Chapter XI
Journey to Washington DC
He held the knife close to his heart. Rivers where tears had run down his face froze to icy traits in the cold morning of Christmas. He was held closely by his two friends, one holding a bracelet of carved beads and charms and the other holding a warm, fur blanket around his shoulders. They were kneeling in the snow, quietly praying, quietly hoping.
"Help us to deliver her from evil…."
"Though we walk through the valley of shadow and death, we will fear no evil…."
As the short, desperate prayers were brought to an end, the boy raised the knife and thrust it into the ground. The three stood and the red-head turned to the girl and the blond boy. "May the history of light and shadow be written in blood—his blood."
"Amen," the other two agreed.
Their features were hard and angry. After what had happened that day, it's a surprise they weren't harsher. Darkness loomed in the whiteness of the woods' snow and the sky's clouds. Everything lacked color, but color was not what anyone wanted to see again; they and seen far too much 'color' and excitement for one Christmas Day.
"Do you remember the plan?" The girl asked, stuffing her hand into her pocket.
The two boys nodded, the red-headed boy stuffing his hands into his pockets as well. The blond boy ran into the shelter and began packing the necessary equipment and preparing the necessary weapons.
He threw snow on the fire as the red-head came in, followed by the girl.
"What of Sam's things should we take?" The blond asked at length.
The red-head was silent, but the girl switched subject. "What did you get for Sam, Nick?"
There was, again, silence as he sighed. "Do you remember that time I had gone to Keen and not come back for a day or so?"
"The first time you did that, you mean?" the boy with red-hair asked.
Nick, if only vaguely, grinned a bit. "Yes, Jake. The first time. I got her a copy of all of her works—all the ones she kept, anyway."
"Even The Attack of Ruin?" the girl asked.
"Yes, even that one." There was a pause of silence as everyone remembered their best friend's stories. "So what did you get for her, Chelsea?"
She grimaced a bit as she smiled at the thought of her gift and frowned at the though of her best friend having disappeared. "I was able to get into her house a long while back. I got a hold of her flute and ocarina. Then, with what extra time I had, I made a case for her, one that held the flute and ocarina."
Nick smiled. "Wow, how did you do that?"
Chelsea shrugged. "I have my ways." There was a pause here before the two looked at Jake expectantly.
He began shaking his head, as if in shock. "I… no. No, it's—no… for her…." Fresh tears came from his eyes as he left.
Chelsea looked at Nick. "Bring her gifts, her journal, and a few pairs of clothes. We'll take a couple of swords and as many guns as we can carry. Extra weapons we'll use here, then desert. Everything else, put under the tree." She left.
Nick did not question her. He only did as he was told.
Jake made his way to the tree. He bent down over the small, box-shaped gift wrapped in an old, green rag tied with a piece of twine. He picked it up and held it close to his heart. "For you, my love. When I find you, I shall give this to you in the hopes of your utter acceptance." He mused through his tears, too quiet for even a Moblin to hear.
"Are you ready?" Chelsea asked Nick and Jake in a whisper.
"Ready as we'll ever be." Nick answered.
"Good, on three." Chelsea said. "One…."
They all picked up their guns and made themselves ready in the dark night of Christmas. Jake had a sword at his side in a gun's place. He reached into his pocket and grabbed a small book of matches and readied one.
"Two…." Nick counted with Chelsea.
The monstrous army of monsters still stood sturdy, yet ever since Sam was taken, most figured these three to be little above children and went on their way. No more than fifty of the previous half of a thousand remained, and no Keese or Kargarocks remained. The three in the dome knew that their best chance was then and there to leave.
