Samantha (1) Chapter 1 [Rev 3-8-2013] No one takes much notice of the young girl when she slips into the tavern. She quickly shoves the door shut behind her, only allowing a few snowflakes to blow inside and melt on the wooden floor. She moves swiftly through the nearly-empty dining room and into the bathroom after taking a peak at the bar in the next room. Its high stools don’t hold many patrons, most of whom balance precariously. The shelves of bottles reflect the dim light from the overhead fixtures, bathing the whole room in a warm glow. The harsh fluorescents of the bathroom are a strong contrast and she blinks her eyes to adjust. A flush comes from one of the stalls and she ducks into the open one. She reads the drunken messages and phone numbers left in permanent marker while she waits for the woman to leave. As soon as she is alone, she dials a number on her phone. “Change of plans. Don’t go inside. It could be dangerous,” the voice on the other end says immediately, skipping pleasantries. The girl doesn’t respond. “You’re already inside aren’t you? Your uncle is going to have my head.” “I just wanted…” “Stay where you are. Don’t talk to anyone.” She isn’t accustomed to being interrupted or being hung up on, but resists the urge to throw her phone in frustration. Instead, she resumes deciphering the sloppy scrawls. When the bathroom door swings open again, a familiar voice drifts inside from the next room. “Joey!” Neither the speaker nor the one addressed have a reason to be there as far as she knows. Does Headquarters know they’re here? Do they know it could be dangerous? “I thought you were supposed to be on-call this week,” slurs a drunken David loudly. The girl sidles from the restroom, making sure not to draw attention to herself. Her destination – the long wooden bar that dwarfs the rest of the quaint room – seems so close, but she never gets a chance to quietly ask to speak with David outside. “Hey Sammy! I thought you had a job for Mr. G tonight.” Busted. She is unable to hide the shock from her transparent face. In her moment of bewilderment, she is quickly trapped in strong arms from behind. With the reflexes of a trained professional, her limbs fly and she wriggles free. The bartender and another man hurdle the bar, heading for Joe and David. The latter breaks a bottle over the man’s head while Joe dodges his attacker with ease. The trio is sprinting at the door when a gun explodes. The bullet may have hit David if he hadn’t stumbled over a chair and Samantha is sure she feels the air ripple as the projectile passes her head before breaking a sconce less than a foot away. She freezes with her hand on the door, weighing her options. If she were alone, she’d be halfway across the parking lot by now. The gravel would be kicking up by her feet as she escaped the range of the guns. She wouldn’t slow down and soon the bar would be left behind in the dark. She can’t leave them though. They’d be even worse off than the sticky situation they are in now. “No sudden movements, Miss. Hands on your head and take a couple steps away from that door.” The man who shot the gun is obviously in charge here. “Come on now. Slowly,” he coaxes, tearing her from her thoughts. Having no other option, she does as she’s told. Her brow crinkles slightly, as she assesses the situation. Outnumbered - five to three - though the third is slumped over vomiting after the short adrenaline rush. Her hand itches to reach for her gun, heavy on her hip, after realizing there is only one weapon visible. Joe should have one too, assuming he is actually on call. The two glance at each other, both at a loss as to how to proceed. Their decision is quickly made for them as their backup charges through the door, startling everyone. Some of the petrified customers formerly too scared to move, scatter. Her eyebrows pull closer together as she scans the help that has arrived. Mr. O’Riley stands out – a captain and very talented man – but she doesn’t recognize the other five on his heels. They have the numbers now, but these guys must be fairly new. In a flurry of movement with flashes of metal, guns are drawn on both sides. The room falls silent. Only occasional heavy breathing can be heard. It feels as if time has paused for a moment while each individual analyzes the situation and evaluates their options. It is impossible to consider every scenario – too many factors, too many people crowding this building. “Bring her over here.” It is the man that shot the gun what seems like so long ago. No one seems surprised that he is the first to speak, but it does snap everyone from their thoughts. Time is no longer paused, but it still feels slower than before. Only two men are no longer frozen. They have both taken a step towards Samantha and she realizes she is the only “her” there. She stands firmly between the two groups, gun drawn now in an unwavering hand. Her pursuers hesitate until their leader speaks up. “Put it down.” He sounds amused. “Or what?” is her quick response, which is met with a chorus of chuckles. “Where did you find her, Mr. O’Riley?” Samantha snaps around to see Mr. O’Riley’s reaction to this direct address. She is surprised they know each other, but Mr. O’Riley isn’t fazed. “I’m…” Samantha is quickly cut off. She allows the interruption from Mr. O’Riley, being more confused than insulted. “This is Mr. Colman’s niece,” he lies. The man in charge nods his head in approval at the mention of another captain that he is