Adrian Adrian Written By: Tesh Samuel Chapter 1 My name is Adrian. From an outside point of view, I am sure I appear just like any other average teenage boy, trying to get along in school. But I am not. At least not anymore. It is now the year 2108 and for many, including myself, it is not a happy time. So this is what drives me when I find that strange object in the streets. This was the moment when I stopped being a normal teenage boy. "You'd better get home," says Maggie Smith as she fixes her square glasses that make her eyes appear unnaturally large. "The curfew has been moved back to nine o'clock remember?" No one particularly likes Maggie. Maybe it's the glasses, or the fluffy ginger hair or maybe it's her constant obsession to remind everyone of what they already know. Whatever it is, I feel sorry for her. And so instead of telling her to "GO AWAY!" as would have liked to, I simply looked at her with a smile and a nod and shuffled along the street in the direction of my home. "Hey, Adrian," she called out to me after just a few steps. "Yes Maggie?" "What was you doing here? Sitting on the bench? You looked quite startled when I came across to you. It was almost like you were hiding something?" "Oh, er, it was nothing," I exclaimed. "Just a Christmas present, for my mum" "Oh ok... Well, I will see you at school. Bye!" And off she went skipping through the snow. She was right. I was startled when she came up to me a few moments ago, I was definitely hiding something from her, but it was not a christmas present for my mother. Just a few moments ago, I had been sitting alone on the bench. I had found something. Something I thought intriguing, lying in the snow. It was small, metallic and square, roughly the size of a mobile phone, or perhaps a little bigger. It had a sign printed onto it in red; it looked almost like a coat of arms and under that was printed the words 'TOP SECRET'. I was looking at it, trying to work out what it was, when spotty little Maggie Smith came trodding along in her ugly green jacket and stupid flowery Wellington boots. I don't hate Maggie Smith. I try to be as nice to her as I possibly can. But she always seems to show up at the most inconvenient of times and it is really annoying. It is freezing. I can see my breath circulate through the cold air. But I am kept warm by my many layers of clothing, my black knitted scarf and blue cardigan. It is the middle of winter and the snow has fallen down thick. Piles of it line up through the streets. Public transport appears to have slowed down almost to a complete stop. I pass Hammington's. A bakery that pulls in a respectable business here. There are cakes in the windows in all sorts of wonderful colours and shapes. Cup cakes. Birthday cakes. Wedding cakes. There are also a variation of cookies and loaves of bread. Jessica Hammington's family owns that bakery. My feet do not stop moving, but my thoughts get lost into one thing at the sight of this building. I think of Jessica's unnaturally red hair, (I'm pretty sure she dyes it) and how beautiful she was that day when she and her family came to my house for dinner. "Look what I made" she had told me as she held out a little cup cake covered in glitter and stars and a pink flower sitting on top. She had the largest grin on her face and I almost "Oh wow!" I said in genuine amazement. I really was impressed. But perhaps that was just because it was Jessica who made it. Jessica was beautiful. "Can I try some?" "Sure!" She ripped the cake in two and we both had our piece. It put a smile on my face. It tasted so good. She smiled back at me. I planned to go and see her the next day. I had gone to the trouble to pick a rose from the garden, even practiced a speech that I was going to use to ask her out. But when that day came, when I knocked on the door, greeted by police and her distraught parents, Jessica was gone. She had been taken in the night. No note was left. Just trails of blood leading to the front door. No one ever found her. Frankly, the polices attempts at finding her were rather pathetic. That was nearly four years ago. After continuing through the snow for another ten minutes or so, the time is 20:54 according to my watch. I finally get home to my semi-detached brick house that sits opposite Blakthorn Hospital. Blakthorn is the eastern section of the sector that I live in, Sector 7. Sector 7 sits somewhere to the south of Redwin, a large community that formed sixty-seven years ago. No one talks about what happened sixty-seven years ago. I kick off my shoes and attempt to sneak up the stairs without my mother hearing me. Miraculously, I manage it. Probably because she is too busy flirting with her new lover Christof. I see her through the living room door as I pass to the stairs. Giggling. Wrapped around his muscular, greasy body. It revolts me. After the first few steps up the stairs, I don't bother avoiding the creaking, but I do take extra care not to let the door slam as I enter my bedroom. I turn the lock, remove my scarf and my jacket and go to sit on my bed. Here I am. All alone in my prison of white walls covered in Polaroid pictures and The New Shining Glory posters. The New Shining Glory is a rock band that I used to like very much. I could sit there for hours replaying their songs and reciting their lyrics. But I'm not so much into music anymore. I pull the strange metallic object out of my bag and give it a closer inspection. There is something printed on the back: Deliver to President Matrik Newman: 67 Candle Street Sector 1 - Scarlott Redwin 1SC 0KQ This document provides information of national security. Unorthorised use of this information is strictly prohibited and punishable by death. This includes: reading or knowing its contents if you are not the person it is addressed to. Passing on or receiving information about its contents. Having said document in your possession unless instructed otherwise by a government official. Approved under the Redwin National Act of Security 2039 'Having said document in your possession unless instructed otherwise by a government official'... 