Join the Rescue Mission
Follow Abby as she tries to rescue her brother from a secret government agency.
Our first book was a novel called High School Heroes. The series involves a group of teenagers discovering that they have superpowers and shows their evolution as they truly become superheroes—all while dealing with all of the crap that high school has to bring. If you look to our post a couple of weeks ago, one of the characters, Christine, is one of these teens.
Along with the five books of the original novel series, we did a bunch of short stories. This is one of them. It involves a girl named Abby Davidson, and shows how this teen, who has no superpowers at all, became one of the government’s agents to help hunt down these metas.
It’s a fun story, filled with action. And we hope you like it.
So, without further ado, we bring you…
“So what did you say?” I said as my fingers ran over the letters on my cell phone.
Carly’s response was almost immediate. “I don’t know. He hasn’t asked me yet.”
“You better tell me everything when he does.” I was trying to get all the details from Carly. Lorenzo, a really hot upperclassman was supposed to ask her out. This was a huge deal for us, since no one had ever asked Carly out before.
Peering up from my screen, I looked around the yard. Where was he? “Mike!” I yelled as loud as I could. My mom had sent me outside to get my eight-year-old brother who was supposed to be playing out there.
We had a pretty big back yard—three-quarters of an acre, according to Mom—and I didn’t see him. Usually, I’d find him playing on the swing set my dad built before he passed away, or rummaging in the dirt under the big pine tree in the back corner, looking for some disgusting, creepy-crawly thing. But he wasn’t anywhere in sight. I only hoped he wasn’t doing what I thought he was doing.
The gate was locked. Mom insisted on having a nice, heavy-duty Master lock on the inside of the gate to protect us. I guess she never thought someone could just hop over the five foot fence and get into the yard with little trouble.
Mike was always getting himself into trouble—not bad trouble, like with cops or anything. I guess you could say it was the kind of trouble any eight-year-old might get into. Well, if an eight-year-old could do the things he could do.
I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket. Mom bought this thing for each of our phones that acted like a GPS. It was so she could know where we were at any given moment. I know she used it to check that I was in school when I was supposed to be, and at home while she was working overnight. I might’ve minded, but I never did anything to cause her concern anyway, so it didn’t really matter.
The good thing was, I had access to the app too. So, I booted it up with a tap of my finger and waited for the program to track Mike’s cell phone. When the map appeared, I saw our street and our yard. The little red dot indicating Mike’s cell phone appeared right in the center of our yard. So, unless he buried his phone in the middle of the yard, he was there.
“Mi—” I began to shout out, but was cut off by a loud BANG!
I shook my head and put my cell back into my pocket. My conversation with Carly would have to wait until later.
It came from behind the tool shed, and I knew what he was doing—exactly what I didn’t want him to do. Heaving a sigh, I stomped over to where the noise had occurred, watching the thin wisps of white-gray smoke float up into the air. He knew better than to do those things.
I rounded the corner and found Mike standing in front of a smoking crater. The boy was covered with soot. Normally, his hair was the same blond color as mine, but with the grime now covering his body from head to toe, his hair appeared inky black. Smoke wafted off his clothes and one couldn’t help but notice he was about six inches shorter because he was standing in a tiny crater. He looked like he’d been in the middle of a small explosion. The problem was, he had been in the middle of an explosion.
“Michael G. Morrison!” Like my mom, I always used his full name when I was angry with him. “How many times have we talked about this?”
He gazed up at me with both fear and shock in his eyes. Then he simply shrugged. “I dunno.” A puff of white smoke escaped his lips.
I groaned and, closing my eyes, rubbed the bridge of my nose. It was sad that, at fifteen, I knew how a child could give someone a severe headache. “What if somebody saw you? What if I was Mom?”
The true answer was, my mother would probably have a heart attack, and we’d all spend the night in the hospital. However, the response I received was another shrug. “I dunno.”
“Do you know anything?”
Mike stomped his foot and crossed his arms. “Yes, I know things!”
“Then why do you keep doing this?”
His face softened as he looked up at me with those big puppy-dog eyes kids use on their parents to get their way. “Aww…c’mon, Ab. I’m just having fun.”
“Yeah?” I asked. “What if you accidentally blew up the toolshed? Or what if you actually blew yourself up?”
“You say, ‘what if’ a lot.”
Sighing, I let out a short laugh. “I’m going to kill you. You know that?” I smacked him on the shoulder. I couldn’t stay mad at the little bugger. He was only doing what came naturally to him. I only wished he’d be more careful about it.
“Let’s go inside,” I said. “You’ve got to get cleaned up before dinner.”
I pushed him in front of me, and following him back into the house. I couldn’t believe just how dark his hair was. I hoped it washed out. I would really hate to have to explain to my mom why her normally blond son was now a brunette.
Thankfully, Mom was busy finishing up our dinner, so I was able to sneak Mike in behind her without her catching a glimpse of his near head to toe scorch marks. Though, I must say, I’m surprised she didn’t catch the scent of freshly burnt charcoal coming off him.
Mike went into the bathroom without any argument and closed the door so he could undress. I stopped being in the bathroom when he undressed when he turned six. Heck, I had to carry him to the tub before that just to make sure he went in.
The shower turned on with a hiss. I waited another thirty seconds before I stepped inside myself. He left his clothes in a pile in the middle of the floor and I leaned down to gather them up.
He really burned them up this time. Near the wrists, his sleeves were charred black. He even burned a hole in his jeans. I’d have to throw them out before Mom saw them. That was only going to leave him with two more pairs. Mom would be ticked when she discovered Mike had “lost” another pair.
“You didn’t hurt yourself this time, did you?” I asked through the curtain.
“I don’t think so.”
“Well, double check there are no burn marks on you.”
He didn’t respond right away, and my first thought was that he’d found something and was afraid to say anything. I thought I would have to pull back the curtain and see for myself. But as I reached for the edge of the parting fabric, he spoke up. “I don’t see anything.”
I stepped back as a wave of relief came over me. But then I thought to ask, “Does anything hurt?”
“No.” I shook my head. Then I repeated the words I’d spoken to him about a thousand times. “You need to be careful when you do that.”
“I am. Why do you think I went behind the shed?”
Again, I had to shake my head. “That’s fine, but I don’t want you hurting yourself either.”
“I won’t.”
He turned off the water—my cue to leave. “Come down as soon as you’re dressed,” I instructed. Then I took his things to my room and tossed them into a trash bag. I then threw the bag into my closet, just in case my mom came in. I’d take it out in the morning and throw it in with all the other garbage.
I really didn’t know what to do with him. He’d been blowing things up for months now. I couldn’t go on hiding his secret forever. The problem was, what was I going to do when someone eventually did find out?
Mom had dinner on the table when I came into the kitchen—chicken cutlets, with instant mashed potatoes and green beans. The one thing I had to say about my mom, no matter how busy or stressed things got, she always had a well-balanced meal on the table.
