The Longs

“Juliette, darling, don’t dawdle. We cannot be late for your very first Service, now can we?” Little Juliette grabbed fistfuls of her crayons and dumped them in her crafts bin, the blue paint peeling with old stickers, at a slightly faster rate. All the while, she watched her mother, Mary, clipping on her favorite necklace. Made from bits of sculpted oak and stone, Mary had once told Juliette that the tiny, spherical charm would connect her to the earth – ground her. Some day, she had said, the necklace would belong to Juliette.

The crisp twilight air floated lazily in through the kitchen window like the final breaths of the dying sun; a further reminder of the time. Just as Juliette was beginning to tug on her small wicker sandals, Mary bent down and gently placed both cool hands on her arms, bracing her.

“Sweetheart, there’s something I ought to tell you.” Juliette stared upwards, her chocolate saucer eyes matching her mother’s. Mary seemed to struggle, like the words were tangled in a knot around her tongue. A little crease blinked in and out of existence between her dark brows. Finally, she took a breath and spoke, clear and low. “There is a sleeping dragon in the core of our planet.”

“I know,” Juliette replied automatically. There had always been a dragon at the center of their world, but it had not always been sleeping. Juliette grew up hearing the stories of the hell that the Mighty Attorian broke over those who opposed Him, and the blessings He gave to His loyal followers.

“Yes, well,” Mary hesitated, “you also know that we are to serve and honor Him, no matter the cost.” Juliette nodded. This, too, had already been ingrained in her young mind. “At the Service today, there will come a time in which we will all be asked to weaken ourselves before Attorian. In order to fully experience His greatness, we must realize our own meekness. Do you understand me?” Mary’s eyes were glistening slightly. Juliette nodded again, slowly dipping her chin into her chest. “I need to tell you now: it is going to be painful. Unlike anything you have ever experienced before. You may cry for a moment, but once Reverend Haynes resumes his sermon, you must stay silent. You cannot make any noise.” She cupped her shaking hand around Juliette’s cheek. “Promise me you will not cry.” Her voice was breaking now, sobs threatening to bubble over the cracked walls Mary had had in place for so many years.

“I promise.” Juliette whispered, puzzled with her mother’s sudden vehemence. Mary studied her for a moment longer, her eyes flicking over her tiny face as if to memorize it. “Good,” she stood with a sharp inhale, “then we best be off.” She clutched her purse and reached down to grasp Juliette’s fingers, but Juliette stayed motionless.

“Mommy?”

“Yes, dear?”

“Why don’t you love me when we’re outside?”

Mary’s face melted. At only seven years, Juliette was exceptionally bright. She had already noticed the difference between Mary’s warm, motherly nature behind closed doors and the emotionless façade she slipped on when they crossed the threshold.

“Oh, Juliette, I love you all times of the day, no matter where we are.” Mary scooped her up into her arms, grunting slightly. “The thing is,” she let her voice dip softly, playful, “I’m not supposed to let anyone else know that.”

“Why not?” Juliette’s lip jutted out.

“My affection is supposed to be reserved only for Attorian. But do you want to know a secret?” “What is it?”

“I don’t care. I love you anyways.” Mary tickled Juliette’s side and she giggled, the carefree sound dripping over her ears like warm honey. Mary set her daughter down, and in a spurt of spontaneity, unfastened her necklace. Clipping the delicate chain around Juliette’s neck, she prepared to give a final warning. “Now, you-”

“I won’t cry, and I won’t tell anyone that you love me,” Juliette smirked. Mary couldn’t stop the corner of her lip from turning up – a mirror image.

