"If thou beest not immortal, look about you; security gives way to conspiracy."~William Shakespeare, Julius Caesar, Act II, Scene II

ACT I / LEVEL ONE

Chapter I: The Burning.

Speaker: Sarah.

Smoke was everywhere that night. In my dreams I ran through city streets and shopping malls and between library shelves, looking for something I couldn't remember when I woke up. But no matter where I went, the smoke followed me.

They must have sneaked up on me, because through the smoke I felt something cold and sharp against the nape of my neck. Turning around I saw them, and knew I had felt the tip of his sword. I had what they wanted, and there was no way I would give it to them. But I was cornered on a huge bridge where cars went past at the speed of light in both directions. Below the bridge a fat, torrid river went its way just as fast. The cityscape on the other side of the bridge was sending too much light into the night sky, turning it a garish but somehow intriguing pink. The sun was setting. A horrible choice was before me.

Clutching it in my hands, I hoisted myself onto the railing and jumped. It felt both slow and fast as I fell, fell, fell towards the water, fell into the waking world.

Who were they? Why were they trying to kill me? What did I have that they wanted, and why was it so important that they not get it?

I don't know.

At first I thought I was still dreaming. The odor of smoke lingered. I turned on my bedside lamp, hoping it could break the nightmare. But the light only made it worse.

I could see now that my bedroom was full of black smoke. I staggered to the door coughing, with stinging, watering eyes.

Flames were spreading down the hallway.

Clearly I didn't have time to ask how it happened. I just ran into my brother's room, crying "Ron! Ron! Wake up! There's a fire!" Ron awoke at once.

Our old wise cat came meowing fearfully toward us on his long thin unstable grey legs. Ron scooped him up in his arms and ran downstairs, saying "I'm gonna call 911."

The smoke was doing a number on my eyes, not to mention my respiratory system. I fought my way to the other end of the upstairs hall, feeling that the heat would kill me.

The door was locked. Why? In all my fifteen years of life, my parents had never locked their bedroom door at night. They were always there if Ron or I needed them.

"Mom! Dad! Unlock! Wake up! The house is burning!"

I shouted and struggled with the doorknob for what seemed like hours. My throat was so hoarse I doubted I'd ever be able to speak again. Eventually I gave up on the lock and flung myself against the door with all the meager force in my body. But apparently nothing could open that door.

Suddenly I felt Ron's hand on my shoulder. "Sarah! The Fire Department is on its way," he said in a shaking voice. "We should get outside. Come on!"

"But Mom and Dad are still in there! We can't just leave them!"

"No, come with me! There's no chance." He paused. I saw his tears reflected in the hellish light. Then he whispered the words that changed everything: "They're probably already dead."

He was right. If they were still alive, wouldn't they have at least tried to get out? No one could sleep through all this…unless they would never wake up.

And if Ron and I stayed here much longer, we'd probably die too. Tonight was the end of Mom and Dad; it didn't have to be the end of us.

We ran out of the house and into the scraggly yard. The stunted vegetation hurt my bare feet, but all things considered I hardly noticed. Hopi sat waiting for us with his tail curled around him. The cat's yellow eyes glowed sadly. He knew what was happening.

First I ran to the chicken coop next to the house and flung the door open wide. The hens flapped out frantically, some of them already burning from crest to wingtip to talon.

Then my brother and I stood there watching the flames devour our home until I think we both passed out.

When the firefighters arrived, I wonder what they made of what they saw: an ancient cat and two unconscious kids in their pajamas in front of a house that was more of a fireball now, a dying star that fell to Earth, a portent of doom in the wintry desert night.