She’d already eaten, and looked like she was rushing out the door. It was no wonder. It was nearly six o’clock—time for her shift as night manager at the local Holiday Inn. The job paid well enough, but it meant she worked five nights a week. She’d come rolling in sometime around 4 a.m. and pass out before I got up to get Mike and myself ready for school.
“I made your lunches for school tomorrow,” she said in a rushed voice. She gave me a kiss on the cheek and grabbed her jacket and purse. “And finish your homework.”
“Okay, Mom.”
“And don’t let Mike stay up too late.”
“Okay, Mom.”
"And…”
“Clean up the kitchen,” I finished for her. “I know. You say the same thing every night.”
“Okay. I love you. Have a good day at school tomorrow.”
She was out the door before I could say, “Love you too.”
I waited to eat until Mike strolled down the stairs. He’d put on a pair of Batman pajamas with an actual utility belt. I hated that thing. He kept the strangest things in there. One time, I was emptying it to wash, and I frog jumped onto my chest scaring me half to death. I almost killed Mike that day.
“Mom left already,” I informed my brother. “And you’re going to bed at eight.”
“Awww, c’mon,” he whined as he sat in front of his plate.
We ate and then I cleaned up the kitchen while Mike went in the living room to watch TV. I joined him after I rinsed the pots and pans and threw everything into the dishwasher. Then the two of us watched Sponge-Bob for about an hour. Jeez, that show was stupid! But it made us both laugh, even though we’d seen the episode a dozen times.
When eight o’clock rolled around, true to my word, I put Mike to bed.
“I don’t wanna!” he started shouting. When it was clear I wasn’t changing my mind, he started with the whining. “I’m not sleepy. I gotta go to the bathroom. I needa drink of water!”
Finally, after all his requests were ignored, he fell asleep around 8:30. Then I was free to hop back on the computer and get all the juicy details from Carly about Lorenzo.
Unfortunately, Carly was nowhere to be found in cyberspace. My only assumption was that Lorenzo had finally called her and she’d gone out to see him. I could have sent a quick text, but I didn’t want to intrude on her evening if she really was out with him. Besides, she’d tell me everything during homeroom tomorrow anyway.
Since I couldn’t talk to Carly, I decided to play a few online games. I looked into this one called Desert Warrior. It was essentially one of those first-person shooter type games, only a lot less sophisticated—hey, what do I want from a free online game? Besides, a nice violent game like this helped relieve some of my frustrations. Instead of actually strangling my brother, I could strangle some virtual players.
I wasn’t great at the game, but I held my own. I was really good at sneaking down dark corridors and stabbing my unsuspecting opponent in the back. The problem always came when I gave away my position and then my opponents converged on me and shot me full of holes.
I was doing pretty well tonight—despite my computer’s tendency to lag when things moved too fast. But then this guy logged on—username: AngelKiller12—and started tearing everyone up.
It became my personal mission to take that guy down. I hid and waited for him to come by, but he always knew exactly where I was and killed me before I got the chance to attack. After the fourth time—and me, watching myself die from a particularly nasty chest wound—another player shot him square in the face with a shotgun. While this would mean instant death for any other player, AngelKiller12 was still on his feet.
As he gunned down the unsuspecting player, racking up another point on his kill streak, I slammed my fist on the keyboard. “He’s cheating!”
I didn’t mind losing, but I couldn’t stand cheaters. It was time to teach AngelKiller12 a lesson.
With a few clicks of the mouse, I opened the source code of the game. To most people, the strings of letters and numbers would look like total gibberish, but my father, being a computer programmer, when he wasn’t dragging me to some karate or gymnastics class, was teaching me how to read those letters and numbers like I was reading a novel.
I planned on following in his footsteps one day, and had already taken some computer science courses at my high school. I’m sure AngelKiller12 had some kind of cheat in place, and he’d probably done that by editing a few pieces of code. All it would take would be to change it back.
Doing a search for his username in the code, I was quickly taken to his character. I scanned the code and located a particular line. He’d set the damage tracker to “0”, which essentially made it so that no weapon could harm him, because he would take 0% damage with each hit.
Since he wanted to play around with the code, I would play his game. I changed the number to “100”. With it set to that, even the smallest hit would kill him instantly. I thought about changing my own character’s stats, but decided not to. Modifying my character would make me as big a cheater as he was. Saving my change, I reentered the game and found the cheater instantly. I thought about pulling out my knife and stabbing him with it, but I decided on not even using a weapon—only my character’s fists.
I hit the button to attack and watched AngelKiller12 crumple in a heap on the ground.
When he respawned, I did it again, and again, and again. I must have killed him a dozen times before he finally quit the game.
Satisfied I’d gotten justice, I also quit. It was almost 10:30 and I had to get to bed. It wasn’t by choice, but if I didn’t want to be a zombie when I woke up at 5:30.
So, after changing into pajamas, which for me was a tank top and shorts, I slipped into bed.
My thoughts kept me awake. I kept worrying what to do with my brother. Eventually, someone would find out about the things he could do. I dreaded that day, because so many things could happen—none of them good.
Eventually, I drifted into a dreamless sleep.
BANG! The next thing I knew, I was sitting up in bed. I thought I’d heard a loud noise. The alarm clock next to my bed said it was 2:15 in the morning. I didn’t move a muscle. Didn’t even breathe as I strained my ears in the silence to hear any tiny noise. For several long, nearly excruciating seconds I sat like this, but I heard nothing.
Then I lay back down, assuming I had somehow dreamt about hearing the noise. But as I closed my eyes to go back to sleep, I heard something else—a voice. It was barely a whisper, but in the dead silence of the night, I heard it clearly. “Watch what you’re doing.”
My eyes shot open wide, but I didn’t sit up this time. There were people in the house, and who knew what they were there for?
I wanted to get up and run into Mike’s room, but I didn’t dare. If they were just here to rob us, they’d take what they wanted and leave. No sense getting either of us hurt, or worse, if I didn’t need to.
But, what if they weren’t just burglars? I had to protect my brother. I had to get to him and make sure he was all right.
His bedroom was only down the hall from mine, but it might as well have been a mile away. I didn’t know where the intruders were, and if I got out of bed now and they were right outside the bedroom door…
I didn’t want to think about it.
There was a slight rattling noise, as it seemed someone bumped into the table in the hall that held my mother’s favorite vase.
“Be careful,” came the whispered voice again. “You want to wake the other one up?”
They were in the hall, but it sounded like they were headed away. If I had any doubts as to their location, I heard a loud creak I recognized immediately as the first step on the stairs.
Satisfied the intruders were moving away, I slinked out of bed, staying crouched in the darkness, as if I was playing Desert Warrior, and tiptoed toward my bedroom door. I stood against the wall and listened, making sure there was really no one in the upstairs hall. There wasn’t any noise. So, I peeked my head around the corner to double check. It was very dark, the only light came from the moon through our skylight, but it was enough to let me see the hall was empty.
