A/N: We have an extra-long chapter for all you lucky readers—6313 words! This, as you may or may not know, is the end of Part One: Real Life, and it is the lead-in to Part Two: Unknown-to-you-atm! Thank you all.
--San and Allie
~9~
Sara was in danger; the ninja could sense it. After flipping away from her, he'd run off to Niagara Falls, contemplating what he had done. In no way was he regretful, but he was slightly embarrassed. And now...even from all the way over here, Unknown could feel that something was wrong, and Sara was in trouble. The ninja began to run full speed back towards Sara's house, panting hard. He felt so stressed he stumbled, but, being an awesome ninja, ended up somersaulting forward.
The trip back to Sara's house from the border seemed to stretch on and on. As he ran, his legs pumping swiftly and efficiently, he contemplated the idea that he may be too late. Down streets and avenues he ran, then out onto a highway. Lurking in the dark, he avoided all of the headlights of the car. If he were to be seen, dressed all in black and carrying a large sword, there was no doubt in his mind that he would be arrested, detained, and held for questioning. And he couldn't have that happen, not when Sara- his Sara- was in danger. So, cloaked in the shrouds of shadows and nighttime, he moved forward.
After what felt like hours, Unk made it to Sara's home. All of the lights were on in the house, giving it a distinctly cheerful feel. Her window was open, and her lacy wafting curtains seemed to flow in the breeze. All in all, not the picture of trouble. But Unk knew- he just knew that something was wrong.
Then he heard the scream. It was loud, high-pitched, and awful to hear. Almost inhuman, but coming from a distinctly female person. It wasn't Sara, but in a second, her voice joined in with the horrible wail. Unk wasted no time climbing the ivy vine beneath her window and appeared in the room, before being confronted by a strange thing.
Unk was a ninja. Ninjas were silent, deadly. Still, Unk felt a gasp rise in his throat as he stared at it, and had to swallow back the accompanying bile. The thing was- or appeared to be, at the very least- a giant dog. With hideous pink lips pulled back into a ferocious grimace, revealing pointed teeth straight out of a horror movie. The look in the mutt's eye was feril; untamed and uncontrolled. Unk didn't want to even think the word that came to his mind, but the word came anyways.
Werewolf.
Impossible, Unk said, shaking his head. He looked at the dog again, and then realized something. It was standing on its hind legs. Like a human.
Like a werewolf.
All of these thoughts happened in under a minute's time, allowing for Unk to somewhat get his bearings. There was Sara, crouched vulnerable in a corner, in front of the younger girl, Dee. Protecting her. She looked pale, frightened, her breath coming in rapid gasps. She was whispering something to herself. A prayer, maybe. But there was no one guarding Sara; and there Unk's job came in.
The werewolf swiped a paw forward. Playing with its food, Unknown thought grimly, and then forced himself to think positively. He could take this thing. "くそー、獣!" he cried, raising his sword. At that instant, the wolf twisted itself around so that it was facing him.
It gave him a quizzical look, contemplating something. Its dark eyes were unreadable. He gasped when he saw them. They were hazel, unmistakably… human. He shook his head and charged forward.
Raising his sword high above his head, he brought it down onto the creature. It let out a kind of puff of indignation, but nothing alerted him to its pain, assuming that it had felt it. Impossible, Unk thought. I hit it full swing! It had to have felt something! Unk reflexively ripped back his sword, flipping backwards. But he hadn't hurt it. All that Unk had done was make it angrier. And, if it had been deciding whether or not to kill him because it didn't know who or what he was, it was sure to murder him now.
Going at it again, he yelled, "今夜は地獄の食事!" at the werewolf. Again, the sword seemed to not hurt it at all. Feeling a shiver go down his back, Unk stabbed at its eye. It let out a wail of pain.
It reared backwards, and then stumbled blindly towards him, gnashing its teeth. Feeling more than a little bit sick, Unk brought forward his sword and parleyed its blows. They fell into a kind of bumpy rhythm, ninja and wolf spinning in a bizarre dance of tooth on steel and fur on flesh.
