John boarded the plane, not bothering to look back at the crowds protesting. As he sat down in the back of the plane, John saw one of the flight attendants approaching. He didn’t bother to look at the name tag. He didn’t need to know her name.

“Hello, welcome to the Silver-”

“I know the name of my own plane.” John interrupted.

“I am sorry Mr. …”

John looked up. “How long have you been working on this plane, and you still don’t know my name?”

“I am sorry, this is my first day.”

“Still, make it a note to remember the name of your boss, its John, John Hal.”

“Sorry Mr. Hal, I am –”

“I don’t need to know your name, just go get me a drink, if you don’t know what I like, ask the cook, if the cook doesn’t know what I like, ask another flight attendant, if she doesn’t know what I like, you’re all fired.”

“Yes, Mr. Hal.” She walked off.

I should have just fired her the moment she couldn’t remember my name. Everyone here knows I don’t drink anything when I am on the plane, John thought, sitting back. He loved to sit in the back. It made him feel, important, having everyone going out of their way to wait on him.

John thought some more about the dig. It would probably take days, but he had all week. All week to get even richer. John picked his phone up. He began to type out the speech he would make upon proving “Eden” didn’t exist. Half way through writing it, he fell asleep, and began to dream.

In his dream, he saw an old man in robes. The man was talking in some foreign language, but English echoed back after he finished each sentence.

“Do not do what you have come to do. For you will find Eden, and you will put the curse of the flaming sword on all of mankind,” Came the echo. “Countless innocent people will die if you do this. Turn back.” A flash of light marked the figure’s exit.

John jumped up, wide awake. He looked out the window to see Middle East terrain, mostly desert, but some vegetation gave signs they were in the Fertile Crescent.  The pilot shouted over the P.A. “Mr. Hal, we are now at the site for the dig, we received a call while you were asleep. Your men were to begin digging without us, and they have already finished one section and found nothing, so we are here at the second dig site.”

I wonder when I am to meet the Mullah for that “talk” he wanted, John thought walking to the front of the plane and stood in the door way.

“Take her down pilot!” he shouted.

“Yes sir, but I would advise-”

“I said take her down!” John cut the pilot off.

“Yes sir, the Silver Wing is landing.”

As the plane landed and the door slid open, John was standing in the door way.

“If you guys would have gotten it all done without me, I would have fired you, you know that right?” John smiled.

The lead digger walked up to the plane. “Sir, we have the whole area in between the Tigress and Euphrates, I doubt we would have,    but, one of the crew members kept rambling on and on about some flaming sword. We assigned him to another section with a small       group, but they paged me that when they found a strange fruit that was fossilized, he freaked out and ran. After that, we cancelled that    dig so you could be there. We are almost done here, and will take you there shortly.”

“What type of fruit?” John asked.

“It was weird, it was huge, about the size of a small watermelon, but it was shaped like an apple.”

“So it was just a large apple, so what?”

“I have no clue. He is one of those “religion solves the world’s problems” type of guy,” The lead digger said.

John nodded and began to walk to where a table was set up with some food. He had eaten before he left, but he was hungry again. There was no meat, just fruits. John scowled. He grabbed a banana and unpeeled it. He walked over to where they were digging. The lead digger walked over to him again.

“You know Sir; we really are sort of scarring up the terrain.”

“Yes, but if we can disprove Eden, then you know we could end this war.” Because we disprove the Christian’s belief, the Jew’s belief, even the Muslim’s belief, which would pretty much end this war, because all it is the Christians defending the Jews, who are both being attacked by the Muslims, John added mentally as he walked up to the four-wheeler that was parked by the dig supplies. “I am heading to town; call or text or whatever when you are done here.” He revved up the engine and zoomed off.

“Sir! That’s our only mode of transportation until… the others arrive,” The lead digger looked back at the site, they were almost done; by the time John got to town, they would be done, unless… “Alright guys, take a break, John’s gone to town and said we could take a few minutes off, but we had to be done before he got back, but it could be a while.”

About an hour later, John’s phone vibrated. He looked at it. “Sir, we’re done here and waiting for you to get back, the other four-wheelers are being brought here.”

John looked up. He re-wrapped the sub he was unwrapping when the phone vibrated. He put the sub in the back compartment of the four-wheeler, and drove off.

When he got to the dig, he saw everyone was wiping off, standing around the table.

The lead digger walked up to him, sweat dripping from his face from the mid-day heat. “What’s that?”

“Oh, a BLT, without the bacon, so I had them put chicken on instead.” John said, un-wrapping it and taking a bite, he chewed slowly.

The lead digger’s mouth watered. “Well, we couldn’t get the four-wheelers, so while you ride on that, we will ride in the truck they bought instead.” John nodded. He finished the sub and hopped on the four-wheeler and drove after the truck, which the lead digger was already driving.

They arrived at the third dig site about eight o’ clock at night. John slept while the crew dug.

In the morning, there was a lot of commotion. “What happened?” John asked.

“We found a tree, not fossilized, but encased in stone… alive! The crew decided that you should finish chiseling it out.” The lead digger said.

John rolled his eyes and grabbed the tool he was handed. Thirty minutes later, the tree was almost fully free from the stone, except one part. John brought the hammer down hard on the chisel on the last part of stone. It fell off. Immediately fruit grew on the tree. Apples the size of watermelons, in a matter of seconds.

