Writing Challenge Winner: The Villain, the Traitor, and the Daredevil by Isaac McKinnie

Isaac McKinnie is a twelve-year old writer who participated in the 2022 Seafarer’s Writing Challenge in which he wrote a 5,000 word original short story this summer. Isaac’s sci-fi thriller involves a young motorcyclist participating in a race that takes a drastic and traitorous detour.

Read the full story below!

Roads are dull. There is no other way to describe them. They are just slabs of concrete shaped to make a meaningless line. However, roads are even more mind-numbing when no one is using them. On these occasions it almost hurts to see a sight so boring. Luckily for the road next the small harbor in Winfred, Sasnak, this was hardly ever the case; and today was no exception.  If someone had been counting how many cars had passed through, they would have lost count in the first ten seconds.

Yet, in all the hustle and bustle of this road, one vehicle stood out. It was a motorcycle, a Hoss Boss to be exact. Its black body paint glistened like obsidian in the early afternoon sun. The beautiful Hoss Boss sped down the (still dull) road with the same amount of importance as King Arthur and his own steed would have. The driver was unfortunately neither wearing a helmet nor taking any safety precautions at all. You might say that he was not very smart. If you did, I would commend you for being smarter than him. However, he seemed to prefer riding without any safety measures. Dylan (for that was the name of the motorcycle rider) laughed as the salty sea wind blew back his black hair and lifted the smell of the ocean to his nostrils. After he finished admiring the view, he revved the engine and sped off. As he rode, he decided to take a route he had not taken yet before going to the meeting place. He sped and then took a random turn. This was what excited him about motorcycling the most: the constant adrenaline, the rush of fear when he took a sharp turn, and the idea that anything might happen. He wove his way around the roads until he finally found his way to the meeting place. There it was––an abandoned warehouse. Now, this warehouse might look like any other abandoned warehouse.  But if you went inside and walked through the abandoned warehouse you would find a tear in the wall. If you squeezed through that tear, you would see a small shed. It was there that Dylan met up with his friends.

 When Dylan arrived, he saw that all his friends, Armina, Chasin, and Adele, were already there.

“Finally,” yelled Armina. “What took you so long?”

“Nothing,” Dylan yelled back to her. “I just got…. distracted.”

“You always ‘get…. distracted’.” Chasin replied.

“Fair point,” Dylan said. “But it’s not like you’ve never been late.”

“While that might be true,” Chasin argued, “at least I never come up with lame excuses.”

“Alright, alright,” Adele said. “Stop it. I thought we came here to have fun; not to fight.”

Yes. Let’s just go already,” Armina remarked.

Dylan smiled. This was the only thing he liked better than biking: biking with his friends.

They all walked back through the warehouse and jumped on their bikes.

“Where are we going today?” asked Dylan.

Well,” Chasin said, “since you weren’t here, we decided ourselves. We’re going to the bar to collect before we’ll go do the usual.”

“Well then, what are we waiting for?” asked Dylan. And with that he sped away.

When they finally got to the bar Scruples was waiting for them.

“Finally,” he said in a squeaky and feeble voice. “I’ve been waiting all morning. Let’s get this over with.”

He handed them a wad of money. Chasin began to count it, while Scruples paced back and forth, wringing his hands at every turn.

Finally, Chasin finished.

 “All appears in order,” he said.

“Are you sure this is just between us?” Scruples asked.

“We haven’t told a soul,” Chasin insisted.

 “Good,” Scruples replied.

“Let’s go guys,” Chasin said.

As they approached the university, Dylan began to feel nervous, as he did every time he approached here. No one knew what happened in here and nobody wanted to. There was a rumor that they were experimenting with a way to cure the sickness, but nobody really knew if that was true. However, Dylan just ignored the university most of the time. Anyway, they should start. They would do the usual lap around the island before the extra two miles. It was a simple practice for the island-wide motor race, a celebration of fifty years of something Dylan couldn’t remember. However, there was another better racing event on the same day, so it would be mostly amateurs.