Unk frantically shook the sword out of the eye. He nodded subtly at Sara, who, trembling, ushered Dee to get up, and they tried to sneak from the room. But the werewolf cocked its head towards the door and turned, facing them with a snarl on its lips. It lunged towards them, knocking the two girls over and sending them sprawling to the floor. Sara closed her eyes and held her hands up over he face, but Dee grabbed a book off of one of Sara's shelves and threw it at it. The beast let out a roar as the book collided with its face. Just as it reached out one gleaming claw to rip her to shreds, a blinding light filled the room.
Unk blinked rapidly, attempting to see past the blinding light. As it faded away, he could see a young girl standing in the middle of the room.
"Miranda?" Sara gasped, lowering her hands. "What are you doing here?"
"I thought that you might need my help," Miranda said. "Eew, what is that thing?" A man who looked like he was in his middle age stood, bewildered, next to Miranda. She ignored the look he gave her, but then she whispered to him, "These are my friends…and this is what I meant about not knowing what was happening. But there's more than this."
The wolf let out a growl, the light having aggravated its eyes. In one swift movement, it leapt towards Unk, claws outstretched. Just as he felt the pressure of the dagger-like nails pierce through his skin, the world went dark. Screams rose around him, followed by the roaring of an inhuman animal. Breaking glass shattered onto his body as the wolf threw itself out of the second story window. He could hear it running away, panting as it left.
Blood spots appeared before his eyes, spinning, dizzy, falling, as the ninja passed out.
•••
"Get up," growled a voice, unlocking Leo's cage door so roughly that one of the rusty hinges came undone. "It's time for the Torturing." Leo felt a lump grow in his throat at the words.
"Um, huh?" he said, his voice rising an octave.
"Get up," repeated the man. "Don't try my patience."
Leo heaved a sigh and stood up. Torture was painful for his body, but that was fine. The worse torture by far was hours of sitting in that cage, wondering if all of his friends were dead yet. Wondering if, by some small miracle, Jennifer was still alive. Now, doing anything, even being tortured, was better than allowing his thoughts to drift to her. There were so many things that he wished that he'd said to her, so many times he had almost confessed his love for her. It was too late now. His only hope was that her death had been quick and painless- but knowing the Scholastic employees, they had drawn it out, made her suffer. As they were now making him suffer.
So Leo let the man grab him roughly by the arm and tug him away. "Close your eyes, boy," ordered the man.
"And if I don't?" demanded Leo.
"You'll wish you'd never been born."
"I already do."
The man growled, a low, throaty sound that told Leo that he didn't want to mess with him. The seventeen-year-old closed his eyes and allowed himself to walk where the man guided him.
"Fine," Leo mumbled beneath his breath as he was led onwards. He silently counted the seconds, attempting to memorize the twists and turns as they came. After five or six sudden turn-arounds and two flights of stairways, Leo felt himself being pushed into a room. "What is this?" he demanded as a torch next to the doorway was lit, casting the room in the worst light possible.
All throughout the room, scattered in no particular order, were devices of torture. A table with a gear hung on the wall next to it, leather ropes at each corner of it. A woven basket with a sharp, glinting knife beside it. Another table with straps and a large water dropper above it. A coffin with spikes on the inside.
All throughout the room, scattered in no particular order, were devices of torture. A table with a gear hung on the wall next to it, leather ropes at each corner of it. A woven basket with a sharp, glinting knife beside it. Another table with straps and a large water dropper above it. A coffin with spikes on the inside.
Leo moaned. "All the torture possible…."
The man grunted. "Which one do you want to start with?"
Leo stared, dumbstruck. "Huh?" he said. All of the devices seemed to flicker from the combination of light and darkness in the stone room. All of them looked equally evil.
"Choose. Now."
"I don't know," squeaked Leo, biting his lip. He looked over at the table with the water dropper. Looked pretty harmless. "That." He pointed, his finger trembling.
The man laughed, "They always think that one is painless…." Leo felt his stomach lurch.