'Punishable by death' Suddenly I don't feel so safe carrying this thing around. Not that i felt safe anyway. Where did it come from? How did it end up lying around on the street? What do I do with it now? My natural instinct is to dispose if it. But it is obviously an important document. Who knows what concequences might incur if this doesn't reach it's destination? Could it be something to do with the curfew? Might it explain why the entire sector is in lockdown? No. Disposing of it is definitely the wrong idea. Maybe I ought to give it back? Call the authorities and have them take it? But then what will happen to me? 'Punishable by death'. That doesn't sound like a very appealing thought. What should I do with it? Should I look inside? It hits nine o'clock and there are sirens sounding from outside. I leave my bed for a moment to look out between my curtains. Windows pull shut, blinds roll down, people sprint through the street trying to get inside as quickly as possible and a repeating voice sounds through the speakers set up on tall posts in the street. "Sector 7 is in lockdown. Please return to your homes immediately. Anyone who objects will be neutralised". When the voice finally stops I return to sitting on my bed. I decide to examine the metallic object; put it to my ear. Shake it. I hear nothing. I want to open it, but I don't know how. All the better really, opening it would not be a wise idea, but my curiosity is getting the better of me. Or it would be, if I could figure out how do it. There is a knock on the window. My head suddenly whips round as Inspect it. At first I wonder who it could be, but then it's obvious who it must be. I quickly push the strange object under the pillow before getting off the bed, shuffling across the room and slightly withdraw the curtain, revealing a dazzling blue eye. I smile, pull the window open and then Arthor Merrywether climbed into my bedroom. I quickly shut the window again as he removed his thick black jacket with an immense sigh of relief, revealing his spiky black hair and his un-ironed, black and grey checkered shirt. "Arthor!" I exclaimed once he completely stumbles into my room. "You know you really need to stop climbing through my window at night, anyone would think-" "-You're not going to believe this," he interupts, finally free of his jacket and looking at me. "What's happened?" "I need to show you something. Turn on your tv. Channel nine". I wheeled round to the television set in the corner of my room, switched it on and flicked onto the channel that Arthor had told me to. Channel 9: Redwin News +1. The repeats of the eight o'clock news from an hour ago was on now and Newel Harpike, the white haired, skinny news anchor in a suit, was sitting at his desk reporting an outbreak from Sector 4's high security prison. "You wanted to show me a news report of a prison outbreak?" I asked in confusion. "You didn't have to climb through my window for that, you could have just told me if you thought it that important I knew". "Just hold on a minute. Keep watching." The man on the tv went on to explain that at twelve minutes past eleven last night, approximately one-hundred-and-thirty inmates escaped from Mercycrown Top Security Prison. Over five billion credits worth of damage was caused, seventy five of the eighty staff of the prison have been either killed or are seriously wounded; the last five trapped in the prison with a further seventeen inmates. The tv cuts away to the prison as a load of prisoners come bundling out of it. "Look here," says Arthor. "Look carefully." I am looking. I strain my eyes and browse the screen for something significant. "What is it I'm looking for?" I ask. "It's a person, an inmate. Someone you know." "Who!?" I asked suddenly, turning quickly to Arthor. "Just watch OK" I look. Gazing into the screen. Surely this can't be any good for my eyes. A blonde, bulky, scary looking man. No, it cant be him. A woman with black hair and covered in blood. Cant be her either. A prison warden, bruised and bleeding and stumbling through the rubble. Not likely that. A red haired girl. She seemed familiar. She looked scared; crawling across the fallen bricks and mangled bodies. Excited criminals rushing past her. "Is that...?" I began. The girl stood up. She looked around for a moment and then she ran. "Is that Jessica?" i asked. "I think so" Arthor responded. Then the screen switched back to the news anchor. "All of those who have escaped are extremely dangerous. You should avoid being out on the street unless it is absolutely necessary. Any association with any of the escapees will be seen as an attempt to conspire against the government. you will be tried in a court of law and if found guilty, this crime is punishable by death." 