 Right before they started, Chasin convinced some weird dude to start them off.

“Get ready,” the weird dude (whose name just happened to be Isaac) began, as the racers revved their engines. “Get set,” he continued. “Aaaaaaaaand GO!!!” They all sped off at the same time, leaving Isaac to ponder the essential question of whether he should eat at A-Chicken-Filler or Insta Taco-Burrito-Pork-Food King.

Chasin started off in the lead. However, Dylan was making sure it wouldn’t stay that way for long. He sped up, passing Armina and putting himself right behind Chasin. He began to go through the route in his head again, remembering his advantage to pass Chasin. At the halfway point, they would stop to fill up their tanks––that was where his main chance would be. You see, by having a Hoss Boss, he had a better gas tank than most motorcycles and could hold more gas. Therefore, it should take him less time to fill up as he needed less gas. And that would put him ahead of Chasin. When they finally arrived at the halfway point, Dylan’s high hopes were not so high. Armina had passed both him and Chasin and was now in the lead. However, he still had a chance to pass her. She was still filling up but was almost done. Dylan went as fast as he could, but she still was far ahead of him when he pulled out (much before Chasin). However, all was not lost. He could still win second place.  He raced down the dirty motorway with the speed of a runaway rabbit, until he saw the outstanding university and Armina nearby. He revved the engine and went even faster. He sped past the university right after Armina.

“Good luck next time,” Armina laughed before going even faster, until she was almost out of view. When Dylan finally caught her at the finish, she was inspecting her tire.

“What happened?” Dylan asked.

“I don’t know,” Armina replied. “I walked away for a second and when I came back, it was punctured.”

“That’s weird,” Chasin said as he pulled in. “Oh well. I’ve got extras: you can borrow one.”

“Thanks, but it’s fine; I’ve got extras too,” Armina said. “Well, I should probably go now.”

3 days later…

On the day of the race, Dylan headed over to Armina’s house with Chasin. Like Dylan and Chasin, Armina lived in a nice neighborhood. The lawns were green and plush, the houses were white and freshly painted, and flowers were on every perfect porch. Dylan and Chasin pulled up at her house, went up to her porch, and rung the lavishly adorned doorbell. Armina’s father, a snobbish man who looked (and sounded) more British than American, answered the door.

“What are you doing here?” he asked in a dismissive tone.

“It’s us,” Chasin replied. “Armina told us to meet here.”

“Oh,” Armina’s father said in a sweeter tone, recognizing Chasin’s voice and remembering that both of their fathers were important city officials. “Armina said she had to grab something. She will be coming down soon. Meanwhile, would you like to come in?”

“No thank you. We’re fine,” Dylan responded.

He and Chasin walked down the perfectly poured (but boring) driveway and sat on their bikes, silently musing.

Suddenly a biker sped down the road, surprising them. When the biker got closer, they realized it was Adele.

“Hello,” she said. “Is Armina here?”

“Nope,” Dylan replied. “Her dad said she was coming.”

“Really?” Adele remarked. “Then who is the person sneaking up on you guys?”

Dylan and Chasin turned around to see a slightly annoyed Armina laughing.

 “You guys really need to be more attentive,” she laughed.

Anyway,” Chasin said. “We should get going. It starts in thirty minutes.”

“Exactly,” Armina replied. “That gives us plenty of time.”

“We still have to sign up,” Chasin remarked. “And I can’t stand being late.”

“Fine,” Armina said. And so, the four friends hopped on their bikes and rode away.

By the time they finally arrived and signed up, it was time to start. The racers lined up at the starting line and waited on the signal of a gunshot. When the starter was saying “Get ready, get set,” Dylan realized something.

“Hey,” he asked Chasin, “is that the guy that started our race?”

“It is,” Chasin replied.

“Well,” Dylan laughed, “it’s a small world after all.”

