The Gold Box

“The Gold Box”


         On the outside, the Gold Box looks just like that—a gold box. But on the inside are the designs made by a demented madman with no soul or respect for human life. Nobody knows who designed it, but the only type of person who could have come up with such a monstrous tool of mass destruction is a psychopath whose greatest joy in life is to see people get violently ripped apart.
         So… what’s my association with the Gold Box, you ask? Well, it’s sort of complicated. At the age of nineteen, I was very personally affected by the Gold Box, and afterwards, my life was never really the same again, not even now. But, if you must know exactly what happened, I don’t mind sharing. It’s not like I’m going anywhere anyway.
         Probably, the best place for me to start is at the beginning.
                   I still remember the day very vividly. Every detail is permanently branded in my mind, and, unfortunately, I still remember everything as if it were yesterday.
                   I was walking home from work. As I walked up the walkway, I put my hand in my pocket for the key to my house. It seemed though that I left the key at the store where I worked, so I lifted up the mat in front of the door to get the spare key.
                   The key wasn’t there, though. The outline from where it sat for months was still there, so I was looking in the right place, but the key was nowhere in sight.
                   After knocking on the door for about two minutes, I huffed and mumbled to myself, “You’d think they’d open the door for their son,” as I walked all the way back to the grocery store to retrieve my forgotten key.
                   Note to self, I thought, don’t ever take key out of pocket again!
                   It took about forty minutes for me to get to the store and get back to my house. The whole time I was walking, I was wondering why in the world they wouldn’t answer the door.
                   Now I was back at the walkway, thinking of something rude and angry to yell at my mom, dad, or sister when I saw a large man running out of my backyard and running at me with his right hand in a fist. He violently punched me out of the way and ran all the way off of the street—out of the town for all I know.
                   Thinking that the large man did something to my family, I jumped to my feet and ran to the door. I pulled out my key, but I looked at the door and saw that it was already opened. With a horrible, sickening feeling in my stomach, I nervously opened the door, considering if I should even go in. To be honest, I probably wouldn’t have even gone in at all if I didn’t hear the faint sound of a person groaning.
                   Crazily, I kicked open the dark brown door and ran into the living room. There was nobody in that room, but everything was scattered and messy. I quickly looked around the room, hoping to find something to link to the large man who I saw. I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary at first—only a knocked down cabinet, the overturned television set, a gold box, the furniture all knocked over—but then I saw something that almost made me pass out: a large knife.
                   Feeling that the situation was graver than I figured, I ran into another room, finding my family all on the ground, beaten very hard, but not wounds that seemed to be from a knife.
                   I saw my dad, regaining consciousness, and I bent down on the ground to see if he was okay.
                   “Dad, are you okay?” I asked demandingly. “Are you all okay? What happened? Who was that—“
                   “Lionel…” I stopped talking. “Go get help… now,” he moaned. I got up to get help, but then he stopped me and gave me a black colored key. Not thinking much of it, I shoved it in my pocket and ran.
                   I ran outside, shouting for help. Some neighbors came over, asking me if I was all right, and I told them, “No, my family was attacked! Get help, please!”
                   In the middle of my panic, I heard a loud clicking noise. The neighbors heard it too.
                   All of a sudden, there was an explosion. I turned around to see where the explosion was, and then I saw my house in ruins, exploding a second time after another distinctive clicking sound. I started feeling dizzy, and all I can remember before passing out was hearing another clicking noise and a third explosion.
                   I woke up in a hospital. The first thing I noticed was that there was a tall old man standing next to my hospital bed. He noticed that I was awake and before I could even piece together what happened, he held out his hand. When I didn’t shake his hand, he firmly took my hand and shook it for me.
                   “Hello, Lionel Martin,” he said to me. “Name’s Mr. Granton. You don’t know ‘bout me, but I know all about you, my young friend.”
                   I then remembered what happened, and I started hyperventilating.
                   “Calm down, boy! You’ll give yourself a heart-attack!”
                   After calming down, I cautiously began a conversation with this abnormal man.
                   “Who… are you?”
                   “Told you already. Name’s Mr. Granton. But enough with meaningless small-talk. I’ve gotta talk to you.”
                   I sat up, trying to look him in the eyes.
                   “What do you want to talk about?”
                   He smiled. “I knew your father… very well. There was a key he had… Any idea what happened to it?”
                   I thought about my situation for a moment, and I felt that since I knew nothing of this man, that I should probably get rid of him quickly.
                   “What key?” I ask innocently. “What are you talking about?”
                   I looked right into his eyes, and I noticed something very strange. His golden-colored eyes seemed to have changed from the shade of gold they seemed to be moments ago to a dark, shade of gold.
                   I fell back into my hospital bed as he lunged at me.
                   He said to me in a deeper, sicker voice than before, “You and I both know you’re lying. Tell me where that key is or I’ll ruin your life.”
                   Terrified for my life, I was about to crack up and give him the information he wanted, but then I stopped for a second and realized something as I looked up and saw a surveillance camera. As long as I was under surveillance, there was nothing this man could do to me.
                   I sat up again and looked into his eyes, now a golden-red color.
                   “Do your worst,” I said, very quietly.
                   He then seemed to fade back to the position he was in when I first woke up, and turned around and left.
                   I sat back, only then realizing how nervous this Mr. Granton made me feel.
                   A nurse came in and asked me if there was anything I needed. I asked her to bring me my clothes that I was wearing before the explosion. She brought them to me, and I immediately put my hand in the pockets of my pants and pulled out the small black key that my father gave me.
                   This won’t be the last time I see him, I thought.