"Three!" They were whispering, which was hardly heard besides the gunshots of Nick and Chelsea. Jake flicked the match against the striking strip on the book. When it sparked and was lit, he threw it on a thin path of melted snow, which instantly caught fire. Very quickly, the flame followed the trail to the tree and engulfed it, and everything they had put under it, in flame. He, then, unsheathed his sword, stood up and made his way swiftly to the other side of the shelter, unseen and unknown, to slit a few throats. In the first thirty seconds of confusion, the three had killed at least half of the monsters. However, though numbers depleted quickly, the speed at which they depleted slowed considerably. They began to hide behind trees and when they got out of range of Jake's sword, he opened a satchel attached to a belt on his hip and pulled out a few small, sharpened rocks and threw them at the heads of the Moblins, Lizalfos, and Wolfos . He must have downed no less than five or six beasts with mere rocks, content to finish the job at a safer time. Chelsea and Nick, when they were out of bullets for their first set of guns, tossed them aside and jumped from their hiding spots to pursue the shortened army.
The attack, frenzied as it was outside the dome, was perfectly executed inside. The siege could not have lasted more than a couple hours. Not all of the monsters had been killed when they left either. Jake and Nick grabbed the bags and made their way out of the dome and toward the Swanzey airport as Chelsea covered them from behind. They had no trouble getting away.
Only an hour after the three friends; escape, the dome faltered a little and gave way in the absence of anyone to protect. Once the three left the forest, it vanished entirely. Only a couple Moblins remained to witness the strange event.
The room was dark and dank. I could see nothing and wondered what I could possibly need to do here.
"We shall meditate a little." Ganondorf said, circling me like a vulture. "Stand straight and tall, close your eyes, and hold your hands."
I did so loyally. It was probably 11:00 February 1st. Hardly having begun training, I accepted tiredly the magic he was about to teach me.
"Now, repeat my words:
"With wide eyes I watch,
To see that held in night's clutch.
Jealously behind her dark sheet
Where there is shadow, I see glow;
Where there is nothing I will know
And join night's black fleet."
So I did, and it was such a strange spell, but it worked. The darkness of the room dissipated into a strange, unfamiliar light. I looked around and saw no candles lit, nor a bright chandelier nor a raging fireplace. The light was night-like, cold with blues, but seemingly natural. I looked around me and saw a large, elegant room. Ganondorf still circled me. "I see it has taken affect. Good…. Now repeat the words I taught you this morning."
They were simple and easy to remember:
"Light the candles."
Everywhere a candle stood, a candle was lit. The room grew bright—too bright for me to see clearly. I covered my eyes.
"Thank the magic as I have taught you."
I put my hands together, saying, "I thank you, magic, for the sight you have given me."
And it returned to normal.
He, later, told me that the first spell was called the "Sheikah's Eye of Truth."
On Chelsea's birthday, they decided to explore Quincy Market in Boston, Massachusetts. That day was December 27, Chelsea's 21st birthday. None were calm enough to let the memory of their lost friend go, but they and no idea where to begin looking. What if he sent her back home, brainwashed and all? What if he sent her to the largest prison under the US control? And where could that possibly? Or what if he sent her to live with his thieves in the Gerudo Fortress? How would they find her? No one wanted to think about that. They ate any extra food they brought along, knowing that without money, they could not buy food. They were all silently sitting on a bench, watching the children play, the adults walk mindlessly to and fro, and the few performers in the streets. One man was dressed like a skeleton that stood still until someone put money in his "helmet." It was clear to these three that this man was dressed up like a Stalfos, imitating their military-like moves. The three sighed as they tried their best to enjoy themselves.
All was quiet between them. All was tense and painful. Finally, Nick said, "Happy Birthday."
Chelsea sighed. "Thanks."
Jake reached into his pocket and pulled out his book of matches. Lighting one and holding it in front of her he said, "Make a wish."
She sighed again, forcing a smile. She blew it out and made her wish, silently and to herself.
"What did you wish for?" Jake asked almost too quietly to hear.
She opened her mouth, about to say. "If I tell you, it won't come true," but paused as she decided whether or not to tell them. Finally, she gave in and said, "Sam back."
"What?" They both asked.
"A sign, a-a hint, anything." She said. "Anything to help get her back."