Just then he remembered that he had to sing that for his choir and that he hadn’t practiced it in a while. He began to sing it quietly to himself, when Isaac pulled the trigger and shouted “GO!” All 60 racers sped off.

The weather was gruelingly hot. Heat from the metal and the engine made it harder for Dylan to ride comfortably.

 A big dude with blond hair had taken the immediate lead but Chasin, Armina, Adele, and Dylan were on his tail. Chasin sped up and passed the blond guy. Dylan and Armina were quick to follow suit, but Adele was passed by a kid with brown hair and was lost in the crowd of racers.

By the time they got to the halfway point, Dylan had snagged the lead, but not by much. He raced into the gas station and filled the tank as fast as he could. As soon as he could, he sped out of the station and looked behind him. Armina was following him. She had obviously maneuvered ahead of Chasin, who was not that far behind her. He sped up. After another twenty minutes of driving, he arrived at the university. The crowds cheered. He waved at his parents, on the front row. And that was when everything went black.

Sometime later…

Dylan awoke inside a neatly lit small white box. It was as small as the underneath of a kitchen table. He had a piercing pain in his neck and his leg. He observed his surroundings. Suddenly he noticed that there was something odd about the wall in front of him.  It didn’t necessarily look different, it just felt wrong. When he went over and examined it, he noticed a small thin line, which was barely visible, forming a square. He pushed on it. Nothing happened. He pushed on it again and again and again, but each time the result was the same. Finally, he pushed at it with all his might. The wall collapsed. Dylan barely rolled out of the way as the wall opened up into a larger hallway of the same design as the previous one.  He walked down the hall into a room. There he saw a small TV that was playing the news. The newscaster was talking.

“––after three deaths at a motorcycle race,” the newscaster was saying.  “The police are also in chase of the suspect, Scruples, a local barkeeper who appears to have fled town. On another note, A-Chicken-Filler has become a worldwide phenomenon. According to recent polls––”

It was a shame that he never heard the whole report about how A-Chicken-Filler is less likely to give you heart burn than Macdoodle’s. It would save him so much heartache in the years to come. But at this point a beeping sound distracted him. It was coming from another hallway.

 Suddenly there was a whooshing sound and then Chasin entered.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

 “I don’t know,” Dylan replied. 

“Nor do I,” said Armina as she slid through a grate near the floor.

Both Dylan and Chasin stared at her wondering, How did she get here?

“What is it?” she asked, noticing their stares of astonishment.

Suddenly a loud voice filled the room. “Congratulations on passing the first test. You have been the first ‘patients’ that have not,” here the voice cleared its throat, “died of complications after being infected with the disease like you.”

“What?!” Armina said.

“You see, the disease is not a disease, it is a,” (the voice struggled for words) “gene.”

Everyone was silenced, but Dylan recognized something.

“Dad?” Dylan croaked.

Silence filled the room. However, the voice (otherwise known as Dylan’s dad) just went on as if nothing had happened.

“If you turn to––”

“Dad, what are you talking about?” Dylan interrupted. “The disease is a disease, and that’s all there is to it. That’s what you always said.”

“Son,” Dylan’s father said gently, “there are things you don’t understand. Now be quiet.”


“BE QUIET!” his father roared.

There was silence. Just then the television lit up and a robotic voice began to read a script of some sort.

“Hello. Today we will dive into the disease and what we know about it. As most of you know, the disease was discovered in the year two thousand and twenty. However, you may not know that the disease itself was probably carried in from Germany in the form of a gene.  This gene was passed down through generations and eventually activated by means we do not know.  Eventually, the government discovered that this gene gave special powers to the one who had it. The government began to seek ways to transfer this gene to better the world. If you are watching this, then you have been the first to have this successfully infected.

“Now you must pass three tests in order to test your skills. Good luck.”

The television shut off, the ceiling opened up, and the floor began to rise.  They were lifted into another room with a metal beam and four chairs. A new computer voice began to speak.

“Using the skills, you had used to escape the small room where you first woke up, you must now escape this room, before the walls crush you.”