One of the crew members shouted “It’s the tree of Eden!” and started running, many others did as well. Suddenly, the ground behind the tree exploded and shadows raced out of the hole. They were winged monsters. One of them landed next to the tree, looking straight at John, and spoke in clear, modern day English.

“Who are you, human, to disturb Eden?”

It was hazy. I could barely see my hand in front of me, nor could the merchants and the fishermen. The Viking statue was barely visible in the old Ravnkloa fish market. That Viking, Harald Hardrada was his name, stood with victory in his gaze, taking watch over the clock before him and over us down below. That day, however, Harald was a ghost, a silhouette in the mist. Yet, I could still feel his eyes through the fog, staring mercilessly through me as he cast his disapproval over those who smelled of the sea. I’m sure he thought all the seamen had betrayed him, for no one continued to pillage. They were nothing but kind fish-sellers anymore, or so I thought at that moment.

Norway was a forgotten land, a hollowed-out shell, and even more so was Trondheim. As I walked by the Byhaven shopping mall I had an epiphany: the world was ending. You see, no one cared. Everyone guarded themselves, leaving no room for trust or love. People turned on each other, too, you know, man against man, brother against brother, son against father and so on. I had never had a real friendship, never felt as though someone truly loved me. Apocalypse must be coming.

Then it happened. I tripped over the slab of pavement that stuck out at the corner of Ravnkloa and Jomfrugata. I fell right into him. We tumbled to the pavement. He had a beard. And a gun. The gun went off, so, naturally, I screamed. He mumbled something, “Be quiet wench or I’ll blow right through you.” So of course I was silent. I stood, and helped him up, then brushed myself off and kept walking. Then it struck me; he was English. I paused for a moment, baffled to find a naturally English-speaking man on a street in Trondheim. I then continued forward, only to be stopped again by a husky English voice calling after me.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” called he, and at that I turned around.

“It’s of no consequence. Had it not been me, however, you would have certainly needed to apologize. People around here aren’t too loving.”

“But, are you?”

“Well, I try, a bit,” said I, startled at my own affability.

“I certainly appreciate it, marm.”

“You are quite welcome. Now, watch where you wave that thing and have a safe, gun-fire-free day, sir.”

“Thank you again, and the same to you.”

“You’re welcome again, and thank you, too. Good day.”

I turned briskly and kept walking, strangely hoping to never see this man again, but somehow still wanting to see him once more. I wanted to hear his voice at least one more time before the world was finished. Somehow I knew that wouldn’t happen.

I caught myself smiling on my way home. Strangely enough, I didn’t stop myself from it. I opened my small, cold door and entered my small, cold house. To my surprise, I discovered someone sitting in my living room. He was my uncle, and he was dead. I felt his neck, but immediately pulled my hand back from the shock of his icy skin against mine. I rubbed my hands together then took the whiskey bottle from his hand; I was afraid that this discovery was a sign of the end. It’s an omen I thought, then addressed the body of my uncle. “Look at you, why have you done this? Why have you come here, of all places?” I was so used to his quick, “Ah!” then a long delay. I almost expected his response, despite the shade of gray that was flushing over him.

I made a quick call to the coroner and a sharp, “Komme hit og ta dette døde kroppen bort før jeg nødt til å begråve ham selv og treffer deg med en spåde! (Get over here and take this dead body away before I have to bury him myself and hit you with a shovel!)” As they carried him away I thought to myself, I should have prayed. I guess it doesn’t matter when I do it, he’s dead anyway. Well, God, rest his soul.

The next day, I walked to the fish market with my coffee, as I had done for many days prior, and looked at the Viking sculpture, as I had also done for many days prior. It all seemed the same. It was too hazy to see my hand, Harald gazed at me disapprovingly, and I left, with my back to the sea. Something was different, though, and I couldn’t put my finger on it.

Things started to change as my head started to swim in a sea of nausea and disaster, and the fog lifted much earlier than usual. As I leaned against the wall of the Byhaven mall and held my head, I saw a man lying next to where I stood. He looked like my uncle Ansfrid, loosely holding a half-empty bottle of whiskey in his hand. He was just as dead as my uncle, too, but the whiskey wasn’t the cause. I lifted the hat from his face to find that he was the man with the husky English voice that had made my heart melt.

All my premonitions were falling together. I stood and tried to compose myself, but this was the last straw. My head pounded with agony, and I shrunk to the ground with my back to the wall. I heard inquiries to my health and well-being – for the first time that I could remember – but the voices were so distant. Maybe it was because my knees were covering my ears, or maybe it was Armageddon. All I know is that the world went black and I felt a glorious peace for a fantastic moment, but it soon left. It left forever.

2

She sat cross-legged on a seat in the first row of the balcony. Her eyes were closed as she listened to the music rising from the stage. She didn’t, or at least tried not to, visualize the scenes from The Lord of the Rings that went with each song, but tried to listen purely to the music. She imagined it as melodies of light flowing into her veins. “The Battle of Pelennor Fields” faded out, but she didn’t open her eyes. Opening her eyes would mean leaving, and they had made her do that too many times before. They would never leave her alone. The sound of turning pages and the readjustment of many stiff limbs came up to her from the stage. The clack-clack of high heels followed, climbing five stairs and bringing their owner to the center of the stage. Then the violins began to sing a dearly loved cadence. An angelic voice joined the melody:

*“With a sigh, you turn away,

With a deepening heart, no more words to say.

You will find that the world has changed forever.

