The news arrived on the Friday after Mel’s hospitalization. That morning, snow had begun to drift down lazily, setting upon the blades of grass. It was a light dusting, but it heralded a greater blizzard in the future. The five Xarnon agents had stopped to admire the view in silence, when a coated figure appeared across the campus. We stood still as Whiteford approached the building and entered.

  A gust of cold air hit my face, and I blinked, shivering slightly.

  Whiteford’s face was expressionless. Her black trench coat was thick, probably made of leather or another similar material. “Word has just reached us from across the Atlantic,” she said. “Shooting has begun.”

  There was a pause as that sunk in. The soldiers we had trained alongside were now across the world, fighting. Many were probably dead. I pictured a few of their faces, my mind conjuring up awful scenes of blood and carnage.

  “Do we know anything about the casualties?” Les asked.

  “Fifteen confirmed dead on our side, and about thirty Russian bodies were found. It looks like they were waiting for an excuse to go and kill us all,” Whiteford said gravely. “It is said that they sometimes shoot corpses just to make sure they didn’t survive.”

  I shuddered at the thought. No one said anything for another few seconds. Then, Seph broke the silence. “What now, then?”

  Whiteford bit her lip, before turning towards the diner. “Follow me,” she said. “We can talk over breakfast.”

  The six of us walked toward the carpeted room. A fresh bit of pain flared in my chest at the thought of Mel not being able to join us for dining any more. No longer could we joke over a good meal, no longer could we make bad attempts at normal conversation. We sat at the same table the full group of Xarnon agents used to eat at.

  There was, after all, no need for an extra chair.

  I ordered something simple today, just eggs and toast, with sausage on the side. The food arrived, fresh, within five minutes. As soon as the plates were down and the waiter was gone, Whiteford began briefing us on the situation. “The command was given for small groups in the north to advance. It was unclear which side shot first, but three groups encountered Russian soldiers. Two of our men made it out alive. Three more were found dying, and the rest were already dead. It was unclear whether all of the Russians had been killed.

  “We believe at least one made it alive to spread the word, because a large group marched on one of the lower locations, still in the north. The Russians were eventually defeated. All casualty numbers are estimated - about thirty Americans dead. Fifteen Russians were seen retreating, but we do not know the numbers of the original army. Two other forts were marched upon. Both were seized by Russia. The latest intelligence was that our troops plan to take it back.”

  “So Valamir knows the location of our forts…” Naomi said, trailing off.

  “That was the most concerning bit,” Whiteford said. “We don’t know how he figured it out, but we can’t afford to turn on each other and throw around accusations.”

  “We also can’t deal with our information continually being sold to Russia, either,” I said.

  “Any news from our allies?” Les asked, changing the topic.

  “Canada believes that most computers have been recovered. They plan to share their solution with us soon. They are sending ground support as we speak,” Whiteford said.

  “Why didn’t they have us do that?” Seph spoke up. “You have a group of hackers right here.”

  Whiteford looked down at her plate. “Well, you see, Canada… they didn’t quite like the idea of this operation. They were asked to help fund it, but refused. They don’t want to work with us if we hire criminals.”

  “So you lied and said it was called off,” Naomi guessed.

  “Yes,” Whiteford looked up. “I told them the funding would be redirected to the military.”

  “I don’t think lying to your allies is a good idea,” Vivian put in. I was shocked to hear her speak, as she usually kept quiet during group conversations.

  “You want us to throw you back in prison?” Whiteford snapped. “You wouldn’t be here if not for that.”

  There was silence. Her anger at the topic was strange, especially compared to the fact that we were talking about Americans being slaughtered earlier. You would think that global politics would be a softer topic.

  I nearly laughed at myself aloud for thinking anything about politics could be ‘soft’.

  We finished the rest of the meal in silence.

  When we had finished and were standing to leave, Whiteford stopped us. “I know that I said you all are relinquished of your services,” she began. “But I do need something from you. Next week.”

  “What is it?” I asked, as possibilities were already appearing in my head.

  “I’ll tell you then,” she said, and walked promptly out the door, across the lobby, and out into the cold. She left us standing in the dining room, with no idea of what to do for the rest of the day.

  ??

  A week and a half passed uneventfully. We did not leave the building, for fear of the cold. We walked across the entirety of the dorm area a couple of times. However, I never shared anything about the fake staircases and made sure no one strayed near them. I spent about 75% of my free time just staring at my phone. The other 25% was spent trying and failing to get anything done on the projects that I had let fall to the back of my head - figuring out how the virus spread, and working on decrypting the USB data.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  Nothing, no matter what I tried, could decrypt the data. My earlier plan of trying to find whatever software the CIA used to encrypt it and copy that surfaced in my head a few times. But, after every day, I lay in bed, reflecting.

  My life was a mess - that was sure. And now I was mixed up in the third world war. I was fighting for the chance of possibly having a future.

  But I didn’t know if I could ever make it out of this mess.