“That’s my girl.”

~~~

The heels of Thomas Haynes’ spotless leather boots fell slowly on the damp concrete floor. He was in no hurry; his acolytes would wait for him. With each dull tap, tap, tap, his sense of peace swelled. He felt the anxious anticipation of the thousands of people down the hall, just behind a set of double doors as thick as his head, in the faction’s expansive arena, waiting to shower him with adoration. He knew that his coming speech would be a catalyst. Thomas had his finger on the pulse of the new future. With his words, the vein would burst, sending a glorious crimson spray of unwavering loyalty to him and the Almighty Attorian over the heads of his subjects. Faith in Attorian was faith in Thomas. It was his birthright.

He paused only for a moment behind the doors, checking his reflection in the adjacent mirror. Gray hairs were beginning to prick up along the base of his scalp. He flipped them up and out of sight. Straightening his tie, he motioned to the guards beside him and grabbed the gleaming handle. The crowd’s roar was instant and deafening; a beast woken up from a century’s slumber. Thomas smiled.

Spotlights found him from high in the eaves, casting a hazy halo around his head. Perhaps if he squinted, he would be able to see the rough, rocky walls that formed the hundred-yard stadium, angling in a semi-circle so that he could be the sole vassal of attention. Perhaps he would see how the tips of those walls gracefully blended into the perfect night sky. But he did not squint, and he did not admire the architecture, for that would show weakness; pride in something other than their savior.

He stepped up onto the podium, his footing sure, his heartbeat strong and steady. The microphone was already perfectly slanted, eagerly tilting forward like the rest of the enraptured audience. Raindrops, raindrops, they were all raindrops. Fallen from a cloud blackened with relentless reverence, suspended inches from the floor, quivering with expectancy.

“Good evening,” Thomas quietly spoke. He stared unblinkingly at thousands of identical, blurred faces. “We begin tonight, as always, with the Gift of Our Gratitude. If you would please reach under your seats…” The mass moved as one; their synchronic obedience never slipping Thomas’s attention. As the crowd re-emerged, scalpels in hand, glimmering with a silvery glint, Thomas picked up his own ornately jeweled dagger from the podium surface and waited for all to settle.

“Dearly beloved, what greater virtue is there than Gratitude? Without it, our society would simply fail to function. How should one be expected to work without proper appreciation? And is there anyone who works with more passion, with more resilience, than our divine Attorian? I should think not. He, our wise creator, He who controls this gift of life, He who justly rebukes those who turn from His powerful gaze, is most worthy of our affection.” Several heads bobbed in unison.

“My friends,” Thomas’s embracing grin stretched from ear to ear, “Gratitude is obedience. Gratitude is a sacred privilege. Come, let us enjoy this Gift together, united in the glory of the Almighty Attorian.” Preprogrammed, perfect, phlegmatic, every soul pressed a blade tip to their palm, forced stale oxygen into their lungs, and tugged.

Stifled moans hung in the air. Red red red bloomed in the crook between the fingers of every devotee. The stadium seemed to thrum with the electric rhythm of thousands of hearts bleeding, beating as one. The wounds, opened, reopened, never healed were but paltry offerings; a humbling before a King. After a few heavy moments, there was a harried rustle as mothers stooped low to grab the chubby palms of their grubby children. Metal flashed, refracting and distorting the tranquil moonlight into something grotesque and unearthly. Cold and keen, shrieks pierced the once-faultless evening. Tears rolled fat and long onto the floor, intermingling with the fallen scarlet like watered-down wine. Still, the skin around Thomas’s eyes remained crinkled with haughty satisfaction.

He could see it all so clearly: every drop was a drumbeat, pounding louder, louder, as Attorian came closer to waking. He would proudly carry out the duty bestowed on him by his father, who had received the position from his father, and back it went, thirty-two blameless generations. If enough blood was spilt on the sacred soil of The Dragon, He would wake to bless those who had given freely and to curse those who had been greedy or sparked war among His chosen people. Thomas knew, he just knew, that Attorian would wake within his lifetime, and that he would reap the benefits of his ancestors’ tireless labor.

Wishing for no further delays, Thomas stretched out his own hand and made a thin slash running from the tip of his pointer to the base of his palm, following the ghost of his other Gifts. He

allowed a single bead to course down his arm, drip off his elbow, splash onto the cold stage, before clearing his throat and continuing.

“Thank you for your sacrifice on this hallowed eve. Your selflessness will most certainly not be overlooked by The Dragon. Please be seated.” Cries were quieted, subtle whispers were extinguished, feet ceased to shuffle as everyone folded at the knees. That is, everyone except for one child in the front row. Thomas watched, intrigued, as the creature fixedly stood, sobs still racking her tiny body. The seconds inched by, as if time itself were wading through thick molasses. A small muttering picked up, perhaps the girl’s mother, pleading with her. The wailing grew louder.

“Now, what do we have here?” Thomas’s voice could sweeten the bitterest of teas. “Come, little one. Won’t you please join me?” He raised his chin slightly in the direction of the girl. Startled, she hiccuped into silence and floated ever-so-slowly forwards to Thomas’s side. A pretty thing, Thomas thought. Dark ringlets of hair framed her cherub face, melted-chocolate eyes peered curiously through the strands, and a simple necklace made from oak and stone hung around her neck. He haphazardly wondered how she could afford such jewelry.

“What is your name, love?” Thomas asked, covering the microphone with his hand. “Juliette,” she whispered.

“And how old might you be?” Juliette held two bloody palms out, forming the number seven. “Let’s see, that would make this your first Service, wouldn’t it?” The girl nodded. Thomas’s brows lifted as he mouthed a soft ‘O,’ and he returned his attention to the crowd.

“Friends, my little Juliette has presented us with a unique lesson to learn today. You see, this is her first Service, and it appears she has found the Gratitude ceremony to be a tad… unorthodox.” Chuckles scattered throughout the din. Juliette didn’t see what was so funny. “Crying and expressions of personal pain are, as you know, not permitted, since they are a reflection of selfishness. When one gives in to sorrow, they close themselves off from the notion that the world is much larger than their individual anguish. However, early on, our ancestors made a revision to this practice. They graciously allowed children under the age of ten a moment to compose themselves before continuing, seeing as that demographic was quite difficult to control otherwise.” The corner of Thomas’s lip curved upwards as he felt the focus of the room shift to encapsulate only him once again. It was as if the young Juliette didn’t exist.

“You would all do well to remember,” he darkened his voice, laced it with poison, “we have already modified the law laid down by our King once to provide for more comfort, and when this amendment is violated, it is a serious offense indeed.” He heard Juliette inhale sharply beside him. “This is why, under the wisdom granted to me by Attorian himself, I am to declare that this delinquent must be punished.” There was a blink of confusion as the audience remembered Juliette was there. “Five years behind the walls of our esteemed mental facility ought to teach her to hold her tongue.

Guards, if you would please.” Shadows shifted in the corner as two armored soldiers crept up the stage stairs.

“NO!”

The agonized scream did not come from Juliette, who was motionlessly petrified next to Thomas, but from another woman in the front row. So charged with an unnamed emotion, so desperate, so foreign, the cry caused Thomas and the guards to pause. That was all Juliette needed. She slammed through the entry doors, disappearing into the gloom, the soldiers close on her naïve heels. Before Thomas could even so much as loose a growl, the wind rushed from his lungs as he was thrown backwards with the animalistic force of a freight train, his head cracking against the rough wall.

“You’re SICK! Absolutely SICK! How dare you take my daughter from me?” Thomas yelled as the woman scratched at him with her knife, her nails, her teeth. Blood, blood, too much blood, too many things out of his control. He tried to force her off, but she clambered back with a grip of iron. Frigid horror blanketed him in its suffocating embrace as he realized his knife had flown out of his hands – he was powerless. The woman tore away his shirt and raised her arms, preparing to stab him straight through the stomach. Just as Thomas gasped a final prayer, a guard caught the woman by her middle and yanked her away.

Her shrieks sent daggers into Thomas’s eardrums. She fought off the first soldier only to be ensnared in the arms of another. Within seconds, she was surrounded. Her pale dress, though smeared with red and dusty brown, still shone like starlight against the dark armor of her captors. Thomas let out a shallow breath, pressed a hand to his wounded side, scrambled to collect his scalpel, and rolled into a standing position. The world spun around him, and he stumbled for a moment before regaining balance. Hobbling over to where the woman stood, her teeth still gnashing behind matted chestnut hair, he tried to slow his heart. She glared at him, her piercing eyes a chilling copy of her daughter’s. Thomas stooped down to meet her and cocked his head.

“Who are you?”

“Rot in hell,” she snarled.

Thomas’ permanent smirk faltered, and he wiped the spittle from his nose. Who it belonged to, he did not want to know. “Passionate, are we?” Suddenly, he was aware of the thousands still watching them in horrified silence. Straightening and nervously readjusting his mangled coat, Thomas spoke, his voice bouncing off the cavernous ceiling. “My sincerest apologies for the events of this evening. But you see, this woman serves as a refreshing reminder of the dangers that egotism presents to each and every one of us. She was so angry with me for taking her child, her life, that she forgot to think about the larger picture – our society as a whole.” There was a collective sigh of relief as the mass understood this simple, two-dimensional sentiment. He turned back towards the soldiers. “Did you find the child?”

“No sir,” one guard answered, his head craned low. The mother’s chin jutted out in triumph, and Thomas swore.

“No matter,” he said after a moment, waving it all away, “we’ll find her eventually, or she’ll die on her own. She won’t last a day. As for you,” he bent once more towards the woman, “you’ll spend the rest of your days behind bars until you drive yourself mad or you die of starvation. Your filthy blood isn’t even worth contributing to Attorian’s noble cause.” With a sneer and a nod from Thomas, she was dragged from the arena, reticent satisfaction still etched into her gaunt face. The doors swung shut with echoing finality, sealing the entire incident out of sight, out of mind.

Just as Thomas was opening his mouth to dismiss the less-than-successful Service, a drip of warm, familiar crimson liquid flicked off the tip of his dagger and seeped into the floor. A deep rumble shook the earth and the pressing silence returned. An inaudible, primal instinct sent the message through every fiber of every being in that godforsaken stadium. Attorian was awake.

I was on a ship 250 nautical miles away from the coast of New Orleans, Louisiana. The boat had been in motion for nearly two weeks. It was 3:00 PM, and the sun was blazing down to the surface of my skin. It slipped into my fingers and cut through my skin. It was a golden coin that kept watching over me and every motion I performed. I looked out at the open ocean, admiring the beauty of this natural wonder. I sat down in my chair and felt the coarse, rough touch of the chair. The chair mocked my life. The chair kept advising me about the rough times I had been through ever since my grandma died on July 28th, 2005 in Cancún, Mexico. I thought of how the open ocean contained my grandma’s spirit within it. I screamed out at the ocean. I spit into the ocean thinking that the ocean would give what I wanted back. But, there was no change. The ocean listened to nobody. It had no emotions. It was an open void that seemed endless. I looked down at the blue void with a feeling of great remorse and disgust. My stomach started to tie into knots and feel really heavy. I was just becoming familiar with the ship. I ran up to the main deck, almost injuring myself about two times.

“Captain… I need to know where the bathroom is.”

“Yes, Antonio… run down three flights of stairs and turn left on the first left that you see.”

“Three flights of stairs?!” “I feel really sick and I can’t run down that far” “Well, boy you only have one option because I am busy steering the ship and I don’t have anybody on standby.”

“I hate you,” I whispered underneath my breath.

I ran down the three flights of stairs and stopped before entering the bathroom. I stopped to catch my breath. Once I entered, I was greeted with the worst nasal assault of my life. But, then I found a bucket of nose clips with a sign that read: Use this or you will be sorry about your life. There was a dim light that was flickering. The window next to the light kept squeaking for no apparent reason. As I vomited the contents out, the light started to flicker ferociously. I heard clamorous noises coming from the floor just above me. The footsteps kept approaching me and getting louder. Then, they began knocking on my door.

“WHO IS IT?!” I cried out with fear.

“I GOT NO TIME TO PLAY DING-DONG DITCH AROUND HERE!”

There was no reply. This is strange, I thought. My heart felt as if it was going to pump out of my body. It felt as if it was disconnecting from me. The door started screaming louder and louder and with more urgency. I frantically looked around myself to find any sources of self defense. I found an old rusted broom in one corner of the bathroom tangled in a whole heap of cobwebs. I creeped up to the door and opened it with the broom in my hand ready to smack the culprit. There was nobody at the door. I closed the door behind me and used the broom as a locking mechanism to use between the door handle and the hinges. “What was that?” I thought to myself. I decided to sit down on the dusty floor and wait for about five minutes until the coast was clear. My eyes felt as if they were falling to the back of my head. I tried to keep myself awake. I leaned up against the wall just to figure out that I got my shirt stained with poop. “Shoot.” I knew that my life was playing games with me.

**************

I was woken up with intense amounts of knocking and the destruction of the broom that was originally placed on the door. “W-Who is it?” I groaned. It took me a couple seconds to figure out that the captain and his trusted lieutenant were waking me up.

“Antonio, we are just here to remind you that you have been in the bathroom for more than three hours and that it is now 7:00 PM, replied the captain”

“TIME FOR DINNER!” screamed the lieutenant. The lieutenant pulled me up with a great amount of force. He was an attractive person with blue eyes, blonde hair and a gorgeous smile. It reminded me of the positive energy I received from my grandma when I was a kid. Anyway, I was led up to the floor just above me and into the dining room. I was greeted by four scruffy men who looked like they were about to beat me up. They had a medium build and they were also very tall. We all sat down together at the mahogany table. I was served a bowl of boiling tomato soup as a starter along with some croutons on the side. The soup was the most savory and palatable food I had ever eaten. We all ate together in pindrop silence.

“Waiter… would you be so kind as to please bring over the main course,” said the lieutenant.

“Absolutely,” says the waiter.

The main course smelled exquisite to its finest. It included a five cheese pasta, some beef enchiladas, and some General Tso’s chicken. I decided to bite into the beef enchilada first. Finally, somebody decided to break the silence.

“So… is everybody enjoying the dinner,” shouted one of the scruffy men “I got to say that it is very appetizing indeed,” shouted the other scruffy man. “That is good to hear.”

“Okay everybody,” shouted the captain. “I have to head back upstairs to steer the ship.” “Lieutenant John, can you please lead everybody to their respective bedrooms now?” “Absolutely, captain,” exclaimed the lieutenant.

As the waiters were emptying out the dining room, we all formed a single file line and left. As I started to walk through the dimly lit corridors of the ship, my stomach started to tie into knots again. I started to feel unexpectedly bloated and heavy. However, I kept going with the group, so that I didn’t get lost. Then, in a flash of a second, everything became pitch black. I was surrounded by the highest amount of dark energy I had ever seen. It was a blanket that covered me and wouldn’t let go of me. My heart started to race as if I just entered cardiac arrest. But, then the darkness was broken by a little bit of light.

“CAPTAIN,” screamed the lieutenant onto the telephone on the wall. “We are experiencing a complete electrical loss of power on the ship.”

There was no reply. “No.” The lieutenant whispered underneath his breath. The lieutenant carefully hunted down his flashlight and thanked the heavens that it was still working. “IS EVERYBODY HERE?” shouted the lieutenant.

“HERE!” We all replied in unison.

“Okay.” “Listen up, I need you all to quickly hold each other's hands tightly to ensure that none of us get lost. “We are going to be navigating around this ship with my flashlight until we find some hope. “I am going to see if we can make our way to the captain’s deck.”

As the lieutenant kept on speaking, I stared into the darkness and its dark energy. Could this be a way of my grandma telling me that she has risen from the ocean? Could it be a sign that she is here nearby and is coming to rescue me? I heard a cat screeching in the distance. The darkness felt as if it creeped closer and closer to me. I started to see figures of my grandma flicker past me in the darkness. My personal imagination and silence was broken by the lieutenant tugging at my shoulders and moving me around.

“HELLO, sir!” “HELLO ANTONIO!” “Are you paying attention?” “I need you to be paying attention so that you don’t have questions later.

“Y-Yes sir,” I replied, trembling with fear.

We all formed a line and held each other’s hands. As we started moving, the dark objects moved past us and looked at us hideously. They moved their eyes and tracked out motion. I felt as if the whole room was watching me with their eyes wide open. It felt as if everything surrounding me was alive. Then, my stomach began to rise again and I vomited the contents out again.

“Somebody get this guy some Tylenol!” shouted one of the scruffy men.

“HELLO… that’s for headaches and pain, not for vomiting issues,” shouted the lieutenant.

As the lieutenant helped me feel better, he assured everybody that it would not happen again.

“Listen up… I have some pills up in the captain’s deck.” “Once we make it there, I will hand them to you.”

“Okay, thank you Lieutenant John.”

An image flashed into my mind when I was just seven. I suddenly recalled my grandma giving me some pills when I was diagnosed with chickenpox. A voice in my head said, “Everything is going to be okay.” The image of my grandma tightly hugging me was quickly interrupted by the lieutenant tugging at my shoulders again for the second time.

“Kid… you got to stop daydreaming.” “We have to keep going,” the lieutenant said forcefully.

As we kept walking, we were greeted by some hard wood.

“Well everybody, looks like we have located the stairs,” the lieutenant declared proudly. We all held our hands together tightly acting as if something in the dark would secretly pull one of us away from the group. We made it to the next floor. The lieutenant carefully brushed the dust away from a sign that was placed next to the stairs with his old paintbrush he no longer used. The sign displayed: Floor -1.

