When Death is Crowned: A rude awakening.

She opened her eyes, not knowing how she was saved, or was she in heaven? No. She’d be in hell. There were two men talking to each other across the room. One she recognized from earlier, he had a nametag on, Aton Bowdon, perfect. And then, other man, not so much. He seemed spiffy, well put together. But the Darker complexion didn’t help any. He was bald, built like a tank. But he wore a suit. She dubbed him “okay.”

Aton was looking in her direction, not blinking, was he blind? He seemed relieved to see that she was awake; at least someone cared, “How’re you holding up?” was he serious?

“I’m, scared.” The words left her mouth before she knew how true it was. She needed consistency, a purpose.

“That’s very natural” the black man spun, looked at her. His nametag read “Evan Boles” The name didn’t fit him. Not even close.

“And are you a professor in, sacredness?” she asked this sarcastically.

“Nope, but I interrogate prisoners. Quiet often actually.” He said, there was a tone of mockery in his voice. At least someone had a sense of humor. 

Aton then interrupted, “Now Tracy, we need to get started on the training, as soon as you are ready. We have a deadline to be ready for, and we don’t exactly have a lot of time.”

Training? “Training? No, Ugh!” Both men seemed confused, they didn’t understand of course, “Is that my name, Tracy?”

Evan laughed, very loud, and wide “She’s always been a joker, hasn’t she?”

Aton wasn’t amused though, she wasn’t either, “I’m not joking, I woke up with no memory.  Just had the most eerie dream, I truly need some help.” She was starting to cry. “I need to see someone who can help me with this, condition.”

Aton piped up, “We will have our psychologist come to see you first thing in the morning, but right now was you might need is something to eat. How about you come out to the dining room and we can get you a turkey sandwich?”

Yeah. That sounded good. “Please, I would love that.” She was relieved to know these men were at least trying to help her, that’s the last thing she needed, was to wake up with no memory, and have nobody there to help her. She was following Aton out into a hallway, there were dark, hardwood floors, and logs lining the walls. She was in an formal log home. When she got to the end of the hallway it split two ways, to the right was a huge room with a towering ceiling. In the middle of the room was a long rock table, with wooden chairs lining around it. At the end of the table there was a huge six foot tall fireplace, and it was boasting a beautiful welcoming flame.

Were flames welcome? Was fire a sign was welcome, or was it a sign of pain? Why is it that when she feels freedom she feels contained? The mysteries of her mind were racing. And she had no idea where they were racing too. Or why they were racing. She could only push forward and hope to find the answers to her questions. She has yet to find out who her friends were. She was Tracy. And that is all she knew.

                                       _________

Eating was one of the most awkward things, well, that she could remember. Everything seemed to be focused on her, and that was the last thing she wanted. Here she was eating a sandwich, at a huge table. And 4 people were seated at the same table, and watching her eat. She knew if there was a moment to ask her questions. Now would be the time.

She pointed at Aton, and Evan, “I know you two. But who are you guys?” She was being polite. She meant this question directly to the tall man with long, brown hair. And a blond, mustache, it was so wrong! He needed some help, serious help. The other man was an average height from what she could tell. He had a darker complexion; his face had “evil” written all over it.

Of course the evil one spoke first, He had a quick way of speaking, “I’m David Lewiston. I’m the President of Atom Laboratories. And this is Matthew, our chief scientist. He’s the one who will get you started in the morning.”

Wow. So she’s working as a lab rat, a test subject? So I’m Tracy, I have no last name yet. I’m a Test subject for Aton’s little lab. This sounds like an interesting life she’s gotten herself into.  “Well thanks. Now what exactly am I training, to become?”

Matthew smiled “An assassin! You probably don’t remember. But we chose you.”

“Chose me? Like picked me off the street? ‘She’d be a good lab rat’ what do you think I am?”

David answered while scribbling in a notebook, “You are Tracy Thompson. You are a very skilled martial artist. We invited you to join us in our cause and you accepted. You signed a contract, no backing out.” He opened a folder on the table; he started to look for something.

She crossed her arms, “I’d like to see that contract.” She regretted saying that. He had it out of the folder in no time. He slid it across the table to her. He pointed to her signature. Crap.

“Well, I’ve forgotten all I know, in the whole martial arts thing. So what do you expect me to do?” She was looking for excuses now. And they all knew it.

“We expect you to learn it! Matthew is an expert in these ways. And you will pick up fast, and thorough. It’s in your blood.” He took the contract in front of her, and slid it back into his folder. She studied it to make sure she remembered what it looked like.

“And who will I be targeting on my, like, first mission?” She wasn’t sure how to word that question, it came out awkwardly.

Matthew spoke up, he obviously was involved in this “We will be flying you to America, where you will be deployed in New York City. There is an agent there by the name of “Timothy Shelfer” and you will study his ways, and when you think the time is right. You will strike. We want it quick, clean, and we want him dead.”