                   A few weeks later, I was released from the hospital, and I realized that I was in New York City. I was surprised even though I lived very close to the city. I figured I’d be put into the hospital closer to my home, but for some reason, I was put into a different hospital.
                   I decided to take a look around the city and see as much in the city as I could. As  I started walking, I discovered that I had a small limp in my right leg, and for some reason, the vision in my left eye was a little bit muffled, but not enough to worry too much.
                   Note to self: go to eye doctor and get cane.
                   As I walked, I put my hand in my pocket, pulled out the black key, and studied it very closely. It had a faded engraving of a wolf on it, and had the initials “A. Q. T.” engraved on it.
                   My new cell phone then started ringing, so I answered it.
                   There was a long pause, but right before I could say ‘hello’, a deep, scary voice said, “You know too much. Surrender the key immediately.”
                   “What’s so important about the key? Can’t you just—?”
The man on the other line hung up, and when I put away the phone, it started ringing again.
I answered, but I was sent a video of two parents and a little girl in an office in a building all having fun inside an office. The parents were both laughing and the child was playing with a toy train.
The child bumped into a closet door, and it opened, and all of the contents spilled out. A flash of gold caught my eye, but before I could get a better look on the small screen, I heard a loud clicking noise.
In a panic, I started running, yelling at people to run away as fast as they could because of what I knew what was coming. Some people ran, but most just stared at me, amused, thinking I was crazy.
There was a loud explosion, and when  I looked at the cell phone screen, it said “Connection Lost”.
Everybody started running, but I stayed where I was, watching, with horror, the next two explosions. The minutes seemed to fade away, and when I looked behind me, I saw a police officer talking with a man, and the man pointed at me. The officer walked over and arrested me without a word.

I was put on trial for terrorism and selling government secrets. I don’t know where all the evidence came from. All the evidence seemed to point against me. Phone calls I never made to other countries. Photos of me with weapons. Explosive devices in my hotel room.
I tried arguing; telling them that there was no way I could have done all of this. The DA glared at me with his dark golden eyes, smiling the whole time.

