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Rated: E · Novella · Action/Adventure · #1840320
Alison is given a tough choice. What will she decide?
There was a chill in the air. Alison wrapped the neck of her sweater tighter to keep the frost from biting at her skin. She let out a sigh and saw her breath puff out into the air. The recent weather had her hoping for snow. It was February and it hadn’t snowed a single flurry since early December.

Alison walked along the boardwalk, her footsteps echoing off the empty buildings. The moon shone bright above her, lighting the way. Tired of walking, she decided to sit on a bench. The metal was cold, but she didn’t feel like walking around aimlessly until she heard from him. Glancing at her watch she cursed under her breath. There was only ten more minutes until midnight, also known as her curfew. If she broke curfew again she’d be grounded for life.

“Code green,”

Alison quickly pulled a phone from her pocket and turned it on. The voice had come from her watch, but code green meant she had an incoming video call. A man’s face appeared on the screen and she breathed a sigh of relief.

“Finally,” she said. “Can I go now? He’s not around. Besides, curfew is in ten minutes. I can’t miss it again.”

“You can and you will,” the man responded, his voice indicating that the decision was final; no more discussing. “You see that house just ahead? The second floor light is on; he’s up and about. I sent the team in there to haul him out.”

“Who is he?” Alison asked.

“An Archead leader.”

“What’s his name?”

“Mark Sheeble.”

Alison tensed at the sound of his name. “And you want me to kill him?”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“No,” the man questioned, his voice rising. “What do you mean ‘no’?”

“I’m not going to kill him,” Alison responded firmly. She knew he would never understand why she refused to kill Mark so she threw caution to the wind; she told him the truth. “I know him.”

The man on the other end of the video call laughed. “That never stopped me. You need to realize that in order to get somewhere in this world, you need to make sacrifices. Sometimes it comes in the form of someone else’s job and sometimes it’s someone else’s life. Like your father’s for example…”

The line went quiet and Alison could hear the man walking away from his phone. Before she could even start to think about where he was going or what he was going to do to her father, a group of Snakes escaped the closest building. They were dragging Mark behind them, his body beaten and limp. They pushed him to the ground in front of Alison’s feet and positioned themselves around him so he could not escape.

“You know our deal,” the man on the video call said. “You do what I say and we keep your father alive.”

Alison hardly processed the fact that the video call was continuing. She was too busy staring at Mark. He groaned and picked himself up slightly. He looked up at Alison, his expression changing from pain to confusion.

“Alison,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “You’re one of them?”

She was too stunned to respond and nearly dropped the gun one of the agents had tossed to her. It felt heavy and out of place in her hand. She held Mark’s gaze, not able to break it. She stared into the eyes of the man who acted as her second father. Ever since her real father had been kidnapped, Mark treated her as his own daughter. It helped that Phoebe Sheeble was Alison’s best friend. Alison was always over the Sheeble’s house and knew Mark all too well.

“What are you waiting for Crawford?” the man barked through the phone. Alison had inadvertently dropped it sometime after Mark was brought to her. She glanced down at it and the scene she saw made her sweat.

“Kill him or your father dies.”

The man was holding Alison’s father tight around the neck and held a gun to his head. Her father’s courageous face made Alison want to break down in tears. She knew that he would die to keep her alive, but he didn’t need to die. She had to save him.

But how could she? She’d never killed anyone before. How could she ever live with the grief? The gun got heavier as Alison debated her options. Time seemed to slow down as she weighed each outcome in her mind. After what felt like days, she made her decision.

Hands shaking, knees wobbling, palms sweating, she raised the gun. She could hear the man’s voice escaping from her phone, but she couldn’t understand what he was saying.

Every little noise became more distinct around her. The crickets chirping sounded like the fire alarm going off. Alison could hear her own heart beating in her chest, sounding like the bass drum keeping a beat. Even Mark’s breaths sounded louder than usual. And the clicks of the second hand on her clock beeped consistently.

10 seconds…9 seconds…8 seconds…

It was getting closer and closer to midnight. There was no way she would get home in time; she was going to be in so much trouble.

7 seconds…6 seconds…5 seconds…

She needed to get it over with. She had a job to do; she was a Snake and Snake’s didn’t back down. She was ordered to do this, so it needed to get done.

4 seconds…3 seconds…2 seconds…

Alison’s watch beeped twelve times, signaling the start of a new day; one Mr. Sheeble would not see.

“Everyone clear the scene,” Alison called out, her voice firm and demanding. “Now!” The rest of the agents scattered, leaving her alone with Mr. Sheeble and the phone. She picked it up just in time to see the man throw her father from the picture.

“You didn’t harm him, did you?” she asked tentatively, afraid to hear the worse.

“He’s fine,” the man replied indifferently. “I told you, we have a deal. You obviously kept your side of the deal, so I kept mine. Mark is dead and now there’s one less Archead to deal with. You’re job for the night is done.” Without another word, the screen of Alison’s phone went dark and she was left alone; again.

She turned and headed home, not wanting to be seen standing over Mark Sheeble’s broken body. A single tear rolled down her face. “You will be missed Mr. Sheeble.” And with that being said, she broke out into a full run, one taking her home and away from her crime.
© Copyright 2012 Noelle Deitrich (write04ever at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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