Arxic Arxic
Sometimes the battle against the mind is far more lethal than the
battle against the body...
Chapter 1 [1]
Chapter 2 [2]
Chapter 3 [3]
Chapter 4 [4]
Chapter 5 [5]
Chapter 6 [6]
Chapter 7 [7]
Chapter 8 [8]
CHAPTER 1
Frigid. That's exactly how John Travis felt as he opened his car
door and stepped into the cold, unforgiving outdoors. January was
nearly over, but that meant that high school midterms and several more
weeks of icy weather still awaited him. His breath vaporized before
his eyes, but he didn't notice. Having just finished several hours of
work preceded by time consuming extra-curricular activities, all he
could think of was the precious little time he had to study for his
many exams the next day.
With ease he pulled his cell phone from his belt and glanced at the
time. Eleven fifty-four. It wasn't that late; at least, that's the
logic he tried to use to lessen his dread of the day that lurked only
six minutes away. But he knew that his grades would suffer if he
didn't study much for the upcoming exams, and he bemoaned the lack of
sleep he'd receive that night.
If it hadn't been for the freezing air surrounding him, he would
have been reluctant to go inside to start cramming for his midterms.
Exhaling one more breath of visible air, John shut his car door and
trudged towards the front door of his spacious country home. He
unlocked the door with little trouble and ventured inside.
A blast of warm air greeted him, making him feel nice and toasty,
but a quick glance at the stairs eliminated the comfort the heat
provided. He still had a couple hours of studying to do. At least he
didn't have to worry about waking his parents. They were gone for a
few days at a conference, so he had the entire house to himself.
Knowing what he needed to do, John climbed the stairs leading up to
his room. Before he grabbed his textbooks, he went to his stereo and
turned on one of his favorite Mae CDs. Now that he had a fitting
atmosphere, he could start focusing on the task at hand. He pulled his
chemistry book from his desk, sat down, and began to study.
An hour passed. Progress felt awesome, but his head was starting to
hurt from all the cramming. Setting his books aside for a moment, he
turned to his computer. Perhaps a few YouTube videos would help his
mind relax so he could focus better.
He double-clicked the Mozilla Firefox icon on his desktop, bringing
up the Internet browser. But, oddly enough, the Internet wasn't
connected. John stared at the computer for a few seconds, played
around with a few of the settings, and then shut off the monitor in
disgust. Rarely ever did the Internet connection have problems. Of all
nights for it to break!
Disheartened, he grabbed his cell phone. He could still text his
friends to ease his brain. It took only a second to bring his sleek,
black phone to eye level, and only a second after that to read what
was on the phone. No service. With no Internet and no cell service, he
was now disconnected from the outside world, without relief from his
burdensome textbooks.
In utter annoyance, he pushed himself away from his desk and stood
up, taking a moment to enjoy being in a standing position once again.
What to do? Exhaustion was starting to overcome his body, yet he still
needed to study more. There was only one viable option: head down the
kitchen and grab a Mountain Dew from the refrigerator. Surely that
would brighten the bleak night.
The mere thought of caffeine gave him a slight jolt as he exited his
room and tramped down the stairs. Other than the faint murmur of his
stereo upstairs, the downstairs was silent as he flicked on the lights
and strode casually to the fridge. Inside stood his prize. He reached
his hand in to take hold of the chilled can of carbonated goodness,
but as he did he heard a creaking noise room coming from the living
room. It took only seconds to identify the noise as the sound of
footsteps.
John clenched his Mountain Dew tightly as his heart skipped a beat.
Someone had broken into his house. His mind spun. Had he forgotten to
lock the front door? More footsteps. As natural adrenaline coursed
through his veins, he realized that wouldn't need the drink he now
held. Silently he released his grip from the can and moved towards the
drawer that contained his family's collection of kitchen knives. For a
moment, the creaking of the footsteps ceased, and then he heard them
head up the stairs.
