Switched and Fears

by Shannon Rieger

  “They can’t chase a truck. It moves too fast.”

  “How do you know? How fast can they run?”

  She scratched her head. “But then they will throw the clothes in the river. Remember? Daddy knows…”

  I jumped up and paced. “I can’t stay down here. We have to go help.”

  “No. Absolutely not!” Amber said, and stomped her foot.

  “What are you doing?”

  “That’s what my mom told me to do when you tried to go help.” I stared at her. “She told me to say ‘no, absolutely not’ and stomp my foot.”

  “Okay. Well, that’s not going to stop me.”

  “She told me to tackle you when I told her that you wouldn’t listen.”

  “Okay, then tackle me.”

  Amber walked up to me and put her arms around me and squeezed. I laughed. “Um, that’s a hug, Amber.”

  She tried to lift me. “That’s a bear hug,” I told her.

  “Well, how do you tackle someone?”

  “Tackle. Like in football.”

  “She wants me to run at you and knock you down?”

  “I guess. Want to try that?” She shrugged. “Okay, go over there and come at me.”

  I cannot be sure when Amber noticed that I had already run away.

  I climbed up the ladder and out into the same building. I sped to the oven and opened the door. I scraped some black charcoal from the bottom of the oven and wiped it across my face. Then I changed into clean clothes. They were still damp. I threw some baby powder in my hair just as I heard Amber coming up.

  “Stay down there. You watch. You keep an eye on what is happening. They need to understand why I am ignoring your advice.”

  “You are ignoring the plan. You are going against the plan. I think you should just wait here with me,” she pleaded.

  “And I am ignoring that sound advice. I can’t just watch.”

  “Oh yes, you can!” She ran at me and threw her arms around me; she attempted to tackle me.

  “Thanks for the hug. I will miss you, too.”

  She stepped back and crossed her arms. “You are going to get hurt! It’s what they want! Maybe they are trying to lure you!”

  Just as I opened the door, I said, “Yeah, and maybe he’s dead.”

  “Nice face!” she hollered as I shut the door. My makeup job wasn’t on point. I knew it.

  My trek to the courtyard was uneventful. That could have been a warning if I had been listening; it never should have been that easy for me to navigate unhindered.

  The car behind which I hid was green like a 1950’s kidney table. It didn’t seem to belong here. It was bruise-coloured and it, too, should have told me that something ominous was about to happen. It should have indicated to me that I shouldn’t have come.

  Would I rather be the hunter or the prey? Probably neither. That thought would soon take a turn for the worst.

  A lamp post to my left radiated a dim light, casting shadows that seemed to crawl across the pavement, reaching to grasp me. This, also should have been an omen.

  I am still haunted by what I witnessed minutes later. I can’t get those images out of my head.

  In retrospect, there are a few things that I should have noticed when I ran from the safety of the tunnel towards the courtyard where Jaxson lay limp on the ground, tied to a post. If I had taken notice, I would have seen the danger signs. There were no people. No shoppers. The park was empty. There were fewer robotic insects than there had been all week. The birds didn’t sing and were out of sight. No traffic. The signs on the stores were marked closed.

  What I noticed instead were the things directly involving Jaxson. I monitored the area and kept an eye out for guards. I watched for movement from the insects. The hedge was high enough to give me the only hiding place in the courtyard, an otherwise open space with fruit trees, stone walkways, gardens and grass.

  The whining of the robotic insects moving gears was my focus. When they were drawn away and their mechanical sounds fell distant, Jaxson’s restraints would be cut and others would help him into the delivery truck. That was the plan.

  Where was the truck?

  The ping of crosswalk lights drew my attention to the road behind Jaxson. Minutes passed before the delivery truck pulled up and parked across the street. A man with sunglasses sat in the driver’s seat. Another man opened the back of the truck. He pretended to fiddle with a package and a clipboard. He wrote something down. A city bus whooshed by. Then silence fell.

  The robotic insects, suddenly, caught my scent as the teenagers on bikes zoomed by on the street, disguised in hoodies. The insects broke into action, scrambling after the teens, chasing my scent found in the bags in the baskets. I knew that it was now or never.

  Jaxson’s face appeared sunken after days without eating enough to maintain his weight. He looked wretched and weak. Seeing him like this infuriated me.

  This world had tried to beat us down but we would survive this.

  I pressed my heel into the dirt, my knee dug into the gravel. I crouched ready to help if something went wrong. No whistle came. I waited.

  Red flags.

  No birds.

  No traffic.

  No people.

  Stores closed.

  Why hadn’t I noticed these signs?

  A man in a guard’s uniform emerged from a vehicle and strolled towards Jaxson. I hunkered down. Officer Pake. I recognized him as the one who terrorized the female inmate. The one who had been sent by the Paragon. The one who had tried to hurt me in the shower. Pake glanced at the delivery men as if he knew why they were there. My heart stopped.

