The lights just went off in the farmhouse so you crawl your way through the grass toward the garden—trying to keep as low to the ground as you can. It is full dark, but you can’t take the chance that someone might catch a glimpse of you.

Something moves off to your right, but you can’t see what it is. You just hope it isn’t a snake and if it is, you hope it’s moving away from you instead of toward you.

The dry grass crunches under your hands and knees so you slow your pace to not make any more racket than you can help.

You are so, so hungry. It’s been days since you’ve eaten anything—anything at all.

The hard, dry ground suddenly becomes loose, damp earth and you look up to see three dim strands of barbed wire. On the other side, you can make out the dark shapes holding their orbs out to you.

You wriggle your way under the bottom wire. Halfway through, you reach up and pluck the first one you see, then another and another. They all look the same in this light so you grab as many as you can and bag them up in the bottom of your shirt.

You hear a bawl coming from the direction of house, joined by a couple more as the bulb above the back door flips on and the door is thrown open.

“What is it, boys?” you hear a man say, “What’s out there?”

You are dragging yourself backward with your knees and shoving with your elbows when you see an orange flash near the house. You hear the boom a split-second later.

He’s shooting at you!

You scamper with everything you have and don’t stop until you’re back on the other side of the embankment. You lay prone with your eyes peeled for any sign of movement coming over the rise and, when your heart finally slows, you look down at the single piece of fruit in your hand. At least it’s something.

You take a bite and feel your face attempt to implode. The tomato isn’t ripe, but it doesn’t matter. It’s food and moisture all in one and you’ve been without either for much too long.

After all the commotion and dogs’ barking finally peters out, you creep back to retrieve your bag and continue on down the tracks.

You see the back of a big truck stop over on the highway up ahead of you about a mile or two away with a constant stream of vehicles coming and going. The moon is just coming up and from the glint on the tracks it looks like they might come really close to it. It would be a good place to fill up your water jugs. You might be able to blend in among all those people and them not even suspect that you are all alone out here.

You don’t have a lot of money, but maybe you can find some food that you can afford with the little bit of change you still have in your pocket. A couple of cheese crackers or the peanut butter kind would go really good right about now.

When you get to a spot that is almost directly behind it, you set your bag down in the grass off to the side of the tracks and—taking just the jugs in hand—set off across the field. As you approach the crumbling asphalt of the back parking lot, you see a water faucet next to the pay air hose. What luck! You rush over and—after gulping down as much of the sweet liquid as you can—fill both jugs to the brim. You lug them back across the parking lot to the knee-high grass and set them down before heading around to the front of the building.

Before going in, you pull the bread wrapper out of your pocket and sit on a yellow concrete curb to count out the change. You need to know how much you have before going inside. At long last, you decipher that there’s eighty-six cents—a small fortune. You still want to hold onto the dollar for a real emergency so you are only willing to spend the change. You’ve got to be careful not to spend all of it, though. You might really need it later on.

As you step through the front door, you are blasted by frigid air. You’d almost forgotten that such a thing even existed. Several pairs of eyes are on you, but you pretend not to notice.

“His mother should be ashamed of herself. Letting a boy get so filthy,” a woman with her face stretched back in a bun says to her friend who only nods in agreement.

You glance down at your hands and can’t tell where the dirt ends and your skin begins. She’s definitely right about how dirty you are, but if she were a nice person, she wouldn’t have said it loud enough for you to hear. Maybe you should clean up before doing any shopping.

You walk up to the stocky woman behind the counter and quietly ask “Do you have a bathroom?”

She squints at you before saying “Sure do. It’s right down that hall over there.”

“Thank you,” you say, walking as quickly as you can so you can get out from under all the judgmental eyes.

It’s a tiny little room with only a stainless steel toilet and sink. Above the sink is a cloudy mirror that reflects what little it has to and in the corner is a tall, skinny trash can with a flapper on top. You lock the door before stripping off you shirt and shorts so someone doesn’t walk in on you. You do the best you can with wet paper towels and have to climb up on the sink to make sure you got everything off of your face and neck. After getting dressed, you sop up the floor as best you can. By the time you finally head back out the door, you are feeling fresh as the morning. The trash can, however, has seen better days.

You walk down each aisle slowly looking at what is offered. Too bad you don’t have more money, because there is a lot of really good stuff you wouldn’t mind having. You finally choose a big plain bag of tortilla chips that are marked “3/$1”. It’s big enough that it should last you a good long while.

The cashier eyes you with a smirk as you count out thirty-four cents to her. You can’t help grinning back at her every time you make eye contact.

“Thank you, sir. Please come again,” she says handing you back your bag of chips and giving you a wink.

You feel your face getting warm and you nod to her as you turn toward the door. You can’t remember the last time you felt as relieved as you do now to get away from people. If it wouldn’t seem suspicious, you would run.

Wrestling the two jugs while trying not to crush the bag of chips too much, you head back to the tracks and fetch your bag before continuing on your trek.

You come to a fork in the tracks and don’t know which one brought you here. One continues on to the south and the other angles off into the distance in a more easterly direction and looks like it goes right through a distant town. If it’s not just a mirage you might try hopping a train down there, but you aren’t sure that it would be going the right way. Maybe there will be another town somewhere up ahead on the one stretching south.
> You head for the town
If you can get on a train, it’ll be well worth going slightly out of your way. You head down the tracks toward the distant town.

The sun is still high overhead when you cross into the train yard. There’s a cross track here and little else save for a row of run-down, caved in buildings along a dusty, weedy road. It doesn’t look like a train would stop here anymore even if it did pass through. You might as well turn around and head back the way you came.

You have just reached the end of the yard when you see a sky blue car cross on the last street in town just ahead of you. It looks like the driver is looking straight back at you. You duck down, but there’s nowhere to go and it is too late anyway.

The car slows and you make a mad dash for the buildings just as it disappears from sight. You run at full bore until you see a stack of shipping pallets laying haphazard against the side of the far end building. You dive in behind them.

Did he really see you or was it just your imagination? Maybe he only slowed down because there was something in the road. You’ll just hide here and wait for a little while until the coast is all clear and then you’ll get the heck out of Dodge.