“Okay everybody…we have one more floor to cover before we are at the captain’s deck. We promptly listened to the lieutenant’s instructions and kept going.

**************

After what seemed like an eternity, we finally made it to the captain’s deck. We heard the ocean just like broad daylight. The way it hollered out at us and laughed at us made me feel somewhat inferior.

“CAPTAIN, CAPTAIN, CAPTAIN!” screamed out the lieutenant.

At first there was no reply. But, then I heard a faint screaming sound in return. “Does anyone else hear that sound?” I fearfully said.

The sound started to get louder and louder as we got closer to it. Then, in a flash of a second, I was right next to the sound. We all opened a door next to us in unison and with panic and fear. We were appalled to see the captain locked inside the room and that the cat was on top of the captain’s soft, beautiful hair.

“Oh, there’s my cat,” screamed the lieutenant joyfully.

“Lieutenant John, you are in BIG TROUBLE, get your cat off of me.”

“Lieutenant John, I need my pills now,” I said with urgency.

The lieutenant navigated me over to the medicine compartment. I felt as if I was going to fall right into the cold, barren ocean every time I took a step.

“What happened to him?” asked the captain with a feeling of disgust.

“N-Nothing much… he is just a little sick today, that’s all,” the lieutenant replied with trembling hands.

I saw three cabinets in front of me. The lieutenant carefully opened the middle one and pulled out a canister that looked like nothing else but blackness. A giant lightbulb with a silver color shone down on us.

“THE MOON!” screamed the captain energetically.

The moon was like a face and it felt like a successful flip of a coin. It peeked through the curtains and ripped its light through the glass onto the canister. I swallowed the pills. They had a very bittersweet taste to them and it had a really weird twist. I chugged the water down drunkenly. The pill rubbed through my throat at quite a slow speed. I stood dead still and waited for the pill to go through my esophagus and into my stomach.

“SO IS EVERYTHING OKAY?!” screamed the captain with urgency.

I waited for the pill to really settle into my stomach.

“Okay, I think everything is alright,” reassured the lieutenant. “We need Antonio to take some rest, so that everything can be alright.”

“Agreed,” the captain replied joyfully.

The scruffy men all nod in unison. Then, the captain grabbed me slowly like I was some kind of baby and put me on top of the bed that was there in the captain’s deck. He put his water bottle right next to the bed. I still felt like the pill was not down properly yet, so I decided to drink more of the water. When I touched the water with the surface of the tongue, it felt like liquid nitrogen. I shakily dropped the water bottle on the hard and barren floor. “Everything alright there?” said the captain with fear.

“Yes all good, just dropped the water bottle by accident,” I replied.

They all nodded at each other in unison one more time and then secretly escaped with their flashlight. Then, I stared at the moon for what seemed like hours. Its bewitching eyes looked at me and told me that something bad was about to happen.

**************

For what seemed like an eternity, the team returned back to my bed and successfully got the electricity working again.

“What a relief,” the lieutenant assured.

“Lieutenant John, I need you to check on the controls of the ship and make sure that everything is in working order.”

“Yes, captain,” the lieutenant exclaimed proudly.

The lieutenant took a couple of steps forward and tried clicking some buttons and tried adjusting the engine power.

“C-captain,” the lieutenant said shakily. “I think there is a small problem.” “The display says that the second engine onboard is having trouble rotating and working properly.” “NO, NO, NO,” the captain started screaming.

The captain pushed aside the lieutenant and tried to adjust the throttle for the second engine slowly. It was of no use. Afterwards, the captain tried to radio the nearest control tower for help.

“H-hello,” the captain started to scream shakily. The captain, with his experienced talent in operating this ship, pressed a couple of buttons on the control panel. There was a small buzz and the radio roared to life. It started to say a message on the radio that said: Thank you for calling the New Orleans Harbor Traffic Controller. How may I help you?

“Uh, h-hello,” the captain spoke frantically. “W-We are calling you because our second engine on our ship isn’t working correctly.” “I am having a problem with controlling the throttle for engine two and it doesn’t seem to be responding.”

We all stood stuck together like a statue with our fingers crossed. I stared back up at the moon thanking it for the bad omen it led us to. The moon hollered back with a bewitching laugh. “Okay let me confirm this, your engine two isn’t working properly,” the radio replied back.

“YES!” we all replied back in unison.

“Okay, try this.” “Go down all the way in the basement of your ship to the control room for the engines.” “Try to unscrew the panel that controls the engines and see if there is a busted wire.” “Re-solder that wire back into place.”

“OKAY,” we all shouted back in unison.

Before we left, the captain quickly went through his cabinet and fished out a screwdriver set. This time I went along with the whole group into the engine control room. As we walked to the control room, the floodlights stared down at us luminously. Then, we found a dust-covered door handle with a sign that read: Engine control room. We carefully sneaked our way into the cold room. We found four control panels each indicating one engine. The captain turned on his flashlight and found the display that corresponded to engine two. As we started to walk towards the display, the floorboards beneath us started to creak as if an evil witch was fated to haunt us down. We stepped closer to the displays and found one of the displays blinking rapidly. Unsurprisingly, I saw that it was related to engine two. The display read: Engine two; wire malfunction, please fix. The captain fished out the screwdriver set carefully as if it was his wedding ring for his marriage. I decided to help out in removing the panel and accidentally touched the open wire with my index finger.

“OUCH!” I screamed at the top of my lungs.

“Whoa, kid.” “Be careful there.” “It gets very hot,” the captain said.

Luckily, my finger was alright and nothing much happened. The captain went into his bag and fished out a pair of shock-resistant gloves and he pulled out a soldering unit. I saw the captain connecting two bits of the broken wire together.

“Well everybody, looks like I found the culprit of this issue.” “Looks like the electrical failure earlier managed to mess up the wiring for engine two,” the captain reassured everybody. The captain connected both ends of the wire and I heard a small roaring sound coming from behind the panel. We all took a big breath of relief as the engine roared back to life. Then, we all left the engine room and ran back up to the cockpit where my bed was. I ran all the way to the cockpit controls and tried out all of the engines and to my relief, the ship was fully responsive and we were moving at full speed again. I saw a small light below the throttle controls. It was labeled as, “weather radar.” Then, I stared at the sky above and saw that the stars started to clear up and the rising sun casted a rosy hue across the morning sky. Its golden fingers lit up the scene and waved goodbye to the moon above. The captain picked up the radio and assured the control tower that everything was alright and all was good. I realized that my clothes were all covered in soot, so I went and changed into new fresh clothes and stepped outside into the cold, brisk air. The air gave me a warm hug and welcomed me into its caring atmosphere. The lieutenant came up behind me and scared me with a jolt. “Coffee?” the lieutenant asked.

“Sure,” I replied.

I sipped my coffee slowly and carefully and looked out at the ocean’s blue arms. I sat down on the same chair that once used to mock my life with its coarse, rough touch. However, I now felt loved by the chair and the chair held onto me. It begged for me to stay seated and never let me move out of place. This time, the chair had a soft feel to it as if a soft blanket was placed over it to put me to sleep. I looked out at the horizon and looked more carefully at the sun’s golden arms ready to take me inside at any second. The sun smiled at me and assured me that everything was going to be alright.

**************

I ran back into the ship and joined everybody at the breakfast table. I was served a steaming bowl of scrambled eggs and a croissant on the side. I bit into the creamy, steamy croissant first. I quickly munched down the scrambled eggs and ate them down as if I was some kind of hungry monster. I added more butter on the croissant and bit into it with a soft bite. Its soft touch melted into my mouth like some self-dissolving candy. The lieutenant was the first to finish and ran back up to the cockpit. The captain followed him upstairs just a couple seconds later. I joined in as well. Then, we all ran back up and I carefully looked outside the cockpit window. The lieutenant checked his map and saw that a slight left turn needed to be executed. He grabbed the steering wheel and rotated it left. It did not respond.

“C-Captain, the steering controls aren’t working,” the lieutenant said shakily. “You numbskull, you are on autopilot, make sure you disengage it,” the captain replied harshly.

The lieutenant carefully disengaged it and turned to the left. As we started to turn left, I thought I saw a small island in the distance. I squinted my eyes and then it was gone. I asked the lieutenant and captain if they saw anything and they claimed that they didn’t see anything.

“That is strange,” I thought to myself. I took the binoculars that were on the captain’s table and adjusted the focus and saw a gray, looming cloud massive in size just a few miles ahead of our ship. I passed the binoculars over to the captain and the lieutenant to see. The captain, with his quick thinking, ran over to the weather radar and turned it on.

“This is strange, it says that the weather is expected to be clear with no clouds for the next 200 miles,” the captain told everybody.

I looked through the binoculars again and saw that the cloud covered the entire sky just a couple of miles ahead of us. My heart skipped a beat.

“Well, well my friends looks like this isn’t an island, it looks like we are stepping into some severe weather,” the captain screamed at everybody. As we got closer and closer, the clouds started to get thicker. A strong gust of wind shook the entire ship. “OH NO,” the captain screamed.

“GUYS, QUICKLY GO OUTSIDE AND GRAB EVERY ITEM OUTSIDE OF THE SHIP!” the captain yelled.

I went outside and grabbed the soft chair that I was sitting on earlier. I held onto the pole of the ship with a tight grip as if it was my favorite toy. A couple minutes later, all of the items on the outside deck were brought inside quickly. The captain rushed over to the radio and quickly contacted the control tower for assistance.

“H-H-Hello…,” the captain said fearfully.

He heard a static and then there was nothing. The line went blank.

“Oh no” the captain whispered underneath his breath.

A couple minutes later, we were right underneath the cloud. I looked up and saw that it was rotating and that there was a small eye in the center of it.

“GUYS, GUYS!” I started to panic. “I THINK WE ARE IN THE MIDDLE OF A HURRICANE!”

We all gasped in unison. My chest started to feel tight and my heart felt as if it disconnected from me. Then, in an instant, the rain started to bucket down on us and pour down on us at a surprising rate. The three scruffy men were the first to react and turned on the wipers at full speed. A clap of thunder shook the entire ship. The captain bent over to check the weather radar again and it was completely useless. The arms of the ocean increased their height and their grasp towards my body. I went over to check on the controls and suddenly the lights started to flicker.

“NO, we can’t lose electricity again,” I exclaimed.

“Think positively, everything will be alright,” the lieutenant reassured everybody. Just as the lieutenant reassured everybody, my worst fear occurred. In an instant, everything became quiet. There was a warning on the display that read: Complete Engine Failure.

“OH NO, WE ARE DEAD,” the captain screamed.

I sat down on the chair, captivated by fear and a feeling of anguish. The captain quickly reached for the radio and held it with his full grip and his full intention that everybody would get out alive out of this situation.

“HELLO, HELLO.” “WE ARE STUCK IN A HURRICANE AND WE HAVE LOST ALL ENGINE POWER.”

It was a waste of energy. There was no reply. The captain slammed the radio towards the wall with anger and frustration. The lieutenant pulled out his walkie-talkie and screamed into it as well. It was of no use. Afterwards, the electricity cut out for the second time. “Well, this is just great,” the captain said with a harsh tone.

Then, the captain told me to try to reset the weather radar and turn it back on. I went over to the controls and held down the reset button for what felt like ages. I lifted my finger back up and tried again. This time the control unit vibrated and reset successfully. I went into the weather map and this time it was able to register that we were in a storm.

“Guys, the weather radar started working this time,” I hollered out at everybody. They all gave me a quick thumbs-up.

“Antonio, see if you can find an alternate way to escape the storm and get around it,” the captain demanded.

I quickly zoomed out and started to tremble in fear.

“Guys, it looks like we are pretty much fully captivated by this storm,” I said. “I will wait for a little bit of time and try again to see if there is an alternate route.” “Okay,” they all said in unison. I sat down on the chair in complete silence and thought of the moon. Could it have given me this bad omen for a reason? Was I fated to die in this cold, barren ocean? What would my grandma think of me? I mouthed off and fell asleep. After what seemed like an eternity, both the captain and lieutenant slapped me and woke me up with a jolt.

“HELLO, HELLO KID, this is not the time to fall asleep,” the captain screamed at me harshly.

I quickly lunged to the weather radar and looked for alternate routes like I was expected to. This time I got lucky.

“EVERYBODY, I FOUND AN ALTERNATE ROUTE,” I screamed with joy. I showed the captain the radar and there was a big open spot that we could use to get around the hurricane and towards freedom.

“Okay, this is good, but we need to make a really sharp left turn to get there and we don’t have any engines working at the current moment,” the captain mentioned. The lieutenant tried to quickly turn off the engine levers and turn them back on again, but there was no use. The precipitation was through the roof. It felt as if the droplets of water were coming through the tightly stuck together windshield. Then, the ship started to rock back and forth violently. The arm of the ocean managed to reach over and grab our windshield and break down the wipers. Consequently, the ship pitched up about thirty degrees. It felt as if the movie Titanic was repeating itself again.

“DANG, even the Titanic didn’t have such a pessimistic approach,” I exclaimed. The arms settled down for a couple minutes after that and the electricity went back on. The captain hastily ran towards the radio. There were a couple of buzzes and statics. A sound roared to life. “How….help… you?”

“HELLO, HELLO,” we all cried in excitement.

“WE ARE CURRENTLY STUCK IN A HURRICANE AND LOST ALL ENGINE POWER,” screamed the captain.

“Okay, let me pull up your location on the radar quickly.”

Everything was silent for about thirty seconds. Then, the radio started speaking at us again.

“Okay, it looks like you guys are just entering the dark energy of a Category 5 Hurricane.” “You are about 150 miles from the coast of New Orleans.” “Let me confirm… you guys said that your engines have failed?”

“YES,” we all screamed in unison.

“Okay, in that case I am going to be sending some helicopters and backup emergency vehicles to your location instantly.”

“Thank you for your help,” the captain said proudly.

We all inhaled deeply and breathed out a sigh of relief. I sat in my chair and looked out at the sky.

**************

I was gotten up by the sound of something whirring above our ship. The lieutenant opened the sunroof and saw the helicopter whirring above us. The wind and the rain slapped past my cheek and whispered to all of us that we would not be so lucky next time. One of the people in the helicopter dropped a rope and we all climbed consecutively into the helicopter.

The assistant onboard hastily closed the door once we were all in. A flash of lightning struck the ship below us and put a hole. Then, it slowly sank. The captain’s eyes filled with tears. The captain gave me a tight hug and took me in close. He squeezed together my lungs and it felt as if they stopped working. I looked down from the helicopter at the ocean’s arms. They felt disappointed in us as well. They stared at us helplessly. I opened my phone and saw two messages. Antonio, we are going to be evacuating our house because of Hurricane Katrina. Then, they sent me an address to the new location. In the meantime, the helicopter kept whipping through the air at a breakneck speed. I set back into the soft cushions of the helicopter for a second and closed my eyes. My peace was disturbed by a splash of water in my face. “Antonio, honey, wake up.”

I fearfully opened my eyes and jumped off my bed as I saw my mom and dad waving at me.

“Oh shoot, the whole thing was a nightmare,” I said fearfully.

I rubbed my eyes and joined everybody at the breakfast table. My dad quickly turned on the TV and turned on the first news channel he saw. The TV blared: Hurricane Katrina has caused over 1,800 fatalities and over $125 billion dollars in damage. I closed my eyes and thought to myself that I have done a good job escaping this captivating experience.

I look around with my body engulfed in a salty liquid known as sweat hoping the teacher doesn’t call my name. She looks straight in my eyes and refuses to gaze away saying “Mark, will you answer this question?” I start to say random words and think to myself that I’m stupid for being on my phone in class and suddenly the bell rings like a heavenly blessing from God and I’m able to escape without answering the question. I meet up with my best friend Lucky and my other friend Chase near the hallway as we talk about a serious matter involving water. Chase starts talking and says “did you guys hear that Lake Slopp is overflowing and will likely flood the school” to which Lucky responds with “You are just trying to get out of school, scare me, or both.”

If you don’t know, Lake Slopp named after famous Gold Farmer Johnny Slopp is almost right next to our school and if it is overflowing like Chase says then it could flood our school and Lucky could die since he somehow can’t swim. At the moment we stop talking, Karly and Marlin who are also in our friend group walk right by us and Marlin gives Chase a look we’ve all seen before. Marlin has a crush on Chase but hasn’t admitted it, she also left the dance just before Chase had the chance to ask her out; Chase only cares about two things which are Parkour and those stupid mini enchiladas which everyone except him finds putrid. Marlin turns around and says “hi” to Chase and Chase tries to respond but we are interrupted by a huge thunderous boom and we look outside seeing heavy rain everywhere. The reactions to the far-fetched weather were mixed, Lucky gulps while Marlin and Chase yelp in excitement while me and Karly just act like nothing happened. We look up at the clock and realize we need to go to our separate classes and disperse like pigeons in a park.

Classes fly by very quickly despite the continuous pattering of the rain and eventually we are waiting to be dismissed so we can go home. Lucky and Chase are talking just before we hear a red blare flash on the alarm and the loudspeaker says “Lake Slopp has over flooded and water has gotten into the school which is why buses can’t come so everyone please evacuate to the main entrance.” Lucky starts freaking out and starts running while Chase casually walks with everyone else and we meet Karly who says “Guys, I can’t find Marlin anywhere in the school.” Chase now starts freaking out as we decide not to go to the entrance yet and try to find Marlin somewhere.

