Weekend Fiction - Armored, Full Circle

Arianne was unsure what to do.  She was determined to find the answers to her problem.  According to the store manager, Wilton was not an actual employee at the store, but trying to find him seemed like her only option.  She put on a loose sweatshirt, hoping to disguise herself.  She looked at herself in the mirror, but she was still too recognizable.  She knew that she had to change her appearance more.  She thought for a moment, then got a pair of large scissors.  She had always worn her hair long; she pulled her hair into a ponytail, then cut it off, as short as she could.  She continued cutting until she had a fairly uniform one to two inches of hair all over head.  She put her hood up and walked out her door.

Arianne thought that parking behind the drugstore seemed like the best idea; she hoped to sneak in through the freight door and look at the personnel files.  She was certain that Wilton's name would be there.  She stopped the car a few hundred feet from the door and stepped out.

Arianne focused on moving quietly as she attempted to stay away from the lights.  She didn't even notice the figure wearing dark clothing and weilding a crowbar.  The assailant raised his weapon and swung, striking Arianne on the back of the head.  Though it didn't actually hurt, the of the blow still carried enough force to knock her to the ground.

She got back to her feet as quickly as possible and found herself staring at the would-be thief from the drugstore.  He stood frozen in place with the crowbar slowly creeping through the air as he followed through the arc of his swing.  Arianne pried the crowbar from his hands.

Arianne wasn't angry, but she coldly considered the thought of killing the thief.  She knew that he would not hesitate to kill her if their roles were reversed.  She raised the crowbar and steeled herself to swing it at his head.  Then, she thought back to the sound of Connor's heart monitor slowing and stopping.  “I won't kill him,” she whispered to herself.  She threw the crowbar away from her; it seemed to hang in the air, right where she let go of it.

“Why didn't you kill him?”  Arianne turned to see young man, walking toward her.  The figure continued, “You know that he would have killed you; why didn't you kill him?”

Arianne looked back at the thief, still frozen in place.  “I'm not a murderer.”

The young man was beside her now, regarding the thief dispassionately.  “Of course you aren't!  You didn't kill Connor, you know.”

Arianne turned to face the young man.  He wore a nametag that said “My name is Wilton; How May I Help You?”

“You!  You were in the store last night; you have to help me!”  Arianne said.

Wilton responded.  “Help you with what?”

Arianne was dumbfounded.  “I can't feel anything; I don't know why.  Why can't I cry anymore?”

Wilton spoke more softly this time.  “Don't you think you've cried enough?  You deserve to be free.”

“Will I ever feel anything again?”

There seemed to be a gleam in his eye as Wilton answered.  “You might be surprised.”

Arianne closed her eyes and took a breath.  She was startled by the sound of the crowbar hitting the ground with a loud clang.  She opened her eyes to find Wilton and the thief both gone.  She looked around, but they were nowhere to be seen.

“What's going on out there?”  Connor came out of the back door with a flashlight.

Arianne looked around warily, before answering.  “Everything seems to be alright now.”

Connor wasn't quite convinced.  “You seem a bit shaken; can I buy you a cup of coffee or something?”

Arianne smiled, as an unfamiliar feeling seemed to appear in her heart.  “I don't drink coffee;” she replied.  “I'd love a cup of hot tea though.”

Weekend Fiction - Armored, The News

Arianne stayed at home for the rest of the day, half expecting the police to arrive at her door at any moment.  After an uneventful afternoon, she decided to turn on the local news.  She was shocked to see that the events at the drugstore were being featured.  The news station had obtained footage shot by the dash-mounted camera in the police car.

“Stop right there or I will shoot you!” she heard the police officer shouting.  Her response was inaudible, but the video was quite clear.  Arianne watched herself raising the gun, then she disappeared.  The Taser leads fell harmlessly, a few feet beyond where Arianne had stood a split second before as the gun clattered to the ground.