The car drives slowly back up the road from where it came. It is barely creeping by this time. He must’ve seen you. What else could it be? He’ll turn you over to the cops and then you’ll never make good on your promise to Jane. You have to somehow get away from him and out of here.
> You find somewhere to hide
There goes that car again. The one that’s been creeping back and forth down the same street for the last hour. The driver must’ve seen you. He might take you to the cops and you’ll be taken back home if he catches you. You duck down as low as you can. If you can hide until it gets dark, maybe you can sneak away.

You look around for a better place to hide and see nothing. This stack of pallets isn’t much, but it’s better than nothing. You’ll just have to wait.

The minutes pass by slowly. It will be a long, long time before you’ll be able to escape. Your leg starts cramping so you reach down and rub the knots out of it.

“There you are,” comes a crackly man’s voice from behind you, “I almost thought you’d flown the coop. C’mon, let’s go for a ride.”

You are paralyzed with fear. He found you and now they’ll take you home. You can’t go home, yet. You’re not finished.

He lifts you to your feet by the back of the shirt and you can hardly hold onto your stuff due to your feet barely touching the ground. He takes you around to the back of the building and opens up the passenger door of his car. “Hop in.”

Something isn’t right. This isn’t the way strangers act. You struggle to remain outside, but he snatches your bag from you and pitches it over the backseat with his free hand. You slap at his hands and kick at his shins, but he doesn’t seem to even notice. He backhands you across the face and shoves you in anyway.

Your cheek burns from your temple to your chin. The tiny itch on your eyebrow turns out to be a trickle of blood. You are dazed and can only watch as he makes his way around the front of the car to the driver’s door. By the time you finally snap out of it, you see the town getting smaller and smaller through the back glass.

You start to dive over the seat back and his hand comes crashing down on you again. Your vision narrows to a tiny speck and then winks out.

You wake up shivering. It is dark all around you. You don’t have any clothes on. You are sore in a place where you shouldn’t be and it really, really burns. There’s a strange, intermittent scraping sound coming from somewhere close by.

You cough and the scraping sound stops.

You try to raise up on your elbow and see something coming straight down at you from the darkness overhead. It’s the back of a shovel blade and it’s the last thing you will ever see.

— The End


Crossing the street to a gas station, you spot a police car coming toward you from down the street. You step up your pace and put Harvey between you and it. You look around for a place to hide, but there isn’t anything close. You prepare yourself in case he stops, but all you can hope for is to run as fast as you can and hope that you can get away. You let out a sigh as it goes on by and the officer behind the wheel doesn’t even look over at you.

Stepping through the open door, you are hit by a blast of not quite so hot air. A big shop fan rests against the back wall and is aimed directly at the door. A nice looking man in thick glasses and stained coveralls sits just to the right of it and has his nose buried in a newspaper.

“Ahem,” Harvey clears his throat to get the guy’s attention.

“Howdy,” says the attendant, leaning forward so that the legs of his folding chair touch the floor, “What can I do for you?”

“We were hoping to get some water. Drinking water. And maybe a jug or something to put it in.”

You can see the disappointment on the attendant’s face as he draws his lips back, but it quickly shifts into a forced smile. “Sure thing. I think there might be one around back by the dumpster.”

“Thanks,” Harvey says as he heads back out the front door.

You hang back and stand there looking at the guy with a sheepish smile until you finally build up enough nerve to blurt out “Do you buy bottles?”

“Sure thing, little man. You got some you wanna trade in?”

“Uh huh.” You dig through you bag and pull out the two root beer bottles. You stand there looking down at them and remember sharing them with Jane. You knew you’d have to sell them eventually, but now you aren’t sure that you really want to.

“Just the two, then?”

You wipe the film from your eyes that has started to develop and look up at him. You nod.

“I think I have it right here—” he says, digging in his pocket. “Yeah, here you go. Six cents. You can put ‘em over there with those,” he points after handing you the coins.

From the little wire rack by the front door, you grab a couple plastic tubes of peanuts. They are marked twenty-five cents and you think you have more than enough in change. You pull out the plastic bread wrapper and start counting out pennies on the only bare spot on the counter. The attendant watches you and drums his fingers impatiently.

“That’s it.”

You look up and see him sliding the pile off into his hand. “That’s not fifty cents.”

“Yeah, it is. You must’ve just miscounted.”

You grin up at him. You’d only given him a little over thirty cents so either he is really nice and doing you a favor or else he just doesn’t want all your pennies. He smiles warmly back.

You quickly twist the bag of money and shove it way down deep in your pocket before Harvey comes back. He seems that he’s on your side so far, but if he can steal from random strangers he might just take from you, too. You drop the peanuts into your bag for later in case you have to go too long without food.

You’re leaning with your back against the metal door frame when Harvey returns with two jugs. He and the attendant talk briefly before the two of you head around the side of the building to the faucet and fill the jugs. You have a huge lump in your throat and barely even take notice of anything around you for quite a little while. Even bending down and taking giant gulps straight from the spigot doesn’t make it go down. It just sort of hangs there. The last thing you do is pitch the last whiskey bottle in the dumpster before the two of you head back toward the tracks.

It’s several hours before a train comes into view. You hear the blasting horn from miles away and you sit staring in the direction of the blast. It is going the wrong way, however, so you have to keep waiting. You and Harvey have found yourselves a nice comfy spot in the shade of a metal building in some scrub brush where no one can see you.

Harvey has been leaning with his back against a small tree and every once in a while he lets out a snort that would wake any normal person from a sound sleep. Not him, though. Even though he’s had much more rest than you, he still looks like an old, old man. His gray doesn’t end at his hairline, but keeps going all the way down his face subcutaneously.

Sometime before dark and just when you finally feel like you could stand some sleep yourself, you hear a long, blaring horn from the opposite direction.

“That’s our ride,” says Harvey, opening his eyes and stretching to get the kinks out.

You watch as the engine finally enters the yard, but it keeps going and doesn’t slow any more than a fast walking pace. Harvey cranes his neck and strains to try and see further down its length. There are no boxcars. All you can see are flatcars and hoppers. A long stretch of flatcars are loaded with sea containers probably bound for the coast and don’t offer any space at all around them, but one of the last cars is only half full at the back.

Harvey trots toward it and you dash around him. After lofting your bag over the side, he grabs you around your middle and hefts you up. He tosses his coat and the water jugs at your feet before trotting up to the very front where there is a step.

“Hey! Get away from there!” you hear coming from the tail end of the train. “That’s private property!”