  It was just day after day without news. I had side projects that seemed to contain all of the information I needed, but nothing succeeded with those either. So I just had to hope that there was a possibility I could come out of this. Away from bombings, from hacking. Into a life with Seph.

  It seemed impossible.

  But it was the only thing that kept me going.

  ??

  I awoke into a beautiful reality.

  The sun was shining, the birds chirping. I rolled out of bed, almost as if I could forget everything. In our little apartment, I could live. Stuffed animals lined my bed, with sheets of sky-blue. Light wood made up the frame. Little toys were strewn about across the floor. I had my white desk and laptop that my parents let me play games on.

  Or maybe more than playing games, I thought with a wicked grin. I had been slowly learning more about computers and the way they interacted.

  I had begun to think of myself as somewhat of a tech genius. Maybe even a hacker. I always bragged to the other kids at school of how good I was. They didn’t dare mess with Cadeyn, the badass criminal.

  …Not that I really was badass.

  Or a criminal.

  But I learned that having power and a way to harm someone is a boost for your popularity. No one dared mess with me. None of them ever had even tried. But if they did…

  Well, I wasn’t too sure about my actual ability. I had never gotten an opportunity to test myself.

  I stood there for a while, unsure of what to do. I could have gone down, but then I would have to face my parents. And I didn’t really want to after what they had done last night. Memories flashed in my head, but I pushed them down. The wounds were too fresh, and the bruise on my face still stung.

  For what they did to me, they will die.

  The thought surprised me. I did not know where it came from - if I had thought it or if it had just been dropped in my head by someone else, some god. For my mental health’s sake, I hoped for the latter.

  After staying still for much too long, my parents called my name from downstairs. “Cadeyn!” Mom shouted. “Get your ass downstairs and eat some food!”

  I scrambled down the stairs. When I made my way across the main room, I got a good look at my parents’ faces. For some reason, they seemed content where they were. It was as if yesterday had never happened. But I knew better. I could never live the same life as before. I felt a dark, kind of thrashing energy thrashing in my stomach.

  “Your cereal is on the counter,” Mom said.

  I looked away. “Fine,” I said, my tone dark.

  Dad looked down. “Now, don’t be giving us any problems,” he said.

  I sat at the table, stirring my spoon through the mixture. “I don’t see any problems,” I muttered.

  “What was that?” Dad asked.

  “I said that there are no problems!” I snapped. “I’m fine and you are not.”

  Mom stalked over to me. “Don’t talk to your father like that,” she scolded.

  “It’s true!” I said. “There is nothing wrong with me, you all just-”

  “I am not having this fight again,” Dad cut me off. “You just need to change, and stray away from that stuff.”

  “There’s nothing to change,” I sniffed, and turned away. I didn’t get how my own parents could be so disgusted based on a boy I liked.

  “There’s everything to change,” Mom said. “You can be normal, like the other kids. Or you can live with your vile ways and burn in hell when you die.”

  I turned away, saying nothing. As soon as I took the first bite of food, a jarring vision shot into my head. Red fire danced through my head, my eyes focused on the tall apartment building burning in front of me. There were screams as I stood still. I knew there was someone I had once cared about in there, being burnt to a crisp. But I was torn.

  A clear though surfaced in my head once more, as startling and uncalled for as the last:

  I’m glad they didn’t make it out.

  I shook the thought away, and ran. Because I wasn’t eating cereal anymore - and that was probably good. I ran until I reached a long hallway. I turned and was lost in another world again. A winding mess of lockers and ceiling tiles.

  School: I assigned the word with this place.

  But, shouldn’t there be people?

  Shadows of laughter and joy flicked into existence at the thought. But, it faded as soon as it had come. I took footsteps hesitantly; unsure of what would come next. I couldn’t quite wrap my head around everything, nor could I remember where I had come from.

  “Cadeyn…” A voice whispered. “Hello.”

  I recognized his voice. But, it couldn’t be. He was gone from my life so long ago, and I swore to never think about him again.

  He is to fault for everything.

  Again, a voice in me, thinking the uninvited thoughts. They were the things I shoved down.

  Kill him.

  There wasn’t a pause.

  I had no control.

  Suddenly I was flying through the air and landing on his helpless form. His face was twisted, but I could still recognize it. Not for long, I thought, no longer needing any external force of darkness to compel me. I brought my fist down on his face.

  There was a satisfying crunch, and his scream filled the air. His nose was twisted now, blood dripping from it and all over my hands.

  I punched again.

  And again.

  His screams became shriller and shriller as I tore him apart. I felt my fingernails digging into skin, cutting through muscles and flesh. After a while he stopped screaming. Blood coated everything as he was becoming twisted beyond recognition.

  I dug into his stomach, feeling the slimy intestines beneath.

  I tore, and tore.

  I ripped apart everything I could feel until I was sitting upon a pile of bone, mangled flesh, and guts; all floating in an ocean of blood.