"Can I pick a different one, then?"
"No. You can later, after this one." The man grabbed Leo by the arm again and took him over to the table, which lay in one of the darkest corners of the room. He shoved Leo onto it and strapped the leather over his body, restricting his arms and legs straight down. Leo's head was tied as well so that it was unable to move a centimeter. As an afterthought, he said, "Make sure to look like you're in pain, no matter what."
"I will be," muttered Leo. "Wait, why?"
"This is televised, boy. So look your worst." And he pressed a button, and drops of water, one after another, crashed onto Leo's forehead.
•••
The first sign of trouble brewing that Sammy noticed was the water's temperature. All throughout her voyage, it had remained a perfectly balanced heat. As she grew closer and closer to where the underwater city was rumored to be, it grew hotter and hotter. She wiped a bead of sweat off of her forehead, all the while wondering how it was possible to sweat underwater.
After a while, it was getting much too hot. Sammy flipped her tail and swam upward until she could see the sky again, the beautiful setting sun, and she settled herself on a rock overlooking a shore.
"Look, Mom!" a kid yelled.
"What, Jason?" The mother demanded sharply.
"A mermaid!" cried the child. "Look, Mom, a mermaid!"
"Nonsense," she said, looking in the direction her son was pointing. "Oh, my God..." she said.
Sammy's eyes widened, and she muttered, "Crap." Just as she began to slide off the rock, she saw a bright flash of light. She groaned and saw Jason snapping a picture with a silver camera.
She slid back into the water and swam a few short strokes to another rock. Pulling herself onto this one, she began to comb her fingers through her hair. Just then, she had an idea.
Sammy was a singer. She always had been, since the time that she was little. When she had received her Goddess-given power, it had been in the form of music. Now that she was a mermaid, shouldn't she be allowed to have a little fun with it?
Stare out into sea
Sparkling waters stretch on endlessly
Glistening colors; every hue
Foamy waves of green and blue
Tide crashes against the shore
Always coming, more and more
And leaves behind shining shells
Of their secrets, they never tell
Sun warms up the sand
All around, all the land
Grains so pure, grains so white
Everything is alight
Wispy clouds drift slowly by
Through the turquoise blue sky
Bright birds flap strong wings along
Chirping out their happy songs
Hours pass, sun disappears
Almost like it was never here
Air cools, stars glow and shine
Moon beams, her luminescence divine
Water stills, makes no sound
Now dark and cold nestled in the ground
So calm, air of peace
Beautiful deep wonders never cease
Like a siren, Sammy was attempting to lead any hot men in the area to her. Why not? No one was around, no one could see her... The one major difference between her and the sirens of lore, however, was the fact that she didn't intend on eating her victims. Or raping them. Whatever the case may have been.
"I thought that I heard something, coming from over there!" yelled a boyish voice. Sammy stopped brushing her long blonde hair and glanced upwards.
"Oh," she muttered. "Hey?"
A boy a little younger than she was was swimming toward her. Perfect. "Whoa," said the boy, looking at her.
She sighed. He wasn't hot at all.
"Do you have an older brother?" she asked him, not even trying to mask the hope in her voice.
The boy widened his eyes. "Um... um... Alex!" he called, turning away. "There's a... girl... here who wants to meet you!"
Sammy rolled her eyes, then slid into the water. It embraced her with its cool, wet fingers, and she opened her eyes and watched as a slightly hotter older boy joined his brother.
"Where?" Alex asked, looking around.
"Right there," the younger brother said, pointing to the rock where she had been sitting. "What? Wait! She left!"'
"Was she ever really there?"
"Of course!" here the younger boy glanced around nervously and leaned in closer to his brother. "And she was... a mermaid!"
Alex stared at his brother. "Come on. You've been in the sun too long."
"What?" sputtered the younger brother. "It's not even sunny, the moon's coming out!"