You duck into a corner made by the slightly mismatched cargo containers and watch as Harvey takes a step backward. He looks up at you as the train whisks you by and turns away from the tracks. You peek around the container to see two men rush up to him. They take him by the arms and lead him back across the tracks. One of them is talking on a walkie-talkie. What are they going to do to him?

Did they see you? You have no idea. If they did, they might call ahead to stop the train and then what would you do?
> You ride it out
You don’t know what else you can do except to ride this one out. Even if you went back to find Harvey, there’s no way of knowing if you could get to him without being spotted and sent back to your mom. You’ll just have to be ready for them when the train starts to slow down at the next town. You can jump off early and run just to be on the safe side. You can’t afford to lose any more time.

It’s only been half a day when you come within sight of a town. You gather your stuff together and cling to the side of the sliding door. The gravel drops off sharply just beyond the tracks and the dense bushy undergrowth looks like it would make for a rather soft landing.

You are poised and ready when the train starts to slow down. You wait for the perfect opening and then leap as far as you can toward the brush. You don’t clear the edge of the right of way, but still tumble into the undergrowth and the back of your head strikes the base of a large sapling. Your nose is instantly filled with a burning, coppery stench and the world blinks out.

When you come to, it’s just getting dark and the street lights are beginning to glow orange as far as the eye can see. This is no ordinary town—it stretches out for miles and is already giving off a glow comparable to that of the setting sun.

Another track stretching off into the far yonder joins with the one you’re on and you can see yet another up ahead. They cling to each other and whip back and forth across each other at switches. There’s a huge yard with trains pointing this way and that and beyond it is a highway over pass that seems to just hang there with a steady stream of cars flowing in both directions.

You make your way over to the far side to keep out of sight of the headlamps of the oncoming trains and follow the tracks for nearly an hour—careful to stay with the majority as they snake their way westward—doing your best to not get sidetracked.

Up ahead and on the same side of the arteries of tracks as you you see a train just sitting there by a string of small warehouses and aimed in the right direction. You can hear the engine reverberating and there are bright lights on tripods scattered all around. There are some flatcars with men busy loading large crates onto them using forklifts from the loading dock and in the gloom between them and the engine is a string of boxcars. You can see from here that their doors are wide open. If only you could make it inside one without being spotted.

You walk up behind the metal buildings and then through the gap between until you are right across from the darkest one and watch the men carefully for your opening. The door is only a few inches higher than the platform so you won’t have any trouble getting inside. You only have to wait for the right moment.

After the crates have been chained down and the forklifts have gone away, the men start taking the lights down one by one and you hear the engine slowly rev up. You’ll have to time this just right.

Luck is on your side. There is no one in sight when the train starts inching forward and you make your dash. You make your way as quickly between the slatted crates and the wall as you can to the front of the car where you find just enough crawl space to conceal yourself and your stuff.

The smell is overpowering and your mouth begins to water uncontrollably. The crates are packed full with cantaloupes and you haven’t eaten anything since the remainder of peanuts you had last night. You are famished!

You don’t even bother with getting the knife out of the ‘treasure chest’. You just reach in and punch a hole in one with your fist. You pull out handful after handful of slimy goodness and cram it into your mouth. It’s so dark that you can’t even see it, but you know how light and orange it must be. You’ll definitely be filling your belly this night. The thought strikes you that you could take a couple along with you for good measure when you leave the train so while you’re filling your gullet you also pry off enough of the slats to pull out a couple of good sized ones and pack them in the blanket in your bag.

When you’re finally lulled to sleep by the clacking rails, you are returned to the night you and Jane spent on that train and all the plans you and she had made. Only this time, the two of you are on your way to see the Grand Canyon and are without a care in the world. She gives you a huge grin and throws her arms around you—planting a big kiss on your cheek—and hugging you for all you are worth.

The day comes much too soon and you stagger over to the open doorway to relieve yourself. You stand there and marvel at how far you can see. Snaking its way through a long valley is a river so blue that it makes your heart stop. On both sides it is lush with trees and you spot a large flock of birds winding and twisting like dust devils above the dense foliage. All is right with the world. You know you are going to make it just fine.


You start to head over to one when you notice a pair of legs walking on the other side toward the back end of the train. You squat back down to wait until they are far enough away that you can make it over unseen, but you hear the engine rev and a couple of jerks later it is moving.

You give it a few more seconds while you look for movement on the other side before getting up and running over to the flatcar. It is still moving slower than you can walk so you sling your walking stick and bag up on it before grabbing a chain to haul yourself up. You throw your leg over the deck and when you try to wriggle up it slips off. You try again and again as the train slowly picks up speed, but you no matter how hard you try to climb up you can’t get enough leverage with the train moving like this.

You jump up to try and snag your stuff, but it’s just out of reach so you desperately look around for another stick or anything that would allow you to reach it. There is nothing but gravel so you give it one last try with everything you have.

You make a run at it again and try to swing your weight up over the side, but fall and land hard on the rail. A shooting pain courses through your ribs making it hard to catch your breath. You lay there for a second to let the pain go away when you remember that the train is moving. You glance over and see the steel wheels are nearly upon you so you roll away as fast as you can, but you can’t move fast enough and they keep getting closer and closer. You try to scream and all that escapes is air.

Just then, large hands clamp down on your shoulders and you feel yourself being yanked from the jaws of death. One of your flipflops slips off and you try to reach back and grab it, but it’s too late. Your heart is pounding and the world is swirling all around you. Everything within your field of vision has taken on a hellish red hue.

Before you even know what is happening, those same hands pick you up and sling you on up on the deck. You tumble and roll until slamming into one of the farm implements brings you to a sudden stop.

Stunned, you finally manage to look around to see what in the world just happened and you see a tall scraggly man in a old gray sports coat with leather elbows on the sleeves pulling himself up on the side of the car.

“It’s a good thing I happened along or you’d have been cut clean in half. You would’ve definitely missed your train.”

“Wh- what?”

“I was waiting for the train to start moving before I hopped on when I saw you sneaking around out there,” he says, hooking a thumb over his shoulder toward the trees, “Didn’t look like you were gonna make it so I decided to give you a hand. Didn’t anyone ever tell you how dangerous it is to mess around with trains? You could get hurt or maybe even killed. If I hadn’t been here you’d be dead right now.”

You stare at him in silence.

“What’s a kid like you hopping a freight for, anyway?”

“I have to get somewhere. It’s real important.”

