APRIL 17, 11:32P.M
“Fire!” The command rang out over the base, followed by missals that whizzed through the ocean waters, aimed for red and black Falcon sub-jets. Five blue and silver blue birds rose from the take off field, and were immediately in action. Commander Zachary Waters stood in front of the flat screen within the base, watching the war rage on with a displeased expression.
“This can’t go on any longer; we’ve already lost 16 blue birds and more men then accountable.” He began to pace in front of the screen, trying to summon a compromise to end it all.
“Sir,” one of the boys in front of a screen in charge of the camera system looked up with a sense of urgency in his voice. “Sir,” he repeated, “There seems to be an unauthorized pedestrian within the section C-9 control room. Should I send someone to check?”
“No, no.” Zachary said, examining the figure on the screen. “No, ill deal with this.” And with that, he turned on his heel and stalked out the room.
It took him five minutes to reach section C-9, after 3 elevator rides and 1 flight of stairs. He then tiptoed to the control room, brushed his blonde hair out of his face, and let his icy blue gaze scan the room. Old computers lined the walls opposite him, and in the middle was an engine like machine which powered the elevators and computers in that section. But he didn’t have much time to take in the view before he had to dive behind an old tank that was beside him, for a pair of feet shuffled into view, heading toward the engine. Holding his breath, Zachary peered over the side of the tank and froze. The figure in front of him had his back towards Zach, and was tampering with the machine. In a red and black diver’s suite, the trespasser had a stunner on his left side.
All of a sudden, the machine stopped whirring and pounding, and the man turned around from in front of it. Zach gasped, and then covered his mouth, afraid the trespasser might have heard. The man had mangled black hair that reached his shoulders, which oddly resembled that of his brother’s, but that’s not what had made Zach gasp.
The man in front of him had half his face missing. The half with his flesh on it bore a blazing green eye, while the other half, which seemed to be consisted of steel, bore a red mechanical eye that swiveled in its place, zooming in and out. What made Zach even more scared was that the red eye seemed to be staring at the tank, as if it could see through it and saw the man hiding behind it. Then the half-faced person stooped down and placed what looked like a beeping box on the floor in front of him, his red eye still staring at the tank. He then stood, and strode from the room.
After ten seconds from the trespassers departure, Zach heaved a sigh of relief, stood, and walked cautiously towards the beeping box, but stopped inches from it. There were green numbers ticking off, and it was now displaying 00:01:27. His eyes widened, and with one last glance at the bomb, he reached for his walkie and yelled, “RETREAT BASE! I REPEAT, RECTREAT BASE! THERES A BOMB IN THE CONTROL ROOM, I REPEAT, THERES A BOMB! RETREAT!!”
And not waiting for a response, he sprinted from the room and ran to the elevator. He then squashed his pointer into the up button, but nothing happened. Hearing the beeping of the bomb in the distance, he remembered that the man in Falcon uniform had turned off the elevators. He knew the whole time that I was here, he saw me with that red eye, and turned the elevators off so I couldn’t escape. These thoughts swam in Zach’s mind as he ran for the stairs. But when he reached the door, he wanted to cry. The man had locked the only staircase in the section, and Zach had no way of escaping. He ran back to the control room, and his need to cry had rose. The bomb now read 00:00:13.
“Ssshhppp” his walkie came to life with the voice of the boy from the security room. “Ssshhppp….. Sir…..sir we’ve evacuated the base…..ssshhhpp…… we can’t find you…. Where is your location?.....sssssshhhhhpppp”
Zach groaned and slid to the floor, all hope vanishing. His walkie wasn’t working, and the bomb was right in front of him. I’m done for. After all my life, this is how it’s going to end. 00:00:01. he didn’t scream. He didn’t even blink. The only sound that came next was that of raging winds, and a blinding light. The boy from the security room and others from the base sat in blue-birds miles away, and they saw not that of the base blowing up, but instead, the base was swiftly sucked into the ocean floor, with stillness and silence following.
MAY 13, 9:05 A.M
It was a normal Monday morning. I opened locker 378 and shoved my bag inside, extracting my chemistry textbooks and trying to avoid the murmurs and glares that were being cast in my direction. Believe me, that was hard to do, because everywhere, people were sniggering at me. My name is Damian Smith, and at 13 years of age I already hated, no, despised the world. I mean, hate wasn’t my thing; I was an ok guy though. I never slouched and I never fell asleep in class. I even got straight A’s. But as this pleased the teachers, it had the opposite effect on my peers. Every time I strutted down the hallway, groups of kids, or even individuals, spat at my heels. OK, OK, they didn’t actually spit at me, but with the looks they gave me, they mind as well have. I never actually understood why. Sure I went to Chester Middle, which was considered to be a pretty wealthy school, but compared to the dazzling shoes, and blindingly bright cloths that the kids wore, I looked like a bum that needed someone to call the fashion police for them. But all in all, my slightly baggy Levis
“Good morning,” her flat tone carried out to the class, “Please grab your lab equipment and pair up.”