The trees are now turning from green to gold,

And the sun is now fading

I wish I could hold you closer.”

A heartless fear froze her in place. It was time to leave, but she kept her eyes shut. This place had been more of a home to her than she had ever known, Jack more of a friend than she had ever had.

“God, I don’t want to ruin this place.”

The music still flowed from the stage and as she listened again it formed words, “But you are not of those who shrink back and are destroyed, but of those who believe and are saved.”

She opened her eyes, and grabbed her bag off the seat next to her, putting the strap securely over her head and onto her shoulder. She quickly walked up the steps to the door, not looking back or pausing. She turned away from the red spiraling staircase, and instead passed under the exit sign to her right. No one noticed her as she headed down the black metal steps on the side of the building, not even the guy standing right underneath her. It was like a shadow of smoke hid her, muffling her quick steps. She reached the street and became faceless in the milling crowd.

Two minutes later, a young man with grey eyes, and black ruffled hair came through the main door of the theater into the Grand Lobby. Many before him had gazed longingly at the black marble columns and majestic windows framed with gold and red curtains, even with only a glance. He passed under the luminous glass chandelier as one who had been there many times and had lost interest in its antique grandeur. He climbed the red staircase without a sound except for his cape that surrounded around him like black smoke tapping the columns of the rail, his steps muffled.

The music was still filling the theater, as it had been before she left, making it seem like something built by the elves before they had left Middle-Earth. He crossed the hallway to the office door directly across from the top of stairs, and opened it.

Jack sat behind his desk reading a letter. The only sign he was surprised at the man’s sudden entrance was the pausing of his reading eyes and the quick tension that hardened his muscles. He deliberately put the letter on his desk, and shoved his bifocals up on his nose.

“Hello Jack.” The man smiled at him like a father at his naughty son, though Jack was at least thirty years his senior by appearance.

“Hello,” he replied, in a tone that was worn from long practice of welcoming unwelcome visitors.

The man pulled back one of the aged leather chairs in front of the desk and sat with his hands folded in his lap. He held Jack with his grey eyes. Jack said nothing. Even after sweat dripped into his eyes, he didn’t blink.

The man rose without another spoken word, leaving Jack still motionless as he closed the door behind him. Rehearsal had ended leaving only three people in the theater.

Another man, maybe fifteen years older than the first, stood at the third bend of the stairs looking up at him. He was similarly dressed in all black, but there was a devil in his eyes not found in the first. The former waited till the blue-eyed man had disappeared into the lobby to go out the door that opened outside, onto black metal stairs.

I heard a rustle behind me. I turned around and saw a box. “I do not remember seeing this box before,” I said to myself. I looked at the box and it said Marvin on it. It did not look like any handwriting that I had seen before. I started walking toward it-when it moved a little. I was amazed, interested, and scared all at the same time. The box moved again; this time I was extremely curious and had to see how a box could do such a thing as this. When I took a step toward the box, I saw a dim glimmer of light showing from within it. I took another step, and the box flew open as a bright light surged forth. I paused-then stepped closer, ever so carefully, cautioning myself to whatever the box might do next. I got on my knees and peered over the side. I felt a force that started to pull me in. It caught me off guard, but I realized what was happening in time to attempt to resist. The force became stronger, and I became weaker. Eventually I was conquered and sucked into the box, not knowing where I was or where I would be. I thought I was dead, or at least about to be.

When I came to, I was in my room, it was the next day. I scurried around trying to figure out what had happened. I ran into the kitchen where my mother was making breakfast. I asked her if she noticed anything strange yesterday, and she said, “The only thing that I thought was weird yesterday was that you slept for the whole day, I just figured that you were tired from the ride over here, so I just let you sleep.” I agreed, ate some breakfast, then returned to my room to ponder. I wasn’t quite sure what to ponder on. I know what happened, I just could not figure out why or more importantly… how.

I did not know what to do, so I decided to sleep on it. While I was sleeping, I dreamt that I was some kind of second-rate superhero. I could do all these things like fly, travel at supersonic speed, see tremendously, listen extraordinarily, and lift items of incredible weight easily. When I woke up, I was in my room. The only difference was that I was floating in my room. Floating around the room scared the pants right off of me. After putting my pants back on, I managed to get down from being airborne so I could get on my feet again. I went to open the door, but the doorknob got squashed in my hand. “Whoa!” I thought to myself, “This is exactly the kind of stuff that occurred in my dream.” I did not know how my parents would take it, so I declined to tell them. I just grabbed some money and ran to the hardware store to get a new doorknob. Since I did not really know where the store was, I ran all over the place trying to find one. I never did find a store that sold doorknobs, so I did not know what else to do but to run back to Arizona with my supersonic speed. I knew where everything was in Arizona, so I could certainly find a place that would sell me a couple of doorknobs. I ran there, got a doorknob, ran back, and installed the doorknob in my door, all before my parents called me down for breakfast. When my parents wanted me down for breakfast, I moved as carefully as possible, trying not to do anything that would give away that I had acquired these abilities. When I got into the kitchen, the light started to hurt my eyes. I tried to focus my vision, but it was not working. I finally just got tired of it and just opened my eyes as wide as I could. It was so painful at first, but after a second or two, my vision got back into focus. There were so many levels at which I could see things now, from seeing the table to seeing the atoms in the table. I ate some breakfast and then went outside where all of these diverse sounds started coming at me all at once. Things soon quieted down to where I could focus my attention into one specific area. I used my newfound abilities all day. When it was getting late, my mother told me to go to sleep. I figured that I should, since I could do some more stuff tomorrow.