“It must be if you’re willing to risk your life for it,” he stares at you for a brief moment then continues “I guess since we’re going the in same direction, we might as well get to know each other. I’m Harvey.”

You aren’t really sure you should be talking to a stranger let alone tell him your name, but he did just save your life and he’s standing there smiling at you with an eyebrow lifted expecting an answer. He doesn’t really look dangerous and he did help you get on the train so do you tell him the truth or do you lie?
> You lie
It’s probably better not to tell him your real name. He’s not only a stranger, but also a grownup and grownups think they know what’s best for a kid even if they don’t. The more people who know who you are, the greater the chance that they’ll send you back and the next time Mom gets her hands on you she’ll probably kill you like Jane’s mom did to Jane.

You look him right square in the eye and say “I’m Tommy.”

“Nice to meet ya, Tommy. I guess we’re gonna be here a while so might as well find a spot to get comfortable.” He sits down between two of the implements—putting his back to one and props his foot up on the other—where he can’t be seen from the ground.

You bring your bag over and find a nice comfy place out of view from the side. You sit down beside it—leaning on it with your elbow—with your walking stick laying across you lap while keeping a wary eye on Harvey.

“I saw you a ways back down the line and can’t believe you made it this far. You’ve really covered some miles in the last couple of days.”

“Yeah. It’s a long ways to where I’m going.”

“Where’s that? If you don’t mind my asking.”

You study his face. You’re still not sure if you can really trust him or not so you make up something on the spot. “I have to find my uncle in Arizona so I can live with him.”

“Hope everything turns out okay for ya. I kinda like to keep moving. Don’t like to stay in one place too long. Figured I’d head for the coast since this area is mostly played out now. It’s not a bad place to Winter.”

Your belly starts growling so you reach into your bag and pull out what’s left of the pack of crackers you’ve been eating on for the last couple of days. You only have one more pack left and they’re mostly crushed, but you won’t mind that a bit when you get hungry again. You stuff one in your mouth and grab a few more for good measure. You consider putting the pack back in the bag, but decide you ought to share so you offer Harvey the last of the package which he quickly accepts.

“Thank ya,” he grins, “I haven’t had anything on my stomach since early yesterday.”

You both eat in silence and after a while you drift off to sleep to the sounds of the clacking rails.


Jane looks ridiculous in Earl’s gigantic shirt. It drags the ground around her feet as she plods back down the hall in front of you—doing her utmost not to trip on it. Of course, you must look equally funny since the one you’re wearing is nearly trailing the floor on you and the cuffs dangle nearly a foot below your hands.

“I bet you two are starving,” Martha says in a chipper tone, “Come on in the kitchen and you can eat some breakfast with us. It’s almost ready. All I gotta do is set out two more places.”

When you step through the door, you can’t believe your eyes. You’ve never seen so much food on a table at one time. There are biscuits, eggs, both bacon and sausage, fried potatoes and gravy, and most of a left over ham in which a few slices have already been cut. There’s a big block of butter and a loaf of light bread. Arranged next to each plate, is a bowl of oatmeal, a short glass of orange juice and a heavy round glass with a foot and stem full to the top with fresh milk.

You can’t imagine how any more could even fit on the table without things tumbling off on the floor, but Martha does just that when she sets a place for you and Jane. And the table doesn’t look any more heaped than it did already.

The four of you sit down and before you dig in, the elderly couple takes hold of each of your hands and bows their heads.

"Bless us, O Lord, and these, Thy gifts, which we are about to receive from Thy bounty,” says Earl with his eyes closed, and squeezing your hand he adds, “And thank you for bringing us these dear little ones that they may share in our feast. Through Christ, our Lord. Amen."

“Amen,” parrots Martha as she reaches out and starts heaping food on your and Jane’s plates before she even does her own.

Everything is so, so delicious and you cram in more than you ever have in your entire life. Jane is stuffing food in and matching you bite for bite. Earl and Martha pick at theirs and appear to be enjoying watching the two of you eat.

When you finally push back from your plate it looks as if it has barely even been touched, but your belly feels like an overripe melon. There’s no way you could possibly poke in another spoonful.

Your eyes have a mind of their own and you watch as the dinner table quickly disappears. You start to slump forward and are prevented doing a face-plant into your plate by Earl’s massive hand. As everything goes black, you hear him chuckle and say “I guess this little guy’s had plenty.”

“So has this one,” laughs Martha.

You are startled awake by a loud rapping on a door. You find yourself half-sunken into a big fluffy bed and Jane has an arm and a leg draped over you. Her warmth is so comforting and you don’t want to move out of this very spot. The shades are drawn and let in only a pinstripe of blinding light making everything else in the room too dark to make out.

“They’re sleepin’ in the back room,” you hear Martha say, “Poor little dears were starving and plumb tuckered out.”

“Do you know who they belong to?” asks a strange man’s voice.

“They wouldn’t say. I s’pose they’ve run off and I can’t blame ‘em. They’re jus’ skin ‘n bones.”

“Don’t worry. We’ll get to the bottom of it.”

The door cracks open and spills light into your eyes.

“Oh, you’re awake,” Martha says quietly, flicking on the light. “There’s someone here that wants to talk to you. Let me get you your clothes so you can get dressed. They’re all clean and dry now.”

After Martha has closed the door, you shake Jane awake. “Someone’s here to talk to us,” you tell her.

“Who is it? What do you think they want?”

“I dunno.”

Martha comes back in and lays your clothes out on the foot of the bed. “Hurry and get dressed and you all come on out.”

“Who is it?” Jane repeats to Martha, but she closes the door without answering.

You both heave yourselves over and roll off opposite sides of the bed and drag your clothes on, leaving Earl’s crumpled shirts behind.

You follow Jane down the hall and she freezes as she steps into the front room. You lean forward, peering around her and see a policeman framed in the outside doorway. He’s wearing a brown and khaki uniform and has a star pinned above his breast pocket.

“Step in here so I can get a better look at you,” says the deputy.

You both take tentative steps into the room—being careful to keep your distance.

“I don’t think I’ve seen either of you before. Where are you kids from?”

You look at Jane and her face is like stone. The policeman would probably take Jane back to her house so her mom could hit on her some more. It might be for the best if you stay silent and not tell him anything.

After a couple of minutes, the deputy takes you each by the arm and says “Well, I guess we’ll have to do this the hard way then. Come on and let’s go.”