  I hid behind the car’s tire, slinking further into the shadows. I watched through the car’s rear-view mirror and saw him yank on Jaxson’s arm and pull him to sit. The garbage covering Jaxson slid to the ground, Pake kicked a tin can and it clanked and bounced across the glass walkways. He pushed Jaxson against the pole and held his hand over his chest. When Pake leaned in and spoke, Jaxson slowly turned his head, back and forth.

  Pake let go, and pulled out a syringe from a leather-bound sleeve. Slowly, as if intentionally displaying the syringe, he raised the point into the sky and squirted a few drops of the red liquid. Jaxson pleaded with him as he fought against the restraints and his fearful eyes widened.

  Pake shoved a stained shirt to Jaxson’s face. The man jabbed Jaxson with the point and injected the serum into his upper thigh.

  A strangled cry escaped Jaxson’s wide mouth and his haunted face contorted as the rag fell. The prison guard stood over him, his muscles tensing and he smirked.

  Jaxson’s lips peeled back from his teeth as he panted. Blood drooled from the corner of his mouth as a pitiful groan escaped his tightened jaw. He closed his eyes and hung his head. Had he died? My stomach lurched. Did Pake just kill him?

  There was nothing but silence as Pake cut Jaxson free and he turned and sauntered back to the vehicle. Helpless, I watched in horror as the vehicle passed me and roared away.

  I anxiously watched for any signs of life. Jaxson crumpled to his side, a long wheeze and one last audible breath. His shirt rode up and I could see how much weight he had lost; his spinal cord protruded. I stared wide-eyed at him. I glanced at the truck where my allies stood. No one stirred.

  Whispers followed. Then shouts. “What is happening? What has he done to him?” My allies shouted to one another from their concealed places.

  I saw a robotic insect, like the ones from the crevices in the jail, crawl into the middle of the courtyard and sit still, facing Jaxson. Someone was spying on him. Even when we had thought we could rescue Jaxson, we were wrong. We had been watched all along. A chill flushed over me.

  Then Jaxson’s fingers flinched. He was barely alive. Then his arm twitched. A sudden jerk of his entire body threw him onto his back and immediately, he flipped like a fish onto his stomach, and then flipped to his back in a convulsion.

  His back arched and then his arms stuck into the air, rigidly.
A slow ghastly wheeze escaped his clenched jaw and then he jerked so hard that he, inhumanly, stood up on two legs, without his arms helping him to stand. His eyes were milky-white and clouded over and a black curtain of hate fell over his graveyard eyes; the life bleached out of them. He hissed and his head rose as he sniffed at the air. He shuffled in my direction.

  The blood had drained from his face and now the pasty-faced beast hobbled towards me, biting at the air. His jaw clenched and then continued to bite, slamming his teeth together over and over, as if practicing. He charged forward on unsteady legs, almost as if he knew my hiding place. The fabric that was shoved to his nose had been a magnet for him to track me.

  I pulled against the gravel until my body was under the car and I lay on my stomach to watch his approach. His feet were clumsy but approached nonetheless. He closed the gap between us, intent on finding me. His mouth hissed my name, his voice became ice, cold and as sharp as a scalpel. He aimed to kill me. The man who once saved me, was now in charge of my demise. He had given into his hate and I worried that there was no turning back.

  Whistles and hoots from my allies erupted as they tried to distract him. But he could not be distracted. He did not hunt just anyone’s scent. Just mine.

  His hungry mouth promised to capture me. He reached the car just as people began to run towards him. I could see their shoes coming fast and then he fell.

  From the ground, an assailant on top of him, his bulging, murky eyes found me.

  The aching sorrow soured me and the misery spread as I faced the bitter truth of my hopeless situation. I had to accept the fact that I lost Jaxson. Once a man with the intention to help me go home, now a seething viciousness tore away his soul. I wallowed in the irreversible regret of my choice, the unspeakable truth of what I had caused. Jaxson was my unforgettable love, a relationship I had hoped to build, not break down. I sobbed as his hand reached towards me, his intention to hurt me, not to find solace in my embrace. Jaxson let out a screech so ferocious that it further echoed the prospect of my life forever changed. The fires of hell stoked the hate in his heart.

  Available Now: Parallel World Series Book Two: Glitched and Gears

  Imagine; you are hijacked from your pleasant life and thrust into a parallel world where appearances prove to be deceiving. Book 1: Switched and Fears, reveals the story of Saige Finch who is falsely accused of murder and imprisoned in a covert facility. After undergoing unethical lab testing and brainwashing attempts, she escapes, unraveling the mystery of this aberrant world.

  The facility authorities launch a relentless and heartless campaign to recapture the fugitive who seeks refuge in the dark recesses of the underworld. The oppressed inhabitants of the squalid outskirts of the opulent city pay the price.

  In Book 2, Glitches and Gears, Saige contends with relentless robotic insects that are programmed to hunt and destroy. A vile, devastating secret weapon is unleashed.

  While on the run, she learns that a powerful, evil faction exists in the superficial world of glass. They possess formidable resources to attack and conquer Saige’s peaceful world.

  How far must she go to recruit her own army, and unite both worlds to combat a common enemy? Together, they must defeat the terrifying, biologically engineered soldiers and armored robotic insects that threaten their survival.