I eased into the hall using the shadows to keep hidden from any eyes that might be lurking about. I kept my back against the wall and tiptoed toward Mike’s room.
The people were downstairs. I could hear their footsteps tapping softly on the tiles in the foyer. Other than that, they made no noise.
Creeping into Mike’s room, I looked around for my little brother. At first, I couldn’t believe what I was looking at. I should’ve expected something like this, especially after the loud bang which woke me up. My heart thudded in my chest, threatening to break through my rib cage as I stepped further into the room to make sure my eyes weren’t deceiving me in the darkness.
Mike was nowhere to be found. Everything looked perfectly normal, except for the gaping hole in the center of his mattress. My nose caught the faint scent of burning charcoal, and I knew what had happened. The intruders had come into my brother’s room and woken him up. Being frightened, Mike did the only thing he knew to defend himself.
Unfortunately, based on what I was seeing and what I’d heard, it looked like the explosion hadn’t been enough to deter the intruders.
Just as I discovered that the intruders had, in fact, been kidnappers, my ears picked up the faint sound of the front door clicking shut. There was no time for stealth anymore. I charged down the stairs after them and to hell with whatever happened to me. I wasn’t about to let them take my little brother away—whoever they were.
Flinging open the door, I ran barefoot onto the front lawn in time to see a black SUV rush up the street. Its tires screeched loudly as it tore up the pavement. In the darkness, I didn’t get the chance to catch the license plate number before they were gone.
I rushed into the middle of the street, as if I had any chance of chasing them down, and stopped twenty feet down the road. The hard blacktop had scraped the bottom of my feet, causing then to burn quite a bit.
I felt helpless as the taillights disappeared around the corner. I must have stood there in the middle of the road, in nothing but my pajamas wondering how I was going to tell my mother. Finally, I went back into the house. Shutting the door, I sank onto the floor, completely spent. I didn’t cry though—I refused to cry. Shedding tears wouldn’t solve this problem. Only some good old-fashioned thinking could do that.
Unfortunately, the only thing I could think about was how I’d failed him. Since finding out about his ability, I’d done everything I could to protect him. Now it seemed all that protection was for nothing.
I had to call the police. Maybe they could do something. Even as fast as the thoughts entered my head, I knew it wouldn’t happen. Whoever kidnapped Mike weren’t just some thugs. They were professionals. Heck, it could have been the government that had taken him.
I picked myself off the floor and went upstairs for my cell phone. That’s when an idea clicked in my head. “Oh, I hope he has it on him,” I found myself saying as my fingers ran through the apps on my phone.
I loaded the GPS app and waited for it to load. It took several pain-inducing seconds. If I didn’t know any better, I would think my cell was purposely torturing me. Then, it blinked on the map showing where I was—at home—and where Mike was. His dot was moving down Fourteenth Street toward the warehouse district.
Now I was glad he’d worn those silly Batman pajamas, otherwise he’d have had no place to put his cell phone.
I stared at the dot, hoping they would stop soon. If they didn’t get too far, then I could call the police and take them there. Even they wouldn’t be able to ignore the evidence in front of their eyes. Finally the dot did stop—in front of one of the warehouses on Industrial Boulevard. That was luck. It wasn’t more than a ten minute car ride from my house.
I zoomed in and copied down the exact address. At that same moment, the dot disappeared. I don’t know if it was because his cell had been shut off or if he had no signal—or if he’d blown it and himself up. Either way, I was glad I got on the GPS when I did, or there would have been no trace of him.
Exiting the program, I dialed 911.
They responded immediately, “911, what’s the emergency?”
“My little brother’s been kidnapped. And I think I know where they’ve taken him.”
**********
Three hours later, I was regretting ever calling the police. They were about as incompetent as it came. First, they wouldn’t do anything until my mom spoke with them. So, I had to call her and tell her what happened—omitting the part about Mike blowing up his bed. Then they came to the house and did a thorough search—like I’d stashed him somewhere as some kind of teenage prank. They dusted for fingerprints…everywhere. Only after finding nothing except the huge hole in the center of Mike’s bed, did they send someone to the warehouse on Industrial Boulevard to check out what I told them.
Whoever took my brother had plenty of time now to hack him up, or ship him somewhere, or any number of things. So, I wasn’t surprised when I heard over the officer’s radio. “Car 38 checking in,” came a female voice. “Checked out the warehouse for that missing kid. There’s nothing here. The place is locked up tight. Looks like it’s been that way for a long time.”
“I read you,” the officer said. “Meet you back at the station.”
My mother was beside herself. She’d been hysterical since she first found out Mike had been taken, and it’d gotten worse and worse as the officers turned up less and less evidence.
“Are you sure you heard someone in your house?” Officer Brady asked me for the millionth time.
I sighed as my alarm went off upstairs. I was supposed to be getting up and ready for school right now. I guess that wasn’t happening. “Yes. There were at least two guys. They were trying to be quiet so they didn’t wake me up.”
“And that’s when you heard the explosion,” he said.
“No. The explosion woke me in the first place. Then the one guy was telling the other to be quiet.”
“Why would anyone want to blow up an eight-year-old’s bed?” he asked.
“I don’t know. Why don’t you go ask the bad guys?” The better question was, why was he still here wasting time when he could be out looking for the kidnappers?
“Now, I don’t want you to get angry,” he mentioned. “But is it possible that you might have dreamed some of this? It was pretty late, after all.”
“NO!” I yelled. “I know what I saw, and I know what I heard. Whoever it was, took my brother and they took him to that warehouse!”
“You just heard what my partner said. There’s nothing and no one there.”
“She’s wrong!”
“Abigail Grace Morrison!” My mother’s voice was horse, but no less harsh. “Don’t you dare talk to the officer in that manner. Apologize to him immediately!”
“But…”
“Now, young lady.”
Great, she’d given me the ‘young lady’. That meant there was no reasoning with her now.
“I’m sorry,” I said in a tone that was not at all believable.
“You’ll have to excuse my daughter.” My mom approached Officer Brady and I as she wiped tears from her eyes and blew her nose. “As I’m sure you know, we’re under a great deal of stress. We both know you’re doing the best you can.”
He nodded and then looked at me. “If you can think of anything else, give the department a call. In the meantime, we’re doing our best to find your brother.” Then he patted me on the head like I was a five-year-old and walked out of the house. The other officers, who’d been scouring the place for non-existent evidence, followed.
When the officers left, my mother whirled on me like a tornado. At first, I thought she might actually hit me, but she merely shook a finger at me as her mouth did its best to find words.
I knew she wasn’t really angry at me. She was as frustrated that nothing had happened. Even so, I still backed away in case she did try and hit me.
Finally, after several attempts at speaking, my mother simply said, “Shut that alarm off and get ready for school.”