While I was sleeping, I had another dream. There was a really old guy standing in front of me. He said, “Marvin, you have a duty to uphold. The powers that you were granted are not to be taken lightly. The gifts you were given today were only a test run so you could familiarize yourself with them. You shall be given the same gifts in future events, when they are needed. You have an obligation now to use these talents wisely. Remember, with immense might, comes immense accountability.”

I was about to say something to the man, but I woke up. I was in my bed, lost in thought on what the guy had said. I got out of bed and tried to fly, but it failed to work. Then I tried to run into the kitchen at supersonic speed, but when my parents saw me, I just looked like an idiot trying to run into the kitchen at supersonic speed. I just put my head down and ate breakfast. My mother started talking to me and said, “Today is the first day of school; how do you feel?” “I feel ok,” I said unenthusiastically. When I got to school, it was entirely different from my other school. All of the teachers were strict and the stuff we studied was weird. We were taught stuff like politics, government revisions, and business ethics. yuck! Due to a little of my persuasion tactics, I learned that the school was run by a corrupt politician who was also the principal. I learned that he wanted to see nothing more than little lawyers running around his feet, thanking him for his ways and teaching methods.

I went home and was instantly tired from all of the stuff that we were forced to learn for the day. When I fell asleep, all I could think about was hearing, lifting, and running, using all three for a common goal. When I got up in the morning, I had my extraordinary hearing, my supersonic speed, and my lifting of incredible weight back, but nothing else. When I had arrived at school, I saw the principal talking with someone. I tried to focus my hearing on that conversation, and learned that he had planned the termination of a train full of opposing voters in 2 minutes. I rushed to the train station (which took me a while since I did not quite know where it was at first) and ran along the railroad tracks until I found the train. I found the train, but I didn’t know what I was looking for on it. I ran alongside the train and used my hearing to discover a bomb ticking beneath it. I grabbed on to the side of the train by creating grooves on it for me to grab onto with my fingers. I slowly climbed under the train to discover the bomb. I ripped it from underneath the train and made my way from under it. I went and threw the bomb somewhere into Lake Erie where it exploded with no one in harm’s way. I know now what that guy in my dream was telling me now. I will get my powers back, but only when I absolutely need them. I should use them to the best I can be and when I can. I do not know why I have these abilities, but it’s my gift, my curse, my responsibility.

On the short coffee table to the back of the sitting room, six items lay of vital importance: A gun, an empty nail polish container, two pink-stained handkerchiefs, a doctor’s surgical knife, and a scarf.

“Thank you all for coming so promptly,” said Sir John Lucas. “It is time to reveal the truth of Mrs. Anna Worthing’s murder. First, I will recount the particulars of the event. Anna’s maid, Miss Jessica Franklin, who you all have met by now, found her body in her room Tuesday morning with her throat cut. The door was open. Dr. Gordon was so kind as to lend us his knowledge and abilities. He stated that the cause of death was loss of blood from a cut made by a very thin blade. One much like this,” said Sir John while holding up one of the Doctor’s surgical knives. “True Doctor?”

“Yes,” replied Dr. Gordon.

“Now I will portray the activities of last night to all of you. Mr. and Mrs. Worthing, Jacob Hunter, Miss Jessica, Sir James Bunting, and myself were in this very room. Dr. Gordon was in the dining room sipping a claret. The rest of you were in your own rooms. Am I correct?”

Nods were the general response.

“Shortly after Miss. Brooke Winters entered the room and sat down, Mrs. Anna Worthing left the room to retire for the night. Miss Jessica went with her. Soon after Mrs. Anna left, Sir James and I also left for the night. That left Mr. Clyde Worthing, Jacob Hunter, and Miss Brooke Winters in the room. From what information I gathered concerning what happened after I left, this is what followed. Miss Winters became intoxicated. She began to argue intensely with Mr. Worthing about their past relationship, and in her outburst of anger, she withdrew a pistol from her purse and fired it. Mr. Worthing was left with a bullet wound just above his knee.”

Upon hearing the account of the night before, Miss Winters began to shake just as violently as she had the previous evening. Mr. Worthing reached over and took her hand.

“Mr. Worthing pressed a handkerchief to his leg to stop the bleeding. Miss Winters was overtaken with shock at what she had done, dropping the gun, and shaking uncontrollably, so much so that Mr. Worthing insisting on her being taken care of first, then for Jacob to send for the doctor to help.”

In the midst of Sir John’s recounting of the events, Mrs. Ellie Hover was getting a bit anxious, “What if he should accuse me?” she thought. “I would certainly be in such a horrid state, for I have no alibi to spare me from his allegation. However, I have no motive he could possibly know about, so why would he even think about accusing me?”

How could Mrs. Hover know that the same thoughts were running through Miss Franklin’s head as well?

Miss Jessica Franklin was dismayed at the possibility of being accused. She thought frantically. What defense did she have? “Why would I be accused of killing Mrs. Worthing? I was on her payroll. She was the only person who would hire me,” she thought. That would not be enough for Sir John, though. Miss Jessica too was without hope. Should Sir John accuse her she would be helpless against his interrogation.

Mr. Hunter was contemplating his own defense, as well. Then a thought occurred to him, “I could not be even suspected. I was within sight of someone the whole time.”