apparently familiar with. Samantha can no longer suppress the utter confusion that has been threatening to spread across her face. Who is this man? Why does he know these prominent men? Why doesn’t she have any idea who he is? The grip on her gun loosens as she struggles to figure out the situation before her. Stupid mistake. It is jerked out of her hands by some invisible force and goes sailing across the room into the hand of the man in question. Confusion quickly turns to disappointment on her young, readable face as he tosses her weapon to the ground. “Now bring her over here.” Her resisting is useless as she is easily overpowered by his two cronies and brought to the ring master of this little circus. He pulls her close after she is handed over and runs his gun through her hair, causing her squirming to recommence. “Don’t do that, miss, unless you want a bullet buried…” “Enough!” Finally Mr. O’Riley speaks up. “What are your terms?” This inquiry sends a smile across her captor’s face. “My terms?” he sneers. “I had planned on killing the lot of you. You may be talented sir, but an old captain, a couple drunkards, and a bunch of children aren’t exactly a force to be reckoned with.” His tone drips with condescension, especially when commenting on the youngness of the group. New recruits have no place here even if they are of age, but how could anyone expect something so routine to turn into such a mess? Wasn’t that why she was here? This wasn’t supposed to be dangerous. “But I’d consider keeping this one. She has potential. What do you think about that?” He leans in so that his face is nearly touching Samantha’s. Her response is to elbow him in the stomach, which earns her a bruise-worthy knock to the head with his gun. She doesn’t cry out, but the sound of metal on bone is loud and the anger coloring her face is enough indication of what she’s thinking. Mr. O’Riley remains indecisive so she take matters into her own hands. The countdown on her fingers begins at five. Her splayed palm is clearly visible to her group. Four… the looks on the newbies’ faces mean they see the countdown and know they will have to act soon. Three… Chapter 2 [Rev 3-8-2013] A pounding on the door of my apartment wakes me up. The alarm clock on my nightstand reads 7:02. I reluctantly trudge over to the door, the dream still on the fringe of my mind. When I see my visitor, I attempt to close the door again. “Your phone’s off,” she informs me. “Good morning to you too. Sorry. I didn’t want to be bothered.” “Well that sucks. Training got moved up before class today. Grab your things.” “You’ve got to be kidding me. Why?” “Not sure. Just passing on the message. Locker room in twenty minutes.” Shutting the door in her face would’ve been much more satisfying, but my trainer is already gone and a loud slam suffices. I gather my things, which are scattered about the apartment, and change my clothes as I find things to put on. I tame my hair into a slightly less messy nest on top of my head and don’t even consider makeup. The majority of my time is spent looking for my second sneaker. When I’m finally somewhat put together and prepared, I snag my phone and head down to the locker room. As usual, I’m the last one there. Elizabeth, my trainer, points this out, of course. I claim that I am actually two minutes early. “I wouldn’t get an attitude if I were you.” I simply raise an eyebrow at the high-on-authority blonde who’s actually only a few years older than me. “I heard you had a guy in your apartment last weekend. Worse, you were on-call and you know what Mr. Garner says about distractions while on-call.” I only roll my eyes and inform her that I’m not technically on-call, hoping to be done with the conversation about my personal life, but she’s relentless. The encouraging smiles from the other girls don’t help. “So you aren’t going to deny it?” Elizabeth prods. “Nope. We were just watching movies. He didn’t even stay that late.” “Sure, Samantha. Maybe Mr. Garner can give you a lie-detector test like last time,” an obnoxious brunette named Kayla pipes in. “Did he really ask if you and Brad had sex?” her mousey sidekick, Erin, questions. “You lied to him right? How awkward?!” “I’ve told you all multiple times that Brad started those rumors,” I sigh in annoyance. “You all really need to find other things to gossip about. How many times has that story been brought up in here?” Ashley comes to my rescue. That comment ends the conversation and we all move out to the gym. I try to act productive when someone, specifically Elizabeth, is watching, but the majority of the session is a complete waste of time. Things have gotten really mundane around here. The last assignment I went on was a complete bust and the one before that was months and months ago. I am pulled from my thoughts when Elizabeth announces the session over. She writes us all passes, knowing we’ll probably be late to class. I take my time, in no hurry to get to History and planning to take advantage of my pass. Being late earns me a “Thanks for joining us, Miss Garner,” from the teacher, Mr. Campbell. I place the pass on his desk and take my seat without a word. He continues on about some country being coerced into bombing some island of the United States a long time ago. I drown him out until one phrase catches my attention, “…and that will be all for today.” I am eager to grab some food before my next class so I hurry across the oversized atrium in the center of Headquarters, through