“But…” I began to protest. She wasn’t seriously going to make me go to school after what had happened, was she?
The answer was, yes, she was.
“I won’t have you sitting around here all day brooding. I have a lot to do, and I don’t need you getting in the way.”
Yeah. That was her way of saying, “I can’t stand the sight of your right now. So you better leave before I kill you.” Maybe she really was mad at me. She couldn’t possibly blame me for what happened to Mike, could she?
I didn’t argue. But frustrated as I was, I stomped up the steps. In my room, I switched off the alarm and turned on the weather. The temperature was already sixty degrees, and it was going to get up near eighty today—so it was going to be shorts. I rummaged through my drawers, slamming each one shut as I was finished, and quickly got changed.
I should have gone to that warehouse instead of calling the police. I could’ve done a much better job of it than the police. They said it was locked up tight, but did they ever think of opening a door and actually looking inside? I could’ve done that.
You know, that wasn’t a bad idea. It wouldn’t take me long to get down there, and check the place out. If I found nothing I could go straight to school. I couldn’t concentrate in class if I didn’t give it a look myself anyway.
Taking everything out of my schoolbag, I repacked it with stuff I might need—a flashlight, a change of clothes, some plastic bags. I also tucked in the tiny can of pepper spray my mother insisted I have. I’d never thought I’d actually use it, but today seemed like a really good day to give it a shot.
I didn’t even say goodbye to my mother. I simply walked out the front door. I hated the fact that it would be another year before I got my driver’s license. If I could only get behind the wheel of the car, I could drive to the warehouse in a matter of minutes.
Since I couldn’t, I hopped onto my bike. I didn’t know why I still had the thing. I hardly ever used it anymore. However, I was glad to have it. Walking across town would take forever.
It was barely six o’clock by this time. The sun still hadn’t really come up. The sky to the east was turning a faint pinkish color, but I could still clearly see the stars in the sky. I had the route mapped out in my head. I went down Fourteenth Street, just as the SUV had the night before. As I made the turn onto Industrial Boulevard, my heart began to pound and I started to wonder just what I was doing. I had to be absolutely insane.
Insanity was probably just what was needed for this though. It was the only thing that would allow me to break into the warehouse and rescue my brother.
Amazingly, I wasn’t even afraid of being mugged or anything, which was the reason my mother always gave me for avoiding this area of town. Supposedly, the unsavory people lived here. If they did, I saw absolutely no sign of them.
Each warehouse looked the same as the last. Same painted brick exterior, same fenced-in areas in the backs that housed a couple of trucks. The only thing that helped distinguish one building from the next was the graffiti on the walls. Even that started looking the same after a while.
Finally, I found the address Mike’s cell phone ended up at. The sun was lighting the side of the building with a dull orange glow. There was a large metal door with a tiny window in it. The window looked as if it had been painted over from the inside so no one could look in. My first thought was that this was where the officer had given up her search. I decided to take it one step further.
I knocked.
I hadn’t thought out what I would say or do if someone actually answered the door. Maybe I’d shout out, “Girl Scout Cookies.” Then I’d run away, leaving the person confused.
I rolled my eyes at my own stupid thoughts. That would really be the way to get back my brother. I waited a minute, and when I received no response, I knocked again—this time so hard, the window rattled. Again, no one answered.
I looked to see if there was another entrance. It was only three stories tall, like all the other warehouses. There was a ladder, which led up to the roof, like all the other warehouses. However, there was one feature the investigating officer must have missed last night. On each corner of the building, pointing down at the street, and probably watching me at that moment, was a camera.
Suddenly, I had an idea how to get into the building.
I locked up my bike on the chain link fence next to the warehouse. I didn’t expect to see it again. Then I walked over to the ladder. It was just out of reach and even jumping, my fingers only grazed the bottom rung. But I was determined, and wasn’t about to let a simple thing like not being able to jump very high stop me.
My dad always taught me to use the tools you’ve been given, even if they’re a little unconventional. He’d once used a plastic butter knife from the bagel place to reattach the wire to the car battery. If he could do that, surely I could get to the bottom rung of the ladder.
I noticed a stack of cinder blocks across the street in the entryway of another warehouse. Those would be my tools for the job.
I walked across the street and grabbed one of the blocks. It must have weighed about fifty pounds and I struggled to carry it back across the street. I placed it under the ladder and got another. My muscles were straining like they’d never been strained before. The last time I actually lifted something heavy was…well, never. I wasn’t used to torturing my muscles like this, so they screamed for relief. However, I wasn’t giving up.
I made the trip five more times, grabbing a total of six blocks. I built a tiny stairway with three blocks up against the wall, directly under the ladder, two blocks in front of that and one block in front of that. I surveyed my work for a moment, feeling pride in what I’d done, even if it was as simple as stacking a few blocks.
Whoever was inside the building was probably watching my every move, but I didn’t care. This was a rescue mission and like James Bond, I was going to reach my goal no matter what got in my way.
Without further hesitation, I climbed the makeshift staircase and reached up. My hand gripped the bottom rung of the ladder and I pulled myself up. The first couple of rungs were hard getting up because all I had was the wall to use for my feet. After I got up to the fourth rung though, climbing the ladder was easy as pie.
By the time I reached the top, I was exhausted. I never would have thought that climbing like that could take so much out of a person. Maybe it was because I was working on minimal sleep and the high amount of stress my mind and body had been put through over the last few hours. All I knew was, I had to sit on the roof for a minute and rest.
Mike better be in there. If I went through all this trouble to find him and he wasn’t in there, I’d have to kill him.
I didn’t let myself rest too long. If someone was in the building, they either already knew I was here, or soon would. Either way, I had to move quickly.
As expected, there was a door on the southern side of the roof. With the cameras and the ladder up here, there had to be some kind of roof access. I picked myself up and strode toward the door. But when I tried to open it, I discovered it was locked.
I cursed. How could I be so stupid? The real question was, how could I have expected it to be that easy? I had to find another option.
If there was someone inside, they had to be monitoring the cameras. If there was a problem with the cameras, they would have to send someone up to fix them. I walked to the corner of the building nearest the door. The camera hung off the side of the building a foot from the top. Disabling it was easy. I grabbed the pair of wires connecting the back of the camera to the building and yanked. The wires tore free with ease.
I hurried to each of the other four corners of the building, disabling the other cameras in much the same way as the first. If someone was watching, they were now blind to what was going on down on the street.
I ran back to the door and stood behind it, so that if it did open, I wouldn’t be seen immediately.
For several minutes, I crouched next to the door, pepper spray ready. But nothing happened. No alarms went off and nobody rushed up to fix the cameras. I let out a long sigh. Maybe I had been wrong. Maybe this really was just an empty warehouse.
The sun was fully up now, painting the sky a light blue color. I was about to give up when sounds came from below—the tapping of shoes on metal stairs. My eyes shot open and my heart pounded into my ribcage again. Not only had I been right, but someone was actually coming.