You and Jane are ushered along and both of you walk stiff-legged out to his car.

“You kids take care of yourselves,” calls Martha from the porch as the car door is being closed behind you. You look over and see her and Earl waving to you, but you don’t feel at all like waving back.

You’ve been sitting on hard wooden chairs in the station for quite some time. Beyond the little glass window to the next room, you see several people moving around and you hear the occasional crackle of static mixed with garbled speech every now and then.

“We should run away,” whispers Jane without turning to you, “before they can take us back.”

“They’ll just catch us,” you whisper back, “We don’t even know where we are.”

“I can’t go back home now. I have to find Gramma.”

“You should tell them where she lives so they’ll take us there.”

“They won’t. They’ll only take us home.”

“Not if you tell ‘em how mean your mom is to you.”

“They don’t care none about that. They always take me back home.”
> You stay put
The door suddenly opens and the deputy who brought you in steps through. “Looks like you two have come a long way. How in the world did the two of you manage to get more than eighty miles from your home?”

Jane doesn’t respond and you only shrug your shoulders slightly.

“I guess it doesn’t matter. There’ll be someone here shortly to drive you back. And I’m sure there will be a lot of questions for you two.”

A couple of hours later, you are back to your town. It was a long, quiet ride and neither you nor Jane gave more than a yes or no answer to the man that drove you. You only looked at each other attempting to communicate with only your eyes. All that she—and you, no doubt—could convey was sadness and a sense of hopelessness of the situation.

You sit slumped—craning your neck to peek through the patrol car’s rear window—and watch as the officer who ran you and Jane out of the abandoned house a couple nights ago turns away from Jane and her mother, and walks back to the car. No sooner than his back is turned does she turn and shove Jane inside the house, slamming the door shut behind her.

The officer throws a glance over his shoulder, but doesn’t break stride as he continues on his way.

After he closes his car door, you say “Is she gonna hit Jane?”

He turns sideways in his seat and looks back at you. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s not able to sit down for a week after pulling a stunt like this. Do you understand how dangerous it was for the two of you out there all alone? We’re lucky that we found you before something bad happened to you. You don’t know what some people are capable of doing to children.”

“She hates Jane. I don’t want her to hit her anymore.”

“No mother hates her own child. She’s just having a rough time raising her on her own—being a single mother and all.”

“You don’t know.”

“Listen. I’ll swing back by after I drop you off and look in on her, okay?” He starts the engine and pulls it into gear. “Everything will be back to normal as soon as this mess blows over.”

As you pull into the drive, the door opens and your mom steps out on the porch. She rushes over to the patrol car and snatches you by the arm—dragging you out and pulling you close—as soon as the policeman opens the rear door.

“Here he is, safe and sound. No one knows how those two managed to make it so far away on their own.”

“He’s always been a handful. I can barely keep up with him most of the time. An’ with this new job, I’ll have to work extra hard at it, I guess,” she says, flashing her eyes at you over a wan smile. “I’m just glad he’s home.”

“That’s why we’re here, ma’am. Glad to be of service.”

He walks with you to the door of the garage and watches as the two of you step inside.

“Thanks again, Officer,” your mom says, ushering you in and closing the door.

“You’re quite welcome,” he says, turning around and walking back the way he came.

She lifts the corner of the vinyl curtain to watch him get into his patrol car and pull out of the driveway. When she turns around to you, her face is a deep shade of red and skewed beyond all recognition.

“If things are so bad here that you felt the need to run away, then why didn’t you just stay gone!?”

You don’t have an answer. You take a step to the rear as she lifts the solid metal rod from the window and yanks it free of the curtain.

She is on you before you even know it—whipping you side to side like a terrier does a rat by a handful of hair in one hand while she whacks at your butt and the back of your legs with the curtain rod in the other. Every so often, an errant strike lands in the small of your back and your vision momentarily goes black. You can feel it cut deep and glance off bone with each blow.

“Why can’t you do anything right? Why do you always have to go out of your way to make me mad?”

You try to lessen the blows by deflecting them with your palms, but it only forces her to swing harder. The flesh on the underside of your hands soon feels tight and swollen, and you no longer have control enough to maneuver them into a position of any benefit at all.

All you can do is grit your teeth and bear the pain. If you make even the slightest sound of whimpering, she’ll “give you something to really cry about”.

The stinging pain finally lessens as your vision fades and grows more and more distant as the world goes dark around you.

You don’t know how long you’ve been lying here in the darkness. Your whole body throbs from one end to the other and you want nothing more than to return to sleep.

What about Jane? She was right. You and she need to just run away together and find her Gramma or else somebody nice to take care of the two of you. You don’t have a choice anymore. You know that now. Your mom will end up killing you if you don’t get away.

You slowly open your eyes. You drag your arms under you and shove yourself to your knees.

You see no sign of your mom and can only guess that she has gone back to the party in Honey’s house.

You pick yourself up off the floor. You can’t straighten your legs and your back is in an uncontrollable hunch, but you manage to maintain your balance and not topple over despite the impossible angle you are leaning.

One determined step after another, you make your way to the door.

The curtain is now back in its place over the window. You look at it for what seems like a long time debating whether or not to do something about that impromptu weapon. It would do absolutely no good, though, because she’d just grab something else to use on you the next time.

You reach out and grip the knob with all the strength you can muster. It doesn’t give easily, but you manage to turn it enough that the latch lets go. You hobble on one foot through the open doorway into the bright afternoon sun and pull the door closed behind you.

You can hear music coming from Honey’s house, but don’t see any movement through the windows. You limp around the garage and through the back yard to the alley.

It’s about mid-afternoon by the time you reach Jane’s house. The place looks closed up tight. After calling into the “secret place” and getting no response, you amble up to the front door and rap on it several times with the same result.

Where could she be?


You haven’t eaten anything since early this morning and the walls of your stomach are grinding together. You have to get your mind off of it somehow and the water fountain on the far wall beckons to you.

You’ve been on the road for days and it feels like the better part of it has been planted in this seat—even though you’ve only been here for the last couple of hours. The skin on your back and the backs of your bare legs rip free of the hard plastic seat as you stand and your flip-flops slap and smack your heels as you plod across the room.

You freeze midway when you see a cowboy roping a calf from horseback. It’s the most wonderful thing you’ve seen for days even if it is only a poster. And it’s not the only one! Scanning the room you see many, many more of far off magical places with waterfalls and cliffs and mountains and dark caverns. Some of cityscapes with towering buildings and some at night with only the lights on and still more of endless rolling plains.