'Punishable by death.' There's that phrase again. Was that really Jessica? If so, then what was she doing in that prison? It's not even part of our sector. What really happened when she disappeared that night? Where did she go? What did she do? Chapter 2 The next day, at school, I can't seem to think about anything other than what I saw on the tv the night before. The burning flames, the bleeding bodies crawling through the wreckage the pixelated girl who looked like Jessica among them. I should go and help her, get her back and punish whoever it was who captured her. But is she worth saving? There must be reason why she was in that prison, why she is now one of the most wanted by the state. What kind if horrible crimes did she commit? Murder? Or maybe nothing at all. Maybe none if this is her fault and she is still a victim in all of this. But either way. What can I really do to help? Maths class comes to a close and we are dismissed from lesson. Being more like an educational prison than a school, (in fact I think the school was actually converted from an old war prison facility), we are marched out of our classroom and into the caged off grounds where we spend our breaks and lunch breaks. My class, being the oldest year in the school, is then taken across the fields and into a large cement building labelled 'Dinner Hall'. Greeted by more lines, lines of seats and tables and lines if students, we collected our lunch trays and headed off for our food. "I wonder what it's going to be this time," says Maggie Smith who follows behind me. I don't respond or even look at her when some other classmates are turning and laughing at me. "I hope it's beef and carrot stew again". I placed a bowl on my tray and dragged it along, watching as a slop of thick grey soup was plopped into it by the grouchy, dirty, plump dinner lady, who shouted "next", after every student who passed. I hear Maggie sigh with disappointment. After collecting two prices of toast and a carton of milk I make my way to the tables. At first, people seem welcoming to my sitting with them, until Maggie comes up next to me enthusiastically, asking where we will sit and then there are people laughing, shaking their heads at me, moving along so that there isn't space for me to sit down. In the end, Maggie and I are sitting alone on a table in the far corner of the room. I see Arthor appear in the room, look at me, a find somewhere else to go when he see's who I'm sat with, raising his eyebrows as he turned away, halfheartedly mouthing the words "sorry," to me. I give him a dirty look, but he doesn't see it. "You didn't seem to be paying much attention in class today," says Maggie. She had noticed that my attentions were else where. "I was tired," I lie, spooning a mouthful of sloppy grey soup. It was full if bits of vegetables I couldn't place by taste alone. It was lumpy and didn't taste very good at all. I was almost choking on the stuff, washing it down with some milk. "Is it not very good?" Maggie asks. I shake my head. She tries the stuff anyways, spits it back out and pushes the tray aside, gulping down her own carton of milk. "That's disgusting", she says. "So much for beef and carrot stew". I continue to force myself to eat it, chewing on the vomit-like substance. "Are you ok?" She asks me. "Great," I say. "You?" I secretly hope she doesn't reply, or if she does that it's something as one-worded as my own. But that is not what happens. "No. No I'm not OK at all really. My sister has been missing for several days." I stop eating and turn to her. "Missing?" I say. "Yeah. We got up Sunday morning and she wasn't in the house anymore. She was gone. It's been happening all over the sector again, kids going missing. Like what happened four years ago." She was referring to the time that Jessica went missing. "I didn't want to come to school, but mum said I had to. I'm not supposed to talk about it either." She looks really upset and I feel myself starting to pity her. I remember again when Jessica dissapeared. How distraught her parents were, how confused her younger brothers were, how they asked where she had gone and cried when no one answered and they realised what was happening. How empty her bedroom felt when I wandered up there. It was unchanged. Untouched. The framed photos of her and I still stood. The 'New Shining Glory' posters remained blu-tacked to the walls. The only difference was her unmade bed, which was usually laid out to perfection, and that she was not there. It had taken some time for me to notice the few blood trails leading to the open window. "I'm sorry," I tell her. "I know what it's like to have someone you care about taken from you." I put hand on her shoulder to comfort her, ignoring the mocking looks coming from all around. She smiles at me. "You know, I think you may be the only real friend I have here." She's wrong. I am not her friend. But I smile at her anyway. "What's our next lesson?" She asks me. I check my timetable on sheet of paper, scan through it, locate the 2pm slot and read out, "Military Training." We are marched off to the training rooms for our military training exercises and dress in identical, plain, greyish-green jumpsuits. This week is hand to hand combat training. After a two hour session of practicing throws and punches and exploring different martial arts