Suddenly the walls on either side of them began to move in.

“What should we do?” Dylan asked Chasin and Armina.

“We need to use what we used to escape the room,” Armina said.

“Which is?” Dylan asked.

“I already know what I used,” Chasin replied before rushing off.

“Me too,” Armina said and she also ran off.

Dylan sighed thought back to what he had done. How had he escaped?  Had he used smarts? Had he used his skills? His desperateness?

He sighed. this was getting him nowhere. He might as well try to break open the wall like he had before. That’s it! he realized. He used strength to break the wall.  So, what should he do that used strength? He looked around. What could he use? He could use the chairs to do…what?   Well, what else could he do? He could lift the beam to the ceiling to see if he could climb out.  Yes, he would do that.

He heaved the bar up above his shoulders and leaned the top end against the wall and leaned the other one against. Just then he realized what he’d done. He had stopped the walls from moving, at least temporarily.

He now had time to see what Chasin and Armina were doing. He went over to Armina and observed what she was doing. It appeared that she had stacked the chairs in order to get at something metal on the ceiling. When he came closer, he realized that she was opening a grate. Chasin stood nearby.

“What is she doing?” Dylan asked.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Chasin replied. “She’s trying to get out through that grate.”

 All Dylan could manage to say was “Oh.”

“Hey Chasin!” Armina suddenly yelled. “There’s some code thing up here.”

“Let me see,” Chasin replied.

Just then many things happened in succession.

Chasin attempted to climb up the chairs but ended up toppling both the chairs and Armina. The metal beam that Dylan had placed between the walls abruptly snapped.  And everything went black.

At first Dylan was frightened and worried that he once more had been kidnapped. But then he realized that he was thinking and therefore he could not be knocked out. So, what was happening? He looked around when suddenly a voice called out.

“You’re welcome,” it said.

Where had he heard that voice before? At last, he realized it was Adele.

“What are you doing here?” he asked her. “Don’t tell me you were captured too.”

“No!” Adele replied. “I’m here to save you.”

“How did you get here?” Chasin asked.

“No time to explain. Let’s go.” Adele said.

Adele ran off and they all followed her.  She went over to the wall. There was a small hatch. She ushered them in and then went in herself, closing the hatch behind her.

The tunnel was dark, drabby, and made Dylan claustrophobic.  Luckily, Adele distracted him by telling her story.

“I assume you’ll want to know how I found you, so I’ll start at the beginning. When you ‘died’, the race immediately stopped. When I told my father, he was not surprised; all he did was sigh and mutter something to himself. I asked him what he meant. He sighed once more and said, ‘I guess it’s time you knew.’ He then told me what you have already learned: the disease is a gene and that you would have it implanted. He also told me that all of our parents had been planning this for years; in fact, the disease had been discovered many years ago and only recently did it leak out. The whole motorcycle race was a cover up. They would shoot the first people to pass them with a tranquilizer darts and then frame Scruples. I asked my father why he was telling me this. He said that he believed your father’s plan was foolish and it was obvious that you would turn against him. He had been certain that they had come to an agreement and would persuade you instead, but they had went behind his back. So, he would go behind theirs.  He gave me the information I needed to get here and told me where to meet up with him.”

As she ended her story, the tunnel ended, leading them to a dead end. Adele yelled something at the door, and it opened up revealing Dylan’s dad.

“What are you doing here?” Dylan said.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Dylan’s dad asked.

“No,” Dylan said.

“Oh Dylan, you didn’t get it?” Dylan’s dad said. “Adele’s been working for us all along.  It was quite clever, the cover story she made up. You fell for it hook, line, and sinker.”

“You haven’t caught us yet,” Dylan replied firmly. “There’s still a way out.”

“Really,” Dylan’s father said. “You’d think someone I raised would be a bit smarter. Think boy. Adele is at the back. Adele works for us. So, if Adele is blocking you, you can’t get out. Now come on out.”

Reluctantly Dylan crawled out, followed by all his friends and Adele.