I braced myself, raising the pepper spray as the footsteps got closer. I expected the footsteps to be hurried, as if they were coming for some dangerous intruder—me. They weren’t at all, which I had honestly expected. Whoever was coming, was as calm as could be. I would have to change that.
The person was very close now, and I prepared to spring as soon as the door opened. They were going to get a face full of the pepper spray and start clawing at their eyes. I pictured it in my head. If I visualized it, that’s the way it would happen.
However, as one might expect, when the door finally did open, I panicked. The person had barely gotten their head through when I kicked the door. It bounced off their head, crushing it between it and the wall. The man the head belonged to looked dazed, but didn’t immediately go down. So, I kicked the door again…and again.
After the third time, the man fell to the ground, unconscious. A little blood dripped from his nose; a nasty bruise was forming on his cheek.
Now that he was out for the count, I could get a good look at him. He wore a black suit with a white shirt and a black tie. His brown hair was cut short and he had no facial hair to speak of. Aside from the broken nose I think I’d just given him, he wasn’t bad looking.
For a second, I felt sorry for what I’d done. But then I thought about how this could have been one of the guys who’d broken into my house last night and kidnapped Mike. With that thought, any sympathy blew away in the wind.
I grabbed both the man’s arms, dragged him away from the door, tossing my bag in the door so it wouldn’t close. I went through the man’s pockets. If he had some kind of identification on him, maybe I could tell who he worked for and what they wanted with Mike.
He had no actual I.D. other than a badge. It was round and gold, like a policeman’s, but it had the initials M.H.D.A. on it. I had no idea what that meant, but I pocketed the badge none-the-less. Further searching revealed the man had a gun tucked under his left arm. I took that too. I had never fired a gun before, but I figured having that in my hand, whether I knew how to use it or not, was a step up from pepper spray.
After going through the rest of his pockets and finding nothing more than a pack of gum, I kicked his legs out of the way and went inside, shutting the door behind me and stranding the unconscious man on the roof.
It was funny, but any nervousness I’d felt before had faded away. It had been replaced by a new emotion—excitement. It felt strange, but the way I’d given that guy a beat down was exhilarating. It was like every fiber of my body was on fire—but in a good way—and it ached for more.
I tiptoed down the steps, holding the gun in both hands at my side like I’d seen them do in spy movies. At the first landing there was a door with a small window in it. First, I peered through the window. It was an unlit and empty corridor and I could only see maybe twenty feet down before everything faded to blackness.
I placed my hand on the handle and slowly turned it. The door was locked.
I went further down the stairs. The next floor was the same, a locked door and a dark hallway beyond. It was strange how there didn’t seem to be anyone here. There had to be though, otherwise the man never would have come to the roof.
They had my brother in here somewhere and I had to get him out. Nothing would stop me. If I had to shoot off the lock to one of these doors to get into the building, then I would—but that would be my last resort.
By this time I was at the bottom of the stairwell, so I had to be near the warehouse floor, but still there’d been no sign of life. There was one more door. Through the window in the door, I could see the vast floor of an empty warehouse. Lines and lines of shelves filled the place, but there wasn’t a single item on any of them.
Cautiously, I turned the handle. To my surprise, the locking mechanism popped and the door swung open. Satisfied I’d finally found a way in, I crouched and slid into the large room.
The warehouse wasn’t anything remarkable, though I have to admit, I had never been in a room that large in my life. I also had to admit that if I didn’t know any better, I would have sworn this place had been abandoned a decade ago. Dust covered everything. Many of the empty shelves that had probably at one time held boxes and crates to go out for shipping, now only held cobwebs. A musty odor hung in the air, like I was the first person to enter this room in quite some time.
It was no wonder the police thought this place was empty. On the surface, that’s exactly what it looked like. But, at the same time, I was holding the gun of a man who’d come up to the roof. Someone else had to be here. All I had to do was find them.
Did they know I was there? I mean, they had to by now. Didn’t they? But if they did know I was here, then why wasn’t there anyone coming to detain me? Whether they knew or not, I was being slow and careful. There was no sense in drawing attention to myself after all.
So, I stuck to the shadows—and there were many of them. I stepped through the room, my feet making no more noise than a graceful ballerina. It was actually my breathing that made the most noise. With my heart beating so quickly, and my adrenaline surging through my veins, I was breathing pretty heavily. I tried calming down by taking in deep and slow breaths.
Slinking near a row of towering, vacant shelves, I heard a noise. It was faint, and I don’t know where it came from, but it sounded like someone speaking into a radio. The noise faded before I had the chance to pinpoint the source. There had to be someone in there with me. That much I was certain about.
Several times, I passed these metal grates that looked like they were used for drainage of some kind. I avoided those. Stepping on them would create too much noise.
Then, much closer, and barely above a whisper, a voice said, “Let’s see what she does first.”
I spun, trying to locate the source. I pointed the gun everywhere my eyes fell—the next row of shelves, in the rafters, even behind me where I’d come. I couldn’t find anyone. I might have been good at sneaking around—in the virtual world, anyway—but whoever these guys were, they were pros.
The way I saw it, if they weren’t going to attack me, I wasn’t turning back. When they did finally spring on me, then I would know I was getting close to something they didn’t want me seeing. Then I would know exactly where to find my brother.
Continuing down the row of shelves, I made it to the opposite side of the warehouse. The wall in front of me was nothing but solid brick. Immediately, I thought there might be some kind of secret passage or something, but a quick glance up and down and I dismissed that. Besides, secret passages were something left to television and video games. I doubted the bricks would suddenly slide apart, revealing a brightly lit corridor beyond.
On the other hand…
A few bricks jutted out from the wall a few rows down. They didn’t look like anything remarkable, maybe just that someone mislaid them when they built the building. However, my curiosity got the better of me and I ventured down toward them.
There were three. Seemingly randomly placed. Most people wouldn’t think it was anything but an accident. They did appear to be firmly set. But I was leaving no stone unturned—or in this case, pushed.
I pushed the bottom-most brick and was actually kind of surprised when it moved. At first I pulled my fingers away, leaving the red block half-shoved into the wall. I spun around several times, pointing my gun in all directions, as if expecting to be pounced upon any second. But no one came. There were no noises at all.
Turning back toward the wall, I placed my hand firmly on the brick and pressed till it was flush with the wall. I waited—nothing happened.
So, I went to the next highest up brick and did the same thing. Then I did the same thing with the third. I stood for several seconds, listening. I didn’t know what I was trying to hear, but I figured if I’d done anything, there would be some kind of noise.
After about a minute of standing there, I was about to give up. However, at the very second I turned away from the wall, the slightest scraping noise drew my attention back to it. I would like to say there was a wall opening or some other remarkable thing, but the only thing happening was the bricks came back out of the wall. Each one returned to its original position.