“The murder was a two-person job,” Sir John continued.

Sir James was the only one to reply. “My dear fellow you have completely confused me. Be a good chap and tell me which of them it was.”

“The two people responsible for Mrs. Anna Worthing’s death are none other than Mr. Clyde Worthing, and Miss Brooke Winters.”

Everyone knew who we were. You could always tell we were different. With our golden hair, broad shoulders, near the height of six feet, we were the best. We were the ultimate fighting force, as good as the Spartans but on the sea. We were known as Thor’s right hand of thunder. This is the story of one of our own. His name was Fàlki Herdísarson. Fàlki was the best sea captain we Vikings had ever known. This is his story. This is the story of how he died.

I was sitting in my cabin, getting prepared for the raid, focusing my mind on the matter at hand. All of a sudden, I heard yelling out on the deck and the sound of steel sliding off of leather. Leaping  to my feet and running out the door with my rapier, I surveyed the scene around me. The whole crew had surrounded two out of the sixty men. “Of course” I thought to myself, “It would be those stupid twins Askel, and Aslak,” probably fighting about their portions of food again. “Alright Aslak, put your sword away before I make you, and tell me what is going on.” Aslak was the better fighter; his sword was at his brothers’ throat. Aslak quickly removed his sword from his twins’ throat. “This lout stole my food!’’  he exclaimed feverishly “We get three portions a day and this bloody lout stole mine!” “Alright you lot, get back to work, I want all weapons made ready for the raid. Aslak, and Askel come to my cabin, at once!” I said, my words heated with fury. Of course they would be fighting about food right before a raid! I stalked in front of them and led the way to my cabin. I opened the door and ushered Askel in first, then Aslak. I slammed the door trying to take my frustration out on it rather than them. “What is wrong with the pair of ya!” I cried “We will be raiding in less then an hours time and you both have to get worked up to almost killing each other? Askel did you steal your brothers’ food?” I said “Aye, I did at that captain” he replied with a bowed head, his shame apparent in his stance. “I do not allow people to steal on my ship Askel, and you know it.” “Shall I make an example of your? To show others what will happen if I find they steal?”

“No captain! I’m begging you!” he cried out as he put his hands behind his back as if to protect them. “Captain I’m sorry” said Aslak “Please don’t hurt my brother!” “It won’t happen again!”

“It had better not,” I said “Cause if it does I’ll cut off both of your right hands and feed them to the ocean. You two know the rules. Now get out of here before I change my mind! And you both have deck duty for the rest of the week!” I yelled at their backs as they ran from my cabin. “They should know better.” I said quietly to myself. The last person who stole on my ship was tied to the mast and flayed to near death then thrown off the ship into the depths of the ocean. The only reason why they were still alive is because I needed Askal for the raid. He was the second-best swordsmen we had. I had to get focused. This was going to be a difficult raid. We were going to go on land and destroy an Abbey. It was full of nuns and priests. We were going to pillage them and kill them all. They had sacred artifacts that would sell well in the Norse kingdom in the north.

“There it is, land!” I quickly left my cabin and went out on deck and gathered my crew. “It is time boys!” I said to them with fire in my eyes. “It’s time to start this bloody raid and be done with it. Here is how we’re going in, broadsword groups of eight will go in first to scare them and then after a few minutes a group of ten men armed with rapiers, and cutlasses will come after them and kill any defenders with their precision weapons.”

“Now my broadswords men, try not to get hurt, your job is to scare out the defenders, just do environmental damage, the other group will do killing if needed. At the sound of the cannons start the attack.” After I said this we all got into the longboats and went ashore and the broadswords men ran about destroying things to scare the nuns and the priests. All the nuns retreated into the Abbey, the few priests held swords of their own. I sent the broadswords men out and most of the priests started to run away, but a good many stayed. Time to send in the precision team, “I’ll go with them this time.” I thought to myself. “Precision team on me.” I yelled out to my crew. They were there in an instant. “Alright, we’re going in next, kill anyone who tries to fight back but otherwise try not to kill too many.” I heard a resounding “Aye, Aye Cap’n!” from the crew. “Alright, let’s go!” I ran ahead of my men trying to boost their morale even more, but they didn’t need it.

We were the best and this is what we were born to do. I let most of my men take the other defenders, not wanting to steal from them the joy of a good raid. I was looking for the leader, to destroy him in front of the rest so they would surrender. I walked into the Abbey and called out “Who is your leader, let him present himself so we can have a duel to stop all of this bloodshed.” All I heard was silence. Then all of a sudden I saw a figure coming down the Abbey staircase. It was a nun, and as soon as I saw her I was struck with odd emotions.

She was stunning, had hair like my own; I was surprised to see someone so beautiful to be a nun. Yet there was something I had over looked; she was carrying a rapier. No, I thought to myself. She can’t be the leader. I can’t fight her, she’s too.. too.. beautiful. “Alright you Viking scum.” She said with such anger, even though her voice sounded like bells. “You had better prepare yourself, for here I am, the leader of this Abbey.” “No,” I said, “I will not fight a woman as beautiful as yourself; send forth your best swordsmen. He I will fight.” “Well here I am sure enough young sir,” she said as she was at the bottom of the staircase. “Young miss I can not fight you. I will not shed your blood.” “Ahh, but how do you know it would be my blood that would be shed Viking?” she said with a grin on her face. She was ever so beautiful when she smiled. I was starting to like this woman. More than I had any other. There was only one way to avoid bloodshed and yet still be able to be with her. “Miss. We shall not fight. But I do have an offer for you.” I said with a wicked grin on my face. “Well let’s hear it then,” she said, clearly not amused. “I will not raid this Abbey, or kill anymore men or women, or steal any of your belongings, if you will come with me, as a hostage,” I said, my grin obviously widening. Her face had turned ashen, she looked almost ill. “Fine,” she said, her stubbornness flowing out of her. She dropped her sword and walked closer. “But on one condition,” she said, “You must leave now, and never return and never attack another Abbey as long as you live.” “Fine,” I replied, Abbeys were too much trouble anyway, lets’ go.” We all went aboard the ship and we set sail.