That name. It rang a bell in this empty head of hers; it’s probably nothing, really. Her head was like a massive tornado of memories, and she was drowning in all of it. She didn’t know what any of them were about, or what was happening to her. But she knew that there was something fishy about this. And she had a feeling that there was someone, or some people out there in the world who are looking for her. And all she needs to do to get their attention is come through with this assassination. And everything will be all right. 

...

"Yet" is a very powerful word.

When Death is Crowned: Dream.

The deep depths of snow filled the dome with snow. It was filling up fast. What is going on? Black slowly approached the snow and caught it on fire. Soon everything was on fire. The depths of Heather’s subconscious looked just like this. She was happy here. This was her home. And it was.

Everything had taken form, it molded into her house, she knew not of what was going on. But her first thought was to run to her bed, and that is what she did. This was strange. She is controlling her dream. Could she control other things in her dream? She picked up a vase full of dead flowers and dropped it “Don’t break!” It fell to the floor, clattering around spilling the flowers on the floor. The noise echoed down the rustic looking hallway, with pictures hanging on its sides. She noticed something bazaar about the images that the frames closed in…

…Taking a step toward them, in one she could see a man pulling her up a cliff, into a white room. She looked to the image opposite. It was crooked, shaking actually. It held and image of her running away from the missile strike. Pieces of rubble flying everywhere, missiles raining from the sky, as far as she could see. Everything was being destroyed. A security van outside exploded right next to her, she didn't seem to feel the pressure of the explosion, in fact she seemed protected from it. The house was leveled behind her; there is no way that anyone came out of this alive. When the tremor hit, she watched herself fall to her knees. She couldn't help. The yellow school bus was flying toward Heather at an alarming speed. She knew what was about to happen. Heather reached her hands out and the bus lifted up.

A Helicopter she hadn't noticed flew over her head, It opened up, a man showed his face, He had a dark complexion, he was strong. He pulled out a rifle of some sort, got heather in his cross hairs, and fired. She watched as they flew away. She watched Heather’s eyes roll to the back of her head. Heather was fighting this, and making it worse. Her eyes closed at that moment. She lay there. The bus fell sideways to a horrifying stop.

She was startled back into reality with the sound of the door behind her opening. The light was shining. She only saw the shape of a female walking into the house. Wind blew from behind, as the door was forced shut. Leaves were rustling around the foyer. She was looking at the shoes of the woman in front of her. She wore Black converse with white laces, green corduroy skinny pants, and a white t-shirt. This woman had a nice sense of style.

It took her a moment. The face of the woman was familiar. She had darker toned skin, with longer face, a nose piercing, and a smaller sized pointy nose. What made her realize what she was looking at was the brown, wavy hair. She was looking at herself.

She asked the obvious question, “Where did you come from?” She didn't want to sound stupid.

Heather replied with exactly what she thought she would say “Hanging out, you know.”

“I really have no clue actually. I was just watching me, or you, or whoever it was, in a memory of mine. As though it was a movie! That’s not normal” She wondered if wherever she was sleeping, if she was sleep talking.

The other heather walked over to the kitchen, and opened the cupboard, “Why is the tea always gone?” She was disappointed with this, well, they both were.

“I need some coffee, or something to get me thinking.” She walked over to the coffee maker, conveniently already brewed fresh coffee. “Would you like some?”

The other Heather nodded, “Yes please, with cream, no sugar.”

“I know how you like it.” She said, smiling. She kind of liked this whole idea. She looked out the window, there was a field covered in tall grass, all leading up to a dead, tree.  There was someone next to it, a man, in a black tux, bow-tie, and a mask?

“Heather, hand me the camera, please.” She said this with urgency. She wasn't sure about this.

The camera was in her hands, in no time. She zoomed in on the character, who seemed to be getting closer to the window, seemed to know she was there. She focused on the mask, the white mask. And diagonally painted in red was the word “Fear.” It was working. The masked, man seemed to be moving toward the window at a slow pace, but he wasn't moving his legs. He was gently moving over the ground, as though hovering. This scared Heather, and Heather. They both panicked.

She felt a pull, a tug, as though she was on the end of a rope, a dog collar. She started to get dizzy beyond belief. Actually, everything that’s happened has made this dizziness feel refreshing, a normal feeling. Everything started to fade out. The other Heather was in a corner of the kitchen, sitting on the floor hugging her knees. She was crying. Banging on the window is the last thing she could take. Heather started screaming “GO AWAY! PLEASE!” She was sobbing. The sound of shattered glass behind her was the sound that queued her.

She was lying on the floor of a dark void of emptiness. There was nothing she could do to assist Heather with the horrors from above, or down below. Where was she? Where is she? Who is she, Heather? Who is Heather? She had so many questions, and as far as she knows she is lying 50,000 feet above sea level, on a cliff in Sweden. She knew so much about Heather, but she knew nothing about herself. She needed questions answered now. And she didn't’t know who to trust. Not even herself.