They were in a large white room with all of their parents and some other important looking people. Part of the room was covered in computer monitors.

 As Adele came out of the tunnel, he noticed a blankness in her eyes. Her movements were the same, but she ignored everyone but their parents.

Why? was all Dylan could think. Why is she acting so strange? Why am I here? Why are there always too many questions but not enough answers?

Dylan’s dad continued. “Although you’re quite gullible, you’ve done well. Using your strength, Dylan you escaped exceptionally quickly. Chasin, with his mathematical mind, was not too far behind. Armina, with her amazing resourcefulness, arrived last, but had the longest route. In fact, you three had almost completed second challenge by the time Adele arrived. So, I’m giving you a task. You must have guessed by now that we have had other people who have undergone experiments. Unfortunately, most of the subjects have failed and are being kept in a facility. However, there is one who escaped. Your job is to track him down.”

“And what makes you think we’ll do that?” Chasin asked.

“Easy,” Dylan’s father replied, “You.”

“What?” Chasin said, confused.

“We voted and decided you were the least essential. So, you will stay behind while they go and capture him, then we will exchange hostages. Which reminds me.” He snapped his fingers, and some guards came in through a door. “Take him away,” he said. They grabbed Chasin. “If you fail, he will die,” he continued. “Your subject’s name is Lex. He escaped through the old mine tunnels. I’m making Adele in charge of this mission. You two are to follow her every order. I have supplies in the other room. Go get yourselves ready.  Oh and, I want him in three days, or Chasin dies.” He smiled.

                                                        30 minutes later…                              

Dylan hated motorcycles. That was what had got him in this mess. And now as Dylan, Adele, and Armina crouched before the vertical entrance to the old mine tunnels, he regretted ever entering that race.

“Who’s going in first?” Dylan finally asked.

“I will,” Armina volunteered, and she jumped down into the hole. Dylan slowly lowered himself after her, followed by Adele.

The chamber that they entered was fairly large.  The tunnel continued down both ways from this chamber. Armina had turned on her flashlight and was examining the concrete walls.

“It looks like people have been down here recently,” she said. “The graffiti isn’t that old.”

Dylan began to look at the graffiti when he noticed a thin line forming a large rectangle. It reminded him of the one he had seen at the beginning of his adventures. He pushed on it and it slid back, revealing a passageway.

“Look at this,” he called to Armina and Adele. “The graffiti continues down here.”

This tunnel had obviously been naturally formed. On one side of it was a cliff; on the other side there was a rock wall. Adele pushed in front of Dylan and headed down the tunnel, leaving Armina and Dylan in the back.

“We have to get rid of her,” Armina whispered to Dylan, before running up to Adele.

“Okay,” Dylan said, not really understanding.

The path they were following was getting lower and narrower. The silence weighed down on them except for when it was broken by the occasional splash from a stalactite.  They kept walking until they reached an area where a small piece of rock jutted out like a cliff. Armina sat down on a rock.

“So,” she finally said, “why did you do it?”

“What do you mean?” Adele responded with a tone as if she had been forced to speak.

“Why did you trick us?” Armina repeated.

“Isn’t it obvious? I was tired of you leaving me behind. Just because I was the worst racer, I was left behind. I truly realized when you literally left me three days before the race. So, I told my father. He then told me he had a way for me to channel my anger and guess what? It worked.”

“That’s the worst excuse I’ve ever heard.” Armina said. “So, Dylan and I have made our decision.”

“What do you mean?” Adele asked, confused.

“What is it that you said earlier?” Armina replied. “You go behind our back, we go behind yours.”

By now Armina had stood up and was facing Adele. Then, out of nowhere, she suddenly grabbed Adele.  Adele fought back, but Armina was much stronger and she eventually stopped.

“Don’t worry,” Armina said “There’s water at the bottom. You won’t die. Dylan, would you like to do the honors?”

She set Adele down.