“What you have just witnessed is real; this video has not been altered in any way.” the newscaster reassured the viewers.  “Authorities are baffled by this occurrence.  Anyone with any information is urged to come forward.”

After a few more comments, the station showed video of an eyewitness account.  Arianne was shocked to see the thief from the drugstore.  “Somebody like that ain't natural; they gotta catch her before she kills someone!”  He continued his rant.  “You just let me have a go at her; she won't bother nobody again!”

The newscaster returned; a close up shot of Arianne appeared on the screen beside her.  “This is a photo of the woman the police are searching for.  If you recognize this woman, please contact the police immediately.”

Arianne turned off the TV and sat down.  She had no idea what to think of the days events.

Weekend Fiction - Armored, The Drugstore

At the drugstore, Arianne saw a man standing at the customer service counter.  As she walked toward the counter, he spoke.  “Good morning miss; may I help you?”

“I bought this machine, yesterday; but I don't think it's working right; I know it was on clearance, but I don't want it anymore.  I don't care about the money; I just don't want it.”

The clerk reassured Arianne.  “Don't worry about that; clearance or not, we'll refund your money.  Can I see the box please?  I need to scan it.”  He scanned the box, but the computer buzzed, noncompliant.  He tried again, then tried typing the item number by hand.  The computer still refused to cooperate.

“This item isn't in our system;” he said, “are you sure you bought it here?”

Arianne may have been angry, if she had felt anything.  “I'm certain I bought it here,” she said, producing the receipt, “at 5:15 pm yesterday.”

The clerk looked at the receipt.  “I'm sorry; this receipt says you purchased a hair dryer and a can of ravioli.”

Arianne was confused.  “That can't be correct; you can ask the person who helped me last night.  Is Wilton in today?  He helped me with it.”

The clerk looked at Arianne, and felt sorry for her.  “Miss, I've been a manager here for two years.  No one named Wilton works here.”

Arianne stepped back, looking pale.  “That can't be right; I remember him.”

The clerk was starting to get nervous; he thought Arianne might be sick.  “Is there someone I can call for you?  Are you sure you're OK?  Maybe I should call an ambulance.”

Just then, a man strode to the counter and shoved Arianne out of the way.

“Open that cash register right now!”; he screamed at the clerk.  He was holding a small pistol, and nervously waving it at the clerk.  Squinting at the clerk's nametag, the gunman continued.  “Don't try to be no hero, Connor; I don't want you pressing no silent alarm.”

When she heard the name Connor, time seemed to stop for Arianne.  The criminal's face froze into a sneer, with droplets of spit hanging in midair inches from his mouth.  A loud roar began to build, growing to the point of becoming painful, then ending suddenly.  Arianne looked around, trying to identify the sound; she realized, to her horror that the gun had been fired.  The bullet was slowly creeping through the air towards Connor.  Arianne didn't know what to do.  She looked around, but everyone else in the store just stood, frozen in place.

Tentatively, Arianne reached out and touched the spinning bullet with her finger.  She quickly jerked her finger away; the hot round had burnt her.  The bullet wobbled slightly but continued on its path.  Arianne steeled herself and struck the bullet with her hand; it careened off course, angling toward a display of bottled water.

“What the hell?!”; the thief barked as water showered the counter.  He raised the gun, aimed and fired at Connor's head.

More confidently now, Arianne stepped into the path of the bullet and grabbed it from the air.  The gunman stepped back, startled by Arianne's sudden appearance, seemingly out of thin air.  “You think you're some kinda superhero now?  I seen you here before; you're just some stupid chick that don't even talk!”

Seeming to move faster than a blink of an eye, Arianne grabbed the gun, wrenching it from the thief's greasy hand.  The gunman stumbled back, suddenly afraid of Arianne.

“Wha, What in the hell are you?” he stammered; then he turned and ran from the store.

“You just saved my life!” Connor's voice broke Arianne from her state of shock.  “How did you do that?  I thought I was dead!”