Over the weekend, I had raved about this Monday. My usual grouch mood towards the school had lifted, and I couldn’t wait, for today we were dissecting frogs. Now, some of you girls may be thinking oh, how cruel and horrific while the boys are probably saying that’s totally awesome. Personally, I admire everyone’s opinion, but I have to agree with the girls on this one. But then, why exactly did a rave about it? Well, who wouldn’t want to see the guts of a living creature, or at least, one that used to be? Then again, I prefer not to go near the corpse of an innocent frog, still knowing that it was born for the soul purpose of youths to dig around in its body. So, I’ll go the virtual way, all the fun and discovery without the guilt. Yeah, im the kind a guy who likes to play it safe.
So after first period, this was filled with the stench of dead amphibians and a silent but audible chorus of oooh’s and aaah’s, I went through the rest of the school day either doodling in algebra or snoozing in LAL. The only other highlight of my day, including the frogs, was being tripped in the lunch room and falling head first into my ravioli. But just to let you guys know, I prefer my ravioli on my face (if you believe that, you should practice how to recognize sarcasm in print.) as I walked home, little did I know that in the mail was going to be letter addressed to me, leading to a place of unbelievable wonder, unimaginable things that would change my life, this world, this…. Im getting ahead of myself. Maybe I should start before I even decided to check the mail.
Anyway, I went through my usual routine, all the important stuff, I did my home work and studied for Wednesday’s history test. OK, so I didn’t do any of that, more like flopped on the couch with some pop-tarts and turned on the TV, but if one of my teachers happened to come across this, I’d be in for a boat load of mess. Two Stupid Dogs was on Boomerang, and it was like a bottle of Gorilla Glue had poured itself between me and the television. That was, until Mom came in, who heaved a huge sigh as if she just came from working on a farm. Mom was a lawyer, and what tiresome troubles happened in the courthouse, she just happened to lug home with her.
“Damian, didn’t I tell you to clean up the kitchen after breakfast?” It figures, as soon as she comes home, she gets into Commando mode. Sure, I may have left a small glob of syrup on the table, but it wasn’t something to throw a fit about. And since I didn’t want to hear her whine like a 2- year old, I wiped it up, grabbed my book bag, slammed my finger on the power button on the remote, and trudged upstairs.
I seriously have no idea why, but while my Mom’s room smells like aroma therapy mint stuff, mine smells like peanut butter. Let me tell you, I hate the gloppy stuff. And no matter how much I drown my room in Febreez, the smell is still there. So concentrating on studying sure enough didn’t happen, and after a minute, I gave up.
It took me awhile to notice the letter on my bedside table, but sooner or later I did. At first, I looked at it like it was fake, because I never get mail (Mom says I’m lucky ‘cause the only time people actually get mail is if it’s a bill.) For a bit I just stared at it, waiting for it to explode or burst into flames, but nothing happened. And of course, my curiosity got the better of me, and I tore it open like it was Christmas day. The envelope had some fancy gold writing on it, saying Base 88 Academy for the Exceptionally Gifted. OK, what kind of academy is called Base 88? But then, after stealing a look at the letter, I bought it to my Mom to examine. Like I actually wanted to read a paper from some school. After reading it once, then twice (maybe she can’t read well) she looked at me with the goofiest smile I’ve ever seen, and never wanted to see again. She looked down at the letter, and read aloud the first paragraph:
Dear Parent/Guardian of: Damien Smith.
I am very pleased to inform you that your child has been accepted into Base 88 Academy for the Exceptionally Gifted.
That was the shortest paragraph ever, but Mom wouldn’t read on, just kept that disgusting grin on her face.
“You sent an application to some school for me?” I asked. How in the world does someone just decide ‘Hey! I’m going to send an application to a random school, and see if my son gets in” without my consent. Just because I’m a minor, does not mean I don’t have a voice.
A very long story short, Mom decided that maybe my school sent the application, and that I should go. More like I have to. She gave me no choice. I have to go to some school I’ve never heard of, because I’m “gifted”? Yeah, gifted for being a dork. I didn’t argue, because then she’d give me on of her lectures that could put a person who just drank 12 cups of coffee to sleep, and I wanted to avoid that. I just rolled my eyes and stalked away, going up into my room and going right into nerd mode, plunging into a game of Halo Reach.