techniques, I am feeling bruised and worn out. We shower, change back into our school uniforms, (black sweaters over a white collared shirt, shoes and trousers or a skirt and tights for girls), leave the building and begin to make our ways home or to whatever after school activities they may have. I am waiting outside for Arthor as we usually walk home together, but instead I am accompanied by Maggie. I am feeling to sorry for her to think of her offensively. Instead I accept that she will be walking home with today, that Arthor will avoid her and I as a result at any cost and that I will have to deal with her annoyances all the way home and be nice to her about it. Except today, I won't be going straight home. "You should come to my house for dinner today," she says, "I've not had guests in quite some time." "I think my mums already made me dinner at home," I say. I'm not sure if she really has or not, it's actually more likely that I get home and my mother will be too occupied with 'Christof' to notice me and I will have to make myself dinner. But still, I am disappointed by Maggie's response. "No. My mother knows yours from work. She told me that they both will be staying out until eight at the office Christmas party". This is annoying, because I no longer have an excuse not to go. Instead I nod my head and hope she forgets on the way so I don't end up at her house today. I then feel guilty, because her sister has been kidnapped and the last thing she needs is rejection. She hasn't done well in today's training. She had fallen over, lost every sparring session she attempted, showed minimal strength and just generally had a very poor performance. As a result she was subject to mockery by everyone in class but me and she looked at me angrily when I didn't defend her. It wasn't until she was almost in tears that I spoke up and told the others to leave her alone, at which point the comments were also targeted at me and I selfishly resented Maggie even more. We walked for about fourth minutes when I tried to say goodbye to Maggie, but then she questioned me and reminded me that I was meant to be going to her house today. So there we went and before long I was walking through her front door and being introduced to her father. "Hello Adrian," he says. He tried to be cheerful, but I can see the pain in his eyes, the pain of a man who had something very precious stolen from him. "You must be Anna's son. I'm Jeorge... Spelt with a 'J'. Pleased to meet you." I smile and shake his hand. He is just as red headed as Maggie is. Pretty much like an older, male version with short, but equally messy hair. He doesn't have her spots, but he doesn't have perfectly smooth skin either. Still, he has a very humble, comforting appearance about him. Later, we are sat at the table. I am position on the end of it, looking across at the two missing seats. One next to Maggie's father, Jeorge, where her mother would be sat had she not been out at a Christmas party and another next to Maggie where sister would be sat had she not been kidnapped a few days ago. I wanted to question why a mother would attend a Christmas party when her daughter had been kidnapped, but I remembered that Maggie was not meant to talk about the incident and kept quiet. But so did everyone else and we all sat and ate out lamb, rice, roast potatoes and assorted vegetables in awkward silence. Teddy, the family pet, an over-excitable Yorkshire terrier, excitedly bounces along to the table, staring up at us. It looked like it was grinning. When Maggie feeds him a few bits of broccoli and a thin strip of lamb she cut for it, it makes its way over to me, lifting itself up so that it's paws are in my legs and it licks it's lips, unable to keep still. I feed it some lamb so that it will go away, but it doesn't and just sits there watching me consume the rest of my plate. "Thank you," I tell Jeorge once we are all finished, breaking the silence. I want to lick the plate it was so good, but instead I am polite and clean my mouth with the napkin provided. "Thanks dad," says Maggie. "You're both welcome," says Jeorge. He gets up, takes our plates and puts them in the sink in the kitchen. The front door opens. It's Maggie's mother. Isn't it a bit early for her to be home? I was even more supprised when she spotted me, fixated on me for moment and spat at me, "get out!" Chapter 3 I sat there, puzzled. Why was I being told to 'get out'? I looked into her mothers face, frightening, pale; made even more frightening by the contrast of her dark brown hair with streaks of red, (probably to make her feel like one of the family). "Excuse me?" I say when there is no explanation to why I am being treated so badly. "You've got to go. Now. You're not welcome here!" "Why?" Asks Maggie. "Why do you have to be so rude?" "He is not welcome here!" "Calm down dear, it's only Anna's son," Jeorge tells his wife, but she ignores him. Maggie rises from her seat in anger. "Why mum!?" She shouts. "Ever since Milly went missing-" "-shut up! You know you're not meant to mention that!" She has raised a finger and steps forward so that her and her daughters faces are almost touching. "He already knows!" Maggie blurts back at her. "Why did you tell him? I can't believe this! Do you know the danger you have put us in?" Danger? How are we in anymore danger than usual? Maggie seems to be thinking the same thing, because she