Disclaimer:
See previous chapter. Hell, if you recognize it, it's not
mine.
I
stepped out of my car as I stopped at the gate to my estate. Finally
back home in the T-Veronica territory, I paused to review the brief
meeting I had had with Liana, and Dark. Shaking my head slightly, I
walked over to my gate. It was a simple gate, really. It was made of
silver, vaguely decorated. It could easily be broken by any being
with pools of strength.
"Red Queen, take my car back to the garage; I'll walk, instead." And with that, my car moved through the gate and toward a building in the northeast corner of my estate. I glanced around gently, my ebon gaze finally resting on my house. It was grand. Money was never a problem in this underhanded world I call my life."But was it worth it?" I silently asked myself. I looked down to the ground, remembering:
"What is the problem, officers?" I heard my mother say from the hall. I instantly stopped doing my homework and tilted by head toward the hallway.
"May we speak to your daughter," The officer looked around in his pocket until he pulled out a piece of paper and read something on it. "Cecelia, Madam?"
"Of course," my mother replied. I was instantly aware of what this meant, and I tried to review all things that I could have possibly done today that were considered illegal. I couldn't think of a damn one.
The officers entered the kitchen and took a seat at the kitchen table, across from me.
"Hello, Cecelia. I am Officer Charles Murray from the Maryland State Police, and I'm here to ask you a few questions. Do you understand?" he asked. I nodded slightly and he then continued, "You are the girlfriend of a Mr. Steven Burnside, are you not?" I nodded again. "When did you last see him?" "At 4 o'clock on Friday" I replied.
And so it went on. As the questions followed one after the other, I grew more worried and irritated.
"Officers,"
I cut Mr. Murray off, "What is this all about exactly?"
"Mr.
Burnside was kidnapped earlier this week, and there have been
mysterious rumors circling his disappearance." Pausing for it to
sink in, and quietly added, "Thank you for your time."
The
officers turned to leave but then, still in complete shock, I blurted
out, "Well, where the hell is he?!!!!" My voice began to
rise as I stood up. Me and Steve had been dating for awhile, and I
truly cared for him. I loved him.
In order to calm me down,
they agreed to tell me a little of Steve's disappearance, though it
was dry information; the bone with no meat. They had received
evidence pointing to a small island off Europe's western coast,
though it was skeptical. They also had radio static originating
somewhere in Antarctica. They left, the officers, soon after. That
night in bed, I couldn't sleep. All I thought about was Steve,
possibly dead somewhere. Constantly, I turned over in bed, to the
point where lying down did no use. Sitting up, I slid off my bed and
began to pace in the dark.
"Steve
what did you do-how could you let this happen..." My thoughts went
from worrying for Steve to blaming him for what turmoil he may have
created. "God helps those who help themselves..." flashed in my
thoughts. Suddenly, I stood rigid. Yes, God does help those who
help themselves. Perhaps it was the ignorance of youth, but I became
rash as I hurried about in my room to get dressed quickly in a pair
of old, faded jeans, and a black baggy sweatshirt. I got my 9 mm from
down in the basement and headed out the door quietly. I used my car
and drove to the airport for private planes. My uncle owned a plane
and taught me to fly it last summer. He gave me a pair of keys just
in case I ever needed them. Clasping those keys in a tight fist as I
drove, all I could think of was this objective, to save
Steve.
Arriving at the airport, I sighed. How to get past the
guard...past the damn gate. Parking my car in the nearby brush of
the woods, I slinked my way over to the airport's entrance.
Crouching down, I crawled past the guard station and through the
considerable amount of room under the gate. Deciding to remain
hidden for a while longer, I quietly crawled to a small garage just
north of me. Arriving, I quickly opened the lock with one of the
keys held tightly in my hand. Gently opening the doors open wide,
now was the time to hurry, for someone may have seen those doors
open. Hurrying in, I looked up at the plane. It wasn't very big. "As
long as it takes me to Antarctica, I'll be fine," I thought.
Maneuvering myself into the aircraft, I strapped myself in and began
to work the controls. My hands were shaking out of fear and
excitement, barely able to do as I commanded, it seemed. Starting up
the engine, I pulled out into the runway, seeing small figures in the
dark running towards me, yelling things out in vain. Pulling away, I
flew as fast as I was allowed.
Several hours later, I
climbed out of my plane, shivering from the Arctic winds blowing from
the west. I had landed next to what looked like an abandoned base. If
a base is what you would call it. Most of it appeared to be burned,
and appeared to have been...blown up, almost. Rubble and debris
scattered the ground everywhere. What happened here?
I
found a loose door on one of the walls, and I managed to slip myself
through. It was bleak inside, and cold. Water dripped far above and
landed with a light tapping on the cement.
I walked through
the base for several hours, hearing strange noises every once in
awhile. Upon coming across a strangely, decorated door, I opened it
to find a small private garden. "Mon dieu..." I muttered. I
walked along for a brief time, eyeing a bizarre, miniature carousel
to my left before I came upon another set of double doors. Upon
opening them, I appeared to have stepped into a great manor.
Portraits, although slightly burned, lined the walls. A grand
staircase, or what was left of it, loomed before me. Just then I
heard a door open to my right. Turning abruptly, I saw something
flying at me...
And then I woke up...9 years later.