With only a few seconds available to come up with a plan, he pulled
open the drawer, snatching the largest knife he could find. It was
sharp and massive, and it provided him with a trace of comfort as he
stood in the kitchen while the intruder roamed upstairs.
Seconds later the faint buzz of his stereo ceased. Then, all too
soon, the intruder was back downstairs and - as the creaking indicated
- heading for the dining room connected to the kitchen. Instinctively
he ducked behind the counter, but then he realized a foolish mistake
he had made.
The refrigerator door was still open!
So much for trying to be inconspicuous. Since there was now little
chance of him being able to avoid the invader, he needed to know what
he was up against. Cautiously, he peeked his head out from behind the
counter, hoping he wouldn't be noticed. He was surprised by what he
saw. There, standing in the middle of the dining room, was a woman in
her mid-twenties with fierce, determined eyes and long, black hair.
Thick, dark red clothing completely covered her slender body. Even
her hands were fitted with gloves - only her face was visible. All her
clothing was sophisticated, yet, at the same time, foreign. Her dark
brown eyes darted back and forth across the room, trying to locate any
sign of movement. Apparently she was decent at scanning, because in
just a second her gaze fixated on John.
The cold stare she gave made him nervous, but he tried to suppress
any uneasiness he felt as he stood. He'd been spotted; there was no
use in trying to remain hidden. His eyes locked with hers for several
moments; then he quickly glanced around to see if she had any weapons
on her person, all the while keeping his own knife below the counter
so she couldn't see it. As far as he could tell, she was unarmed.
"John Travis."
Her first words were spoken calmly, but her voice evoked an aura of
power. John shifted his weight uneasily as she moved towards him, her
eyes still focused on his. In his mind he tried to figure out how she
knew his name, but to no avail. So far as he knew, he'd never seen her
before. Seconds later she was directly across the counter from him.
"You're to come with me."
A drop of sweat formed on John's forehead as he contemplated his
options. On the one hand, she was an invader and her voice was none
too comforting. However, she seemed harmless, and he was curious. She
knew his name, but how? She spoke with authority, but why? Of course,
he couldn't move out from behind the counter lest she notice the knife
he clutched, so he remained still.
"Who are you?" he asked, frantically trying to decide what to do.
"That's not important right now. Right now what's important is that
you come with me."
"Look, you broke into my house. You'd better at least let me know
who you are and what you're doing here, or I'm not moving."
John felt a sense of power as he spoke. He did have the huge knife,
after all.
"Don't make this difficult," she said with her jaw locked. She moved
closer towards him.
That made John a little too uncomfortable. He didn't feel threatened
enough to harm her, but he did think he needed to give her a reason to
explain why she was at his house. With a swift motion he stepped
forward and thrust the knife against her neck.
"Listen, this is my home!" he hissed angrily. "Tell me who you are
now!"
Confidence flooded into him as he pressed the blade against her
skin, but it quickly faded when she continued to stare fiercely at
him. The knife didn't intimidate her.
For a few seconds, they remained frozen in that position: his knife
firmly against her neck, and her eyes blazing into his. His hand shook
slightly from his uneasiness.
After a moment, her eyes softened, and a slight smile played at her
lips. A surge of relief started to flow through him; perhaps she'd
finally explain what she was up to. Then, in an instant she lifted her
left hand and knocked the knife away from her neck. The act caught
John off guard for a moment, but he quickly moved to a fighting
stance. If she wanted to fight, so be it.
He thrust the knife at her, but she hit his hand out of the way so
his attack missed her body. Her defensive block was followed by an
offensive kick to his chest, which sent him sprawling to the floor. As
if the kick wasn't enough, the intruder reached over her back and
pulled out a menacing gun. While John tried to recompose himself from
the blow, she pointed the barrel of the gun at his head.
"A worthy attempt, but you're terrible at fighting. Now get up and
come with me."
Still a bit stunned by the sudden events, he realized he had no
choice but to comply. Leaving the knife on the floor, he stood, his
wide eyes fixed on the weapon she wielded.