From somewhere behind you, you hear a garbled voice fighting it’s way through crackling static, droning on and on about things that only old people care about. You zero in on the source and discover that it is a tiny coin operated radio affixed to the arm of a terminal seat. Neat!

Just then a clammy hand clamps down on the back of your neck and you’re whisked toward the double glass doors. “It’s time to go, mister,” comes the all too familiar voice of your mom and she only releases her grip—with a surprise thrust that causes you to whack your shin on the bottom step—to allow you to clamber up and into the bus on your own.

A shiver runs down your spine and the back of your arms prickle as you make your way down the aisle between tall and comfy-looking seats. You’re not used to air conditioning and it brings both pain and relief.

You pass by an elderly couple. The woman looks up and smiles at you warmly so you give her a wide berth. You doubt that she would, being a stranger and all, but you sure don’t want her squeezing your cheek like Grandma does.

You’re nudged into the row behind them and you take the farthest seat. Your mother sits beside you and puts the bag with everything the two of you own at her feet. Her lips are pursed and her eyes drawn. She’s been tired every day since the divorce and when she gets tired, she gets mad. You have a hard time even recognizing her now.

A hiss and a lurch later, the bus pulls out onto the highway and with your face plastered to the side window you watch as the fence posts strobe past with only the occasional bush or sapling breaking the pattern.

“There’s a storm coming,” remarks the old man to his wife, “and it looks to be a bad ‘un.”

“Mm-hmm,” she replies absently, not bothering to look up from her needlepoint.

Your eyes drift upward from the fence to a draw on the horizon and there the sky is beginning to boil and bristle with blue-white sparks. You can’t shake the feeling that you are at the very beginning of the greatest adventure—and worst nightmare—of your life.

After only a mile or two, the droning of the engine and the rhythmic beat of its tires thumping over the seams in the concrete soothes you to sleep and you sleep the whole rest of the way.

You are shaken from a pleasant dream of opening Christmas presents with your parents to stumble and trip over your feet as you’re dragged toward the front of the bus. It pulls over, dumping the two of you out on a deserted street.

You know it’s only your reflection, but the ghastly and pale boy is all you can make out in the store window before you. It brightens and fades, brightens and fades with each pulse of the stoplight on the corner. You take a step backward and the wind from the bus pushes you forward as it pulls away.

“You tryin’ to get yourself run over?” Your mother cups the back of your head and shoves you toward the boy with hollow eye-sockets, “Get over there and sit down against the wall.”

You do as your told, although you can’t help but look up at the glass expecting him to be standing there looking down at you.

An eternity goes by with your mom standing slumped against a signpost and staring off into the night.

Your butt burns as the bones chew their way to the cement. You rock slowly from one side to the other to relieve the pain and she flashes her eyes at you. You melt.

“Sit there and don’t move,” she barks as she leaps toward the flashing light. A car has stopped at the corner and she waves her arms as she sprints toward it. It begins to pull away, but stops short and the window tentatively rolls down.

You can’t make out her words, but there’s happiness in your mother’s voice again as she crouches there with her elbows propped against the car door. Maybe she’s not mad anymore. You stretch your legs out as far as you can and wiggle your toes.

She stands as the car pulls away and turns toward you. You can’t see her face, but there’s no mad in her walk now. You let out a long breath in relief.

“C’mon, I’ve found us a place to sleep tonight,” she beams snatching up the bag, “and tomorrow I start job huntin’. We’re gonna do jus’ fine you an’ me. You wait an’ see.” She wraps her arm around your shoulders and the two of you skip off around the corner and into the crisp night air.

You sit with your shoulders slumped, dragging your feet in a circle as the swing’s chains lazily wind and unwind and then wind up again. You’ve already walked around the park twice and sat on everything here so now all you can do is wait.

“You wait here an’ watch our stuff,” your mom had told you, “I’ve got a lot to do today an’, with any luck, things’ll be a whole lot better from now on. And don’t you leave the park! You hear me? I’ll be back as quick as I can.”

Your stomach grumbles. The two half-crushed cheese and peanut butter crackers your mom gave you before she left didn’t do much to satisfy it. At least the gnawing emptiness is gone.

You hear a squeal and giggles so you look up. Some little kids are playing in the dirt at the bottom of the slide as if it were a sandbox. A dozen steps away from them sits a plump woman with her nose in a book.

You survey the park for other signs of life and spot a group about your age. Three boys in a circle around a dark-haired girl. They’re pushing her back and forth between them like some demented form of ‘Hot Potato’.

“Where do you think you’re going?” jeers the fat one.

“Yeah, you ain’t goin’ nowhere you little bastard,” cracks the snotty runt.

“Let me go!” she hisses, “Leave me alone!”

The tallest of the three quakes from head to toe and nearly loses his breath in a fit of really annoying breathy laughter as he shoves her back toward the other two.

The girl turns beet red from anger and lashes out with flailing, non-connecting slaps which only seems to feed the boys’ hysterical laughter.

You have the sudden urge to attack them, but that might be a little hasty. Perhaps you should find some other way.
> You find a better way
The only adult you see is the woman reading on the park bench so you run up to her.

“Please help that girl” you say, pointing toward the group.

She looks clearly agitated as she lifts her eyes up at you and slowly turns her head toward them, but crinkles her nose and goes right back to her stupid book.

You have no choice now but to come up with something on your own.

Looking around for a club of some kind, you notice a bunch of rocks. You quickly grab up a handful and find you a nice spot behind a tree not too far from them.

“Get away from her!”

The boys look over and spot you.

“Who are you?” demands Snots.

“Just let her go!”

“Or what?” asks Tubby as he takes a step toward you.

Chortle grapples the girl as Snots trots up beside Tubby.

“Are you here to rescue her? Is she your girlfriend?” Tubby jeers.

You feel your face flush with anger. “Just leave her alone,” you say, taking a step to the rear and letting your hand drop back.

“Look here, this guy’s here to save his bastard girlfriend,” spits Snots.

You flash red and send a rock sailing right at his little smart mouth. He manages to turn his head just in time and the rock bounces off the side of his face. He falls back in horror and starts tearing up.

Tubby lunges toward you, but you side-step and he misses you by several feet, flailing his arms to keep his balance. You ready another rock as he spins back toward you.