They all shared a smile of happy memories and the sad present. Jake nodded and placed the match into a bottle. They were so caught up on themselves that the click of the newspaper stand shutting right next to them snapped them jumpily out of their thoughts. They all looked at the man and his newspaper and shivered in reality.
Chelsea took a double-take, however—not of the man, but of the newspaper. Her eyes widened and brightened as a smile crossed her face. She jumped to her feet and ripped the newspaper, now some middle page, out of the man's hand. She looked at the title page, threw it to Nick and Jake over her head and rummaged through to another page, ripping that page out and hurried over to look at the articles. Not long afterward, however the man's angry and irritated voice rang through her excitement.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?! Who do you think you are?!"
She turned and realized what she'd done. She scrambled to her feet from her knees and picked up the extra pieces of paper and putting them back in place. "I'm sorry! Sorry!" She yelled in the process.
"You are the strangest person I've ever met." He said.
"Thank you!" Chelsea said with a giant grin across her face. "Can we keep these two pages?"
He glanced passed her at the pages. "Do either of them have the weather or any comic strips?"
Chelsea looked. "No. Just a Presidential Article."
"Ah. Then yes, and if I heard correctly, Happy Birthday." And with that, he walked off.
They all knelt in a small triangle, reading the news articles, Chelsea reading the headline:
"President Takes in Little Girl."
The picture was of a brown-haired, brown eyed girl clinging to 'President Ganondorf's' arm….
Chelsea's wish was granted; the girl was Sam.
Lunch came eventually. I ate lunch out of the President's supervision—in my room, actually, but I wasn't alone for long. A boy came and ate with me. He had dark hair, dark brown eyes, a dark mustache, and darker skin. He was definitely foreign, presumably of Spanish descent.
We all know who this truly is, but at the time, he was a stranger. He casually, yet a bit tensely, introduced himself. "My name is Kevin Gonzalez."
The name was familiar and I and to pause and stare at him, lost in the familiarity.
"M-may I join you?" He asked, snapping me out of my daydream.
"Uh… yeah… yes, of course." I gestured to the center of my room, where I had taken my place upon the floor. We sat, eating for a little while before I had to ask, "Do I know you?"
His head snapped up from looking at the floor. He smiled a little as his eyes shifted back and forth between the floor and me. "Um…." He laughed. "Yes, before you lost your memory, we knew each other quite well. You are a very good friend to me."
"How did you know about my memory?" I asked.
"I'm very close to the president. I am one of his most loyal servants, for lack of a better term." He said.
"Oh… but aren't you foreign? I-I mean you look and sound like it, but I could be wrong…."
"Yes, I am foreign. I am not a resident of the United States; in fact, I hardly even live here. I come from a country in Central America called Guatemala. My family is split between living here and there." He answered. His English was amazing, though he was not native to the USA.
"Why do you serve the President of the United States, then?" I asked. "That just seems strange."
He smiled. "He's truly a great man—king worthy, even. He's been persistently bringing up the economy, opening more jobs, and spreading out the wealth." He paused here as his smile faded. "My parents live where you lived in New Hampshire," (I was surprised to learn of my home state) "but my grandfather and a few others still live in Guatemala. President Dragmire told me that, if I help him better the country, he would take special concern in helping them over the borders. My family would be united in a free country—in a safe country." He looked away from my eyes and mumbled something to the floor that I didn't hear. When I questioned it, he gave no answer, and instead held both of my hands and begged me, "Please, if and when you remember your past, please find it in you to forgive me. I…" he stood, letting go of my hands, "…I am sorry." And with that, he ran from my room. I have not seen him since.
We return to the three friends, fidgeting with anxiety in an old truck Chelsea drove. These anxious movements were actions they daily partook in, for everyday they remembered their friend, and thus their anxiety. On this day, however, the truck they drove seemed to be giving them trouble. The battery was dying.
"No, no, no! Shit, no! Don't do this now!" Chelsea cried as she banged on the dashboard with her fist.