We run to every classroom on every floor until Karly finally finds Marlin listening to songs on her headphones on the fourth floor which makes sense about why she couldn’t hear the announcement.

Marlin takes off her headphones and says “what up” and is going to talk more before Karly interrupts her by saying “the school is flooding, we need to go” which Marlin responds with her usual “wait, what? How? Huh?” We start racing down the stairs but it’s too late as we see all the students leaving in a hurry out the window. We still go down to the 1st floor for hope but are blocked when the water has already covered two feet of the school with more incoming. Chase, Marlin, and I start to discuss what to do next while Karly and Lucky freak out that they’re gonna die. Chase says “we should just make a break for it,” Marlin says “You're crazy, look how much they’re already freaking out; I suggest we call for help,” and I say “isn’t there an exit on the 3rd floor because we should go there.”

After five minutes of discussion, we see that the water has blocked the exit too much so we decide to go with mine and Marlin’s plan. Marlin takes her phone and calls emergency assistance but gets no cell service while we all start running up the stairs going back to check for any potential exits. However, just as we are about to reach the third floor, Lucky sprains his ankle and starts screaming in agony; we all look at each other, and Marlin who, by the way is studying for a medical degree, says “He sprained his ankle, someone needs to get him a short ankle brace down in Mrs. Mooner’s room.” Karly is immediately ruled out since she can’t swim, so me and Chase start bickering about who will risk drowning. Chase and I decide to do Rock, Paper, Scissors and, as usual, my luck fails me as I lose and have to go down to get a short ankle brace.

I walk down carrying a pencil in my hands for self-defense from the water. But just as I’m about to reach the 2nd floor, I forget what room number I’m supposed to go and hurriedly start racing to all the rooms on floor 2. It takes me about 10 minutes before I realize Mrs. Mooner’s room is on floor 4 and I walk back up and to my surprise Lucky already has the brace attached to him and Marlin and Chase are looking at me just shaking their heads. Marlin just blankly stares into my soul and says “thank god you’re here we thought you were lost” and we all decide to concoct another plan which is to reach a nearby vent and escape into the shadows. But then just when we initiate the plan, we notice that Karly isn’t here and we all start looking around. We find Karly barfing heavily in the bathroom and lift her out, Marlin says it’s food poisoning probably from those dastardly enchiladas the school cooks. We all start sweating as we know that no one is here to help Karly and so we decide to race to the third floor to get to that vent.

We run with our fist clenched going up the stairs and reaching the third floor. Chase and Marlin begin to strategize while Lucky carries Karly and I start looking for the vent. Chase looks at me and says “Mark, go find the vents, we’ll try and stop the water coming up to the floor” and I start to leave but just when I’m about to embark on the journey something strange happens. Karly starts groaning and Lucky says “we need to help her/treat her because we can’t just leave her here to die.” I say to Marlin “where’s the nurse’s office, I need to find the first aid-kit” but shockingly Marlin says “you can’t get it.” I scream very rashly at Marlin “WHAT FLOOR IS IT” and Marlin coolly responds with “it’s on the first floor.” I gulp knowing the fate which meets me at the first floor and mutter silently “sorry” but my mind is made up, I tell Marlin “ Ok, I’m going down and getting the first aid-kit.” Marlin and Chase try to stop me but it’s no use, you can’t stop me when I’ve made up my mind and I will make sure no man or woman is left behind. I start going down the stairs and hear noises of the rumbling and unforgiving water which has now flooded the entire floor all the way up to the ceiling. I grumble and start to panic but I remember that Karly needs me and I will save her. My mind spins like a top and my brain comes up with millions of possibilities of how to jump in.

Eventually I decide to go with the casual dive plunging right into the water, the water tries to push and strangle me but I manage to keep swimming. I eventually sneaked into the nurse’s office thanks to the door being open and climbed to a nearby vent which barely has any water. The water groans and is in disbelief that I made it to the nurse's office, I let out a huge sigh of relief and scream tumultuously like a toddler who got his favorite toy at Christmas. I ponder my existence for five minutes and then jump back down into the water, I look for the first aid-kit and find it. I start to make a wild dash– sorry– swim towards the exit and get out but I find myself gasping for breath. I desperately try to get to the second floor but my arms give up on me and I can’t feel my legs and get trapped in the water where I finally see the unwelcoming hands of death. I start to get slightly unconscious and my life and eyes start slipping away as I go to sleep permanently. But then just as I'm about to die, I see an angel's hand come out of nowhere and I grab it. The angel who was just Marlin says “We need to go, Karly is slipping away” and we hurry racing back to where everyone is and to our shock, we see Lucky curled up like an armadillo having what can only be described as a severe panic attack. I race over to help Chase contain Lucky from panicking too much and give him his stress toy while Marlin uses the first aid kit to check Karly and gasps in utter shock, Chase and I turn around and we realize why Marlin was gasping.

When Lucky realizes what’s happening, his chew toy makes a squeaky thump when it hits the cold, rough, and hard ground. We all somberly look at Karly who has a huge gash in her stomach and she’s bleeding out. Marlin quickly says in a monotone voice “give me the large band aid, I’ll zip her up and make sure not too much blood is lost.” We all know what happens when Marlin’s voice goes monotone, bad things happen but luckily the band-aid works and contains Karly’s blood loss. Karly however now needs food so once again I’m elected involuntarily to go down to the drenched vending machine with money and buy some of Lolo’s animal crackers. Before I leave though, I look at the clock whose hands mock me as it’s only been one and a half hours since we’ve been stuck in this mind-numbing situation and I start to laugh hysterically. My laughs just keep on going despite Chase’s best attempts by snapping me out of it and eventually my eyes darken and the darkness closes in. I’m able to wake myself out of it as I say to Chase “sorry for going into psychopath mode there” and Chase responds with “It’s ok, now go get food for Karly.”

I realized that was my task all along and trotted silently for another swimming lesson to get food. I once again belly flop right into the smirking face of the ocean and start swimming as fast as I can to the vending machines. I begin to get close to the ultimate goal and then suddenly, I feel like I got shot and a dark black void has just opened into my chest. Suddenly my legs stop working ever so close to the vending machine and I plunge touching the cold slippery floor with my nose trying desperately to keep breathing. I yell for help but all that does is just make more salty water from Lake Slopp come gushing

into my mouth and finally my legs get charged up again and I start to get all the way back up. I climb the vending machine like a wild monkey and climb all the way up to a safe crease in the corner which has no water so I can actually breathe because I don’t want to go to the clouds for now. I am able to reach down and get Lolo’s animal crackers for Karly as I start swimming back to the stairs casually ignoring what just transpired a minute ago.

Marlin greets me when I bring Karly her crackers and I look at her and say “where’s Lucky” and she nervously says “h-he left to go ge-get drinks.” I look at her dubiously and before I am able to speak another word, I hear a huge cry and a shattering of glass sounds in the bathroom. I bolt over to the bathroom and see that Lucky’s hands are bleeding heavily while Chase is trying to muffle him from speaking. Chase sees me and drops Lucky on the floor who is still screaming and says “ Oh cru- I mean hi!.” I look over at him shell shocked and trying to regain my speech when the words finally abscond my lips “What in the hell is going on over here, someone needs to explain this camaraderie unless you want me to make you.” Chase and Marlin explain that Lucky got a panic attack and he previously flushed his inhaler so we had to calm him down. I reply with “that’s a ridiculous excuse but ok I g-guess” and Marlin replies with “we need to find the vent NOW and we also have to figure out what to do with him” as she points to Lucky. Lucky responds with “we’re all gonna die, don’t you guys see that you big morons?” Marlin sighs and we start going down one floor to see an opening for the vent, Karly whose blood loss has stopped suddenly halts and her mind churns like clockwork realizing something which she had missed earlier.

Karly starts shuddering with absolute fear and turns around looking at everyone and says “The floors are blocked and we won’t be able to reach the vents.” Marlin slowly takes a peek at the next floor and realizes that the water has already engulfed pretty much the entire floor. Chase comes up with an idea which is to wait for 1 hour and then get ready to embark on the tough and watery journey to escape. We sit around a table eating fruit snacks and drinking the very water which might end us, we start articulating about our adventures and experiences throughout our life. Lucky is supposed to go first but he’s sleeping and we don’t wanna disturb him; Karly immediately starts talking about her family and her participation with them. Karly says, “I grew up in a family of 8 but 3 died at young age because of miscarriages and premature deaths. My 9 year old brother died in front of my eyes when I was just 4.”

Chase interrupts her and says, “What, why did he die?” Marlin slapped Chase on the shoulder but Karly responded with “It’s ok Marlin, he drowned and that’s why I’m scared of water because I just… just can’t LOSE SOMEONE CLOSE TO ME AGAIN BECAUSE OF WATER.” We all looked at her soberly and dejectedly because we all just thought that Karly can’t swim because she doesn’t want to but the real reason was heartbreaking and I’m sure I saw Marlin shed a few tears. Marlin wipes her eyes with her hands and starts talking about her story, she says “you guys still haven’t known why I ran out of the middle of the dance and I am ready to share it as it probably is my final moments.” We all nod thinking it’s a sad story but instead it’s the opposite, Marlin says “I actually got a call just minutes before the dance and it was from my mom telling me that I got 97% on my finals.” We keep gesturing her to go on and Marlin advances the story by saying “my mom had promised me the new oPhone 16 which as you all know I’d wanted for nearly 1 year so I ran out and got the oPhone, sorry Chase.” We all start laughing hysterically well knowing it might be our last time laughing and the laughs continue for 2 minutes until an Eerie silence sets.

Realization of death creeps in and Chase starts talking quietly “I can’t believe it’s all gonna be over, just like that.” We look at each other and the moment we stop talking we hear a voice saying “Cmon, you Debbie downers we’ll get out of here.” We turn around and see Lucky smiling and we all greet him saying “You're up or we need to figure out a plan and you're our main strategist.” Lucky unveils a plan which starts out with taking off our hoodies and we all reluctantly agree to this demand. He says “guys we are going to take off our backpacks and use them as a canoe while our hoodies are gonna be the paddles.” This analogy sparks us and we start to make our hoodies into the shape of a canoe paddle. The plan is to use the “canoe” and get all the way to locker 367, by then we need to climb up the lockers and get into the vent to escape all the way out of the school.

Lucky adds on to the plan by saying “does anyone have any problems with this” and Chase replies with “No, we need to go before we die because someone had problems with your plan.” Everyone finishes their “canoe” and we start to paddle all the way to Locker 367 which takes nearly 5 minutes via walk and we’re going way slower than walking. A rough wave interjects our path and almost pushes me and Marlin off of our separate canoes; Karly gets a little bit impatient and tries to hurry the process by using her hands and legs to push the canoe as well. Karly lets out a quiet yelp when she nearly gets sucked into the water because of it and we see Locker 330 which is so close to the end of our path.

We look behind us and realize that there’s not turning back now and we are able to reach locker 350. We all throw our fists in the air and let out a big whoop as we all grab on to the locker handle. The handle is slippery and my hand slips out and before I can adjust my hand to the handle, the rough and unwelcoming waves take me away. Marlin and Chase both shriek “OH NO MARK” while Lucky tells me “end, push back.” I start to drift into the nothingness leaving my friends behind wondering what Lucky meant by his words. I realize that Lucky told me to wait until you reach the emergency exit so you can push back and the tide of the water will give me another chance to get back to Locker 367. I just wait impatiently twiddling my thumbs anticipating another opportunity to arise. The waves hit my backpack and I get thrown right into the exit door, my nose smushes and I groan heavily.

I realize my backpack is still far behind me so I cling on to the door and leap onto my backpack. My legs touch the exit door and I release them with as much force as I can muster leaving the door behind and going all the way back to locker 367. I finally reach the locker again and I see Karly, Marlin, and Chase all greeting me while Lucky is about to climb to the top of the locker. Lucky says “Can I have a little bit of help here” and Chase helps him by trying to push him up the vent. Lucky goes right into the vent and we hear a muffled voice saying “Guys it’s safe, you guys should get in here.” Karly starts moving up the vent but then she slips right into the unforgiving water. Chase and I dive right in to help her but it’s too late, her body is far in the deep water; we see her struggling to come up, make her legs work, but then her body falls right into the pit of hydrogen and oxygen. Marlin starts crying while Chase stares at the water unable to comprehend what just happened in front of his eyes.

Lucky gazes at us and says, “There’s no point in living anymore, after she came in the vent I was gonna confess my love to her, but like Romeo and Juliet our love story fell incomplete.” Chase says in a monotone voice “Lucky I’m coming up now” but Lucky says “I’m going down now” as he willingly jumps into the water accepting his fate. Chase jumps into the water and holds Lucky’s hand refusing to let go but Lucky kicks him in the gut and Chase has to release him. Marlin starts climbing up immediately ignoring the tragedy which just happened and reaches the vent with ease. Chase is still frozen like a statue over Lucky’s untimely death but I snap him out of it telling him “Chase, it’s time to go up.”

Chase slowly climbs up with his eyes lifeless and gets into the vent, looks at me and says “We’re gonna go to the exit right now, can you climb up without needing help” to which I reply with “Yes.” Chase and Marlin then disappear from my perspective, I start climbing up the locker to the vent. I touch the combination lock and my left hand touches the vent while my right hand helps me stay on balance. I hear a whisper calling to me saying “Lucky died because of you” so I viciously yell “NO” but then my right hand and leg slips. I am able to hang on to the vent with one hand and I can feel the devil preparing to greet me. I yell out “HELP” but I know no one can hear me and I make one final push to get into the vent but then… “Anthony! Anthony, come downstairs!” “I’ve prepared dinner for you, it’s your favorite Beef Burritos.”

I look up and yell “coming mom!” I walk down the flight of stairs and greet my mom at the dinner table saying “Hi mom, can you please hand me the burrito.” Mom stares at me blankly and says “You were reading that book again weren’t you?” “What’s the name of that book anyways, oh right Engulfed.” I respond with “What can I say, I love that book” to which my mom says “you already know the ending like 500 times.” She adds on to the sentence saying “These kids get stuck during a flood and they have to escape before they drown.” I reply “I know the plot mom” to which Mom responds with “anyways, did you do your homework”. I slightly pause but then respond to the question with “Yeah I did.” I then start chomping at the burritos hoping that my mom doesn’t capture my lie. I smile knowing how much I love the book Engulfed.

Jordan looked out the car window admiring the variations of green flashing by the car. Dawn was approaching slowly, dancing on the trees’ leaves and branches. She fought sleep as her eyelids got heavier and heavier. The white noise of the car was getting to her. She glanced at the rearview mirror and made brief eye contact with the driver. She quickly looked back out the window.

“Remind me, Jordan, where are you from?” said Maria, the driver's wife.

“I’m from North Dakota,” said Jordan.

Maria chuckled. “Gosh, you don’t see many mountains in North Dakota. Brian and I have been to Colorado many times. Never gets old.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” Brian said, smiling at his wife for a brief moment. Jordan gave a polite laugh and resumed looking out the window. She wondered about Noah and how he was doing. Did she make the right choice?

“I thought we were going on this vacation to spend time together,” Jordan said. Noah leaned against the door frame, hands in his jeans pockets. “Let me remind you, Danny invited me to come visit him. I thought you would enjoy coming along with me since you love Colorado.”

“Why can’t I hang out with Danny, too?” she said.

“Danny doesn’t know you,” he said.

“He can get to know me. You’ve told him about me, haven’t you?”

“Yes, I’ve told him, and yes, he can, but not tonight. I haven’t seen him since we graduated high school,” he threw on a sweatshirt. “We’ll spend time together, you and I, later, okay?”

She sat on the bed, her eyes fixed on his. “Can I please come with you?”

“No, I’ll be back later,” Noah said, and walked out the door before Jordan could protest. She flopped on the bed, recalling countless other times where he’d overpowered her. In college, he would gripe about how inadequate her visits with him were, making her feel guilty for spending time with her family instead of him. She would drive to his campus to surprise him only to find that he was with his family back home or out with friends in the neighboring city. When they did hang out, he would pick on and tease her about getting excited about shops, how long she took getting ready in the morning and how she would wolf down her meals. He would wrap it up with an I’m joking and disregard if he pierced her heart with shards of glass. It was enough to make her apologize for her naive behavior in hopes it would turn his mood around. Jordan forced herself out of bed and into town. The sun was setting, displaying the buildings in an orange glow. She sat on a bench, listening to the gasps and cackles of the nearby tourists, shop bells ringing at an entrance or exit and silverware clinking delicately in the distance. When she returned to her airbnb, she found Noah sitting on the front step. “Where have you been?” Noah said, jolting up and getting in her face.

“I was in town watching the tourists,” Jordan said, unlocking the door for both of them. Noah scoffed and stepped past her. He crashed onto the bed. “I’m surprised you left the room at all,” Noah said, pulling out his phone.

Jordan crept into the room and laid on the bed next to him. She wrapped her arm around him but her embrace was not reciprocated. She asked him questions about his night which only retrieved single-word responses. Noah sighed and kept his phone in front of his face. Jordan dragged her arm off his body. They laid in silence that slowly swallowed the room.