Sam watched from beneath the water, laughing silently. Then she began to move away, swimming onwards to Atlantis. Some times passed, she wasn't sure how long. All around her, the water churned and frothed, reminding her of a witch's cauldron. There wasn't a direct path towards Atlantis, but Sam had a good idea of how to get there. Her instincts told her. Right, left, down. This was almost too easy.
Resurfacing again somewhere near India, Sammy let her thoughts- and the current- carry her. She flipped over onto her back, giving her tail a rest from propelling her. Sammy frowned, thinking hard for a moment. There was something about India... but she couldn't remember what it was.
A boy with a laundry basket walked forward towards the river where she was sitting. She recognized this boy, but she didn't feel like talking to anyone.
"Whoa!" he cried, dropping the basket. "A--a--mermaid!"
"Yeah, Ranjeet," she muttered. "It's me, Sammy, moderator #6 of HGT?"
"But... but... a mermaid!" he stuttered.
"Things happen," she said, rolling her eyes impatiently.
"Listen. You need to go to Canada, near where Sara lives, and seek out her, Dee, and Miranda. They need your help."
"With what?" Ranjeet asked suspiciously. Sammy shook her head.
"I can't tell you now, but you need to go. And quickly."
"How do I know where to--" he began, but Sammy didn't pay attention. Her response to his half-question was diving back beneath the cover of the water and splashing her tail so water sprayed him in the face.
The first mermaids that she ran into as she neared Atlantis were three kindly-looking old ladies. They sat knitting scarves while sitting in rocking chairs. They frowned at Sammy as she came to a sudden halt, their eyes raking over her body and scrutinizing her. Finally, a tall one with violet colored hair, began to speak.
"Well, look at you, all candy dandy!" she said sarcastically. "I suppose you think you're all perfect, with your golden hair and big blue eyes!"
"Excuse me?" Sammy asked, throwing back her head and looking her straight in the eye.
The shorter, plumper one, with aquamarine colored hair, set down her knitting needles. "Why, you're the very image of a mermaid from the 1600's!" She sneered, showing off strong white teeth. "Don't you know anything, dear? That look is so four-hundred years ago!"
"Oh," Sammy said, very confused. "Erm, thank you. I'll just… be on my way, then."
"Oh, you can't go to Atlantis!" laughed the third and final one. "They're in the middle of some great big war right now… that stupid rat!"
"Um, what?" asked Sam. "Um...I'll see you later, I guess." By this point, Sam was pretty sure that they were either mentally insane or just really, really old. Still it wasn't every day that you go to meet mermaids. So she turned her tail on them and swam away.
•••
Emma was staring at the place where Ana had disappeared.
"It doesn't seem possible," she murmured, more to herself than to anyone else. "I mean... there's no marks, or anything!" But it seemed more covered up than ever, now, the spot where Ana had left through. "I swear, there was light there...how'd it clog back up...?"
Getting down onto her hands and knees, Emma began to scrabble at the ground again. It smelled like Ana, and Emma was sure that this was where she had disappeared from, but there was no light to be found. "Please?" Emma pleaded, praying to Ripred that this would work. "I need to save my friends!"
No such luck. "Give it up," grumbled Polly. "Emma, they'll have to let us out sooner or later."
"But--I--have--to--help--!" said Emma, on the verge of tears. She continued to claw at the ground.
"It's too late!" Polly said, vexed with her friend's behavior. "Listen! Ana is gone. She escaped. If anyone can save us, it's her!"
Emma stumbled backwards, lifting one dirt-encrusted sleeve to rub at her eyes. "You really think so?" she asked.
"I really think so." Polly said firmly, her feet planted on the ground. "Maybe."
"Maybe?" Emma asked, looking up at her friend, dumbfounded. "Maybe? What happened to 'Ana can do it! She can do anything!'?"
Polly shrugged. "Just trying to be realistic," she said.
"What's realistic is that Ana's dead!" Emma shouted, and then began to claw at the ground again. "She's probably dead by now! These people are evil, Polly! They're going to kill us! They don't care!"