“Dylan!” Adele screamed. Her eyes were suddenly vivid. “Don’t listen to her. You’re not a killer, but she is. Shove her instead.”

Dylan looked from Armina and Adele. Finally, he ran forward––and shoved.

Much later…

The paint was getting sparse. Armina had pointed it out first. It looked like the graffiti artist was trying to save their paint. They continued to follow the paint until it led them to…the end of the tunnel.

“What?!” Dylan yelled. “Why on earth would someone paint a path to nowhere?!”

He turned to Armina and then noticed she was crouched down looking at something.

“Is this cavern natural?” she asked him.

“I think so,” he said.

“Well then, what’s this?” she said pointing to a vent. She smiled at him. “Get what I’m thinking?”

“Oh no,” Dylan sighed.

Sometime later…

As Dylan followed Armina out of the vent, he looked around and realized they were…

“Right where you started.” Dylan’s father said. “So, you found out our secret. Yes, it was a test. Unfortunately, I know your secret. And well, you know what I always say, ‘An eye for an eye’. Say goodbye to Chasin.”

“What do you mean?” Dylan asked.

“Dylan don’t play dumb. I know you killed Adele,” Dylan’s father said.

“We didn’t kill Adele!” Dylan cried.

“Fine, you pushed her off a cliff into no one knows how deep water. Same difference,” his father replied. “Either way Chasin is dying. But of course, you wouldn’t let me,” he said regarding the looks on both Dylan’s and Armina’s face. “Oh well. You’ll just have to watch it on the live stream.”

He smiled, pulled a remote, and pressed a button on it.

The floor sunk out from below them.

They ended up back at the room in which they had first found out about their powers.

Dylan lay on the floor and sighed. There was nothing to be done. Chasin was going to die and they were going to spend the rest of their lives serving some government agency.

He looked up at Armina and was surprised to see that she was taking something out of a purse that was hiding in the vent. He looked closer and saw it was …. a can of air freshener.

 “Now is not a time to make the place smell a little better,” he said.

“True,” she replied. “But it is the time to make a bomb.”

“What?” Dylan said, confused.

“Once I read a book where they used air freshener as a bomb,” Armina said as she pulled out twine and began to shove it into the nozzle of the bottle. “I thought that was genius. Ever since then, I always brought the equipment to build something like that in my purse.”

“Leave it to you to bring that to a motorcycle race,” he sighed.

“Hey,” Adele said, “I knew it would be useful.”

“I guess,” Dylan said.

“You better stand back,” she said.

He hid behind the corner of a hallway, while Armina lit the twine with matches, put the bomb by the wall, and ran to join him.

They both plugged their ears as the makeshift bomb exploded.

They got up and looked at the results. The wall was broken––most of the way. You see, the paint had peeled off and most of the bricks had combusted but there was still a substantial amount of wall left.

But Dylan wasn’t ready to be foiled so easily. He ran, rammed his entire body against the wall––––and broke through.

“You’re welcome,” he said.

He slowly walked out with Armina. They were standing on the outside of the university in a field. He looked around for any cameras.

“What are you doing?” Armina asked.

“Looking for cameras,” he said. “That’s probably how they found out about Adele.”

“Listen,” Armina replied. “If they have cameras, they have already spotted us. So, the best we can do is START RUNNING!”

Dylan did as he was told. He ran as fast as he could. He ran until his legs were burning with pain. He kept on running until Armina finally stopped. He collapsed.

“Why––did––you––stop?” he panted.

“No one’s chasing us,” Armina said. “They should have caught sight of us by now.”

“Wait a second? Do you remember a field by the university?” He asked.

“Yeah,” Armina replied. “The ‘Backyard’, the field that surrounded the university.”

“Exactly,” he said. “and what was around The Backyard?”

 “Electric fences,” Armina responded, sighing. “Of course. We need to head back.”

“Wait!” Dylan said. “Do you remember anything else?”

“They would always load up crates from the warehouse on golf carts,” Armina said.