Jordan woke up in the car which was parked in front of an old diner. Maria and Brian were discussing their next destination with a large, yellowed map of the United States. Empty cups of coffee sat in front of each of them. Brian requested Maria to wave over the waitress for the coffee pot and she kindly obliged, teasing him that he would need the extra caffeine for his double shift.

“Ma’am, I drove the last four hours because, one, I love you and, two, because you need sleep. It was not for you to talk to Jordan,” Brain said in his best western accent, attempting to make Maria laugh.

“I got distracted, plus, I needed to figure out if she was going to murder us for our belongings. We are a rich, retired couple after all,” Maria took a sip of her coffee mimicking his accent.

“I’ll agree with you on the retired couple but rich?” Brian put an arm around her and kissed her cheek. “We might need to rob a bank first.”

Maria nodded, returning the kiss. She spotted Jordan and invited her over with a warm good morning. As they waited for breakfast, Jordan couldn’t help but admire how Maria and Brian communicated with each other. It was gentle and kind. A few chuckles and playful shoves here and there. They were open and honest with each other. Not pushy, judgmental, or harsh.

They finished breakfast and headed back onto the road. They were about a day away from their destination. Brian and Maria played music from the 80’s and sang with their whole heart, not caring if it was out of tune. A song came on reminding Jordan of Noah. It made her think back to the morning she left, when she first met Maria and Brian.

The dim night light kept Jordan company as she draped a cold washcloth over her puffy face. She glanced at the clock: 4:51 am. She stared at the mirror's reflection, disassociated by the stranger in the mirror. As if being under water, the reflection was broken and distorted. Her eyes dashed back and forth from its shoulders, chest and face, desperately trying to recognize the body. The sound of a car hood slammed followed by a distant cheer, breaking her trance. She tiptoed to the window and peered at the husband and wife holding each other in an embrace.

Jordan found herself tossing her belongings into her suitcase and darting out the door towards the couple through the mist. She knew it was a long shot to hitchhike, but she somehow managed to tag along. In the car, she learned their names were Brian and Maria who were on a dream road trip to Oregon. They drove a used Subaru Forester with doors and ceiling hidden by sun-worn stickers. Their car's dash was covered by pictures of family and friends. The trunk was packed with camping supplies that rattled against one another. Their kind and outgoing personalities made it hard for Jordan to stay quiet. She was not the one to start up a conversation with strangers but at this moment, she felt it was right.

Over the course of the trip, she told them stories about college and high school, how she loved playing soccer since she was a kid, the countless trips she took to see her grandma and grandpa, how her mother would excuse her from school, early, on Fridays, to spend time at the mall and end the night at the movie theater with her family. She told them about her friends and how she met Noah.

“When Noah and I started college, we thought we would try long distance,” she smiled, reminiscing about their relationship. “It worked but,” she paused, unsure of what to share next.

She mentioned how he would tease her and dismissed it quickly. The secret of why she hitchhiked with them and what he had done the night before brewed inside of her mind. They asked her about Noah, not meaning to poke and prod. The dam burst, letting a sea of Jordan's toxic relationship fill the car and overflow out the windows. She apologized again and again as if it would collect the water and pull it back behind the dam. A stiff silence hung in the air. Finally, Brian spoke.

“It’s not your fault,” he said, giving her a soft smile. “I promise.”

Jordan nodded and hid her face as snot ran from her nose. She tried to compose herself but the raging river, which was far over due, kept flowing. It raged for a couple of days and slowly turned into a quiet river. It wasn’t going away as Jordan hoped but it would always wind and flow in the back of her mind.

The road weaved between the hills of Oregon, hiding and revealing the ocean. They rolled the windows down and let the cool, ocean air consume them. They stopped on the side of the road to stretch their sore limbs and peer over the edge of the rail guard. The rail was plastered with graffiti but the one that stood out to Jordan the most was I’m glad you made it.

There is comfort in simple machines. The way cogs click together in perfect sync, the way a joint bends and snaps into place. There is nothing more beautiful to me than that. I can pick apart each piece. It’s only once those pieces have something beneath the surface that I struggle.

At the moment, I am standing on the platform of an old train station. Rickety trains pass by, painted in rust and scarred by age. Much like us. It’s common around here to have a metal arm or leg. Some do it for beauty, some for efficiency. As for me, I am entirely flesh and blood. People are often surprised by that. Most mechanics like to experiment on themselves, testing out the newest tricks at their disposal. They can turn themselves into a masterpiece of machinery. My masterpiece is sitting right beside me, tugging on my sleeve.

“Ami, look at those clouds,” Phoebe says. The shades of gray and white reflect off her metallic cheeks. “D’ya think it’s gonna rain soon?”

I frown. “We’d better find a shaded seat.”

She tilts her head at me, tucking a few strands of her synthetic blue hair behind her ear. “But I’ve never been out in the rain before. C’mon, it’ll be fun.”

“It will be fun until we’re drenched, and then we’ll need to change clothes.”

“Maybe, but just think. Who knows when we’ll be out again like this? This might be our last chance.”

I pause, staring deep into her eyes. Her pupils dilate back at me, a feature I was proud to install, but was now being used against me. Curse that doe-eyed stare.

I sigh. “Alright. We’ve got a few minutes before the train, so if it rains—“

She jumps up, hugging me tightly. At first I tense, but slowly, I squeeze back. Just then, a drop lands on my skin. Phoebe opens her palms, and lifts her head to the sky. On a normal day, I might have felt a secondhand joy at seeing her so happy. I might have smiled and even joined her. But today, I only feel guilt. Her words ring hollow in my ears. This might be our last chance.

Our train compartment certainly isn’t the most luxurious, but we have it to ourselves. Despite the extra cost a private car has, it’s worth it to get some privacy. Especially now that our clothes are doused in water. I flip my wrist over, glancing at the time. Still on schedule to meet the customer. Across from me, Phoebe places her suitcase on the ground, flipping it open. “Don’t worry, I packed my extra uniform here. I came prepared, like you tell me to be.”

I pull the curtains closed. “Well, change into it quickly, so I can—“

“Nope.”

I pause. “Nope?”

She shakes her head, a cheeky smile spreading across her face. “Nope. I’ve got a better idea.” With a flourish, she pulls something out of the suitcase.

A dress. It’s a beautiful shade of dark blue, a color that Phoebe’s always loved (her hair is the same shade for that reason.) The sleeves, collar, and hem of the skirt are lined with delicate lace. It’s frilly and dainty, and stood in complete contrast to our regular raggedy clothes, the small train compartment we sat in. Phoebe holds it against her chest, sliding her other hand down the fabric. “Remember this?”

I couldn’t forget. I’d only seen it once before, the night it was first purchased. That week in our little repair shop, we’d had a good string of wealthy customers. For once, indulgence was an option. I didn’t take it, of course. Saving the money was the logical choice, but Phoebe insisted on a night on the town. We’d wandered around, aimless. At least, that’s how I felt it was. She reminds me often how much she enjoyed the sights, the sounds of the town that night. We walked by a tailor’s shop, and she stuck her face against the glass. Looking at the colorful fabrics, the styles of the dresses. Haven’t you ever seen anything so beautiful? She whispered, entranced. When I’m honest with myself, I know the answer is no. Beauty isn’t something that crosses my mind much. And yet, it crosses hers.

I gave her some of my planned savings money that night and told her to buy something nice for herself. It was strange to see so much light in those eyes. I didn’t design them that way.

When she returned to our shop later that night, she quickly folded the dress up, insisting she only show me how it looks on our next night out.

Right now, she’s slipping the dress on. My eyes wander to her bag. It’s messy, unorganized. But in the midst of the haphazard clothing and cleaning supplies and spare screws for emergency repairs is a rectangular box I don’t recognize. A tag sticks out from underneath the bow: For Amelia.

I raise an eyebrow and slowly remove the wrapping paper. Phoebe’s head jerks back, and she scrambles over. “Y-you weren’t supposed to see that yet,” she says hurriedly.

“See what? What’s in here?”

“I, um… Dang it, I was s’posed to give it to you later.” She sighs defeatedly. “But I guess there’s no better time than the present.” She sits up straighter, taking in a deep breath. “Alright, open it up. I’m ready.”

Each movement I make as I pull the ribbon off is slow, hesitant. Peripherally, Phoebe’s hands clench. I’m half expecting something to jump out at me, something to explode the split second I lift the lid. But nothing happens. It’s only a mass of gray fabric, folded neatly. I release the breath I didn’t realize I was holding, and lift it up. Of all the things I was expecting, a dress wasn’t one of them. I send a wide-eyed look at Phoebe, and it occurs to me that this isn’t just any dress, but it’s identical to the one she’s wearing, separated only by the color.

“Phoebe, I—“

“Is the color okay? I didn’t know which color you’d like because you’re not really a huge fan of colors in general,” She’s wringing her hands together. “So I figured ‘hey, gray’s not super colorful, maybe she’ll like that,’ but now I’m wondering if I should’ve gotten you the blue one. Heck, I’m definitely overthinking this, I should just—“

“Phoebe.” I place my hand on her arm, and she stops.

There’s a pause as she stares into me. “Do you like it?” Her voice is quiet. Fragile.

My face is getting warm. “Well, of course, but how— I mean, I don’t understand why—“ My mouth opens and closes without sound as I flounder, trying to find the right words. “How did you even afford this? If I’d have known you wanted to get a gift, I would have given you a little more.”

Phoebe stares at me for a few seconds, before breaking into laughter. “That’s the question you went with?” She shakes her head. “Ami, you’re so logical. But, to answer your question, I guess your penny-pinching ways rubbed off on me.”

I look down at the dress, running the fabric through my fingers. “You don’t have to put it on right now,” she says. “Even just keeping it would be enough for me.” I nod, giving up on words altogether.

Outside, the train whistle blows. Shadows begin to shift as the train rumbles to life. Phoebe opens the curtains. After placing my dress in my bag, I join her in staring out of it.

We watch as the train platform shrinks into the horizon. “You haven’t told me where we’re going,” she says. I fumble with the ticket stubs in my pocket.

Of course I had made a point of it, not telling her. The most I had disclosed was the fact that we were here for business, and I needed her to come with me. Any answer more specific, no matter how vague, would only lead to more questions. Questions which would inch closer to the cruel truth of the destination. So I put it off. I can hold the truth back, just long enough to savor our last hours together. “We’ll see,” I respond. I’m tense as I wait for her to pursue a real answer, but she doesn’t. She only stares into the distance, watching the station finally fade from view.

Phoebe spends much of the ride looking out the window. We pass through familiar towns, forests and tunnels, over towering cliffs and beside winding rivers. At some points it begins to rain again, droplets pounding like a drum against the steel roof of our train car. I spend those times wondering how it feels to have water crash against metal skin. I wonder if it’s worth the smile Phoebe had given it.

Before long, we find ourselves at our destination: A city where the lights don’t flicker, where the roads are not painted with cracks. Every metal limb I see is polished to the point of reflection. There is no rust. I’m well aware that I don’t fit into the pristine surroundings, despite making a point to clean my uniform before we departed. Phoebe’s not far behind me, dress bobbing as she steps onto the platform. I can’t help the pang in my chest watching her. She looks beautiful here, surrounded by the lights of the city.

I force my eyes away by checking my watch. “We should hurry. The customer’s waiting.”

The buyer’s address was close enough to not be worth the carriage fare, but still a decent distance away from the station. At first, I move ahead for the sake of getting to our destination in a timely manner. As the minutes tick away, it becomes clear that Phoebe’s trailing behind. Her gaze wanders the surroundings, but not with the same eagerness they do most days. This isn’t much to worry about, not until she averts her eyes when I look back at her.

The next quiet street we were on, I turn on my heel to look at her. “Phoebe—“

“I know why we’re here.” Phoebe looks up, eyes drilling into me. “You’re going to sell me off.”

There it was. The cruel truth, splintering into bits in front of me. How could I respond to that? What words could I possibly give to soften that blow? my silence provides cruel confirmation. I’m helpless, watching her crumble in front of me. Her hands come to her face, covering her mouth. Soon she’s shaking, clutching at her skin. On instinct, I reach a hand out. “God, I’m so sorry, I’m so—“

She recoils from me, voice rising. “I don't need you to be sorry, I need to know why.” She falters. “I thought I knew you. I thought you cared about me. I really, really did.”

“I do,” I say frantically. “I always have, and I still do.”

“Then why would you give me away?”

“Because I can’t take care of you, Phoebe. I can’t take care of you the right way, the way you deserve to be cared for.” I reach out again for her hand, and this time she doesn’t pull away. The cold touch of metal underneath my fingers stabilizes me for the moment. “I’m just a woman who fixes machines. You know how little we have, how we need to spare every cent. You deserve every opportunity, every chance to live a life worth living, and I’m not the person to give you that.”

She sighs. “But that’s not the only reason, is it?”

“It’s—“ I pause, faltering. “No, it isn’t. The truth is, you confuse me. I designed you, sure, but somewhere along the road you became something more than mechanisms, and now I’m barely equipped to understand you. The way you think, the way you feel so vividly, it’s wondrous and yet it terrifies me.” I cup her hand in my palms. “Your heart is a beautiful thing, Phoebe. You are full of dreams, full of life and wonder, full of color. But my heart, my heart is made of machines and shades of gray.

I take a step closer, putting a hand on her shoulder. “The customer is a good man, you know. He’s a wealthy man, and a kind-hearted one at that. He’ll provide you a comfortable home. And you can have as many colorful dresses as you want.”

“It wasn’t really about the dresses, Ami,” Phoebe says. “It never was.”

I look up at her. “You said they were the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen.”

She chuckles. “Well, yeah, but in the end they’re just fabric. Don’t you know why I loved that night so much? The town was beautiful and all, but it was you who made it perfect. I could’ve had all the time and money in the world, and it wouldn’t have been the same. Not without you there with me.”

We’re silent for a few moments, letting the words sink in. Everything laid out on the table, every emotion staring us back in the face. But Phoebe’s the one to break away. She looks at me with a clear vulnerability, and I stare back. The gears in my mind begin to spin, formulating a plan.

I start to tap my chin. “Okay, here’s what we’ll do. We need to visit the customer, like we planned to do.” Before her face can fall, I keep going. “As much as I’d like to skip it entirely, it wouldn’t be good business etiquette to reject his offer without talking over it with him first.”

Phoebe’s eyes widen. “Wait, what? You’re not going through with it?”

I smile. “The deal was never finalized. Plus, he was quite respectful during our conversation. He’ll understand why I’m withdrawing.”

The widest smile burst across her face. In an instant, she has her arms wrapped around me and is squeezing as tight as she can. I hug her back, resting my head on her shoulder. We hold each other for who knows how long before she pulls away. We’re still holding onto each others’ arms. “But what changed your mind?”

“I realized you mean too much to me to give away. I still don’t understand you, but I know now that I want to. I may not be able to give you the world, but I still want to try.” I squeeze gently. “And that starts tonight. Once we’re done with the appointment, we need to find a private place for me to change into that dress. Then, we’ll have another night out. Just the two of us. How does that sound?”

She beams at me. “Nothing would make me happier.”

I sat up suddenly, shocked awake by an involuntary cough. With the spasms of my chest, my mouth and throat felt splashes of liquid, tasting of metal. Blood, for sure. My vision swam, and the rapid flashing of red lights sent daggers of pain through my eyes and into my cranium, mixing with the gargantuan headache already giving me hell. The intense ringing in my ears only added to the absolute pandemonium. Overwhelmed by sensory, I eased myself back down to a lying position and shut my eyes tight.

Immediate assessment; I was definitely hurt. I needed help.

Not-so-immediate assessment; I had no recollection of anything before waking up. Not who I was. Not what I had been doing. Complete amnesia.

Taking deep, raspy breaths, I tried to calm the nerves rising from within me. I continued to lay there for a few moments longer, before I felt vibrations in the floor—footsteps—quickly approaching me. Gathering all the energy I could muster, I called out.

“Help,” I gurgled, nearly choking on more blood, “Please help me.”

The ringing in my ears began to fade, and I heard several people surround me. I could only hope they were here to assist me.

“Jesus, look what that thing did to him,” gasped a man.

“Shut up Simmers, and keep an eye out with Lambert while I tend to him. That monster might come back,” ordered a different man.

“Right,” obeyed the first man apparently called Simmers.

I heard Simmers and another person—supposedly Lambert—amble off, while the man in charge knelt down by my side. He lay a hand on my shoulder and shook me gently. “Newwals, can you hear me?”

Was that my name?

“Am I Newwals? Is that my name? Who are you? Where am I?” I croaked weakly. “Good lord kid, you’re really out of it,” the man marveled, shocked.

I tried to get up again, but the man pushed me back down gently.

“No, don’t try to get back up yet. There’s no telling how badly you’re hurt. You’ve clearly got head trauma.”

“Okay,” I relented.

“You may not remember, but I am Capt. Larrs. Your name is William Newwals, and you are part of my team, along with Simmers and Lambert. Together, we are an armed specialist unit for the government. We were sent to take care of an issue at a government laboratory, and it looks like that issue got you,” explained Capt. Larrs.

“Alright. Okay. What’s the issue?”

“Some kind of abomination. It’s running rampant in these halls. That’s what attacked you. Can you even recall what it looked like?”

I tried my best to think, but I couldn’t remember past the maelstrom of pain I woke up to. “No,” I grunted.

“I thought not,” the Captain sighed.

A sudden thump from somewhere far away captured both of our attentions. For a moment, we were both silent. Then Capt. Larrs broke the silence in a coarse whisper. “Look, son. I know you’re in pain, but we’re sitting ducks out here. You need to get up, at least for now. Open your eyes slowly, and remember to keep breathing deeply.” I did as I was told. Slowly, I opened my eyes. While the light hurt, I could now see clearly. The first thing I saw was the strong, gray eyes of the Captain. I then focused on his entire face, with his graying chevron mustache and coarse stubble on his chin. From there, I looked at the tiled ceiling above me, a large hole just above where I lay. Blinking a few times, the daggers of pain receded from my eyes.

