alarms filled my head. My peaceful dream suddenly turned into havoc. Why wouldn’t the sound stop? A small pain started to make its way through my head. I turned in my bed, restless. Then I smelled it. Smoke filled my nose. Smoke! In my house! The alarms weren’t in my dream! I jumped out of bed.

I tried to collect my thoughts. There wasn’t much in this new home that was important to me. Except for the heirloom. Hidden with me because that’s the last place they would look. Luckily, I always had it in reach. I grabbed it, shoving it in my jacket pocket. 

The thick, smoky air was filling more of the room. Pressing my hand against the bedroom door, I felt the wood get warmer and warmer and saw small flames at the bottom of the door. I looked to the window. Right now, that was my only chance. I threw the window open, and looked out into the dark night. Flames engulfed the entire left side of my house. I jumped, landing in the bushes. I got up and ran to the street. Faint sirens were growing louder, and I saw an elderly man walk my way. I recognized him as my neighbor, though I had yet to introduce myself.

“I called 911 for you. Dogs were barking all crazy, and I saw your house. Truly tragic,” he said.

“Thank you so much. The alarms woke me up just in time,” I replied, ending with a coughing fit. I looked back to the house, the flames now scraping the sky. The sirens and lights of the fire trucks swirled together as they zoomed down the street toward me.

Soon the flames went down, and the sun started to slowly light the sky. I thanked the firemen as they loaded up and drove away. 

“I’m Hunter Robbins by the way. It’s been quite the night for you. Do you want to come in for breakfast?”

I turned to see my neighbor again. I hesitated. For my whole life, I have avoided any contact outside of necessities. I didn’t want to change that now.

 “Nice to meet you and thank you, but I have a lot to take care of,” I responded, trying to smile.

 “Oh yes. Well, let me know if you need anything,” he said as he headed inside.

 I sighed, the realization of my situation hitting me. I pulled out my phone, calling my brother. He was the only person I trusted. After a few rings, he picked up.

 “Hey Kate,” he said when he picked up.

 “Hey Brayden. I kinda have a problem.”

 “What’s that?”

 “My house burned down in the middle of the night.”

 “What! Kate, are you okay? And the heirloom?”

 “Yes. Yes. I got out with it, but everything else is destroyed.”

 “So you need somewhere to go,” he sighed,” You know that’s gonna be hard. Well I can come meet you tonight, and I’ll find a place for you. Right now, get a hotel room and stay put.”

 “Ok. I’ll take care of the house and insurance and stuff when I get there.”

 “Alright. See you tonight.”

 I went to the door, after hearing the knock. Looking through the peephole, I saw Brayden. Opening the door, I greeted him with a smile.

 “It’s good to see you again,” he said.

 “Same to you. Let’s get to work.” 

 “There’s only so many places you could go. Are you sure you have the heirloom?”

 I checked my pocket for the hundredth time that day for reassurance.

 “Yes,” I answered as I pulled out the key. Heirlooms in any family are important and valuable, but this key held more than any other relic passed down.

 It was a small antique skeleton key, well worn with age. Passed down from my great-great grandfather, the key had been the source of much family conflict. It was said to hold a large fortune behind the lock it went to.

 About eighty years ago, after his death, my great-great grandfather’s will directed this key to be given to my great-grandfather. He didn’t know anything about the key until a letter was sent on the anniversary of my great-great grandfather’s death. The letter told him that the key must be protected at all cost, that there would be efforts to try to find the key and the lock it led to. 

My great-grandfather received more letters, each giving another clue. All of these, and the key were passed down to my grandfather and then my father. Once my father received it, all the family turned against him, so he moved far away in search of safety and isolation.

Because no one knew about me, when I was older I received the key.

“Kate, there are five generations worth of people out there somewhere trying to get this key. The only way to keep you safe is to send you farther away,” Brayden finally said.

“I know,” I sighed, “but I’m just tired of being alone.”

“I understand. I’ll figure something out,” he responded.

 A few days later, I went to the property of the house with the insurance agents. As we pulled up, I saw a man walking around the ruins. I jumped out of the car and immediately recognized him as my neighbor, Mr. Robbins. As he turned, I saw a guilty look cross his face that quickly turned into an innocent smile.