the lobby of the residential side of the complex, and upstairs to my apartment. After a quick lunch, I shower and try to make myself look somewhat more presentable for afternoon classes. Those lessons creep by even slower than History. I am fighting sleep when a piece of yellow paper is delivered to the teacher of my last class of the day. Everyone knows what it is: a list of names and appointment times with Mr. Garner. Usually people are called to his office to be assigned missions or other tasks. Generally it is a good thing to have your name on that slip. “Just two today: Samantha Garner at 4:15 and James Louis at 4:30.” I glance over at James, who seems nervous. I am certain Mr. Garner knows about the two of us now – something I have been keeping a secret until the right time. As soon as class lets out, I go downstairs to meet Ashley in the atrium as usual. It is bustling with activity. Mostly younger inhabitants of Headquarters crossing from the Learning Center to the Residential Section or the Cafeteria for an after-school snack. Some adults are making a similar journey from the Office Wing, having got off work early. Others are on break from around-the-clock jobs in the Defense Division. James joins us shortly after, looking worried. “Are we in trouble? I am this close to being put on probation as is.” He demonstrates with his forefinger and thumb dangerously close to each other. “No worries. I’ll take care of it,” I promise and tiptoe to add a kiss for additional assurance. “I figured you would.” But when he kisses me, I realize we have an audience consisting of more than just Ashley typing away on her phone. “Sorry to interrupt. May I escort you to my office?” Mr. Garner asks. “Don’t I have like five minutes?” I query in attempt to stall, not wanting to be lectured for longer than I have to. “It’s 4:12. Stop stalling.” He knows me too well. “Let me get my stuff.” “She can watch it for you.” He is getting frustrated, but Ashley tries to help me buy more time. “I have to be somewhere at…” “Don’t even try it, Miss Brewer.” And with that, he places strong hand on my shoulder to turn me away from my friends. “I’ll see you in a few minutes, Mr. Louis.” We take the elevator up to the third floor. Luckily, there are other people inside and the lecture doesn’t start early. When we enter his office, I pause to say hi to the secretaries. He stands with the door open and clears his throat. I can tell by his face that my games are wearing his patience thin. “You’ve managed to make us three minutes late.” He takes his seat on the far side of the huge wooden desk and I sink into one of the chairs opposite him. “You know I made the rule about distractions because of you and you’re the only one who can’t seem to follow it. How difficult is it to take a couple days off from excessive socializing and late nights to concentrate on your job?” I don’t respond. He rubs his temple in exhausted frustration. My phone rings, further annoying him. “Hand it over.” “But…” “Now Samantha.” I comply angrily. “I honestly don’t know what to do with you. You are so talented, but you need to get your priorities straight and focus.” “James has just arrived,” one of the secretaries announces over the intercom. “Send him in.” James looks even more nervous as he sits down beside me. “Mr. Louis you know the rules about distractions while working, don’t you?” “Yes Sir,” James answers politely. “He wasn’t working,” I point out. “Am I going to have to ask you to leave?” My only response is an eye-roll and shake of my head. “Were you aware that Samantha was working?” “Yes Sir.” “And yet you were in her apartment after hours?” “Yes Sir. I’m sorry.” “And what exactly were you doing with my niece last night?” James’s face turns red, probably because of the bluntness of the question and the way Mr. Garner referred to me so informally. “We were just watching movies, Sir.” Mr. Garner pauses for a while, basking in the awkwardness he just caused. I think he enjoys making people uncomfortable. It’s not as if everyone doesn’t already know I’m his niece, but it still has such an effect on people. I’ll never comprehend it. “I noticed you have a few marks against you right now. Let those add up or become too much of a distraction for my niece and I’ll forbid you to see her.” “Yes Sir, I understand.” “You’re dismissed.” James is eager to escape and so am I but, “You were not dismissed, Samantha.” I slump back down into my chair, waiting for James to leave so Mr. Garner will continue. “I meant what I said about forbidding him to see you. Don’t let this disrupt your schoolwork either.” “I won’t. Can I go now?” “You can leave when you’re dismissed. Back to the subject of your schoolwork, get those grades back up or you won’t be seeing any missions anytime soon.” “What? I have over a B average. That’s the rule for everyone else.” “Yes, but you can do better. I heard you’ve gotten lazy in training too. Is there something we need to talk about?” “No.” “Good. Shape up. You’re dismissed.” I march out of the room, angry with him as usual. It’s been like this for as long as I can remember. I’ve been in the custody of Frank Garner since my parents disappeared when I was a toddler. His lack of parenting skills and my independence has resulted in something that looks more like an employee-employer relationship rather than a familial one. It suits us both though. He can’t provide that loving relationship and I don’t need or want it.
Copyright © 2013 Erynn A Louviaite |