“I...  I don't know!  Everything is so wrong today; I don't know what to do!”

“Just calm down;” Connor said, “everything is going to be all right.  Just tell me what's happening.”

Before she could speak, Arianne heard the sound of sirens from a police car arriving in the parking lot.  She still wasn't frightened, but she knew that the police would have questions that she didn't know the answers to.

She planned to walk out the door, blend into the gathering crowd and slip away quietly, but she didn't realize that she was still holding the gun she had taken from the thief.  As the crowd began to back away from her, an officer stepped out of his car and shouted at her.  “Get on the ground right now!  Drop your weapon and get on the ground!”

Arianne protested, speaking calmly; “You don't understand.  I'm not the thief; he just ran out a few seconds ago.”

The officer was not interested in her explanation.  He repeated his demand.  “I said get on the ground right now!”

Arianne closed her eyes and took a deep breath; then she opened her eyes and addressed the officer; “I'm sorry, but I'm not going to do that.”

With that, she began walking toward the officer, hoping somehow to get away.  The officer moved to cover, behind the door of his car, then raised his Taser and aimed it at Arianne's chest.

Arianne continued walking toward the officer.  “Stop right there or I will shoot you!”  The officer shouted.

Arianne held the gun by the barrel.  “I'm sorry officer; I can't stay here.”  She raised the gun above her head, signaling that she didn't intend to use it, but the officer mistook this for an aggressive move.  He fired his Taser.  For Arianne, time seemed to freeze again.  She let go of the gun, which hung in the air right where she left it, then easily sidestepped the prongs and wires of the Taser.  While everyone else seemed to be frozen in place, Arianne walked away, crossed the parking lot and got into her car.  Only then did the world outside seem to go back to normal.

Weekend Fiction - Armored, Morning

Arianne woke with a start to the sound of singing birds.  Sunlight flooded her living room, the bright light making her head ache.  Arianne got up, exclaiming with pain as the patches ripped from her arms.  Removing the headphones, Arianne stumbled to the kitchen.  Pouring a glass of water, she got two aspirin out of the cabinet.  She noticed the picture of Connor on the refrigerator, and felt nothing.  No sadness, no guilt, no tears.

“That's strange.” she thought to herself.  Going to her desk, she found a letter that Connor had written to her a week before the senior prom.  Re-reading the words of the tear-stained letter, she automatically reached for the tissue dispenser on the desk before she realized that a tissue was unecessary.  She didn't feel any emotion whatsoever.

She looked around warily.  Running to the closet, she took out a box filled with pictures, documents and newspaper clippings.  She read the first few lines of an article headlined “Local Teen Killed, Girlfriend Driver Not Charged”, but the expected flood of emotion never came.

Arianne thought she should be frightened, but she felt no emotion whatsoever, only a dispassionate regard for her strange situation.  She decided it would be best to take the ‘Armor’ back to the drugstore.  She quickly dressed and walked out her door.

Weekend Fiction - Armored, Opening

As she opened the box, a single page of instructions fell out first.  “Begin by finding a quiet place.” the first line read.  “Carefully remove all of the items in the box, ensuring that no items are missing or damaged.”

As Arianne absentmindedly inventoried the box, she found her thoughts drifting back to Connor.  His eyes, his smile.  Then, as always, she saw him in the hospital bed, body mangled, monitoring lines going flat, one by one as he lost his struggle for life.  “I killed him.” she whispered, tears beginning to flow as if it had happened yesterday.

Arianne looked at the contents of the box, blinking back tears.  The box contained a plastic bag that contained 2 self-stick patches connected to wires and a set of headphones.  Also inside the box was a bottle of liquid marked ‘Enhancement Elixir’, a blister pack of pills labeled ‘Emotional Accelerant’ and an electronic box about the size of a Walkman with one jack marked ‘Headphones’ and two jacks marked ‘Pad A’ and ‘Pad B’.  On the face of the electronic display was a button marked ‘Start’, a dial marked ‘Intensity’ and an LED display beneath a label calling the box a ‘Sympathetic Nervous Stimulator’.