This was a story of how our Captain Fàlik Herdísarson, died. After this raid on the Abbey, he set sail to port at Donegal, Ireland. He and his new wife left us and I was promoted to Captain. They lived a long life together, and I returned to that port this very day just to see my old comrade and leader. All I found was three graves. One marked Fàlik Herdísarson, the other Grace Herdísarson, and the last Gràlik Herdísarson. Apparently they had a child who had died at the young age of eighteen months due to scarlet fever. This same sickness had taken Grace the same day: it was too much to handle for our old captain. He killed himself out of despair. I returned to my ship, and told my second in command, my brother after all, what had happened. We decided to set sail back to the Abbey to tell them of the news; the old captain’s oath didn’t apply to me, Aslak, the Captain of this fine vessel. I set sail to the Abbey, ready to tell the tale of The Life of a Viking Captain.

I am now sixteen years old with nothing to show for it. I didn’t have a birthday party. No cake or presents to signify my growth. Most kids my age would be able to take driving lessons soon. I  have to rely on my own two feet.

In middle school, all the teachers said I would amount to something great. I remember one of the conversations I had with my favorite teacher, Mr. Smith. I had just finished my Science Final Exam, and was about to leave the class when he called me to his desk.

“Danny, my boy! You are the only one in this class with a perfect grade on your final! Congratulations, kid. You are really going to make it in this world,” he said, patting me on the back. I had gotten straight A’s since the first grade in every class. I wanted to learn so much. Memories haunted me as I tried to sleep. Having newspapers as blankets did not help much to block the bitter cold air whipping through the city. Nor did it help to clear my head. I have accepted my fate, but the flashbacks would not stop coming.

Finally, sleep overwhelmed my body, and I was able to get an entire four hours; a record for me. Slowly, I moved each of my stiff limbs, praying that frostbite had not reached any. Dawn neared, shedding a few of its lights into my alley. The sounds of activity were always heard. Yet, in the morning, I seemed to hear them more. All those who had jobs headed to work, honking their way through the streets.  Time for breakfast, I thought miserably. Two nights ago, I was able to scrounge up half a pizza in the nearby dumpster. The rest of it was gone by last night. Hopefully, the dumpster would not fail me, like it did every once in a while, leaving me to starve.

The rays of sun, by this time, lit up a small corner of the side street, and I sat there for a while, soaking up the sun. Though the sun did not seem to provide much heat in the winter, it was better than having to sit in the darkness. Should I try Shanghai Chinese Food? Maybe Tom’s Italian? The Chinese restaurant probably has a bigger dumpster. I passed by Vivian Taylor’s and  grabbed a shirt from a bag in the ‘fashion rejects’ pile in the trash. It was dark blue, with the letters V.T. on one the pocket. At least I can look wealthy, even if I have no money. I kept my same pair of jeans on and wore my old Adidas jacket.

I was so focused on trying to cross the street, that I knocked a book out of someone’s hand. “Watch it!” she  snapped. I turned to see a young girl I recognized. Her name was Sarah Green. I had the biggest crush on her all throughout middle school, but never had the guts to tell her. After all, she was my best friend, and I didn’t want to make our friendship awkward if she didn’t like me too.

“Sorry, Sarah,” I mumbled, hoping the light would change quickly so I could escape this uncomfortable moment.

“H—hey, Danny! How are you? Where have you been?” She reached over and gave me a hug. I hoped to God I didn’t smell bad.

“I, uh, transferred. I go to Devens High now,” I quickly lied. If she knew I was homeless, all hope of this friendship rebuilding would be lost. I knew how she felt about the poor. After a bad experience with a man who she tried to give her change to, she never felt kindly towards them again.

Just then, my stomach growled loudly.

“Oh wow you’ve gotten skinny. Are you on a diet now or something? Come on! Let’s get some breakfast at my house!” She led the way to her two story townhouse. I left my sneakers at the door, and wandered into the memorable surroundings. I remembered coming there as a child many times before. Sarah and I would play hide and seek and we would watch TV in the den. I instantly missed those times. We ate toast and sausages and eggs; I had seconds of everything. I couldn’t remember the last time I had a full breakfast.

“So why don’t you ever come over anymore?” she asked me, clearing away our plates.

“I don’t know. I’ve just been…busy.” I said quietly, bringing my empty cup to the sink.

“Well so have I! Am I not important enough for you?” She gave me a teasing look and led the way back outside.

Of course you are important! I thought about you every day! I wanted to shout those words to her. I wanted her to know how much I cared. But the words wouldn’t come. They were stuck in my throat like the syrup on my pancakes.

We walked down the streets, talking about high school. I lied about the classes I took. I lied about all the new friends I made. I even lied about my mother, saying she was well and that we had just come back from a cruise to the Bahamas. Every lie hurt, but it was what I wanted to hear. It was what I wanted so desperately to be true.