“Good,” encouraged Capt. Larrs, “now, can you get up?”

With a pained nod, he helped me get up to a sitting, and then finally a standing position. My head pounded harder with the effort.

“That’s a good boy. Good job,” he congratulated me.

Bending down, he picked something off the ground and straightening back up, handed it to me. It was small, black, and shiny. A submachine gun.

“You’ll need this if you see it again,” he advised, “you may not remember who you are, but something tells me you haven’t forgotten how to use it. Just look at you go!” He was right. From the moment he handed the weapon to me, my hands set right to work as if they knew by heart what to do. They assessed the weapon and checked the stock. Satisfied, I slung it around my shoulder by the strap.

“Well then,” Capt. Larrs smiled, “let’s get moving.”

Unclipping a radio from his combat armor, he pressed a button and spoke into it. “Simmers? Lambert? On me. Newwals and I are ready to move.”

I heard the exact same message from my chest, and found that I too had a radio, as well as body armor exactly like the Captain’s.

“Got it, we’re closing in on you now,” reported Simmers over the radio.

In minutes, they were with us again, and we all began to move down the hallways, slowly and carefully, weapons at the ready. By the pulsating red light of the rotating emergency wall lights, I could tell that this was indeed a laboratory. Bulletin boards with countless notices or other papers could be found here and there. Doors lined the walls, the insides too dark to see.

“Maybe we can look inside these rooms and see if there’s any information on what we’re trying to kill,” I suggested.

“Good idea,” complimented the Captain, “let’s do that. But stay alert.”

We all converged on one door, and grabbing the handle, Capt. Larrs swung it open as the rest of us aimed inside. We stared into the room, the interior too dark to see. Simmers and Lambert simultaneously reached up to the right of their chests and clicked on their flashlights. Reaching up to my own chest, I found I had the same flashlight and turned it on as well. Our three beams of light converged, casting light over…

“Plants?” noted Simmers, puzzled.

Indeed, plants were found all inside the room. Some lay in pots on lab tables, others in standing or hanging planters.

All three of us stepped inside cautiously, the Captain closing the door soundlessly behind us.

“Botanists, huh,” commented Lambert, “how the hell did some botanists make a monster?”

“Well, let’s find out. Everyone, split up and see what you can find,” Captain Larrs ordered.

Obediently, we all went to a separate section of tables, searching for any documents or information. Every paper I looked at had a different plant name on it, and none of them had anything to do with a monster. After a few minutes of fruitless searching, we all reconvened. “Well, any luck?” asked the Captain.

No one replied.

“Well, let’s try another room instead,” he suggested.

Carefully, we all exited the room and tried another door. Again, we were greeted by more plants, and the absence of valuable information. We repeated this process, slowly making our way down one hallway, then another. After searching what must have been our tenth room and finding nothing, we all filed out and gathered around each other.

“Look, Captain,” Simmers began, “I doubt we’ll find anything soon by searching like this.” Captain Larrs thought for a moment. “Maybe. Do you have a better idea?” “I think we should just go after that damn monster already. We’re wasting time with our little research party,” explained Simmers.

Lambert raised an eyebrow. “You want to chase it blindly? I hate to break it to you, but we already tried that. It didn’t work out so well for Newwals over here,” he interjected, gesturing to me.

I felt my cheeks heat up in shame at the comment.

“Well, what do you think we should do?” the Captain asked me.

It sucked to admit, but Lambert was right. Though I didn’t remember it, I had faced off with the monster before. Clearly, I had lost. We were dealing with something we’ve never faced before. The best thing to do would be to find information. While it might be painstakingly slow, searching for information on the beast would be the safest course of action. “I think,” I responded, “that we should continue searching for—”

I didn’t get to finish. A noise from down the hall caused us all to focus in that direction, guns raised. It sounded like the muffled cries of a woman.

Captain Larrs whispered to us, “Keep quiet, and ease ahead slowly. Stay wary. Get ready for possible conflict”

Silently, we inched forward, up the hall. More cries emanated from ahead. Following the sounds, we turned a corner. Then we saw her. A woman slumped against the wall, wearing a lab coat soaked in blood.

“Jesus, it’s one of the scientists!” gasped Simmers, as we quickly closed the gap between us and the person. As we approached, the woman reached for us with a weak, shaking arm, speaking so softly that none of us could hear her words.

“Are you alright Ma’am?” asked Captain Larrs.

“Help…” she whimpered.

“What’s wrong?” the Captain pressed.

“It’s inside of me,” she sobbed manically, “I can’t get it out…”

“Talk to us. What's inside of you? What happened?”

The woman’s mouth moved, but her voice was too faint to hear again.

I knelt down right next to the woman and took her hand. She looked into my eyes and tried to speak, but I could only hear a fraction of what she said.

“…out”

“What’s that? I asked her softly

She leaned in closer, grabbing at my armor gently, as if trying to get a hold of something stable.

“I have to…out”

“Huh…?” I muttered, perplexed.

I felt one of her hands close around something hanging off of my waist, and looking into her eyes I saw a kind of determination that wasn’t there a second ago. When she spoke again, it was a growl as clear as day.

“I have to get it out!”

“Newwals, your pistol!” Lambert exclaimed.

Of course. I had a service pistol at my side. That’s what the woman had been after. Before I could react, she wrenched the gun from its holster at my side and pushed me back. As I fell, she put the gun to her temple. I shut my eyes as I saw her finger twitch over the trigger. But nothing happened.

Opening my eyes, I could see she was visibly shocked. Desperate even. She tried multiple times to pull the trigger, but was never able to do so.

“Thank god for safety,” Simmer remarked.

“No, the safety is off,” I breathed.

For some reason I just knew. Maybe it was a gut feeling, or perhaps my amnesia was fading, but I just knew the safety was off. For some reason, something was topping her from pulling that trigger…

“No,” she whimpered, “I’m too far gone. It won’t let me…”

“Talk to us,” Captain Larrs told the woman, shakily.

At the sound of his voice, the woman seemed to get an idea. The determination filled her eyes once more.

“If I can’t do it,” she muttered, “then you have to!”

She stood up and turned the gun from herself to us. As she did so, a peaceful smile spread across her face.

“No,” the Captain warned, “don’t do this…”

“You’ll have to kill me, or I’ll kill you,” she narrated.

Captain Larrs edged toward her very slowly with a hand outstretched.

“Please. Put the gun down and talk to us,” he pleaded.

It was then that the woman’s steely determination broke into a fit of sobs. tears began to run down her cheeks. But the tears were red. Almost like…

“Is she…crying blood?” Simmers gasped.

This shocked the woman. Eyes wide, she wiped one of the tears and stared at the smear of blood now on her hand.

“The blood tears,” she whimpered, “the change is starting…”

She then brandished the gun at all of us, suddenly full of lunacy.

“Kill me,” She screamed, “kill me now!”

The Captain took one more step towards her.

“Wait!” he called.

She trained the gun on him once more, this time with malice in her eyes. “I’ll give you to the count of three…” she warned.

This stopped Captain Larrs in his tracks. He looked like a deer caught in headlights. “One…”

“Captain…” Simmers warned.

The Captain began breathing heavily. Still, he did not move.

“Two…” continued the woman.

“W-wait just a minute now,” Captain Larrs stammered.

“Captain!” Simmers screamed.

The woman put both hands around the handle of the pistol. Her lips began to form the final word.

“Thr—“

She was cut short by a series of gunshots that sent her sprawling to her back. She did not move again. In the silence, I turned around. Simmers stood firmly, the tip of his sub-machine gun smoking. He lowered the weapon and watched as the Captain slowly turned to him. “Simmers,” Captain Larrs murmured, “I—“

“Shut up.” ordered Simmers.

The Captain’s visible surprise mirrored my own, as well as Lambert’s.

“You would have died if it hadn’t been for me,” Simmers explained.

“Now, Simmers,” began Captain Larrs.

Simmers’ faces grew deep red. He growled, “No! Don’t ‘Now, Simmers,’ me! You couldn’t even move! She would have shot you, and all because you froze up.”

The Captain looked ashamed. Simmers continued his assault.

“How do we know you won’t freeze up again? It could cost us our lives. I think you’re unfit to lead us.”

“Simmers, hold on a second,” piped up Lambert, “Let’s just think about this for a—“ Simmers cut him off.

“No, screw you Lambert! You’ve always been the Captain’s dog. His loyal right hand man. If you weren’t such a yes-man, you’d see it too! Because of him, we were almost left with one man dead, and a damn amnesiac,” he ranted, gesturing towards me

An amnesiac? That’s all I was to him? Feeling the anger rising in my chest, I stood up and pointed at him.

“Hey, what the hell! I’m not some damsel in distress,” I rasped, “I’m not a defenseless child.”

Simmers wheeled around to face me.

“Oh yeah? What do you call that whole ‘I forgot I had a pistol’ thing that just happened? Shit, you couldn’t even get a shot off on that monster we’re supposed to be hunting. You’re a downright liability.”

My eyes narrowed and I gritted my teeth.

“Wanna bet?”

He stormed right up close to me, his face in mine. I could feel the bursts of heat from his ragged breaths. He poked a forceful finger at my chest.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked threateningly.

I pushed him back aggressively.

“I might not have been able to take the monster, but I sure as hell know I could take you.” Simmers laughed dangerously and took a step towards me, clenching his fists. I put my own dukes up, ready for a fight.

Lambert stepped between us before any punches flew.

“Newwals! Simmers! Get a hold of yourselves. We need to work together if we all want to survive this.”

“No,” Simmers interjected, “all of you can go to hell. I’m going to find that damn beast and pump it full of lead. I’ll radio to you all when I’m done.”

And with that, Simmers turned and stalked away, into the dark and out of sight. “Simmers!” Lambert called after him.

But he was already gone.

“Damn it. Looks like its just the three of us now. Captain, are you alright?” asked Lambert.

“Yes,” Captain Larrs spoke softly while staring at the woman’s bullet-ridden corpse, “I’m sorry. I’ve just never seen someone act that way…”

“I understand, Captain. Are you ready to move onward? It looks like we have a lead to some information,” Lambert noted, nodding towards a trail of blood that led from the woman to another hallway.

I got what he meant. The woman must have crawled away from whatever scene had left her coat soaked in blood and her mind scrambled. If we followed the blood trail, we’d find information.

“Yes,” said the Captain, his confidence reclaimed, “let’s go.”

I approached the woman’s dead body to take back my pistol. As I pried the weapon from her stiff hands, a glint from her chest caught my eye. Turning my head, I realised she had a keycard hanging from a lanyard around her neck. It was splattered in blood, but nonetheless unscathed. The name read Tyra Gabbins. Sure it would come in handy, I slipped it from off of her and showed the the others.

“Hey, look what I found!”

They both turned and saw the card.

“Excellent work, Newwals,” congratulated the Captain, “that could come in handy later.” “See? Not much of a liability now, eh?” commented Lambert with a wink.

The encouragement made my heart swell.

We all slowly crept down the hallways following the blood trail. It zigged right and zagged left, leading us down several hallways until the trail led us at last to an elevator. “Oh joy,” Lambert jested, “a creepy elevator. Who’s first?”

His joke did little to ease the rising tension we all felt.

Captain Larrs pressed the button to call the elevator, then stepped back with Lambert and I. All three of us pointed our weapons at the metal doors, half expecting a monster to jump out at us once they opened. It was safe to say that all three of us took a breath of relief when the doors parted to reveal nothing inside.

Cautiously, we all stepped in, our boots squeaking under more blood. Captain Larrs nodded towards the button panel. There were only two buttons, the one for this floor, and one for the floor below. The button for this floor was lit up green. The button for the lower floor was lit

up red. The Captain tried to press it, but nothing happened. Then we noticed the narrow slit directly to the side of the button. Almost like a card was supposed to be put in there… “Newwals?” the Captain cued.

“Right. Looks like Tyra was able to help us after all,” I joked grimly.

Taking out Tyra’s card, I inserted it into the slit. Immediately, the button turned green. Presto.

The Captain pressed the button, and this time the elevator responded, the doors closing. With a groan, the elevator shuddered and I felt the trademark weightlessness in my stomach that signified we had gone down a floor. As the elevator muttered to a stop, we once again kept our weapons simultaneously trained on the doors, ready for action. After an agonizingly long second of silence, the doors opened…

“Good God…” Captain Larrs trailed off.

The first thing to hit us was the smell. The miasma of rotting bodies and dried blood practically singed our noses clean off, causing Lambert to retch and the Captain and I to grimace.

Then came the scenery. It was like something straight out of a horror movie, only this was real. The metal doors of the elevator opened up into one large laboratory, with countless tables, machines, containment chambers, computers, and more. The vast room was mostly doused in darkness except for a few flickering emergency lights from the walls. From the far unseen ends of the laboratory, human screams could be heard, some manic, others fearful. Directly in front of us, a man lay dead, propped up on a rolling white board, his stomach slashed so his insides were out. Above the body, the phrase ‘Welcome to hell’ was appropriately written out in blood, which I was assuming belonged to the poor gentleman underneath it.

All three of us experienced all of this at the same time, taking a collective gulp out of fear.

“What the hell were these people up to…?” Lambert whispered, too scared to voice his thought any louder.

“Let’s find out,” grumbled a serious Captain Larrs.

Together, we all stepped out of the elevator and began to make our way to the first table, never lowering our guns.

“Newwals,” Captain Larrs ordered, “go see what you can find while Lambert and I cover you.”

Silently nodding, I lowered my weapon and searched the table. It was cluttered with many dubious papers randomly strewn about, broken lab equipment, and debris from the ceiling. I tried to skim through as many papers as I could, finding that they all had to do with one plant in specific.

“Homo Radix Habitans’,” I read off of one, “‘the man-dwelling root’.”

“Man-dwelling? Like, it lives inside of a person?” Lambert asked fearfully. I picked up another paper. “‘The root was created to be a bioweapon of mass destruction. Completely bioengineered from scratch, the root’s purpose was to transform the human body into a killing machine by creating a parasitic relationship between human and plant. This project, along with all the necessary funding, was given to us by the government.’” The Captain looked confused. “The government? Our government? No, that can't be…”

I continued. “‘Once the seed of the root is ingested by a host, it will grow inside them, resisting digestion. Almost immediately, the seed will sprout a special root that travels out of the stomach, up the spinal cord, and into the brain, where it will begin taking control, beginning with small movements. Eventually, the seed will be able to take control of the entire body. The host will then go into a mental decline as this happens, losing consciousness for a gradually increasing amount of time as the seed’s control gains strength. Simultaneously, the seed will proceed to sprout many sturdy, thorned, vine-like roots that eventually break skin. When the host has been completely overtaken and the seed resumes permanent control, it is referred to as a Root-born. The roots that have grown out of the skin of the hosts’ body will continue to grow in length. These roots will serve as tentacle-like appendages that—when fully grown—help the Root-born to climb obstacles, as well as attack and hinder prey.’”

Lambert cringed. “Do you think that’s what our friend Tyra was trying to get out of herself?” Lambert asked.

“Undoubtedly,” the Captain responded, sounding extremely disturbed.

“Right. But then how’d it get inside her? The paper said that the seed had to be ingested. I’m pretty sure Tyra and her friends here are smart enough not to swallow the seed.” “Yeah,” I agreed, “maybe it was a mistake? Sabotage? Or possibly—“

I was cut off by the cradle of static from all three of our radios, followed by a heavy breathing, terrified sounding Simmers.

“Can anyone hear me? You were right to say I couldn’t do it on my own. I’m so sorry. But I need your help. I’m hurt, I’m alone, and I’m terrified. Please help me…”

The Captain pushed the button on his radio. “Simmers, what happened? Did you find the monster? We’ve finally got intel on it. If you tell us where you are, we can come and—“ A thump from Simmers’ location pierced through the radio.

“Oh, Jesus,” whimpered Simmers, “it’s here.”

There was a louder thump.

“No, no, no…” he cried.

“Simmers, Captain Larrs instructed, “try to hide from it until we can get to you. Can you do that?”

“No, they’re too smart. They can tell where you are. They know where I am…” The Captain raised a concerned eyebrow. “They?”

A chaotic crash from the radio made us all jump.

“Please, leave me alone! Please, please, please, please!” Simmers cried frantically to something else.

There was a gutteral screech that sounded vaguely human-like, before Simmers screamed. Sounds of struggle could be heard. Then, with a sickeningly flesh-like crunch, and a tiny choking sound from simmers, the radio went silent. We all just stood there for a moment, too shocked to say or do anything.

A humanoid croak from above brought us all back to our senses. Lambert was the first to look up. As he did so, his eyes widened, and he took in a sharp breath before screaming. “Holy shi—“

There was a scream similar to that of the thing that killed Simmers, and a shadowy figure—a Root-born—dropped to the ground with a thud, closest to Lambert. Then, before poor Lambert could even ready his gun, the figure tackled him to the ground and they rolled out of

sight. The Captain and I both ducked for cover as more thuds emanated from all around the lab. Crawling away, I could hear the other Root-born stalking the room, jumping on tables and breathing in raspy breaths. Lambert’s screams were frantic and pained. I moved to help him, but stopped when I felt a hand on my shoulder. Turning back, I met the sad eyes of the Captain. He simply shook his head, as if to say ‘He’s gone. Go after him and you’ll be gone too.’

Simultaneously, there was a sickening crunch similar to that of Simmers’ encounter, and then Lambert’s screaming stopped. I clenched my teeth. Due to my amnesia, I hadn’t known him long. But his death caused a well of emotion to climb up within me. I stifled my sobs so they were as silent as my tears.

With teary eyes of his own, Captain Larrs motioned for us to head in the opposite direction of the Root-born. Slowly. We immediately began our sluggish escape, staying crouched and as low to the ground as we could. At some points, a Root-born sounded close, and we had to stop for a moment before it moved on every now and then, we’d pass a new corpse—another unfortunate victim—and the terrible smell of the room would intensify to almost unbearable levels. At some points, I was afraid I’d puke and give away our position. Still, we crept onward.