I half-closed my eyes and tilted my head to study the wall. There was nothing natural about a wall spitting out bricks after someone pushed them in. The question was, what was the purpose of those bricks?
Then I had it. It was a combination lock. I had to hit the bricks in the right order, just like punching in the correct strings of code to get a program to work. If I found out the sequence, something should happen. Luckily, with only three bricks, there could only be six possible sequences. My only hope was, the people watching me didn’t decide to come out of hiding before I found it.
I pressed in the bricks again—high, middle, low. Nothing happened, and I had to wait another minute for the mechanism to reset itself. It did and I tried—middle, low, high. Again, nothing. I waited for it to reset itself for a third time, praying there wasn’t some kind of failsafe for a certain amount of attempts. When the bricks came forward again I tried—low, high, middle.
A click and then a loud metal clang sounded behind me. I nearly jumped out of my skin—it sounded like someone had fired a gun. But I was uninjured, so I eased around to find that the closest metal grate in the row I was now facing had sprung open.
Pausing, I waited again for the people I knew were there to stop me. They’d had plenty of opportunities so far and now that I’d found this secret passage, they had to know I wasn’t quitting until I reached my goal—Mike.
I shouldn’t have been, but still was surprised when absolutely nothing happened. No Black-Ops team jumped from the rafters. No camouflaged squad of secret agents erupted out of the corners to surround me. Not even the click of a gun being cocked. Whoever these people were, they had no problem with me proceeding—so, I did.
Inching up to the now-open grate, I peered into its depths. The floor was dark, but I could tell it was only about ten feet down. It would be easy enough to jump. It would probably hurt my shins a bit on the landing, but I could do it. I prepared for the jump, even going so far as to take my finger off the trigger of the gun so I didn’t accidentally shoot myself when I landed.
However, just before I made the leap, I noticed a ladder. Thinking how stupid I was to think there wouldn’t be a way back up, I turned and placed my foot on the first rung and lowered myself down that way instead. I watched where my feet were going, as I descended into the pit.
As I made the short climb down the seemingly rusty ladder—I say seemingly because it gave every appearance of being rusty, but from the feel of it underneath my bare hands, the surface was smooth, so I could tell it was nearly new—I could feel eyes upon me. It’s an eerie feeling, knowing you’re being watched.
At the bottom, I surveyed my surroundings again. Behind the ladder, down a narrow and low-ceilinged, dark corridor, was the rectangular outline of a door. The door was shut, but the light from behind it created a thin white line of light, which made it plain as day to see. That was my destination.
I picked up my pace. Though they made every effort to make the hole look like nothing more than a drainage ditch; it was remarkably clean. The small rectangle around the door grew larger and larger until I was standing before it.
With everything I had seen so far, I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised there was nothing special about the door. There was no fancy locking mechanism. No sliding door with a retinal scan. Not even a place to scan my thumbprint. It was just a simple heavy wooden door with a doorknob. A doorknob, I might add, which I turned with as much cautiousness as I’d shown throughout the rest of my explorations. I cracked open the door and continued onward.
The first thing through the door was the gun. My head followed a second later, as I peered in to see if there was anyone inside. It was so bright and everything was so white it took a few seconds before my eyes adjusted and I could clearly see what was before me.
The only way I could describe it was like being on some kind of alien starship, like you see in those old sci-fi movies. A lot of high-tech gadgets lined the walls, and everything looked practically sterile. I am pretty much up to date on all the newest gizmos you can get and how to use them, but this was beyond me.
What I didn’t see were people. I glanced over my shoulder one last time to see if anyone was following—there wasn’t—then I stepped through the doorway, and shut the door.
The room looked like some kind of reception area. While blinking diodes and high-def screens showed God knew what on them. Also, sitting before me was a plain white desk with a plain white chair behind it, much like a secretary might sit at. However, it, like the rest of the place, was vacant.
On either side of the desk were two exits. There were no doors, just two corridors turning off in opposite directions.
So, now I had to choose a direction and hope it took me to where they were holding Mike before I ran into someone who was bound to cause me trouble. I decided on the right. I had no logical reason for choosing that direction. It just felt like the way to go.
As I approached that corridor, someone stepped into the room. He was looking down at an electronic tablet when he caught sight of me. He wore a black suit, much like the man on the roof, and even had similar looking hair. This guy was much younger though.
On pure instinct, I raised the gun and pointed it at the man before he could utter a word. The man didn’t even blink at the fact I was holding a deadly weapon in his face.
“Who are you?” he asked. “What are you doing here?”
I kept my voice calm, but even as I spoke, I spit out the words as if each one were a bullet. “Where is my brother?”
He shook his head for a moment as he placed the tablet on the desk and started to reach inside his jacket. “Who?”
“My brother, Michael Morrison. You kidnapped him last night and brought him here.” I waved the gun at his hand. “Get your hand out of there or I will shoot.”
He only hesitated a moment. Then he stuck his hand further into his jacket and began to withdraw it.
I pulled the trigger. At least, I tried to. The trigger seemed locked in place—stupid safety. I quickly tried to figure out how to disengage the safety mechanism as the man continued to casually withdraw his gun.
I came up with the only other logical movement. I threw the gun at him.
It smacked him in the forehead. His hand came out of his jacket, minus his gun as he brought both hands up to the gash on his head. He yelled in pain. I was stunned it actually worked.
Knowing he would regain his composure quickly, I vaulted forward and swept his legs out from underneath him. He landed hard on his back, which knocked the wind out of him, but he still wasn’t knocked out. So, I grabbed the gun I’d hurled at him and brought it down on the side of his head. He lay there motionless. I placed my fingers underneath his nose and checked he was still alive—he was, thankfully.
Removing his gun, I dragged him behind the desk. Then, I took a second to find the catch on one gun and removed the safety, tucking the other gun into the back of my pants. I wasn’t going to be caught without a usable weapon again. Then I entered the brightly lit, right corridor and headed down in the direction I hoped my brother lay.
There was nothing remarkable about this corridor other than the bright, nearly blinding whiteness of it all. I mean, I could have been running down a corridor of a hospital or a prison. The fact that there were no identifiable markings on anything—not the walls, not the doors, not even the ceiling or floor—would make it very had to find my way back out again. I would just have to make as few turns as possible.
I came to the end of the corridor about fifty yards down, and then had to make the choice of left or right. I’d chosen right the first time and I saw no reason why I should confuse myself, so I took the right corridor again.
This one looked exactly like the last, plain, bright white walls and doors spaced about every ten feet. There was nothing on any of the doors—not even any numbers—so I tried the handle of the closest one on my left. It swung open easily. I stuck my head inside. The room was the same bright white of the corridors, and was furnished with only a simple bed and desk with a stool. In the corner was a toilet.
Was this a jail cell?
It had to be. What other reason would you have to put a toilet in a room with a bed? From the first question, a second came to mind. Had I wandered into some type of prison?