“Wanna be a tough guy, huh?”

He comes at you again like a raging bull—nostrils flaring and all. You chuck the rock at him. It bounces off his chest and he keeps coming without losing a step.

You dodge sideways, but his hand still clobbers your face as he continues past.

The girl manages to land one of her backward kicks and Chortle falls like a sack of potatoes, screaming in agony as his face goes purple. She turns and darts between two houses on the far side of the street.

“Get her,” wheezes Chortle, “Get that little bastard!”

Snots runs to his aid and tries to pull him to his feet between sobs, but can’t muster the strength. Chortle is in no condition to stand just yet anyhow.

You run.

When you feel like you are far enough away, you look back to see that Tubby has gone back to his friends. You dash between houses and start making your way back toward where the girl went through.

The alley is shrouded by trees arching overhead and you make your way to the end of it. Seeing no sign of her, you cut through to the next street. Still nothing. She’s long gone.

You suddenly remember the bag tucked under the picnic table that you were supposed to be watching. If something happened to it, you’ll be in big trouble.

You sprint like the devil is after you. A hedge claws up your arms and face as you dart through it, which you barely even notice.

Turning down the alley, a dark figure steps out from behind the corner of the hedge directly in your path. Your mouth goes all coppery and dry, and you skid to a stop.

You’re all set to flee when you realize that it’s the girl from before. She looks sheepish and a bit winded, but no worse for wear.

She hangs her head, but her eyes remain fixed on yours. As you cautiously approach her, you detect the faint hint of a smile.

“Hi,” she barely more than whispers.

“Are you okay?” you ask.

“Yeah. They didn’t hurt me.”

“You sure hurt that one.”

She chuckles.

“Who were them boys?”

“Just some boys from school. They always pick on me.”

“How come?”

“Just ‘cause. They’ve always been like that.”

“What’s your name?” you ask, scrunching your toes and noticing how dirty they’ve gotten.

“Jane. What’s yours?”

“Billy. We just moved here.”

“Where’s your house?”

“We don’t have one yet.”

“Oh,” she says, turning her gaze to the side, then back to you. “My house is on Hill Road.”

“I don’t know where that is. We just got here last night. We came in on the bus.”

“It’s over there,” she points over your shoulder, “on the edge of town. C’mon. I’ll show you.”

“I can’t right now. I have to watch our stuff so Mom can find a job.”

“Oh.” After a pause, she asks “What grade are you in?”

“I’ll be in Second this year.”

“Me too. Maybe we can sit together.”

The very suggestion makes you feel queasy and uncomfortable. “I better get back before she comes back,” you say stepping past her.

“Okay. See ya later.”

“See ya later.”

You cut between two houses following their shared ribbon driveway. As you get to the front, you peek down the street and see that the gang is gone.

The park is empty now with no one in sight. You cross the street and see that the bag is still right where it’s supposed to be.

You climb the cement picnic table and plop down on top of it with your feet on the bench. All you can do now is wait.


> You spy Mission
"Another day, another dollar," you think as you trudge out the door from your job. You really don't like working there, but at least they pay you...a little. Finally you've made it to the weekend, so you at least get to look forward to a couple days off from work.

You get in your car and drive out of the parking lot at work only to come to an almost immediate stop as you hit the traffic. It is like this every day, but Fridays are always the worst. You reach to turn the radio on, but then remember that you still haven't had time (or money) to get that fixed. You look out the window and just see the line of cars moving slowly...

Finally you get home, and you're hungry. You should have stopped for something on the way home, but you just wanted to get out of that traffic and out of the car. When you arrive at the apartment parking lot, you sigh when you realize that you're late, so everyone else will be parked in the good spots. You circle the building once before you give up and park in the "remote" lot. Hey, at least you're home and work is over.

As you trudge towards your apartment building, you see a small brown box sitting on the edge of the sidewalk, right near where you parked. Looking around, you don't see anyone else at the moment. You can't tell if the box was left there on purpose, or if someone accidentally left it behind.
> You ignore it and head home...
You walk across the sidewalks and towards your apartment. You can feel the heat coming off all the cars that got to park closer to the building than you did because of that traffic. Most of the cars here are older cars, some with dents and cracked windows, just like yours. You'll earn enough one day to get a better car, you're sure of it, just not any time soon.

You start up the stairs to your apartment. When you rented this place, the $200 discount for taking the fourth floor apartment seemed like a good idea. Of course, that was before you found out the apartment above you had kids, and you still had to walk up all these stairs because the elevator was at the other end of the building. Maybe you would win the lottery, then you could build your own house where you wanted it to be: and you weren't going to have any stairs in the entire house!

You unlock your apartment and step inside. The air is pretty stale, since the management makes you pay if you leave the A/C on all day. You know without looking that the refrigerator has nothing but some old catchup. But hey, you did get paid today, so you're going to order some take-out! Just before you get to the phone to place an order, the phone starts ringing.
> You ignore the phone...
You make it through the regular take-out for your dinner and realize that you ended up spending way more of your paycheck than you should have. Now you're full, so maybe you won't go out tonight...well, at least not yet. Sitting around for a bit, it's Friday night, so you're sure something good will be on TV. Later on you can worry about going out.

You flip the channels and start to realize that even though you have something like 1,000 channels, there's really nothing on...nothing at all. You finally stop on some supposed reality show that's just made for laughs and embarrassing people. It's pretty bad, but you watch it all the same because it's better than watching re-runs of a game show from 20 years ago.

As you zone out, suddenly you hear a tapping on your window. Yes, you're on the fourth floor, but one of your living room windows faces the walkway/balcony that loops around the outside of one side of the apartment building. You figure it was probably just the kids from upstairs messing with you, but then you hear the tapping once again. You could just turn the TV up, but you could go see who it is.
> You ignore It...
Your eyes blink open and you look at the ceiling. It is a boring white, like all these apartments, but you're pretty sure it hasn't been painted in 10 or more years. You blink and sit up. At least you don't have to go to work today. Instead, today is relaxation day. First you need to head to the store to stock up on some food, then all bets are off!

You open the door to head downstairs. The day does not match your mood: it is cloudy, cool, and windy outside. In fact, the clouds are getting darker and rolling across the sky as you watch them. You better hurry and get your supplies and get back, or you're sure this storm will catch you. You trot down the stairs and head into the back lot to your car.