 “Good afternoon. Sorry my dogs just got out, and they went right through here,” my neighbor said, as he greeted me.

 “Good afternoon,” I responded suspiciously. There were no dogs in sight. 

 “I’ll head back this way,” he told us, pointing in the direction of his side yard, “Maybe they snuck around me.”

 I waved him goodbye, as I turned to the insurance agents. They assessed the damage, though there wasn’t much of anything left.

 “We’ll check the reports to determine the cause of the fire. There’s not much we can do because of the extent of the damage,” the insurance agent, Mr. Cobbs, reported, “Who is the owner of this home?”

 “My brother. He told me to give you his contact information, and he will handle everything,” I responded.

 As we headed back to our cars, I saw Mr. Robbins looking out his window, watching us. At the stop sign, I looked back to see him walk down his porch steps in the direction of the ruins of my house. 

Once I reached the hotel, I called Brayden.

A week later

The cool autumn day made my walk back to my hotel a pleasant one. I just finished my college classes for the day, and the crisp air was refreshing. The peaceful feeling left me as I made eye contact with a middle aged man whose face looked a little familiar. His cold eyes made me shiver. I tried to forget him, as I hurried on to my hotel room. 

When I entered, I was shocked. Everything was turned upside down. The sheets were thrown in a jumbled mess, drawers completely pulled out, and clothes scattered everywhere. 

 Suddenly afraid that the person responsible for this mess was still nearby, I quickly went downstairs to the foyer. I went to the desk and asked if anyone had been asking for me. The receptionist told me, yes, someone had asked if anyone staying here was of the last name Peterson.

 I called Brayden up. As I told him the events that had occurred, the hotel doors opened to reveal the same middle aged man I had seen on the street earlier. I quickly turned my body to hide from those cold eyes. I lowered my voice and continued talking to Brayden.

“Someone’s looking for me. I don’t know where to go. I have a feeling I am being followed,” I told him. 

I watched the middle aged man out of the corner of my eye. He asked the receptionist for Kate Peterson, and she pointed toward me. My heart stopped. This couldn't be happening. If this man was my uncle, I was in great danger. But the big question was how he had found me. My whole life had been spent hiding from the family, only now to be discovered. I told Brayden all of this.

“I’m on my way right now. Keep your phone on. I don’t know what he will try to do, but please be safe,” Brayden said urgently.

 I tried to control my breathing. My thoughts were rushing everywhere, as the  man approached me.

 “Hello, are you Kate Peterson by chance?” he asked with an innocent smile.

 “Who are you?” I asked, avoiding the question.

 “Hm. Wouldn’t you like to know,” he responded, his smile turning to a small frown.

 “Who are you?” I repeated firmly.

 “Hmm. Well if you must know, I am Richard Peterson.”

 I forced myself to breathe slowly. This was him, the uncle that had almost found my family ten years after moving away. The man who had gone to greater extents to find the key than any other. I remembered why he had looked familiar now. 

 When she was six years old, her dad drove their small family into town, stopping to drop something by the post office. While they sat in the car, a man had walked down the street. His cold eyes were sweeping up and down the road. As they fell upon the car, they stopped. Recognition filled his face as he saw my mother. Immediately seeing him as well, my mother told me to get to the floor. He didn’t stop, but turned back the way he came.

 “Okay,” I finally answered, trying to hide that I had recognized him, but it was too late.

 “Kate. It is you. Don’t deny it,” he said, lowering his voice, “You know why I am here, and this can be very simple. You know where the key is, and you will take me to who has it.”

 I kept my relief to myself. He didn’t know I had it, and it had to stay that way. 

 “Yes,” was my simple response. 

 “Well now that you’re being honest, you will follow me.”

 I started panicking on the inside. I couldn’t go with him. My whole life had been spent hiding from these people. I wouldn’t give it all up now. 

 “I’m sorry, but that is something I can’t do,” I responded firmly, though shaking inside.

 “You will, and you must. I will do whatever is necessary to see to the end of this key,” he replied angrily as he took a step toward me. 