I was put into a high-security prison for 3 years. Over those 3 years, I was stared at by the other criminals, who were no doubt wondering how a nineteen-year-old could have had a plan for destroying the USA by himself. I was allowed to keep the black key, and every day, I looked at it with a type of hatred I never thought I’d feel towards an inanimate object.
After those 3 years of being imprisoned, I was finally let out. My parole was to start.
I met my parole officer before I was able to leave. He was a middle-aged man with dark brown hair. He seemed to hate me from the start. In his defense, though, who wouldn’t hate a supposed terrorist who blew up a business building at nineteen?
“My name, Mr. Martin, is Officer Reynolds. I know who you are, and I want you to know that if you get up to something else, I will catch you, and you’ll end up right back here.”
I didn’t really know what to say. Officer Reynolds was straightforward enough. This was obviously not going to be a warm and fuzzy relationship.
I left the prison with a type of tracking device on my leg.
I took a vacation to Washington, DC. Now, you may be thinking, “Dude, you were just released from prison for terrorism. The worst place for you to be right now is Washington.”
If you are thinking that, you are probably right. However, my old childhood friend Jack Barrowman was there, and he invited me to stay over at his place until I could find a place to settle down on my own.
From the beginning, he believed my story, and was always a loyal friend. Before he called me, I never thought that I’d ever see him again.
I got at the parking lot, and I saw him invitingly wave at me to go over to him. I hopped in his old car from 2010.
“How are you doing?” he asked.
“Well, after being jailed in a high-security prison, I can say my mood has lightened up immensely,” I replied.
We got to his home, and we talked for hours, catching up, and hearing about how both of our lives have been for the last three years.
We were watching reruns of the show “Robot Chicken” when an announcement was issued.
The screen changed, and I saw a face that nearly made me pass out as soon as I saw it. Mr. Granton’s face. I heard his voice, but I didn’t hear what he said.
I realized that I was on the ground crying when Jack was standing over me, asking, “Did you really do that???”
“That was Mr. Granton…” I managed say.
“Really? The stranger you were talking about?”
“Yeah…”
After a long pause, I said, “What did he say?”
He looked away from me for a minute, then my cell phone started ringing. The caller ID said “Reynolds” on it.
“What did he say?!” I shouted.
He put his hand on my shoulder and guided me to the couch.
“He… he said you killed the President.”

I was now the number one most wanted man in the world.
I had proof that I was nowhere near the White House when the President was murdered, but if I stepped forward, I’d be killed in an angry mob before I could prove my innocence.
After I was much calmer, I checked the message Reynolds left on my phone. Leaving out most of the curses he swore, he was basically telling me I was a dead man when he found me, and that he would personally shoot me when he found me.
As you can see, fortune was not really on my side that day.
To evade Reynolds, who was likely on my trail, I removed the tracking device on me and I dunked all of my mobile devices in a public water fountain. These were only temporary precautions. I knew that if I was to escape Reynolds for good, my best bet was to leave America as soon as possible.

Despite the fact that I was the number one most wanted man ever, Jack said he wanted to accompany me on my escape from America. Even though it was a dangerous idea, and it would have been better if he stayed away from me, I can’t deny his usefulness. Thanks to his position in airline travel, he was able to help me get on a plane into London.
I had my name changed to Bill Valario. Not the best name, I agree, but it did its job of disguising me perfectly. Jack changed his name to Gary Hippermin.
When we got settled into two different hotel rooms, I got a newspaper. To my horror, my face was posted somewhere on the front page, and I read a story about how Reynolds resigned and was no longer in law enforcement.
I was beyond relieved to learn that my pursuer gave up, but then I found out that he resigned so that he could find me and that he knew that I was in the UK.
What if he finds me? I thought nervously  before I got a call from a number that was hidden.
I answered nervously.
“Hello?”
“Now will you give me the key, you stupid boy?”
I practically tripped and fell when I heard the voice; Mr. Granton’s voice.
After I calmed myself down, I said, “Please leave me alone! Why won’t you leave me be?”
“Because…I want that key.”
I suddenly got extremely angry, and I shouted into the phone, “Well, you’re not gonna get it!”
“Oh, dear. I hoped that you’d give me a different answer… for your friend’s sake.”
Before I had any time to comprehend what he said, I felt something hit me on the back of my head, and then everything seemed to have faded into black.