Before I knew it, we passed my street. Not the alley where I lived; it was the street where my old house was. I held my breath as we neared it.

“I almost forgot how beautiful your house was! Did you get a new car or something? You’ll be able to drive it soon! Isn’t that exciting?” she asked me.

“Uhh…yeah,” I said, looking at the red truck sitting in the driveway.

Sarah grabbed my hand and squeezed it lightly. “It’s good to have you back.” She walked down the street and turned the corner, heading back home. I couldn’t watch her leave. I continued to stare at my old home. The big stones lining the driveway, the clumps of grass that never grew evenly, the flower plants that were on each step  up to the porch. It was all gone. Now, there were small lights lining the driveway, the grass was green, and there was one flowerpot left. It contained Hellebores; mom’s favorite flower.

I sat on the steps and wept. What was the use of meeting Sarah again? She was going to find out my situation sooner or later, and I preferred never. So, taking a deep breath, I walked back to my alley. And I was determined to stay there and never associate with anyone again. Forever I will be, Daniel Madison: homeless boy.

I sat in the cold house all alone; mom had been gone for days and I was scared to death. We had once been a happy Christian family, but wrecked after the malignancy of sex and drugs. Dad and mom divorced after his affair; she was so broken that she turned back to the one thing that used to give her relief- drugs.

I came home one day after school to find mom lying on the floor. “Mom, are you ok?” I cried, but I got no response. Health teacher always said if you think something’s wrong with someone, feel their arm and their throat to look for some type of pulse. So I felt both places and found nothing. By this time, my brothers were coming in. I tell John go call 9-1-1. He called and told them what they needed to know, but they didn’t arrive for three hours, they don’t respond quickly to calls from Compton. They came, took mom and this woman came and talked to me about how it was living with mom. I knew she wanted to take my brothers and I couldn’t have us separated so I had to lie. I told her that mom worked late, but always provided and just as I was going to tell her the truth Dr. Gupta came and asked, “Would you like to see your mom” I said “Sure” only to escape the questioning.

I asked her “Do you feel better” she said “Yes, but I can’t afford to pay for this.”

“Momma I’ll take care of your bill. I had saved some money for emergency and it wouldn’t hurt to use it.” She smiled and kissed me, “That’s my girl,” and for that one moment I knew that mom still loved me. She checked out that Saturday night, came home, and asked me to take John and Paul to the room and have them ready for church in the morning. Although at times it was long, I always felt refreshed after leaving our church. And that moment I thought for sure that mom was on the right track.

The next day we went to church, and the most amazing thing happened. Mom saw my dad’s new wife and did nothing. She always told me what she would do if she ever saw that “thing,” but for some reason all she did was smile and go into the sanctuary. We came in just in time for the sermon and afterwards, mom went to the altar and the most amazing feeling came over me. I think I felt that peace that the preacher was talking about.

So we went home only to view an eviction notice on the door it said “3-days.” I couldn’t believe that God would allow this to happen after that great service.  As much as I wanted to think that things would get better from here, I had a slight feeling that they wouldn’t. Mom sat in bed for two days to get rest, but on the third day she got up and left. I refused to believe that she went back to drugs, but I just couldn’t believe she abandoned us again.

The landlord came to the home saying “Somebody in this house is gonna pay this rent,” and as soon as I saw him staggering towards my brothers, I knew I had to volunteer myself. Never thinking what the payment that he wanted would cost, I followed the landlord to his home. I began to shake in a mixture of fear of him and anger towards mom. He asked “Could you follow me into my basement?” I, being so naïve and young, said, “Yes.” It was dark and gloomy down there, and I was met by a man with a black mask. They put my hands and feet in cuffs around the pole in the basement.

For the next two nights I yelled cried and prayed, but felt no one could hear me, not even God. I was no stranger to missing meals, so I survived both nights but still suffered enormous hunger pains. He came down and brought me some food early on the second day’s morning. He spat in my food, but I was very hungry so I ate it anyway.

The next day he took me outside the house, around back, he said he loved me. I couldn’t yet understand the concept of love because it seemed that everywhere love was, abuse seemed to follow.  I told him I hated him and tried to kick him but he was stronger than me he pushed me into a tree and tied me there he said he’d come and get me in the morning. So I sat there that night alone, tired and depressed.

As the night grew darker, the temperature decreased. I began to shiver and something told me to give up on life, but I couldn’t so I prayed “Lord Jesus grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change. Courage to change the things I can, and wisdom to know the difference. Living one day at a time; Enjoying one moment at a time. Accepting hardships as the pathway to peace; Taking, as He did, this sinful world as it is, not as I would have it; Trusting that He will make all things right if I surrender to His Will, that I may be reasonably happy in this life and supremely happy with Him Forever in the next. In Jesus name Amen.”

I began to shiver and couldn’t stay awake. I tried hard to fight the rest that tried to come over me but it was too hard; I fell asleep. And although the reasonable happiness in this life never came, I lived happily ever after in the next…

The receptionist directed me down the hall to, none other than, a cubicle. Inside was what looked like a socially inept, incomprehensive rookie.

“Terrific!” I thought. “That’s just what I need to deal with right now!”

“Hi, my name is John, what can I do for you?” he said.

I sat down and examined his desk. From the sight of the stacks of paper and office supplies, it looked like he was trying to replicate the city of Venice.