"Wait a minute, now," Polly said, holding up her hands in protest. "I didn't mean that-"
"The only way to keep alive is to escape!" Emma shouted, practically in hysterics at this point. "We- need- to- escape!"
"Okay." Polly said, very quietly. "We'll escape."
Emma took a deep breath, then another. "Okay." She repeated. "Now, I need to you to very quietly get David and Dally's attention. If we're going to escape, we're going to do it together."
Polly nodded, then crept to the farthest edge of their cage. Clasping the rough metal bars in her hands, she called, "Dally! David!"
Dally was locked in depression, but David looked upwards. "Polly!" he shouted. "What's up?"
Polly stifled a groan and put a finger to her lips. The guard was patrolling now, made suspicious by the sounds of talking. David nodded, and then moved backwards into the shadows of his cage. Polly retreated as well, waiting for the man to move away.
But he didn't; the guard stood, now, motionless in the middle of the room, cutting off any ideas of talking or making plans for his prisoners.
And finally, when Emma couldn't take it anymore, she began to sob. "What—are—you—doing?" she demanded, glaring at the guard.
A sick smile broke out on his face. She could tell, even with the lack of light. He replied, "Watching my prisoners." His voice was low and grainy, and she shivered. Then the man lifted his wrist to his face and said, "Oh, actually, time's up." He muttered something into his wrist, and suddenly, the room was flooded with men.
"Crap," said Polly.
Noise broke the eerie silence, shattering the moldy air as each new guard marched to a cage and hauled out its contents.
Each forum member received two guards, one on each side, pinning their arms to their sides.
"Let me go!" ordered David, thrashing about. "I swear, I'll—" One of his guards cut him off by shoving a rag into his mouth. He gagged for a moment then gave up.
Dally just went limp and let his guards drag him forward. Emma heard one say, "Walk!" but he didn't comply, and they didn't force him.
The man who had spoken to Emma and patrolled still stood in the middle of the room, a sly grin on his face. "What's going on?" said Emma, glaring at him.
He didn't seem to notice her, but he said, "Moving stations." Whatever that meant. Then he added, "You see, it's time for the forum members to watch their leaders die."
Emma's heart seemed to burst. "Oh, God, no…" she murmured. Then she began to beat at her guards, screaming. "Stop! No!" David looked at her sympathetically. Even he had given up trying to get away from the guards' iron grips.
•••
Her eye hurt. Badly.
Stupid ninja, Abby thought as she plucked the shards of glass from her skin. She winced as a particularly big one was dug from her arm. She was human, now- or at least as human as possible, given the circumstances- and able to move her fingers around. Oh, dexterity, Abby sighed. How I've missed you.
What are you doing? Demanded the blood voice. Nothing! You have orders from the boss! You must kill those pesky teenagers!
But I don't wanna, Abby thought stubbornly. I already killed that ninja! I'm tired!
Being tired is for wimps! You need to go out there and kill!
Abby shifted her weight around, trying to get comfortable on the cold, hard ground. It wasn't easy. She was tired. She was cold. She was hungry. Sick of being a wolf, sick of following orders. Still... there was blood involved. And fresh, raw human meat. So maybe she would stick around for a while. Then she would take down those Scholastic freaks.
If you're done with your stupid blood thoughts, seethed the Anti-Abby, then let's go. I have a plan.
Abby wondered what kind of plan her other-self had as she stood up and brushed herself off. Then she leapt forward, out of the mouth of the cave. The second that she hit the ground she was a wolf again, running freely in the wild. Back towards where Scholastic Headquarters lay.
A man in reflective clothing jogged by, panting heavily. "Oh, whoa—!" he gasped, stopping and putting his hands on his knees in an uncomfortable crouch.
Her legs moved effortlessly; she decided, that, if she could always be a wolf, maybe she'd go out for track in eighth grade. That'd be great—she'd win, every time.
Somewhere, deep in the back of her mind, something nagged at her. A whiny voice, a girlish voice, a crying voice. It was telling her to stop, stop right now. You couldn't have killed! It wailed. Maybe you only injured that ninja!