“Exactly,” Dylan said. “All we have to do is sneak into one of the empty crates.”

Sometime later…

The guard had been easy to distract. All it took was pull of a rope and a rustle of a bush. They each hid in a different crate. The bumpy ride reminded him of his few experiences of public buses.

When they finally were stopped, the driver unloaded and stacked them as crudely as possible, before loading up a more crates and driving away.

Dylan looked around.  They were in a large garage full of crates. There were two garage doors on either side of the room.

As Armina got out he said, “We’ll have to find a vent.”

“What do you mean?” she said.

“We can’t open the garages; it would make too much noise. So, we have to find a vent to go through.”

“Okay,” Armina said.

It was much later when Armina finally found one. But when Dylan saw the vent, he was crestfallen.

“There’s a laser trip wire,” he said.

“I know,” Armina said. “Which is why I’ll stay behind and take the blame while you go ahead.”

“But––” Dylan said.

“Listen,” Armina said. “My ‘resourcefulness’ is not going to rescue Chasin, but maybe your powers can. I just feel like you’re more prepared. Now go.”

Sometime later…

Dylan was once more claustrophobic. To distract himself he recited the directions Armina had gave him to himself. How did she know where to go? he thought. When he finally crawled out, he saw–––his father. He sighed.

“I’m beginning to think you’re at the end of all tunnels.”

“That’s truer than you think,” was his father’s answer.

They were back in the room with the computer monitors. Dylan looked around for Chasin, but he wasn’t anywhere in sight. He turned back to his father.

 “Oh, you didn’t think we were going to let you off that easily, did you? But don’t worry, I’m not going to kill you. I’m going to let you kill me.” And with that he tossed Dylan a gun. “But first, please listen to what I have to say to you. Dylan, you’re simpler than you realize. You want to prove you’re the best. That’s why you used to race. But with me you can truly become the best. I’m going away for a while and I need a substitute. You’re a natural leader. Whose skills got you here?  Yours did. Not Armina’s. You can become the next leader of our project. So? What do you say? Join me and be powerful or kill your kin? Which do you choose?” 

Dylan sighed. What his father said had been true. Yet… Dylan knew what he had to do.  So, he pulled the trigger.

A loud sound resonated from the gun but not one of a gunshot.  His father collapsed on the floor. Suddenly all the computer monitors lit up with a Dylan’s father’s face.

“Congratulations,” his father said. “if you’re watching this then you actually had the strength to pull the trigger. Unfortunately, you didn’t kill me. Not yet at least. You see, you activated my last experiment. If all goes well, you’ll be seeing me soon. Just to be safe I’ve hidden the leaders away. Until then, the next of kin will be trained and take charge.

“Oh, and don’t worry about Chasin. As you’re watching this, he has been freed. However, Armina is much too valuable for that. I’ve hidden her away too.

“Goodbye, Dylan.”

And with that the monitors shut off, leaving Dylan with nothing to do but wait.

Much later…

Dylan was leaving. Chasin had tried to convince him to stay, but he refused.

“Listen,” Chasin said, as they stood outside the university. “I’ll need help if I’m going to start working on the project.”

“I already told you,” Dylan said. “I’m leaving and there is no changing my mind.”

“Well then,” Chasin replied. “I guess this is goodbye.”

“I’ll see you again,” Dylan said. “After all, you’re my only friend left.”

“I guess so,” Chasin agreed. “Well, goodbye.”

Dylan said nothing and just watched as Chasin walked away.

Finally, Dylan smiled at the university. As he hopped on his motorbike, he looked behind him and said, “Goodbye, my friend Liestung.”

Roads are dull. However, as Dylan rode down this one with unknown intentions, perhaps it made this one more interesting.

Alyssa Larue

Author: Alyssa Larue

I am the teen librarian at DPL and the epitome of a book nerd. When I'm not producing our teen or tween short films or getting glue everywhere while making a teen zine, I can usually be found with my nose in a classic, historical fiction, or fantasy read!

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