asks it. "The Froston family, there son went missing two weeks ago." I remembered reading a newspaper about that. Arron Froston, a twelve year old boy, disappeared in circumstances identical to Jessica and Maggie's younger sister Milly's disappearances. In the dead if night. Without a note. Just a blood trail and an open window. "That doesn't mean we should be rude to everyone else!" Maggie insisted. "They're all dead! Gabbie Froston received a letter at work today. It contained pictures of what was left of her family dead and a note saying 'you should have kept quiet'". The room went silent. "When she went running out of the office during the Christmas party a bullet went through her head and she was gone." I notice the bloodstain on her dress, confirming her story. No one said anything. Maggie tried to, but I guess she has no response, so she, like everyone else, turned to me. What am I meant to do? What am I meant to say? I could be putting their whole family in danger now. So with nothing else to say, I rise from the table, swing my school bag onto my shoulder and make my way toward the front door. On my way, Maggie stops me and whispers, "sorry" into my ear. I shrug her off and leave. As I shut Maggie's front door behind me, thinking over the information I had just learned, I made my way through the snowy streets toward my home. I check my watch. 8.27. So I have half an hour before the curfew starts. But I am unpleasantly supprised, when after just a few minutes, the voice booms through the speakers in the streets. "Sector 7 is in lockdown. Please return to your homes immediately. Anyone who objects will be neutralised". The siren is ringing through my ears at the same time. I run, trying to home as soon as possible, but it is at least ten minutes away. I'm not the only one who has been caught out by this. Other people are sprinting down the streets as doors slam and curtains in windows pull shut. I am going up-hill, past the pub, past the row of houses, past the corner shops. I hear the sound of footsteps coming behind me and as a squad of army men march around a corner and into view, I quickly duck behind a bush. I'm watching as they march through the street. They fire bullets at an unfortunate man who hasn't quite made it home yet. He falls to the floor as blood splatters over his front door. I wait for the army men to disappear and then sprint through the street, as fast as I can, readying myself with my key. I manage the ten minute walk in three, and push my door open, panting, falling inside and slamming the door shut behind me. The floor is now wet with snow. "Adrian?" Calls my mothers voice. She bursts into the lobby with a sigh if relief. "It's ok Christof Here's here!" She calls out. Christof replies with a simple "OK!" "Hey." I say. "Where have you been! I've had the worst day!" "At Maggie's. her mother told me what happened". I could see the tears building in her eyes, so I step forward and wrap my arms around her. At this point she bursts into tears and squeezes her own arms around me. "I just wish we could get out of this stupid city," she says, sniffling. "Then we won't have to be afraid anymore." I let go of her and give a comforting smile which she replicates, but is still crying. I turn to the living room. Christof is in there, watching the tv. I step inside. How can he just sit there? How can he just sit there and listen to my mum cry? "Aren't you gonna do something?" I ask. He turns his read around, not moving from the yellow couch. "What?" Christof mutters over a mouthful if crips. "Can't you see she's upset?" "We'll you've got that covered haven't you?" I almost march over there and land my fist in his face. "You're disgusting you know that!" I tell him. "What's you're problem boy?" "Adrian, stop it! Please!" But I don't listen to my mother. I step further into the room; driven by my anger. "Yes. I have a problem. You. You sit on you arse all day. You take advantage and impose yourself on us, you've moved yourself in and you're not helping in anyway at all, you're just a waste of space! And now, even when she has accepted you into her home, when my mother is in need of your comfort you sit there and ignore it because you're too busy watching the stupid television!" He gets up off the couch, almost towering over me. His greasy skin stretching over his muscular biceps. I see the line of sweat down the front of his vest. I see the anger in his eyes. "You better watch your mouth boy!" "Calm down! Both of you!" My mother shouts. She grabs my arm to try and restrain me, but I shake her off. "What are you gonna do?" I ask him, stepping so close I'm almost touching him, his breath running over my face. "Hit me?" The fist hits me square in the face. My mum squeals as I fall to the floor, blood pouring from my nose, pain spreading over my cheeks. "Adrian!?" My mother says as she bends down to see if I'm ok. "Why did you do that?" She asks her boyfriend. "Teach that brat some manners," he orders her and returns to the couch. I drag myself up, about to go up to him, say something else, do something stupid, but my mother gets a proper hold of me this time. "No!" She tells me. "I will deal with it. Just go." I hesitate, looking from my mother to the arsehole in the couch. Then I spin around, exit the room, run up the stairs, burst into my room and throw myself on my bed. "You left the window open", says a voice....