Eventually after what seemed like hours, we made it to the other end of the lab. By that time, the sounds of the Root-born had faded. I wondered if they had gone, but remembered what the research paper said about them being intelligent. They could be waiting. Watching.

Movement from the Captain brought me back from my thoughts. He silently pointed at a set of double doors set in the wall. There were a few of them all over the lab, but this one was furthest from the abominations that hunted us. Being so close to one of the doors, I could tell that the screaming that we had noticed when exiting the elevator came from them. I gave Captain Larrs a worried look to mirror my apprehension. He returned it with a steely eyed stare as if to say it’s either we stay in here with the Root-born or go in there.

Crazy people I could handle. Plant monsters, I obviously could not. I figured I’d go with the crazy people. Nodding to the Captain, he opened the door as slowly and silently as he could while I kept my gun raised back at the rest of the lab. Tapping me on the shoulder, he motioned for me to step inside. Keeping my gun raised, I slowly walked in, careful to pick up any threatening movement or sound. Finding nothing, I motioned for him to come inside as well. He did so, closing the door as carefully and quietly as he had opened it, and raised his gun as he walked up with me. We were staring down a narrow hallway similar to the endless ones we traversed on the floor above this lab of hell. More doors lined the walls. The screams bounced all around the hallway, a choir of madness and fear assaulting our ears. Captain Larrs pointed to the nearest door to our left and we slowly shuffled over to it and entered. A quick perimeter sweep later and the Captain quickly closed the door, locking it.

He then turned to me. While I could see he was trying to keep a calm face, his eyes conveyed his fear. I didn’t blame him. My entire face probably reflected how he felt. He spoke to me in a coarse whisper.

“We’re beyond outnumbered, and facing an enemy far more threatening than we can take on. We need to get out. Now. So we can live to tell the government just what the hell is happening down here and have this place bombed to smithereens.”

I nodded, unable to find my voice. He continued to lay out his plan.

“There has to be another elevator in this network of hallways. We need to find it and leave. Now. The longer we spend here, the longer that gives those Root-born to find and kill us. Let’s get moving.”

With that, we crept back over to the door, unlocked it, and swiftly filed back into the hallway. I looked at Captain Larrs for reassurance. He gave me a steely-eyed nod, and together we walked into the labyrinth of hallways.

Always keeping our guns raised, we were on high alert for any enemy. When we hear a strange sound coming from one hallway, we’d turn and go another way, choosing to avoid as many confrontations as we could. Still, we walked on. The hallways seemed endless, always connected to one after another. After failing to find an elevator, morale was getting dangerously low. At a certain point, the Captain stopped walking, causing me to stop and look at him.

“I don’t think we’re going to find another elevator in this chaotic maze. We’re going to have to go back the way we came.”

I’d been dreading that reality. But another problem presented itself first. We were lost. Hopelessly lost.

“But how are we supposed to go back?” I asked. “We don’t remember how to get back there in the first place.”

Captain Larrs fixed me with his steely eyes again. “Don’t lose hope, we’ll find it eventually, and then we’ll—“

There was a thump from overhead. Muffled screeching could be heard.

“It’s in the ceiling,” the Captain whispered fearfully.

He pointed to a nearby door.

“In there,” he ordered.

Quickly and quietly, we both filed into the room, not even doing a perimeter sweep. He locked the door, and stepped back cautiously, not taking his eyes or weapon off of it. I reflexively looked up, just in case. Then my mouth fell open.

“C-Captain?”

He didn’t answer.

“Captain?”

This time, he quickly whirled around.

“What?”

I simply pointed upward, feeling numb.

“Look.”

His gaze followed my finger until he saw it, and then he grew rigid.

“Oh,” he realized, the doom clear in his voice.

He and I were staring up at a vent. A ceiling vent.

There was a crash, and the cover of the vent fell to the ground, a full grown Root-born crouching on top of it, its root-tendrils writhing. The Captain and I were ready this time, though. We both had our weapons already raised. I was about to press the trigger when my world exploded.

A pain so unexplainably intense erupted from within my head, causing me to drop my weapon and clutch at my skull. My vision blurred, and all of a sudden, everything I had felt when I had first woken up came back—only ten times worse. I think I screamed, but I couldn’t tell. At

some point, I think something struck me in the stomach and knocked me flat on my back. So I lay there, my world spinning at light speed, feeling nothing but pain. Eventually, I passed out.

I sat up with a jolt. Strangely, all my pain from whatever had happened to me had subsided. Instead, my whole body felt strange, and there was a weird pressure in my stomach. I suddenly remembered what had happened just before my head exploded. I began to look around frantically

“Captain,” I called, “Captain?

I didn’t have to look far. Captain Larr’s body lay in a broken pile on the ground, a massive chunk torn out of his neck and his lifeless eyes staring up at the ceiling. In the matter of a day, I’d lost everything. My memory, Simmers, Lambert, and the Captain. I was alone. The panic rising up from within me couldn’t be stopped. “No,” I whimpered, hyperventilating. “No, no, no…”

I couldn’t take it anymore. This was all too much. Finding my gun not too far from where I’d collapsed, I took off running, out the door and down the hallways. My muscles screamed from the strain, but my fear screamed louder, driving me on, and on, and on. Everywhere I turned, there was only a new three-way path of hallways. It took all my willpower to not voice my fear and let my shouts join the rest of the anguished voices that filled this maze. After what seemed like hours, I stopped running and dropped to my hands and knees, wheezing. “Psst!”

I lifted my head towards the sound, suddenly silent. A door on my right was slightly ajar. A voice whispered out of it.

“You! Come here. Quickly. They might find you.”

I shouldn’t have considered it, but I had no one else to turn to. Getting up, I went over to the door and slipped inside. As soon as I got in, someone closed the door and locked it. I turned toward them and pointed my weapon. A man in a lab coat put his hand up defensively. “No, don’t shoot!” He half whispered. “I can help you!”

I narrowed my eyes. “You can help me?”

“Yes, yes!” He exclaimed.

I jutted my chin out at him. “What can you do for me?”

“I couldn’t help but notice you’re lost,” he explained, “and I can help you get out of here.” This seemed too good to be true. There had to be a catch.

“What’s in it for you?”

“I also couldn’t help but notice that you’re wonderfully armed, and that’s something that I’m not. If I lead you out of this facility, I want your protection. Now, would you please lower your gun so we can talk like civilized people?”

I lowered the gun in disbelief. Here, in this hellscape, I’d found a solid chance at making it out alive!

“Thank you,” he sighed. “So tell me. How’d you get here anyway?”

I went off of what Captain Larrs told me when I first woke up.

“Me and my squad were sent by the government to eliminate an unidentified threat that was terrorizing this lab.”

“Well, where’s the squad?”

“Let’s just say we identified the threat,” I said darkly.

“Oh. I’m sorry,” he consoled.

“Yeah.”

“Well, while we’re safe here, we might as well introduce ourselves to each other.” “Safe…?”

The word made me remember the mistake I’d made not too long ago. A mistake that had cost me the Captain’s life…

“The vent!” I exclaimed, pointing my gun at the ceiling.

The scientist put his hand up again. “Relax! This room doesn’t have one. It was a design flaw. Made working in here a real pain in the summer. Rest assured, you and I are safe.” I lowered my weapon, but kept a suspicious eye on the ceiling.

“Well, my name’s Trent. Trent Parris. And you are?” he asked, holding out his hand. I didn’t trust the guy, but I had no other choice. I met his hand with my own and we shook “William Newwals.”

“Great! Well, let’s get going,” he said, starting back towards the door.

I didn’t move. “Just like that?”

He stopped and stared back at me. “Well, do you want to stay here?

“Fair point.”

I followed him.

Once outside the room, we stuck close together.

“You lead,” he directed, “I’ll tell you where to go.”

I wordlessly nodded and we went on our way, silently creeping down the halls. Trent told me exactly where to go. Soon enough, he told me we were near the large lab that had the elevator. He led me into another room that he claimed was ‘safe’ to discuss the plan.

“So, we need to talk about how we’re going to make it across that lab without getting mauled to death. As far as I know, there are some fully grown Root-born that like to wait for prey in that room. That sound right?”

“Yeah,” I said, shivering from remembering what happened to poor Lambert, “that sounds pretty accurate.”

“Okay. We’re going to have to enter as silently as we can. You make a sound, we’re dead.”

“Got it.”

“We’re going to skirt around the edge of the lab. It’ll take longer, but we’ll have less of a chance of being seen.”

“Understood.”

“Finally, if they somehow see us, we need to make a break for the elevator. While your guns could do some damage, you have no chance against multiple Root-born.” “Alright.”

“After we get to the upper level, I’ll lead you out again. Do you know if there’s any Root-born up there?”

Yes, one for sure. Could be more,” I informed him, remembering Simmers. “Okay. Then we’ll practice as much caution as we did down here. As soon as we get out of this facility, then what do we do?”

I stopped.

“I…don’t know.”

He looked shocked. Almost betrayed. “You…don’t know?”

“I can’t remember,” I explained.

He suddenly narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean you can’t remember?” “While hunting for the ‘unidentified threat’, I accidentally found it. And I must have lost, because I woke up with some kind of amnesia.”

Trent took a fearful step back.

“W-what?” I asked him, my heart suddenly beating faster.

“Root-born always kill. They never spare people,” he explained slowly, “the only reason they’d let you live is if…”

“What? Is if what?”

His answer was a coarse whisper.

“Is if they put a seed in you…”

My heart dropped.

“No,” I half sobbed, “that can’t be true.”

But deep down I knew it was. It was no coincidence that I was still alive, especially after seeing how easily my fellow squad members had died. And this disgusting feeling stemming from my stomach into the rest of my body…

It made total sense. I began to hyperventilate.

“The amnesia is a limiting effect from the seed,” Trent explained, “in order to hinder you from seeking help. It also labels you as a victim to all other individuals. Perfect for infiltrating the enemy.”

My knees felt wobbly and I fell back. I curled into myself, my head spinning once more. “William.”

Hearing my name made me instinctively look up. Trent was cautiously inching towards me, his hands outstretched.

“William. You know what this means. You can’t leave. For the good of everyone outside of this facility, you can’t—“

I shot up to my feet, suddenly full of rage. This sent him scrambling back a few feet “Shut up!” I yelled.

“Y-you’re lying! You’re just trying to get rid of me so I don’t turn you in to the government as being responsible for this mess!”

Trent looked at me, calmly.

“William,” he called again, calmly. “You know that’s not true. You know what you’re feeling. It makes sense.”

Suddenly, my eyes burned. But it wasn’t the regular burn that came with tears. It was more harsh. A tear fell, and I wiped it away with the back of my hand. But it felt thicker than a tear. I looked at my hand. It was streaked with red.

Blood tears.

Trent saw this, and his voice became a little more frantic.

“William, hand over the gun, before it’s too late. You’re about to start changing, and it’s a lot more painful than whatever you’ve already felt. I can make it end. Give me your gun, and I can end it early for you. You don’t have to suffer.”

I was scared. More scared than I’d ever been since waking up an amnesiac in this dark hellhole. But deep down, I knew I had to. If I didn’t I’d just become another one of those…things.

I nodded, and slowly, I unslung the sub-machine gun and began to hand it to him. He grasped it with his hands. I moved to let go, and…

I couldn’t.

I couldn’t let go.

“William,” Trent coursed, “let go of the gun.”

“I can’t,” I told him, sobbing more tears of blood as I remembered Tyra, “It won’t let me…”

Trent’s eyes grew wide and he drew his hands back. He backed up a step. Then another. I wondered why, until I looked down and saw that I had quickly turned the gun on him. But I hadn’t meant to do that. Had I? I intended to let him go. So why was I pointing the gun at him? Trying to drop the gun revealed that I couldn’t. Then I knew. I wasn’t the one doing this. Something else was controlling me.

“Trent,” I warned, “run. Now.”

His eyes grew wider as he got what I meant. Immediately, he turned to run towards the door. My heart dropped as I felt my finger close around the trigger on its own. “No!” I screamed in anguish as the shots rang out.

Through the smoke of my weapon, the body of Trent Parris lay on the floor, a bullet-ridden mess. I’d killed him.

“No…” I sobbed.

There was no helping me now. This was it. I threw my weapon on the ground with a distressed grunt. Hyperventilating, I burst out of the room and careened through the halls, aimlessly. I wasn’t sure what I was doing, but I wanted to get as far away from Trent’s body as possible. At some point, I began screaming, sounding just like the screams all around me. Several minutes later, I collapsed on the ground, an exhausted, crying mess. Then, my head erupted in pain, and I blacked out once again.

I didn’t know when I had become conscious again. It’s like I closed my eyes, opened them, and I was myself. Strangely enough, I woke up standing. I could tell I had moved since passing out too. The seed must have completely taken over. How long had it been in control? It couldn’t have been long, because I could still feel my muscles burning from my running as I stood. Okay, I thought to myself, I have no time to freak out. There has to be a way to get the seed out of me.

No longer afraid of attacks from the Root-born, I began jogging through the halls, entering random rooms in search of any research papers that could help me figure out how to stop this madness from taking over my body. I searched for hours, to no avail. All I could find were papers on how the seed was killing me. Apparently, my amnesia had been just the first bit of it. Things are supposed to get worse. Much worse. Just like Trent had said. After reading one more paper heralding my slow, painful death, I crumpled it up and threw it at the wall, frustrated. I sat down against a lab table and put my head between my knees. Was this it? Was I doomed to suffer, and become a dangerous killing machine? The dread was almost too much to bear. I could feel another panic attack rising, beginning to take hold of me. I was just about to resume screaming when a tap on my shoulder startled me, and made me look up.

The steely eyes of Captain Larrs stared back at me. I immediately stood. “C-Captain!” I exclaimed.

Then I thought for a moment.

“N-no. You’re dead. You’re just a hallucination.”

This seemed to make the hallucination Captain think for a moment. Then he chuckled. “Well, you got the ‘hallucination’ bit right. But I’m definitely not dead. In fact, I’m the reason your life is fading away.”

I gasped as I made the connection.

The hallucination Captain sneered.

“That’s right. I’m that seed you’re trying so desperately to get rid of. I’m here to tell you that you should give up. Nothing can save you.”

The longer I looked at him, the weaker I felt. My knees were beginning to tremble. “No. I’ll find a way to get rid of you, just watch.” I rasped.

This made the hallucination laugh. “Sure you will.”

My legs could no longer support my weight. I stumbled to the ground. Inside my head, a booming headache emerged.

The fake Captain knelt down so I could see him. “Oh, but it looks like it’s nearly time for me to take over again. Rest easy. I’ll take good care of your body while you’re gone,” he teased threateningly.

He snapped his fingers, and my world became nothing but an infinite amount of pain before I lost consciousness.

I awoke lying down in a strange room that looked like a lab. It was lit by red emergency lights. It seemed vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t remember how. I tried to move, and noticed that I struggled to budge even an inch. My body was completely numb. Looking down, I screamed in horror. It looked like short sticks were sticking out of my skin, all over.

“What’s happening to me?!” I shouted.

Sudden laughing made me jump, and I looked up to see a man standing in front of me. “W-who are you?” I asked, terrified.

“You don’t remember me? Really, William, how many times do we have to do this? Just give up already,” he cooed.

Now that he mentioned it, he did seem familiar to me. But I couldn’t remember who it was. And did he just call me William? Was that my name? Wait, what was my name? I began to panic.

“What do you mean ‘how many times’?”

He laughed. “Oh, you really are on the verge of losing it, aren’t you? Look. I can tell you’re tired. You can rest now. Let me take over.”

Then something clicked for me. This man wasn’t real. He was a hallucination. Something from inside my head. Something that was trying to destroy me.

“Y-you’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?”

He gave a sly grin. “Something along those lines, yeah.”

I struggled to do so, but I clenched my fists.

“I’m warning you, I won’t go down without a fight,” I growled through gritted teeth. The hallucination laughed.

“Oh, William. You’ve already lost the fight.”

Something happened that made his eyes widen. Then his lips twisted in an evil smile.

“Speak of the devil,” he said slyly, “you’re time’s up. I’ve won.”

As soon as he said that, my head felt like it was beginning to split open. I screamed in pain.

The hallucination stepped closer to me.

“I’ll give you thirty seconds to make your peace. Then it’s over”

“T-thirty seconds of what?”

The hallucination snapped his fingers, and I immediately knew what he meant. I blinked, and he was gone. So was the pain. And the stiffness. I gasped as the heavy fog over my mind lifted and I remembered…everything. Every memory I’d ever had was right back in its place. I felt like my true self again. It was so overwhelmingly beautiful that I began to cry. And then I realized.

Thirty seconds. It’s now or never.

Reaching for my chest, I fumbled for my radio and took a sigh of relief when it was still there. Quickly, I switched the dial to a different frequency. It was time to contact someone I should have contacted a long time ago, if it hadn’t been for the amnesia. There was a static buzz before someone spoke.

“This is Dispatch. We’ve received no contact from your squadron in over five days. What’s your status?”

“This is William Newwals of Hazard Control Unit #237. All my other squad members are dead. I will be too in a few seconds. Listen. Do not—I repeat—do not send anyone else to this location. If any bit of what you folks had these scientists create down here escapes, millions will die. Bombard this location immediately. Make sure nothing escapes. Over and out.”

I turned the radio off, threw it on the ground, and used my remaining few seconds to smash it to bits. Then, all the pain and stiffness returned to my body, causing me to stumble and fall. I blinked, and like a phantom, the hallucination—which I now recalled to look like Captain Larrs—reappeared.

With each step he took toward me, I got increasingly stiff. Soon, even breathing was a challenge. Still, I smiled at him.

“Ah,” he laughed, “did you enjoy your time?”

I laughed back, which slightly surprised him.

“Yes I did. More than you will ever know…”