Abby ignored it. She had done her job, and that ninja was dead. She was sure of it.
When she made it back to Scholastic, she found the scientist waiting for her. "Did you do it?" he asked eagerly. "Did you kill them?"
"One of them," Abby tried to say, but it ended up coming out as a snarl.
"Only one of them? You damn failure." The scientist was evidently fluent in werewolf. "You'd better have a good plan, then."
"Oh, I do," Abby barked, then attempted to laugh evilly. She sounded more like she were sneezing, but that was okay. She would have her revenge.
She was taken back up to her "hotel room", then left to change back into a human. When she had taken a shower and changed her clothes, she relayed her plan to the scientist.
He grinned. "Not bad for a dog," he said, and then laughed. Abby smiled too, a kind of horrible smile that revealed her pointed teeth. "Good, good," said the scientist, standing up and brushing himself off, trying to look professional but failing. He pressed a button by his chair that Abby could only assume was an intercom and called for two guards to come up to the room.
The two guards were quick in coming, and they soon arrived at the room. The scientist explained what they were to do, and then they left, Abby sandwiched in between them. "You're in my space," Abby informed them airily. "A little room?"
They both looked at her and grunted, making no intentions that they were going to move. She sighed and tried not to breathe too much. These guys stunk. When they reached the fourth floor, the men each grabbed one of Abby's arms. She began to scream, acting- perfectly -the part of a terrified captive. They marched her down the hallway, stopping before a padlocked door. One man opened the lock while the other held Abby's arms firmly behind her back. When the first had managed to open the door, her captor pushed her in. Abby stumbled into the room, the world spinning before her eyes. She collapsed onto the floor as the door locked shut behind her.
"Oh my god! Abby! Are you all right?" This came from Emma, who was tied to a chair and facing a screen.
"Emma?" Abby gasped in fake-surprise. She glanced around. The others were all here too- or at least, some of them were. Emma, Polly, David, and Dally were all tied to chair and facing a kind-of movie screen. "What are you all doing here?"
"We got caught when we came here for you!" Polly exclaimed. "Where's Sammy? We assumed she'd be with you!"
"No idea," Abby said, mentally taking note that Sammy was still MIA. That would be one less to kill. "Where's Ana? Where are Jen and Leo?"
"Ana escaped," David informed her, and Evil-Abby sighed. "Jen and Leo are about to be murdered... while we watch."
"What?" Abby exclaimed as her heart leapt for joy. "That's horrible!"
"Yeah," agreed David, looking serious.
"Where'd she escape to?"
"We...don't know," said David. "Otherwise we would've told you."
"Oh," said Abby. "Well, I'll find her." She pricked her ears back, listening carefully now. Then she added, "Oh, and we have to watch them die?" She put on her saddest face.
"Yeah," David said again. "But we can't let that happen."
"You're right," agreed Abby. They all thought she didn't want to watch them die. They were right - Abby wanted to kill them herself.
•••
Private Detective Branson Smith sighed.
He had been sitting at this grandiose table for the last two hours, listening to this women sob her heart out and blather. He'd interjected with questions at first, but she just wailed on and on. Smith wasn't really a people-person, to say the least. He had no idea how to handle a woebegone mother.
It was a standard case. A missing child, distraught- and rich- parents. No doubt a kidnapping had occurred… so why didn't things add up?
Smith frowned. Maybe it was the fact that the child in question was actually a teenage girl, which didn't happen very often anymore. There was also the fact that, although nearly four days had passed, no one had called in with a ransom note. The third and final reason was simple- Smith just wasn't getting a good vibe from the case. At all.
The girl may not have been kidnapped after all. Maybe she was just lost in the enormous mansion. Smith laughed silently.
"Private Detective" Branson Smith wasn't really a suitable name for him. He could more aptly be called "Private Assassin" Branson Smith. As long as the money was there for him, he would assassinate anybody you asked him to. Or, in this case, rescue any kidnapped girl. He heaved a sigh, then tried again to make contact with the hysterical mother.