"It's not as if we have a long distance to walk," Nick pointed out.
Despite all the upset cries or attempts at optimism, the truck died and they were set back by days or weeks before they could hijack another car. Meanwhile, they kept out of sight and in the woods, more often as they neared Washington DC. They knew their destination and their mission. They would tackle every obstacle to reach their goal, and they knew that there would be many of them.
January 27th, 2014 came quickly for the three rescueteers. They had, after many attempts at hitch-hiking, arrived in the capital of the United States of America, now the darkest place in the world. They made their way to the heart of the city, viewing the Great White House. It was different than anyone remembered; there were black spires coming out of the top of four towers, built into the building with similar materials and construction. There was now a dome between the four towers, somewhat similar to that of the capitol building. The three were shocked to see this sight, and Chelsea asked around many times, as nonchalantly as she could manage, to be certain that it was the building they searched for. It was midday at that time. They sat on a hill in a park very near the president's new castle, discussion their next plan of action.
"We're so close." Jake muttered, head in his hands. "She's somewhere in that building—we could be staring at her through her window and neither of us would know it."
"Jake, it's okay. She's not hurt, so we don't have to worry too much about her safety." Nick assured him.
"We just need a plan of action…." Chelsea said, deep in thought.
"And, if that plan takes long enough, some money." Nick added.
After a few seconds, Chelsea's eyes perked up into something more excited. She jumped to her feet and looked at the White House, then at all of the people walking to and from it, and then to the two boys. Her face was shining as she said, "I have an idea."
"Yes, we're all looking for a job—something simple yet necessary will do." Chelsea said. She wore her hair up in a ponytail, like usual, but acted with a certain air of profession. The three had washed and combed their hair and put on their cleanest clothes. Nick and Jake had their hair pulled back into a pony tail, like Chelsea, and wore a hat.
The man they were speaking to leaned hack into his chair and pulled off his glasses, seemingly amused. With a chuckle, he said, "This is the White House. What kind of job could you possibly want here that any of you three can qualify for?"
Chelsea and Nick looked at each other, at a loss.
Jake, sitting with his head bent, said, "Janitorial work."
All three looked at him with surprise. When Jake noticed the silence, he looked up and defensively asked, "What?"
"You would come here to work as Janitors?" The man asked.
Chelsea came out of shock before anyone else and said, "Yes, we would. A place as big as this needs a few people to clean it up."
The man raised an eyebrow at her. "You say that as if you believe no one already does that."
"What can three more hurt?" Nick asked in defense.
"And we're here for minimum pay." Jake added.
The man silently stared at the three before saying, "Alright, you're hired. You start—"
"Today, please." The three finished together.
The three were almost uniform in their choice of clothing. They all wore blue overalls and a solid-colored long sleeve shirt. Nick was in green, Chelsea was in red, and Jake was in blue. They all wore caps and were working within the hour of hiring. During the time they worked, they searched for their beloved friend, but, for days, to no avail….
I was given only an hour to myself before the President returned for more training. I was brought to the rear of the White House once more to continue magic. I was following him outside until he turned and looked at me.
"You have begun to learn simple magic—magic to escape a trap, magic to help you understand your surroundings, and magical defense. Now, for the next six hours, you will learn offensive magic and how to use it in combination with defensive magic. Such is the way one battles." He lifted his hands, which began to glow with darkness. "You will have to fight me. I will not use half of my potential, but do now let that make you cocky. I am a master of these arts. If there's any advice to give, it's this: Do not reveal yourself and, in turn, find my weakness. If you have anything up your sleeve, do not hesitate to use it to your advantage."
I nodded in understanding.
He raised his hands, pointing the magic at me. "Now… begin!" He commanded, firing the magic at me.