Looking a little concerned, he snapped his fingers, and as my head felt like it was cracking wide open, I laughed. This was it. I've done my job, and I’ll be going to join my Squadron in the great beyond. As I felt the life drain from my body, I met the hallucination’s gaze.

“Enjoy the missiles,” I told him, winking.

And as the life nearly drained out of me, I had the pleasure of watching the absolute shock on his face as he realized I’d be taking him down with me.

Far away from the lab, a man named Eric Overts sat at his desk in a government HQ, his headset around his neck. He’d just received word from a surviving member of HCU #237, who were all thought to be Killed In Action. The survivor, William Newwals, said that the contents of the lab were extremely dangerous, and needed to be destroyed. But that wasn’t what Eric was worried about.

What left Eric with his mouth wide open was the fact that William had discovered that the government was responsible for the contents of the lab. This needed to be dealt with now. Taking a deep breath, he switched the feed of his headset from the radio he was monitoring to the intercom. He pressed a button. A tired sounding woman answered over the crackle of the device.

“What’s the issue Radio Tower 9?

“I need to speak to Howard Vincents.”

“He’s awfully busy at the moment, can this wait until—“

“It's about Lab 27.”

“O-oh,” the lady stammered, “transferring you to Vincents right away.”

There was a patch of static as the call switched. This time, a man answered. “This is Howard. Who is this?”

“This is Eric Overts, from Radio Tower 9.”

“I swear, if it’s another police report, I’ll—“

“It's about Lab 27.”

Eric could hear Howard falter.

“How? The team we sent died, just as we expected them to.”

“Or so we thought. One of the squad members, William Newwals, contacted me just a few seconds ago. Told me about how deadly the situation was. That the site needed to be destroyed.”

“I’m not surprised.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t either. That was, until he said that we had something to do with it!” Eric heard a sharp coughing sound over the intercom. Howard must have been taking a sip of a beverage before he heard the news.

“How did he even find out?” Howard whispered.

“My best guess is that those scientists we hired to develop the weapon somehow recorded our link to the project in their research.”

Howard mumbled something about “stupid botanists” before taking a long sigh and clearing his throat.

“Right then,” he said, “I’ll order a missile strike on the area. That should destroy any evidence.”

Eric grew worried. “But what about the research? That bioweapon was priceless to—“ “Relax. Do you think I’m an amateur? I rigged the entirety of Lab 27’s computers with data transfer software. We have every document they wrote.”

“And what about the subject of the project itself?”

“The seed? I’ll have a larger team collect a specimen from the site for replication before we blow it to smithereens.”

“Okay.”

“Well, thank you for the heads-up. I’ll take care of it. Now get back to work.” And with that, the call ended.

“I don’t get paid enough for this,” Eric sighed.

Then, he switched the feed from the intercom, and continued to do his job.

“This is Dispatch…”

Sunburned feet step into sand, one footfall after another. They grasp for support, searching for stable land. They sink. And what friction I can feel is from the rocks sinking through the tops of my sandals, the scraping texture against my skin.

The wind, the wind, it blows once more. Desperately, perhaps uselessly, I wrap my scarf tighter around my mouth, masking those particles which swarm in the wind, drowning blue skies in tan. My hands travel upwards, pushing up my glasses. Whether or not anything is still visible through the square lenses is irrelevant; I, like all humans, am a creature of instinct.

A creature of instinct, who pushes up glasses and bites the nails and coughs as a response to a dry mouth and yearns. We cannot help yearning for that which sustains us. Food (beef jerky and dried fruit is enough). Shelter (a tent, shared with the sands and the wind). Companionship (irrelevant. The weighty texts in my backpack are enough). But oh, thirst. My mouth is ever dry, and I am ever hollow.

Thirst is peculiar, because it is invariable. The human body is capable of digesting a broad, creative array of foods, and in many different ways too. It can be inserted into the bloodstream through nutrients or sugars, or converted into external fat, or otherwise excreted systematically to remove the negativities. And the human mind is flexible in its knacks for survival. That instinct to build and utilize, so rarely found in the rest of nature’s collection of fauna. The urge to learn, to advance knowledge of the external world and internal mind (the latter best left for artists and philosophers, not listless scientists stumbling across the desert dunes). All that variety, and we kneel to three atoms. Remarkably small and simple ones, too. Hydrogen, oxygen, hydrogen. Where there is water, there is life.

The average human is but a corpse after three days without them.

In brief, I am a day short of matching the above statistic.

Regardless (I would spit that word if there were any saliva left to spit) I am straying from the objective facts of water. Three atoms, three days worth of survival. Everyone loves the rule of threes, especially this little liquid. Water is the only substance that is naturally found in all three states of matter. If spread equally across the globe, it would sink three thousand meters. It expands by three squared percent when brought below thirty-two degrees Fahrenheit (two-seven-three kelvin). Three tenths of the world’s water supply is consumable. I am grasping at straws as I attempt to remember the technicalities, but it isn’t as if I have any better way to utilize my time.

I like this sort of thinking. The frontal-lobe types of thoughts, to be precise. The ones which are short, sweet, can be confirmed accurately with a quick scan of a dictionary or encyclopedia. They don’t require much effort on my end. I know a lot. I like to think of that part of my mind as a library, built of oak and maple, filled to the brim with facts and statistics to refer to when needed. Maybe I’m simply biased towards libraries because, between the Dewey-Decimal shelves, it provides a perfect oasis (a word I mentally substitute with

‘hideaway,’ because of the liquid implication of the former term) from whatever may be troubling me in my own life.

Even now, I am hiding in this self-built book nook of mine, listing facts and stats, referring back to that comfortable logical mindset. I hide from the shifting sands of my malnourished limbic system, who is screaming and crying and wailing in pain and begging for me to stop those horrible sensations in my feet, my arms, my hands, my throat, my throat. It begs to make it stop.

Pure water has a pH of 7, making it neither acidic nor basic. It’s quite adhesive, since its structure allows it to link up with other H2O molecules. Pure water is not naturally conductive, as far as electricity is concerned. When it does conduct electricity, it is because of the substances which are dissolved within. And that could potentially include a huge width of things. H2O isn’t called the universal solvent without reason. Aside from that…

(I curse to myself, unable to avoid the realization that my stream of consciousness has run dry. I curse again, realizing that there is no non-liquid equivalent to the phrase ‘stream of consciousness.’ Language is limiting.)

It’s with this angry thought that my foot sinks a little too deep, and I trip. There’s no voice left in me, so I fall soundlessly, with the splashing sands being the only signal of my tumbling down the dune.

My sun-scratched arms are but bare bones as they tremble, pushing me to my knees. My legs are rotten twigs, bending under the weight of what’s left of my body. I remind myself to think not of that, to retreat back into my headspace.

I can’t. My great oak shelves are sandstone, cracking inward. The airy pages scatter on the wind, the ink scratched away and eroded with time. It’s only a matter of time until this once-great library becomes no more than another mass of sand.

I hardly believe I am on the top of this hill until I see the stretch of desert in front of me, and my legs finally surrender. I would gasp for breath if I dared move my mouth in any way, but that would prompt the dry cave to search for saliva. So I sit still. I no longer have energy to stop the thoughts crawling through my mind. I need to rest, I need to drink. I yearn. This is an inevitable part of nature. Statistics require specimens for the

death-by-dehydration factoid. I am perfectly fitting, as I am just as human as any other. I live. I die.

If, one day in the distant future, a person would try their hand at digging through this shifting sand, I should hope they would find my skull waiting politely for them. I wonder if they would lift it up, staring into the blank holes where my eyes once were, before scanning the remains of my bones. Would they gauge the person I was from this alone? Maybe they would lift the metal frames of my glasses, the lenses long returned to the sand from whence they came. Maybe they would find my tightly-wrapped tent, or the bag of dried fruit and beef jerky still remaining. They would find the metal canteen of water, empty.

The knowledge of who I was, these trickling thoughts through the mind, the discoveries I made, would have made, would have been left to the winds. But at least they would see the dry canteen and know what did me in. Death by thirst is common knowledge.

My eyes are decayed, but I urge my stiffened neck to look upward. Ever since the sun rose this morning, shapes have flickered across the horizon which I've pointedly ignored. Lakes, rivers, streams, cities tall and great libraries in the distance, the shape of a human heading my way. Those are thoughts for the limbic system, the emotional brain, to handle. My logical brain knows that those are only optical illusions that form when light passes through the cool air before clashing against the hot, hot ground. The refractions which occur there are known as mirages. I am too logical to succumb to them.

But it’s late enough for me that I humor the feelings. I am no artist, but it would be nice if some painter could capture the horizon for me, the water floating there, an endless ocean. Or maybe the drifting shape of a lone rider on the hill, still trembling in the sight of the heat. My mind drifts away as I take it all in.

Until the sound of feet hitting the sand awakens my mind once again. “Jesus.” I look up blankly at the probably-a-mirage standing above me. It’s the human-shaped one, well-prepped for the desert. It rests a hand on their camel, checking a fully-packed bag hanging on its side. “Jesus.” The phrase repeats again, in a voice of awe. “I saw you wipe out on that hill, and decided to check it out. Glad I did.” It looks at me for another long second. “You look like a corpse.” I am.

I still don’t move much as the mirage lays down a tent around me. It takes my bag off my shoulders, removes the scarf. With efficient fingers and a small handkerchief, it wipes the dust and dirt from my glasses lenses. It’s only after they return to me that I allow myself to accept that no, this is not, in fact, a refraction of sunlight formed from hot and cold air. It’s a real human, just like myself.

“Ah. There we go. You’re finally alive now.” The person chuckles mostly to themselves, before giving me another look. “Well, a little less dead, at least.” There’s a moment of silence left open for me to say something.

I don’t reply. I attempt to, but any words I have scripted come out as a series of hoarse coughs and wheezes, followed by a rasping exhale. Thankfully, my rescuer gets the message, quickly shuffling out of the tent. They return after an eternal few seconds. There are two cylinders in their hands

“I got a lot, but try to drink it slow.”

My bonelike fingers clench with every last bit of strength onto the one they hand me. I don’t have the patience to unscrew it, yet I somehow manage.

There it is, inside the bottle. Ambrosia, the nectar of the gods— nay, the nectar of man. My hands tremble as I throw the drink back, letting the elixir of life flow freely into my mouth. At first, I feel little there, but a moment more and the liquid sinks into the cracks and crevices. My throat bobs, and I feel the sands become enriched. My barren soul comes alive with the rains of spring, the drought refreshed. Grass and flowers burst from the soil, flat shades of

brown explode into color, somewhere a choir sings. I drink in glee. I hardly mind as the ambrosia flows a bit too quickly and I am forced to stop, coughing.

“Hey, I said not to drink it too fast!” My savior reaches out a hand to stop me, but I raise a hand. The nectar spills down my chin and onto my shirt. And I laugh. I laugh, freely, in the way only humans do. I am a revived spirit. I am alive, fully and completely.

As I stepped off the bus after four hours of sitting, I was exhilarated to stretch my legs. The second my food hits the dirt beaten path, the fresh Colorado mountain air hits my face. It was cooler in the mountains than at Fort Collins, but the sun also loomed over us, reminding us to put sunscreen on soon. Throughout camp the colorful wildflowers and chipmunks scattered, completing my home away from home. The place I will always remember, my home, the place I felt safe, where I was vulnerable. Staying outside for five days and nights with people you barely know. They smell of the morning dew, the bird singing their morning carols, and the weaving of the string in between my fingers. The feel one the soft mush of dirt and water beneath my hiking boots, and the lonesome animals finding their way back home. All these things created what I will forever view as my home.

The first night we were gathered around the fire getting to know the group. Suddenly, our eyes met from across the fire. I knew in that instant that you would change my life for better or worse. I was anxious to get to know you, to understand you as a human and deep complexity that holds. That following morning I woke up well before the sun with the chill of the wind. I shimmied out of my sleeping bag that was way too thin for the forty degree windy nights. I slipped on my sweats, hoodie, hiking boots, and threw my hair into a messy bun. I headed out to the clearing, looking for any signs of life, and there he was sitting at a picnic table making a string bracelet. I head over to him to continue my bracelet as well. That morning was magical as we watched the sun peak over the trees. I was mesmerized by the colors streaking through the trees above us and dancing across the table.

“This is beautiful,” I say bewildered, “I’ve never experienced anything like this before.”

“I’ve been coming here for years,” the boy stated, “yet every summer I find something new, and I feel more at home. I’m Mason, by the way. You’re Amber, right? I remember you from last night’s get to know you circle.”

“Yeah! I’m Amber,” I say while blushing. He remembers me, “It’s nice to meet you.” I managed to say. We continued to weave our bracelets in silence, but I enjoyed the closeness of his body, looking up at him every so often. Mason, from Boulder, Colorado. With his soft brown eyes, turning copper in the sunlight. His skin, soft to the touch with a tan from the sun beating on him so many years at camp. His cloths, comfortable, yet he looked so handsome. And he was sitting at a picnic table with me on the top of a mountain.

“Look!” He said, interrupting me daydreams about his and I together, “Behind you!” I pivoted my body to face the dense forest.

“Wow,” I breathed, unable to say anything more as I was stunned by my few hours in such a beautiful place. A deer was staring at us from the woods. So close to us and we got to take in the natural beauty of this place. We continued to appreciate our first full day at camp and the beauty our world holds.

The sun was already asleep, but we still had camp activities to explore. We were given two choices, paint rocks at camp, or go on a late night hike. I chose to hike that night. Within five minutes of hiking, Mason found himself by my side. We made our way to a waterfall, the darkness and sound of crashing water hugged us like a warm blanket, the same way he would hug me later that evening. We were gathered as a group when Mason took my hand.

“I have something I want to show you,” he gasped, pulling me along, nearly pulling my shoulder out of its socket.

“What!” I exclaimed, “we have to head back to camp soon. We need to stay with the group!”

“We have some time,” he said nonchalantly, “plus I want to talk to you alone.” This made me fearful at first. Being alone amongst rocks, trees, and this boy I had known for seven hours.

“Here we are,” he said, “This looks like a good rock.” He sat down, patting the space next to him. I sat next to him and looked into his copper eyes. For the next thirty minutes we shared a real, honest conversation. We talked about our struggles and joys, the times we were broken and the people who helped rebuild us. It was the kind of conversation I can not repeat. The kind that must stay strictly between Mason and me until we pass on from this world. For the next four days at camp we were known as Mason and Amber, Amber and Mason. We were rarely apart. It was a friendship that held so much love and trust. I treasured those days spent with him.

Our last night in Colorado we had our last worship, and that is when everything really hit me. The Cross out looking at the mountains with the setting sun begging to rest below the peak. The open acres of nothing being filled with voices singing Reckless Love. The new worship center we stood in was once a vast forest that turned into an oversized campfire with one hot summer. The Cross was created of two burnt logs from that wildfire and a thick rope held them together. It would stand there for years to come, reminding campers that the burnt will eventually become beauty. People walked into camp lost, in need of love and faith to repair them. Colorado had a hard summer the year prior. It was the largest wildfire seen in years, yet the counselors at Sky Ranch were determined to continue their legacy. With the valley now empty, they created a plan for a new worship area. The burnt and injured Cross was placed in the empty valley. It resembled us at some point during our life’s. It showed us it has gone through hard times as well, and told us that even after going through Hell, we would be turned into something beautiful. It was once a burnt fallen down tree, but it had been created into this large Cross to illustrate to the campers how much they were loved. It carried immense beauty even after its injuries. It was once a beautiful tree, changed by its experiences and circumstances, resembling what all people go through as well.

That night after worship, we headed back to our tents. Singing camp songs the whole way, screaming on the tops of our lungs until the point it hurt to speak. We gathered close around the wooded picnic table. We spent half of our night sitting at that red, wood picnic table signing our hearts and souls out. So many unspoken stories of tragedy and triumph, yet we can together form a large group of very different people who all loved one another. I said good night to them all that night. We were all dreading the goodbye waiting for us in the morning. I hugged my closest friend, Emma, goodnight.

“Goodnight Amber,” she whispered into my left ear, “I love you. You have taught me so much, and I will never forget about you. Please don’t forget our talk we had at the picnic tables on Wednesday. Whenever I dance, I’ll think of dancing next to you after dinner.”

“I love you too,” I whispered back, “text me if you need anything, I will forever cherish the times we have spent together. I’ll always hold on to them.” We held each other a little longer and a little tighter before heading back to our separate tents. Mason met me halfway between our tents. We were both visibly exhausted. We never shared in words how we felt about each other and what was in between us, but I believe that he loved me almost as much as I loved and needed him. Mason came into my life for a short period of time, but he will always mean something to me. That night, without saying a word, we held each other tight. Swaying slowly, he grasped tighter around my waist. I then heard an unfamiliar sound. He gently began to cry into shoulder. I, crying myself, held him a little tighter that night.

“I’m going to miss you, Amber,” Mason blubbered.

“It’s not time for goodbyes yet–we will do that in the morning,” I said to reassure him and myself.

I never had the chance to say goodbye the next morning.