 Before I could say anything else, two men stepped behind me and grabbed me by the arms. 

 “Kate, meet your cousins.”

 I squirmed under their grip, not knowing what to do. What a nice introduction to the family I’d never met.

 “Now you will walk with us out the door without causing any problems. Aren’t we such a happy family?”

 Far from it, I thought. I was trapped. I had three men walking around me out the hotel doors. I was pushed into a sleek, black car that was soon speeding down the road. When it finally stopped, I was confused by the view that met my eyes. I was facing the ruins of my house. 

 “Why are we here?” I asked, looking at my uncle.

 “Oh, I just wanted to give you a proper introduction to your neighbor,” he responded with a sly smile.

 “What are you talking about?”

 “I believe you met Mr. Robbins the night your house burnt down. Tragic that you didn’t accept his invitation to breakfast.” 

 “Mr. Robbins?”

 Instead of answering, he led me inside Mr. Robbin’s house. I saw my neighbor sitting at the table. 

 “Well Mr. Robbins, you failed your job the first time, so I hope you can do it right this time,” my uncle said in greeting.

 “What are you talking about?” I asked.

 “Not only is Mr. Robbins your neighbor, he is also your great-uncle,” my uncle answered me, “and you’re going to stay with him until you give us the information we want.”

 This could not be happening.

 “You see, I have intercepted all the letters that your father was supposed to receive. The ones that have the clues about the key,” my uncle continued.

 There was a knock at the door. My uncle gave a quizzical look to Mr. Robbins. He just shrugged. One of my cousins opened the door. 

 To my surprise, it was my father. I hadn’t seen him in three years. Closely following him was my brother. They immediately met their eyes with mine, making sure I was okay.

A dark look crossed my uncle’s face.  

“Hello brother,” my father greeted him, “What a surprise.”

“And to what do I owe the pleasure?” my uncle responded sarcastically.

“I see you met my daughter. I suppose there’s a story behind that.”

“Oh no. Only that you didn’t cover your tracks as well as you thought.”

“No, I covered them alright. The tracks you found just weren’t the right ones.”

What were they talking about? If my uncle had found me, then he had figured something out. 

“Well I’d love to chat, pick up on all the years, but for now I’d like to take my daughter home,” my father continued.

“That is not possible. I found her. I caught her. And now I will question her.”

“Oh but brother, you see that is the thing that is not possible.”

“And why do you say that?”

“Because she doesn’t know anything. No one in here knows. There is much more behind this key than anyone ever thought,” my father responded, “Now, I will take my daughter, and I will not have anymore of this craziness.” 

He walked toward me, standing by my side, and leading me to the door. 

“What! That’s all you’re going to say? I’ve been searching for so long, and now you’re just going to leave?”

“If you found us once, you can find us again. This is enough. You don’t know what you’re gonna get yourself in. I advise you to stop and just go live your life.”

With that, my father reached for the door.

“Not so fast. I want answers,” my uncle stopped him.

“Well the police want answers too. And they’re waiting for you right outside.”

“What?”

“You heard me. Arson, robbery, and kidnapping. The list just keeps getting longer.”

With that, my father led me and my brother outside. 

“They’re all yours,” my father told the officers waiting on the porch.

 “I guess we’re on the run again,” my father spoke up, after we had gotten on the road, “but this time we have the bars in between one part of the family.”

By Kayla Kerce

Devastating. Life-shattering. Heartbreaking. All of these words describe the death of a loved one feels like. Death isn’t something that we can skip. Death isn’t something that we can run away from. Death isn’t something that anyone enjoys. Life is like a wave in the ocean. Some waves last longer than others. Some waves don’t get the chance to experience as much as other waves do. When the wave comes to shore, it is the end of its journey. When the heart stops beating, it is the end of life. 

•••••

I had never experienced what it was like to lose someone I care so much about. I had never experienced what it was like to lose someone you told everything to. I never knew how tragic death truly was.

 I was a twelfth-grade student, just living the average student life. I did all of the high school student things. I went to all the football games under the Friday night lights, the crazy parties, the baseball games, the pep rallies. Just give the word and I could promise you that me and my best friend since kindergarten, Katherine Davis, would be there.