I moved further up the corridor, and opened another door. This room was exactly the same as the last. The room across from it was too. But if this was a prison, why were all the rooms empty? They had to be holding someone here.
And the only person I could think of that they’d be holding was my brother. Mike had to be inside one of these rooms.
“Hey!”
My head spun to face up the corridor the way I’d come. Sprinting toward me were two people, a man and a woman, in those same black suits the others wore. The man’s tie flapped behind him as he charged me.
The time for stealth was over. They knew I was here and they had to guess what I was here for. I pointed the gun over their heads and fired off a shot. I’d never fired a gun before and wasn’t prepared for how it jumped in my hand. I also hadn’t expected the noise to be quite so loud. I barely managed to keep my grip on the handle as the bullet hit one of the ceiling lights above the man’s head. The light went out and sparks flew in all directions. Considering I wasn’t aiming at the ceiling, it was a rather lucky hit.
He ducked with his hands raised as if the roof were going to crash down upon him. The woman stopped in her tracks, skidding to a halt behind him. I used this second’s hesitation on their parts to run further down the corridor, praying I wouldn’t be caught in a dead end somewhere. The heavy footfalls of the two black-suited people told me they were not far behind.
“Stop where you are!”
Like that was going to happen.
I rounded another corner, once again turning right, and found myself in yet another overly lit corridor. I knew I couldn’t outrun them. So, I ducked into the first room to buy myself a few extra seconds to think.
It was another cell, set up exactly like the others. I closed the door and remained quiet while their footsteps slowed and stopped.
“She must have ducked into one of the cells,” the woman said.
“Well, let’s find her before Smith finds out she got this far inside.”
I had only a second before one of them opened the door. I took in my surroundings, noting the bed, the desk and stool and the toilet. There was no escape. The only place to hide would have been under the bed, which was clearly visible from the door. The only hope I had was to catch them by surprise.
As expected, the doorknob turned. I stood near the desk and faced the door, my right foot perched on the edge of the stool.
It was the man. He caught sight of me in an instant and swung the door open. “She’s in—”
He never got the chance to finish the sentence. Again, I fired the handgun over his head. He ducked in fright. I kicked out with my right foot sending the stool careening into his shin.
“Ahhh!” he shouted out and bent into a crouch. I vaulted into the air and jabbed my elbow into the part of his neck that connects to the shoulder. It’s a vital pressure point and if hit right, your opponent will go down immediately. I did it right and the man was knocked out before he hit the ground.
Using the momentum from my charge, I sprang up and grabbed the top of the doorframe. I swung through the doorway to the woman who was just turning around. I put my feet up. They connected with her chin with a resounding CRUNCH!
The woman hit the floor with a thud. Her dark hair splayed around her shoulders in an unkempt mess. Blood spurted from her mouth and I knew I’d knocked out a couple of teeth.
I ran further up the corridor. I had no idea where I was anymore, and could only hope to avoid these people long enough to find Mike and get out.
Before I made it to the end of this particular corridor, five more of the black-suited Agents came around to cut me off. I spun, my momentum causing me to slip slightly on the smooth floor and I turned back the way I’d come. However, I was also blocked by another five Agents.
Yeah, I knew my luck was too good to be true. I held up the gun at one of the groups and pulled the other gun out of my pants. Flicking off the safety, I pointed it at the other group.
Now was the time to see if I was truly serious about being willing to kill for my brother.
My heart thudded hard in my chest, and my breathing was out of control. I might not have to worry about shooting anyone, because my hyperventilating was soon going to make me pass out. Only my determination to get out of this without being killed or captured kept me on my feet.
The two groups pressed in on me, stopping about fifteen feet up the corridor on either side. Each of the ten Agents a gun aimed at me.
I didn’t lower my weapons and tried my best not to look intimidated, even though my brain was telling me to cry out in terror. “I just…” I couldn’t get the words out at first. My voice quavered so much I actually couldn’t speak. But I took a deep breath and cleared my throat, looking directly into the eyes of a dark-skinned man who’d stepped forward. “I want my brother.”
Thought I was pointing the barrel of the handgun right at his chest, the dark-skinned man didn’t flinch at all. As a matter of fact, he stepped forward so that the end of the gun was pressed into his chest. “What’s your name, young lady?”
“Ab-Abby.”
He nodded, almost as if he was approving of my name. “Abby, I don’t think you quite understand what you’ve gotten yourself into here.”
“I don’t…care. Give me back my…brother.” And then I stared him down. My arm shook as much as my voice, but my gaze didn’t waver.
The man looked at me, impressed. I’m not sure why. I was nothing but a frightened fifteen-year-old little girl, quaking in my shoes.
Suddenly, for no good reason, I thought about what I was doing last night and how I’d been so concerned about Carly and Lorenzo. It was amazing how unimportant that all seemed now that I was pretty much fighting for my brother’s life—and mine too.
He tilted his gray-haired head down to look at the gun pressed into his chest. He cocked his head as if amused by the thing. His eyes came up and stared directly back at me. “Are you really going to shoot me, Abby?”
I didn’t respond. We both knew the answer.
“The first time’s always the hardest.” His voice was like one of my teachers explaining something very simple to a student. “It’s very simple. Just squeeze your finger around the trigger and fire.”
My hand trembled, but my finger didn’t move. I tried several times to open my mouth and allow words to escape, but I could no longer find my voice. This man was practically telling me to shoot him, and I couldn’t do it. This man, who helped kidnap my brother, and I could do nothing to him.
“It’s Morrison, isn’t it? Abby Morrison?” He cocked his head to the side again as if considering if my name held any potential. Then he nodded. “I think we can work something out.” He half-glanced over his shoulder at one of the men standing behind him. “Graves, go fetch the Morrison boy. He should be in level nine holding, being prepared for transport.”
One of the younger looking Agents spun on his heel and strode down the hallway and quickly was out of sight.
The dark-skinned man turned his attention back to me, barely acknowledging the fact that there was still a gun up against his ribs. “I am Agent Smith, and I have to admit, I am impressed with the skills you’ve shown today. How old are you, by the way?”
“F-fifteen,” I stuttered.
He nodded, seemingly in approval. “I must say, I hate children. They are usually immature, stupid and oblivious to the world around them.” He paused and then back away from me. My arm fell to my side, still shaking. I hadn’t realized that his weight against the gun was the only thing keeping it up. “You have somehow managed to not only break into a level three government facility, but you also managed to incapacitate four highly trained Agents with little more than a few well placed kicks.”
He straightened his back even further and placing his hands behind his back, paced a large circle around me, forcing me to spin in place and follow him. “It is unfathomable that a child such as yourself, is able to accomplish such a task.”
“You…you helped me get in,” I said. It had taken me this long, but I finally recognized his voice as being the one in the warehouse.