“Well, I have information on an event that will be happening in three hours and forty-five minutes. I stumbled upon an encrypted file while I was working at my job as an NSA analyst in Baltimore. I have it here with me if you would like to see it.”

“Sure, hand it over.”

I gave him the copy that I had placed on a separate drive. He looked at the message and the pictures and gave me the look I had been expecting. “This is just a message to a construction company or something. They have supplies coming in and they are working on the sewer systems.” He stared at me like I was stupid.

“I gave you this because I also checked into construction projects in the area and not one is scheduled for the next four months. I think there may be a plot to attack Washington D.C. and the President.”

With a little more concern he began checking the database for planned construction. “I’m not sure what they are going to use, but I have a feeling it will be anthrax.”

He eyed me suspiciously. “How am I supposed to know that you are not the one planning this? You seem too sure of yourself.”

“Wouldn’t it be safer for everyone if this was checked out? The message said that they would start at three, which is rush hour here. The supply, although not said to be anthrax, was shipped in vials along with some electronics. I think that terrorists are experimenting with biological weapons.”

“This seems a bit of a stretch, but I will check it out.” I knew it. He was blowing me off.

I rushed to my car.  I pulled out my Desert Eagle from underneath the seat, checked the safety and stuffed it in my coat pocket. If Homeland Security wouldn’t believe me, then no government agency would. It seemed that the job was left to me. In the car, I re-read the file on my laptop over and over until the message no longer seemed random. The syntax seemed to be a little out of the ordinary. No one would have a conversation with such rare words. I placed the entire paragraph together without spaces. The first letter of every word created a different message when capitalized. The new message read: RENDEVOUS METRO NEAR W MONUMENT TWO THIRTY SATURDAY. It was Saturday and it was one-thirty. Tourist traffic was already horrendous. It would be best to run. The streets were crowded and Washington was experiencing its case of weekend-long rush hour. I could make it in ten minutes if I sprinted. It was an obstacle course, dodging the strollers and vendors. The Monument was in sight and so was the metro station.

Then the horror struck me. Who was I looking for? I didn’t have any idea what these people looked like or what they would be doing. The streets were packed with people. I decided to look for anything out of the ordinary. Whoever it was would probably be impatient, scanning the crowd, and fidgety. A few people around me matched the description. Closer analysis narrowed down my guess to two men standing outside the bus station. They did not look like Americans, and their choice of dressing in nothing but black told me that they were hiding something. I moved away and headed out toward the Washington Monument. Five minutes left. I stayed far enough away so that they wouldn’t become suspicious of me. Three more men came from the south and headed toward them, also in black. Could it have been coincidence? I didn’t think so. They exchanged few words. They searched over the crowd once more and then they all headed into the station. After a few seconds, I followed down the stairs.

They all purchased tickets and went down onto to the platform. Hurriedly, I purchased a pass and waited next to the wall. They were scanning the crowd yet again. They walked over to the edge of the platform at the far end of the station. I moved along the wall pretending to be busy on my cell phone, actually taking pictures of them.  One of the men, a very short European-type, pulled out a key card and opened an access door in the wall. All five of them ducked in and the door locked again. I reached a critical decision. Should I report them now, while they are in the restricted area, or should I try to get inside myself? Knowing my past struggles with the authorities, I took the second option. Ten minutes until the planned attack.

A janitor walked by. I bumped him, snagging his security card. Just then, the five men rushed out of the access door and jogged to the steps. Whatever was going to happen, they had to be far away. I opened the door and stepped inside. There was a ladder that led up into the sewer system. I crawled through the pipes underneath the streets and heard a noise; muffled because of all the traffic above, but audible. I followed it through some pipes and came out at a junction. There was a large device comprised of five small components. The timer read three minutes, six seconds. On the side was a tube with “ANTHRAX” written on it. So they were going to send out an airborne attack of anthrax. I clambered down the four connecting tubes and found seals for the entry panels. I closed them all and headed out through a storm drain. When the tube detonated, the sewer system would seal it off.

Out in the street, I saw the men running toward the parking garage. I ran after them and headed for my car. The men got into an SUV and peeled out of the garage right into D.C traffic. I followed after them, having to run red lights and dodge cross-walkers. Heading west on 50, I tried to gain some ground. I managed to get closer when a red light stopped traffic. I needed them to notice me so I came up behind them and waited for the light to turn green. As it did, I waved a paper that said “ANTHRAX” on it out my window. One of the men in the back seat saw it and started shouting. Grim determination crossed my face. These men needed to be taken down. As they left the intersection, the driver tried to weave his way out of traffic. He started driving on the shoulder, trying to get away. I followed closely, getting ready for a shot. I fired at their back tire and missed. I tried again, and again. Heart racing, I calmed myself down and smoothly squeezed the trigger. The fourth shot struck and flattened it. As the driver attempted to accelerate, the SUV started to sway. Ahead was a curve in the road as we approached an overpass. The driver hit a piece of debris as he made his turn, sending him across two lanes. The SUV struck the side of the Jersey barrier and came back across the road toward me. I jammed the brakes and avoided the collision. The SUV struck and rolled over the opposite wall, plunging to the highway below. Traffic stopped and a few seconds later the vehicle exploded.

The threat was over. The device had been contained, and the terrorists had been taken down. I could now report my idea with real evidence. It felt good that the safety of Washington and the President had been preserved once more.