Everyone knew that Katherine and I were best friends. People would often call us “K-Squared” since her name is Katherine and my name is Kate. We were together all the time. We shopped together, played softball together, carpooled to school together, went to parties together, hosted parties together. We did everything together. Well, we used to do everything together…. 

It was a Friday night, and there were no games or parties going on that night so Katherine and I went over to our friends, Charlotte and Caroline’s house. We hung out with Charlotte and Caroline a lot, so our parents were fine with it. We normally went to their house, because in their basement they had a bar stocked with alcohol and Sprite and they had a pool table. Anytime Katherine and I were at their house we would normally drink beer, and we would always make sure it was only the amount that we thought we could handle. Plus we both played sports and knew that we didn’t need to be in taking that much alcohol as young athletes, but this Friday night, it was different. Katherine just found out that her boyfriend, Jackson, cheated on her with a sophomore, and she didn’t understand how a sophomore could be better than she was. Katherine wanted answers but Jackson wouldn’t give any, and Katherine was hurting. She thought that the more she drank, the less she would hurt, and there was nothing we could do to stop her. 

“Katherine, are you sure this is the best idea for you?” I asked.

“Yeah, I’m not sure this is the smartest idea, maybe we can just talk about it,” Charlotte said, and Caroline nodded in agreement. 

“No, I want to drink. Drinking is taking all of my sorrows away. I have done this before at my house alone and I was perfectly fine the next day. Plus, what is life without taking chances? Caroline, grab the shot glasses and I’ll get the vodka. Fifteen shots here I come.” Katherine said, looking at my worried face.

She said that she had done this before and was fine, so I let go of my worries for her and just let her do her thing. The worst that can happen is she gets too drunk and she just sleeps it off, right?

The night went on and the later it got, the more we drank. Katherine took fifteen shots in a span of fifty-five minutes. She told us that she felt fine, but a few hours later she started feeling sick, so I helped walk her to the bathroom. She threw up a few times and then said that she was going to go to sleep and that she would talk to us in the morning. 

“Goodnight Katherine,” Charlotte, Caroline, and I all said. 

The three of us stayed up a couple more hours and fell asleep in the living room watching Netflix. The next morning Charlotte and Caroline’s parents came, woke us up, and asked us where Katherine was. 

“She’s up in my room sleeping. We’ll go wake her up,” Caroline said.

We walked up the stairs to Caroline’s room. “Goodmorning Katherine! Time to get up, we’re going shopping!” Charlotte exclaimed. 

“Caroline?” I said as I walked over to where she was laying. She felt cold.

“Y’all, she’s not okay,” Charlotte said as she checked Caroline’s pulse.

“MOM! DAD! CALL 911 NOW!” Caroline screamed.

I don’t remember much of what happened in between calling 911 and going to the emergency room. I was in too much shock to believe what was going on. I knew that this couldn’t be happening. We were only in the waiting area of the ER for about fifteen minutes until someone came to talk to her parents. When they finished talking, I could see Katherine’s mom and dad both about to break down. They walked over to me and said, “She’s gone.” 

“No. She can’t be gone. This can’t be true.” I kept trying not to face the reality of it all. 

“She died from alcohol poisoning. Kate, how could you let something like this happen? Y’all were best friends. Y’all were like sisters. You just let her keep drinking. You didn’t stop her,” Katherine’s mom said to me.

“Sweetie, I think it’s best if we leave,” Katherine’s dad told his wife.

I was left in the hospital by myself with the reality that my best friend was dead. How am I supposed to live without her? She had helped me so much, been through so much for me, done so much for me. I don’t have anyone else to lean on, because my parents never pay any attention to me and all of my friends have their own “person”. My “person” is dead, and it’s my fault. 

•••••

The death of my best friend has shaped me, changed me, and showed me to have respect for not only this life that I have been given but the lives of the people I am surrounded by, my family, my friends, classmates, everyone I love and care for. You never know how much you love something until it is taken away from you and you have to do life without it. I never knew that I could feel so broken as if the world was ending. When my best friend passed away, a door of emotions I never thought I had opened up. I have never been one of those girls that cry, but death made me shed oceans. I have never been one of those girls to have fear, but death has shown me how life is truly like a wave, some are shorter than others.