The instructions weren't very helpful.  A diagram of how to place the patches on the arms, and a paragraph instructing the user to take one dose daily of the Enhancement Elixir and Emotional Accelerant and to limit the use of the SNS to 30 minutes per day filled the rest of the page.

Still crying, Arianne ignored the warnings and took all of the Emotional Accelerant pills, washing them down with the entire bottle of Enhancement Elixir.  She placed the patches on her arms and put on the headphones.  Turning the Intensity dial to maximum, Arianne punched the Start button.

The sound of static filled her ears.  Her arms and legs began to feel heavy.  As she felt herself beginning to pass out, Arianne glanced down at the instructions, noticing too late the fine print that read ‘Use with extreme caution, serious side effects may result.’

Weekend Fiction - Armored, Awake

The screech of the alarm clock woke Arianne from her fitful sleep.  She tried to calm herself, struggling to control her rapid breathing.

“It was just a dream, it was just a dream...,” she repeated to herself.

Arianne hadn't been in love since she was a teenager.  Even though everyone told her it was nothing but a simple High-School romance, Connor was still the love of her life.  The first and only man she gave her heart to.  Since the accident, she had not even been able to look at a man.  She had never been able to convince herself that the accident wasn't her fault.

Arianne dressed and went to work.  She made a living working as a filing clerk in the records department at the local university.  It was not a well-paying job, but it had the advantage of having few coworkers.

On her way home, Arianne decided to stop to pick up a few items at the local drugstore.

The package on the clearance shelf was labeled 'Armor'.  The label said that it was helpful for those trying to recover from emotional trauma.

The label read: “Through a combination of natural medicines and cutting edge subliminal therapy, the contents of this package will allow you to insulate yourself from the negative emotions that are a result of traumatic experiences in your past.”

“Something like this really should require a prescription.”  Arianne thought to herself as she picked up the package.  It was surprisingly heavy for its size.

“Actual results may vary.” said the disclaimer, in fine print.

“For 20 bucks, I'd say it's worth a try,” a young clerk said, startling Arianne.

Arianne turned, noticing a short, thin teenager.  His name tag said “My name is Wilton; How May I Help You?”

“What's your return policy?” Ariane asked.

“Ummm, that's a clearance item.” Wilt replied.  “We don't allow returns.  That's actually the last one in stock.”

“Thank you for your help.”

Arianne carried the package to the register, stopping to pick up a can of miniature ravioli.  She paid her $22.54 and left the store, opting for a paper bag.  At home, she ate her meal from a paper plate, carefully rinsing the can and placing it in the recycle bin.  Ordinarily, she would eat in front of the TV, sharing her evening meal with the same faithful friends she ate with every evening at 5:30, but tonight she was eager to open her recent acquisition.

Weekend Fiction - Armored, The Hospital

This is a story I've been working on, on and off for almost 7 years.  It's finally done though, and ready for your critique.

The Emergency Room doors burst open to admit a young man on a stretcher being pushed by two paramedics.

“We have an accident victim; male, 17 years old with severe crush injuries to the chest.  Heart rate is uneven and tachy at 130, respirations shallow.  Name, Connor Bailey.”

Doctors and nurses quickly surrounded Connor as he was wheeled into the nearest trauma bay.  His shirt and tie were torn off, making way for the patches of an EKG machine.

“This kid doesn't look good.  Have we contacted the family yet?” a doctor barked.

“They're on the way!” a nurse replied.

“I need a central line.”  Consulting the hastily written notes on the chart, he continued.  “Get 4 units of B positive hung up now!”

The rhythmic beeps of the heart monitor began to slow, growing more uneven.

“We're losing him!  Get the paddles in here!”

Arianne stood just outside the trauma bay, wearing a prom dress and crying.  “I killed him.” she whispered.