I only had time to let myself drop to the ground to dodge them before he fired three more. I rolled behind a couple bushes to escape, but that didn't hold it for long. Soon, he had me jumping from tree to tree, trying to find some place to hide. Eventually, I found no object—tree, bush, or wall-that could protect me. Almost instinctively, and because of my increasing tiredness, I stopped and faced him. He stared me in the eyes before raising his hands.
'Beware, girl. Do not think me a merciful man.' A voice warned me. It was obviously the president's voice, but his mouth hadn't moved. The telepathy should have surprised me, but something blocked my mind of current thought—or perhaps opened the lock of brainwashing. I understood, but it didn't phase me.
'Ha! Mercy! I am no fool. Why would you ever give 'the girl to start a war' mercy?' I glared at him as the strong, white magic flowed from my core to my fists.
Whatever smile he had disappeared. 'So she returns…'
'Not for long, now tell me one thing,' I thought coldly 'Why are you teaching me?'
He only smiled and said, "I'm going to enjoy this!" He shot the dark magic from his fists.
I put both hands up next to each other and white-colored magic (and I say 'white-colored' because it was not actually what one would call 'white magic') emitted from my hands. The dark magic dissipated as it made contact. "I don't think so!"
He continued the assault, and I continued to block. "You have learned much—even some that I did not teach you…."
"Why are you teaching me? Don't you realize the risks such an action could hold?" I asked mid-fight.
"Risks? You over-estimate yourself." He said. The old gleam returned to his eyes and the look of blood-lust broke free from hiding.
"I think you underestimate me. One little glimpse of this ability, and I can learn more whether you teach me or not." I pointed out.
He stopped attacking me and, taking his cape in his right hand, gave me a sarcastic bow. "Excuse me for my arrogance," still sarcasm before he straightened up, "but there is absolutely no way that you could possibly be a threat to me."
I suppose I knew at the time that what he said was true, but still I asked, "What gives you that idea?"
He laughed as if I had told a funny joke. "To begin, there's the obvious; I rule your entire country—I took it over easily, without starting a war. Beyond that, there's this," he said holding his left hand up, revealing willingly the symbol of the Triforce of Power for the first time. The golden power gleamed, bright rays piercing my heart, striking fear within my soul. "Of course, you already know what this is, so I won't digress…." He said, lowering his fist. "Then, there's this hidden: the things I can do that you don't know about… yet."
"Like what?" I asked curiously. I suppose my rationale, idiotic as it may have been, was to find any trick he had up his sleeve, and find a way to avoid it. I was a very foolish child back then.
The president suddenly disappeared in a flash of black fire. Before I realized what he had done, my hands were held with superhuman strength—strength so strong that there remains the feeling—the imprint—of his hands on mine at that moment to this very moment. I shudder at the very thought….
I shouted and cried, desperately demanding to be let go. Placing his hand on my back, he said, "Like this," in answer to my question. A great burst of magic was shot into my body painfully. I couldn't hear myself scream, but I knew that I did in the immense pain. It felt like I was being ripped apart from the inside out and soon the numbness followed.
Suddenly, I stopped screaming and he pulled his hand away at the same moment. I was suddenly cold and limp. My conscious mind began to fade and, once I was unconscious, all memory of this moment disappeared, just like everything else.
A/N: So, there's another chapter done. It took me a while, and I royally apologize. I've been slacking a lot lately, but the good news is I have started another Oneshot. That may be readable on Monday, but no guarentees.
Also, the spell "Sheikah's Eye of Truth" is not mine. It's my idea, but a friend of mine wrote it. On deviantArt his name is maelikki, in case you liked the style. I'm not so good with the poetry stuff, so I'm definitely glad he was there. Thanks!
Anyway, hope you liked it, questions, comments, critiques are greatly accepted--and if someone could verify which of Ganondorf's hands the Triforce of Power is on, I would be very appreciative. I thought it was his left, but the Twilight Princess has me confused a bit--and each game seems to change it on different characters. Anyway, thanks to all fans, whether you're fans because of my pieces or because Miyamoto is awesome, I don't really mind.