•••••

So many thoughts raced through my head as I sat on the cold hospital floor. What did I do to have my best friend die? How is this fair? What is God thinking? Why is this happening? I kept telling myself that this was all just a dream and that it wasn’t true, it couldn’t be true. 

“Sweetie, are you okay?” a nurse came up to me and asked.

“No ma’am, my best friend just died” I replied to her.

“I am so sorry, come here let’s go get you a blanket and something to eat and we can talk more about it,” she said, as she held out her hand to help me off the floor. 

“Yes ma’am,” I said as I followed her through the hospital. 

No one had ever been this nice to me, but right now all I needed was someone to cry and talk to, and she was willing to be there and listen when no one else would. 

“Alright, I know it’s cold in here. We have to keep the hospital cold in order to keep the building clean, but this is the warmest room we have.” the nurse said. 

“Thank you. My name is Kate, by the way” I said. 

“My name is Jennifer. Tell me what’s going on, because you have been sitting on the floor for two hours,” she said. 

“I lost my best friend, Katherine, to alcohol poisoning around four hours ago. Her mom hates me, my parents aren’t even here to support me even though I have texted them at least six times. It’s as if my life is falling apart, and I have no one to turn to,” I said.

“I went through a situation similar to yours. My best friend died in a car accident when I was twenty years old. She was one of the only friends I had and she was gone. I was a Christian, and I often questioned my faith and belief of God, because why would He let something like this happen, when I had been doing so good. Why was it me going through this and not someone else? I was selfish, and it took me a really long time to move on from her death, but I promise you that you can do it,” Jennifer said to me.

“Wow. I have never been a true Christian. I believe in Jesus, but I sin a lot and I have found myself questioning why he would do something like this to me as well. How did you overcome this hill?” I asked.

“Honestly, I dug deep into the Bible, because deep down I knew that God wouldn’t do something like this just because he wanted to. The grief I had from my best friend’s death was like a fog that I kept waiting to lift, but days and weeks went by and it didn’t. When I dug deep into the Bible, it proved to me that my God has a reason for everything and whether I know the reason or not, I have to trust in God and trust in His process, because I know that He wants to best for every one of us, including you,” Jennifer said. 

“I never thought about it like that, but I just don’t know if I can dig deep into Christianity, I have done so many sinful things in my life, and I don’t know if God can forgive me of those things,” I said to Jennifer.

“God is a forgiver. Jesus Christ died a brutal death so that we could be forgiven of our sins. We are all sinful people. Sin is at the core of us, but we have to own up to our sins and forgive others for their sins against us so that we can be forgiven of our sinful natures,” she replied. 

“Thank you for this talk. I think that it’s time I change my actions and turn my negative choices into positive choices. That’s the least I can do for Katherine,” I said.

• • • •

Death truly does change your viewpoint in life. For me, death has shown me a different perspective on the world. As I go through this life without my best friend, I dedicate all of the things I do for her. There are so many things that people should get to do in life, but the chance is taken away from them, and for that, I live for them. I live for those who don’t get the opportunities I am given. I live for those whose life was gone sooner than expected. I’ve realized how important it is to trust the process, even though we can’t see what the future holds. Trusting in my faith that what happens in my life, happens for a reason. 

Many things in life will happen, that we don’t have planned. Some things are going to rock our world and make our chest ache. It will feel as though your heart is breaking. Letting go of what happens, is a hard pill to swallow, but in order to survive, we have to swallow it. I thought that if I swallowed the pill of my best friends death, that I would forget our adventurous memories, I would forget the sound of her soft voice, I would forget her laugh that could make anyone laugh, I would forget her contagious smile that everyone adored. But I realized that even if some of the memories fade, the love and care I have for her will never die.

I’ve said that a wave is like life and that some waves are bigger than others. Some waves are shorter than others, leaving the bigger waves behind. But sometimes the bigger waves can’t handle the absence of the smaller waves, and the bigger waves are gone sooner than expected, too.