"Now, do you have any enemies that may have been capable of doing this?"
The women drummed her fingers on the immense table, her red eyes bright from crying. "No… well, maybe," she said. "I mean- my husband, of course, has some work competitors… but nothing like this."
"I see," Smith said, and pretended to write this down. "Now, does your daughter look like you?"
The woman laughed. "Oh, no!" She protested. "She's not actually my daughter- she's my stepdaughter."
"Stepdaughter?" He actually wrote this down. "What happened to the real mother?"
The stepmother waved her hand dismissively. "She died when the girl was ten."
"No enemies to speak of?"
"Not that I know of."
"Okay, thank you," Smith said, and then stood up. "I'll run a background check on your husband and the girl, and get back to you."
"Thank you," the woman said, and then looked at him, face unreadable.
Smith pushed his chair away from the table and stood up. He grabbed his bag and walked to the door, stepping outside and onto the immaculate lawn. Just as he began to walk down the drive, his cell phone vibrated. He answered it with an easy, "Smith. How may I assist you?"
"Boss?" said a voice. Smith sighed. It was his slightly-below-average assistant, Franklin. "I found a picture of the girl."
"How recent?" Smith asked. If the picture were too old, then it would be useless.
"That's the thing sir… it's dated today."
"What?" Smith barked. "How can that be?"
"I don't know, sir." Franklin told him. "But… there's something else weird about her, too."
"Well, spit it out!" Smith roared. Franklin told him. He gasped.
"I know."
"It… it must be a fake. But let's run a trace on the photo, anyways. We may be able to find where it was taken."
"Yes sir." Franklin hung up, and Smith followed suit. He was about to leave the gates of the mansion when the woman ran out onto the yard, yelling something.
"What?" he asked her, turning.
She smiled and pulled something out of her purse, then handed it to him. "Use it when you find her," she simpered. "On her." He nodded, dazed. It was only when he had gotten into his car and pulled away that he glanced down at the item in lap.
A shiny, black… handgun.
•••
The dress was poofy. Too poofy.
In it, Jennifer felt a little bit like she was going to some sort of Prom. A Prom of Death. A Prom of Death sometime in the 1600's. Why they were doing this, she didn't know. Well, she did - to entertain themselves more. She let out a shaky sigh. "I told you," she said, grimacing, to the guard. "I wanted to be hanged."
"But a decapitation is much more entertaining," the guard replied, grinning.
"To you, maybe," muttered Jen.
"Now, now," the guard chastised. "Nothing to lose your head over!" He burst out laughing. Jen glared at him.
"Really, now?" she said, her voice thick. He didn't acknowledge her comment, the tone of her voice.
"Just think!" he said, almost dreamily. "This is going to be a most excellent turnout. Almost better than The Hunger Games!"
"Almost," repeated Jen, gulping. "Oh, Ripred..." Then her eyes grew wider. "Almost? But, it can't be that bad!"
He guffawed. "It's not only you that we're hurting," he said loftily, as if it were common knowledge
Jen felt her blood run cold and she stopped walking. "Who--else--are--you--hurting?" she demanded.
The guard grinned. "That friend of yours. That... that... Lester?"
Jen didn't feel it as she fell to the ground, unable to move or speak. "Leo," she moaned, finally working up air in her chest. "Oh, god...what've you done to him?"
The guard smiled again. "Worse than we've done to you, that's for sure. You're lucky that you're a girl." The guard grabbed her arm and roughly pulled her to her feet, and she paled.
"What do you mean?" she moaned. "What have you done to Leo?"
"I myself have done nothing," grinned the guard. "But our torture devices...they've done some damage.""
"Oh god..." she sighed, and then fell over completely. This was horrible. Her friends were most likely dead, or at the very least horribly hurt, and she was about to be executed along with her secret love. Could this get any worse?
"We're here," said the guard, dragging her limp body up onto a stage in front of the guillotine.
"Stainless...steel?" murmured Jen.
"Easier to get rid of the blood," explained the guard.