I woke up on the carpeted floor of an office.
When I looked up, I felt like I was going to pass out when I saw Mr. Granton’s face.
“W—Where is Jack?” I choked out.
“Oh, he’s just fine—for now.”
“What do you mean?”
He smiled his evil smile. “If you don’t give me the key, then I’ll have to make a phone call, and then your friend will die.”
I looked at him right in his golden eyes, and asked him, “Why do you need my key? Why are you doing all of this to me? Why do you want it do badly?”
He kept smiling as he sat in his chair.
“That key is all I need to unlock my ultimate weapon—literally. Without that key, the weapon is completely useless. The designer was sure to make it so that nobody could use it for evil purposes.”
“Well, who was the designer?”
His smile turned into a devilish grin. “Your father.”
“My father?”
“That’s what I said, stupid boy. Honestly, learn to listen a little harder.
“Your father worked on designing weapons and—“
“My dad was a real estate agent!”
“No he wasn’t. Stop interrupting, I’m telling a story.
“Now, as I was saying, your dad made weapons. He made one that he realized was too dangerous to exist. Because of this, he decided that he was going to destroy the blueprints. To make a long story short, I stopped him, and forced him to make some for me. He made them, but it was only after he changed his name and left Hawaii that I realized that it needed a key to activate. I figured he would have given the key to you, as I’ve been watching you for two years. I knew that he trusted you fully. I knew that you were at work when your family was beaten. I knew you’d have the key after the explosion. I used the very weapon that he created to kill him and your mother and your dear sibling. I also used it to destroy the building that you saw blow up. I was able to come up with proof that you were a terrorist and I was able to take the form of a DA. Still, when you got out of prison, I knew you still had the key, so I needed to get it from you somehow. And so I came up with several strategies which all end right here. Any questions?”
“Two actually.”
“Well, speak up then.”
“If you needed a key to unlock the weapon, why did those weapons you did use explode?”
“Because I had my agent force your dad to unlock three of them. Next question, please.”
“You said you ‘took on the form of a DA’?”
“I kind of hoped you’d notice that. I can change my form,” he said quickly. “Shapeshifter!”
I truly thought he was totally crazy.
Before I could reply, the door burst open and Reynolds ran in with a handgun.
He looked at me angrily, and shot Mr. Granton in the shoulder. Mr. Granton just smiled and then he turned into something.
He seemed to turn into a cross between a dragon and a bear. Mr. Granton walked slowly over to Reynolds, and I backed over to Mr. Granton’s desk. There wasn’t much on it, but I found a copy of the weapon, and I unlocked it. Inside, there were wires and a remote controlled detonator. I took it and backed away from the desk.
I heard Reynolds scream and then a thud.
Mr. Granton changed back.
“I’ll ask one more time: Will you give me the key?”
I took the key back out of my pocket and tossed it to him.
He smiled and then pulled out a handgun as he leaned against his desk.
“Thank you very much Lionel. You’ve been most useful. My only regret is that it took so long for you to see reason. Because you finally gave me the key, your friend will live.”
He pulled out his cell phone and sent a text message.
He pointed his gun at me and I backed up to the wall opposite of his desk.
“Backing up will do you no good, Lionel,” he said quietly. “You’ll be in range no matter where you move to.”
Ignoring him, I backed even further away.
He smiled at me one last time and said, “I’m very sorry it has to end this way, Lionel.”
I slipped my hand in my pocket and said, “So am I.”
Right after I pushed the button, I looked away and heard a click. I could feel the warmth of the explosion and could hear him scream. I looked over at him, and as he was trying to get up, there was a second, more powerful explosion, reaching me. The explosion knocked me down, and I felt my legs get burned.
The last thing I remember before the third explosion was seeing something out of the corner of my eye move away. I was able to drag myself far enough away from the Gold Box before its third explosion happened.

                                                                                                                                              3 Months Later…

Jack visited me one last time at the hospital before he left for the day.
After he left, I looked at my horribly deformed legs. After the explosion, they were totally destroyed and I am now forced to use a wheel chair.
I was about to shut off the lamp that is in my room when a nurse came in.
“You have a visitor.”
To tell the truth, I was pretty surprised. Nobody came to visit me except for Jack.
“Do you know who it is?”
“He says his name is Reynolds.”
My heart almost skipped a beat. I thought he died in the explosion three months ago, but now I knew what I probably saw out of the corner of my eye that day.
“Should I tell him to leave?” the nurse asked me.
“Um, no—NO! Let him in please!”