Smith twisted his neck to face me, making him look like a bird of prey. “I did no such thing. I admit I watched your every move since you started stacking those cinder blocks outside, but I have not helped you in any manner.”
“Why?” It was the only thing I could think to say. After all, this man knew I was there from the beginning, why hadn’t he stopped me?
Smith’s answer was as straightforward as it was cryptic. “I wanted to see what you’d do.” He stopped his pacing and faced me. “And you didn’t disappoint.”
“What do you mean?”
He shook his head and scowled for a second, and I thought that, at last I’d come to the end of the time he was allowing me. But when he spoke, it was in the same calm tone he’d been using with me from the start. “I assume you would be willing to do anything for your brother. So, I have a proposal for you.”
“Abby?” came a slight whine from behind Smith.
Smith stepped to the side, revealing Graves with a hand on my brother’s shoulder. Mike was still dressed in his Batman pajamas, but his hands were both contained in some kind of big metal clamps.
I made to run to him, but Smith stepped into my path.
“He’s only eight-years-old,” I complained.
“He’s also quite dangerous,” Smith retorted. “He nearly killed one of my Agents with one of those blasts he creates.”
“It’s not his fault. He was probably defending himself. You’d do the same thing.”
Smith nodded. “Probably.”
“So, let him go,” I ordered, not that I thought he would actually listen to me. “I’ve been taking care of him since he started this. I can make sure he doesn’t hurt anyone.”
Smith looked at me, the right side of his lip curled up into a grin. “You know, I think you could.” He turned to Graves, who still held tightly onto Mike. “Was a blood sample taken?”
“Yes, sir,” Graves responded.
Smith nodded and then stepped out of the way. I took this as permission to go to my brother and I took a step in his direction but stopped again as Smith shouted, “Wait!”
I glanced at him, hoping my gaze told him how much I’d like to see him catch fire at that moment.
“I will allow you to take your brother,” Smith informed me. However, the way he said it, I knew there was bound to be a catch. A second later, I found out what it was. “Graves, remove your gun and point it at the child.”
“What? No!” I couldn’t believe it. He was going to let me take Mike back home but only if he was dead?
I raised my right hand and pointed the gun at Smith.
Smith again didn’t seem disturbed. He shrugged as if impatient. “I’m not the one with the gun against your brother’s head.” Then he leaned up against the wall as if uninterested in the whole situation. “If you want your brother back, you’re going to have to kill Agent Graves.”
“Abby?” Mike cried as Graves pressed the end of his gun against his skin. Tiny explosions were crackling inside the metal restraints. “Help me.”
“If her feet move in any way, shoot him,” Smith told the man.
Instantly, my arm swung around. I lined up the barrel so it was pointing at Graves’ forehead. But again, I couldn’t pull the trigger.
“The first time is the hardest,” Smith repeated.
I never thought to ask why he wanted me to kill one of his own men. The only thing I cared about was getting my brother back. All I had to do was pull the trigger. Why couldn’t I?
The answer was, because murder is wrong. It’s wrong, even if you’re defending yourself—or in this case, someone you care about.
Tears streamed down my face and I sucked in air through my nose. I looked at Mike, his eyes pleading for me to rescue him. But I couldn’t. I didn’t have the guts to go through with it. I lowered both my arm and my head, ashamed to look at him because of my failure.
A hefty sigh came from Smith, but still I didn’t look up. “I’m sorry, Abby, but you leave me no choice. Agent Graves, I’m going to count to ten. If she doesn’t shoot you in that time, kill the boy.”
“What?” I shouted. “No! Keep him locked up! You can’t kill him!”
“One.”
“Stop it! He hasn’t done anything!”
“Two.”
Mike cried out again. “I’m scared, Abby!”
“Three.”
“It’ll be okay, Mike. Agent Smith, please stop! I’ll do anything.”
“Four.”
“He’s just a little boy!”
“Five.”
He wasn’t going to stop. He wouldn’t stop unless I fired that gun. I looked at the black metal object in my hand, still not sure if I could do it.
“Six.”
I lifted the weapon, but dropped it to my side again. “Please…” I cried one last time.
“Seven.”
I took a deep breath and raised the weapon again. I took aim at Graves’ forehead.
“Eight.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, then pulled the trigger.
BANG! The gun jumped in my hand again and the bullet flew the short distance at the Agent. But instead of hitting him, it struck his shoulder. Mike jumped at the sound of the explosion, which was kind of ironic when you think about it.
The Agent however, barely flinched. He took the weapon from Mike and re-holstered it inside his jacket. I stared wide-eyed at the man. There wasn’t even a hole in the jacket where the bullet hit.
“Well, at least we know the new fabric works.” Smith stepped forward again. “You may go.”
As one, the ten Agents surrounding us moved back, leaving me there, still confused, staring at both Quinn and my brother.
I held out my arms for Mike to come to me. He ran across the short distance, his hands still awkwardly bound inside the metal clamps. I wrapped my arms around him, determined never to let him go, no matter what.
“You’ve got intelligence, skill and guts,” Smith said to me. “We could use someone like you, with a bit of training, of course.”
I had no idea what he was talking about, and my facial expression must have shown exactly that.
“People underestimate you. You are young and can easily pose as a student—because, well, you are one.” When it was still clear I didn’t comprehend, he added, “I’m offering you a job.”
Gazing up at him, I frowned angrily at him. “You’re kidding, right? This is some kind of joke.”
He shook his gray-haired head. “No. You have really made an impression on me. But I’m afraid this is an all or nothing deal. You can either accept and, being an Agent of the M.H.D.A., we would consider your brother to be in our custody, or you can refuse and I can have you arrested for breaking into a government facility and have you incarcerated with him. The choice is yours.”
Some choice, I thought. The truth was, it was really no choice. But there was one question I had first. “What is the M.H.D.A.?”
He smiled. “The Meta-Human Detection Agency. We catch dangerous super-powered individuals, like your brother.”
I looked at Mike for an instant. He wasn’t dangerous, and never would be. I didn’t care what this man said. But again, I was his sworn protector, so I made the only choice I could. “I’ll take the job.”
Smith nodded. “Come with me. I have some paperwork to make it all official. Then we’ll get you cleaned up and take you home.”
As happy as I was I’d successfully saved Mike from a horrific fate, I couldn’t help but think I’d just sold my soul to the devil.
Thanks all!
Like what you’ve read? Well, we’re going to be giving you a new story next week! But if you truly did like this story, hit that share button below and let your friends on social media know about it. We will continue to publish this story weekly, for free, until it’s done. So, if you want to see what happens next, just be sure to check your inbox next week, because it is coming!
Also, if you like what you’ve read, consider becoming a premium subscriber. We offer a 7-day trial membership you can get by clicking “Subscribe” below. It will unlock all of the premium content for you to peruse while you decide whether it’s a good fit for you!
As always… thanks!
STAY AWESOME!!!