Jen felt like she was going to puke.
She looked out into the audience, seeking out a familiar face. No such luck. The people gathered here, all citizens of the Capitol, were totally thrilled to see her execution. With their brightly colored skin and hair, tattooed and bedazlled faces, gem-encrusted bodies, and odd fashion sense, they were not at all the kind of people on whom she could rely. It was incredibly doubtful that anyone would be saving her now. Taking a deep breath, Jennifer Le resigned herself to her fate.
The guard looked at the crowd, raising her right arm by the wrist as if she'd just won a wrestling tournament. "Hello!" bellowed the guard, and the crowd began to cheer insanely. "Welcome Jennifer Le, Hunger Games Trilogy's administrator, number zero-two!"
Then the guard continued, "To make this authentic, we've dressed her up in a very old-fashioned dress, and we're going to behead her!" The audience wasn't quiet until the guard held up a silencing hand when Jennifer was carefully positioned with her neck on the guillotine.
Her breath came in short pants, and she shut her eyes, trying not to freak out…of course, she had to freak out! She was about to be beheaded! All of the things she'd done and never done and never would get to do flashed before Jen's eyes.
She was lying on a red-and-white checked picnic blanket, munching a sandwich and laughing at something Daddy was doing. Mommy smiled and handed Jenny another napkin as the summer breeze blew the first one away off into the grassy park.
She sat in a hard plastic chair, her pencil flying fast, filling every bubble with ease. The SAT was easy, no matter what people had told her, and she was going to do well. Just a few weeks later, as she checked the mail box, Jen was delighted to find that she had aced it.
She hit "enter" and sent the instant message to Abby and Sammy. "I have to go check something out," was what she sent. Her last connection with the real world…
Jen sat across the table in a fancy restaurant from a boy. Not just any boy, but her first boyfriend. He smiled at her, leaving the tab on the table. Then he grabbed her hand and walked her outside, and they traveled around to the back, where stars shone down brightly, and she kissed him.
"I love you," whispered Jen, gazing up at Leo. She gripped his hands tightly, staring intently into his eyes. He didn't have to speak. She knew what he was going to say. I love you, too.
Jen stared ahead, her eyes unfocused. "Okay," she said hoarsely. "Let's do this."
Her guard smiled. "Wonderful," he replied, adjusting a rope. Then he let go. She braced herself for the impact of a blade, reassuring herself that the pain would be over as soon as it began.
But it wasn't.
She felt the blade on her neck, in her neck…searing pain….
Then the blade was pulled out, accompanied by the laughter of the guard and the audience. She heard him say, behind the haze of the pain and the horror, "You said you wanted to be hanged, not beheaded."
Jen gasped in pain as two guards stood her up again and tied a rope around her neck. Blood seeped out from beneath of it, spilling down and staining the neckline of her puffy dress.
She was picked up, and then she was standing on a wooden stool, wobbling. She couldn't stand up on this for long....
And then it was kicked out from under her, and she was swinging in the air. There was laughter, cheering, then...dead silence. Sudden screaming.
Just as the world began to turn dark and hazy, a rustling noise passed overhead. Something chopped through the rope, and Jen tumbled to the ground.
Jen could barely make out what was going on, but this is what she did see:
Her friend Ana, yelling her head off, whacking a glinting machete at anyone who got too close to her and Jen. There was a huge amount of people that looked just like her, following her every command.
There was Leo, running across the stage and shouting her name in a hoarse voice. She heard herself barely call, "Leo!" before she was lifted into weak, trembling arms, and the world began to blur. But before the audience was even out of her vision, they were toppling to the ground, and the world was hazy.
The last thing that she saw was a girl with a long brown braid yelling something to Ana while shooting an arrow into the crowd. Somewhere in her bemused mind one thought connected with another, and Jennifer was pushing herself to a sitting position.
"Kat...niss?"" she murmured, the words blurred and unrecognizable. Still, the girl with the braid turned to her and smiled.
"That's my name- don't wear it out."
End of Part 1