"Walk out the back door, and don't even think about trying to run
when you're outside."
Reluctantly he followed her directions and walked to the back door.
Taking a deep breath, he grasped the bronze handle and turned it. As
he pulled the door open, a rush of cold air greeted him. There he was:
barefoot, in a T-shirt, and with no choice but to walk into the
freezing outdoors for who knew how long. Or he could get shot, but he
didn't really want to consider that as an option.
Outside everything was pitch black. It took a few steps, but
eventually his eyes adjusted to the darkness. As they did, something
caught his attention. Up ahead, seated placidly on the snow, was an
odd-looking vehicle - a hover speeder - something he'd never seen
before. All of his feelings of coldness and fear vanished as he gazed
at it: they'd been replaced with sheer curiosity. What exactly was it?
John stared intently at the speeder. It was so strange, so alien, and
it was on his lawn.
As the figure walked outside and closed the door to John's home, the
speeder slowly lifted off the ground. Two feet in the air it stopped
and hovered silently. Its door also unlatched without a sound, opening
downward to form a ramp up to the speeder. John stood in bewilderment
as he analyzed every feature he could see.
What amazed him most was how dark it was. Even though the speeder
was running, no engine lights or headlights could be seen. Other than
a few dim lights emerging from inside due to the open door, everything
about the speeder was completely dark. With no outside lights, it
would be virtually impossible to see in the night sky. Perhaps there
were even more vehicles like this out there. John mulled over the
possibilities for a few seconds, almost forgetting that he could
obtain hypothermia in the sub-zero temperatures.
He didn't have much time to think about that, though, as the woman
ordered him into the speeder soon after she closed the back door of
the house. She didn't have to tell him twice. In an instant he was up
the ramp and inside the warm, mysterious vehicle. Dozens of highly
technological displays illuminated its dim, metallic interior. Each
display was covered with data, most of which he didn't understand.
But, he did know he wanted to learn as much as he could.
At the very front of the speeder, a large window provided a view
outside. Amazingly enough, the window somehow was able to provide an
advanced night-vision view of the outdoors, explaining why no lights
were needed on the exterior of the vehicle. Also at the front were two
large, heavily cushioned seats. The one on the left was surrounded by
a horde of various types of controls, leaving only one place for John
to go. Without a second thought, he sat in the luxurious passenger
seat on the right.
As he did, he felt cold metal against the back of his head. It was
the intruder's gun.
"What do you think you're doing?" she asked indignantly. "This is my
ship, not yours."
His subsiding curiosity was suddenly accompanied by heightened fear.
The speeder's technology was awe-inspiring, yes, but he'd been rudely
forced back to harsh reality. He was a hostage.
Still, her sudden fury caught him off guard. All he'd done was to
sit in the only available seat; was that so much of a crime?
Apparently, it was.
"Get up and stand in the back."
Blankly he stared at his captor, puzzled by the request but
unwilling to contest it. It was difficult to leave the softness of the
chair, but with a gun aimed at his head what else could he do?
Whatever his captor planned to do with him, he was sure he wasn't
going to like it.
Taking three large strides, he moved to the back of the speeder and
swirled around to face his new master. There. He'd obeyed - yet his
eyes clearly voiced his displeasure. They followed her as she walked
over to the pilot's seat and calmly sat down. As she sat, she placed
the gun on the floor beside her.
It'd almost be worth the risk to leap forward to try to grab it.
Yes, anything was better than his current situation. As his captor
lifted her hands to grip the speeders' controls, John prepared to jump
for the gun. But at that moment the speeder took off with astounding
acceleration. The back of the speeder slid open, revealing a small
compartment in the back. Due to the intense instantaneous speed, John
was thrown backwards into the compartment. His head slammed against a
wall, knocking him unconscious.
Next Chapter [9]
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Arxic Copyright 2008 Joshua Benson