You start to pull out and slam on your brakes when another car starts to back out in front of you. That was close. This is a big apartment building, but you recognize that giant car as that of the old lady who lives on the first floor and does everything slow. You slowly follow her out of the parking lot and are glad when she turns the other way.

You are headed towards the grocery store, but when you take a right in the middle of town, you hear a loud "pop" and feel the car slide underneath you. You limp the car over to the sidewalk and get out to see that yes, you now have a flat tire. That's the second one this year, and you just remembered that you didn't replace your spare since the last time.

Fortunately, you have AAA, and you can call them to help you. The overly nice AAA guy on the phone tells you that it will take about an hour, but they'll be there. You sigh and lean against the hood, thinking about all the food you were going to buy, but will now have to wait.

As you're sitting there, a black four-door car slams it's brakes on next to you in a squeal of tires. The back door pops open and you can see a skinny man inside in a dark suit and dark glasses on the far side. He calls out to you, "Get in."
> You get in the car...
You get in the vehicle and take a seat. Before you have time to put on your seat belt, the vehicle starts moving quickly. As you are pressed back into your seat, you get a whiff of the car: it smells new. It looks completely new, like the plastic had just been taken off the seats this morning. You start to sit up and look out the windows, but then you realize the rear windows are not just blacked out from the outside, you cannot see out them from the inside.

You look towards the windshield as a large panel appears from the floor, sliding up to completely obscure your vision. You cannot see out the front window at all. Instead, you sit back, slightly disoriented, as the vehicle bounces through traffic and along the roads. You have no idea where you are going, or even what direction you are traveling.

Suddenly you start to get sleepy and find that you are having trouble keeping your eyes open...
> You continue...
The first thing that you notice when you start to wake is that you are lying down on something hard. The next thing you notice is how much your head hurts. If feels like your head has been in a pinball machine. As you reach up to touch it, you hear a deep voice say, "Oh, sorry about that headache. It will go away soon, but until then it's going to hurt quite a bit. A minor side effect of the drug, you know."

You open your eyes and start to sit up. It feels like a horse has kicked you in the head as you manage to start to sit and open your eyes. You find that you are sitting on the floor of the black van and the side door is open. You spin around and put your legs out the door but don't stand right away as you press your hands against your head to try and reduce the pain. Fortunately, opening your eyes doesn't seem to make the pain any worse and you take in the man outside the van.

The man is short, bald, and dressed in black pants and a tight black tee shirt. You can see cargo pockets on the pants that hang down as if they are not empty. The tight tee shirt reveals that the man has more than a few muscles. He has small, dark eyes that are set deep into his head and a strong forehead. He has a dark stubble around his chin. When he smiles, you can see he is missing at least one of his teeth. He smiles and nods as you take him in.

He crosses his bulging arms in front of his body and continues, "So yeah, we had to knock you out because you didn't need to see where we are just yet. You know, secret and all that stuff. And before you ask, no, I don't know why you were selected. That's above my pay grade. They tell me you're coming, and I take it from there. So you ready to get started?"

You look up with confusion on your face and think of any number of different responses from one-word responses, to anger, to being incredibly sarcastic. Before you can put the words together to respond, the man continues.

"Okay, you're confused. I get it. Sometimes people are prepared for this, sometimes they're not. And some people can't make it through the training, while other times they can. I don't feel like giving you the long story, so you're getting the short story. Here it is: "You're in training be a spy. You get to decide the best way for you to do that. The training starts as soon as you get up off your lazy rear end. And at any time if you decide this isn't for you, you can go home. Of course, we will wipe your memory and you likely won't remember any of this, but that's your choice. Your other options? In this facility we teach stealth, charm, and weapons. So you pick one and we get started, or you choose to go home and I zap you. Got it?"

You look around and past the man and you can see that you are in a large warehouse with a high ceiling. There are a few doors along the far wall that appear to lead into smaller offices. Off to the right is a garage door, obviously where the van came in. The space off to the left is wide open, but there are some obstacles and the floor and some chains and rope hanging from the ceiling. The man snaps his fingers as you look around and says, "Hey, you with me here? We don't have all day."
> You tell him to forget it, you want to go home.
You look around the space and make a decision. You tell the man, "No way. This isn't for me. I might have a crappy job, but at least I'm not getting beat up and killed every day." You shake your head and continue, "My crappy apartment is crappy, but at least it's safe. I don't know who you are and I don't want to know. I just want to get back to my safe life. Now, mister."

The man shrugs his shoulders and pulls out a small bottle. Before you can react, he presses a button on the top and a fine mist sprays into your face. You reach up to wipe away the mist, but as you do, the garage around you is already starting to get out of focus. You try to look at your hand, but it almost seems to be moving on its own. You close one eye to try and focus, but then your other eye closes as well. You only have a moment to think about that before you just stop thinking...

You wake up and open your eyes, but immediately regret doing so. Above you is clear, blue, bright sky. You squint and realize that you really have a pounding headache. From the view of the sky you put two and two together and realize that you're lying on your back on the ground. You gingerly move to sit up and close your eyes as your head pounds. You can't remember the last time your head hurt this much. You squint again, trying to get your bearings and realize that you're sitting on the sidewalk outside your crappy apartment. You don't really remember how you got here, but you wonder if there is any pizza leftover from last night...


The first thing that you notice when you start to wake is that you are lying down on something hard. The next thing you notice is how much your head hurts. If feels like your head has been in a pinball machine. As you reach up to touch it, you hear a deep voice say, "Oh, sorry about that headache. It will go away soon, but until then it's going to hurt quite a bit. A minor side effect of the drug, you know."

You open your eyes and start to sit up. It feels like a horse has kicked you in the head as you manage to start to sit and open your eyes. You find that you are sitting on the floor of the black van and the side door is open. You spin around and put your legs out the door but don't stand right away as you press your hands against your head to try and reduce the pain. Fortunately, opening your eyes doesn't seem to make the pain any worse and you take in the man outside the van.

The man is short, bald, and dressed in black pants and a tight black tee shirt. You can see cargo pockets on the pants that hang down as if they are not empty. The tight tee shirt reveals that the man has more than a few muscles. He has small, dark eyes that are set deep into his head and a strong forehead. He has a dark stubble around his chin. When he smiles, you can see he is missing at least one of his teeth. He smiles and nods as you take him in.

He crosses his bulging arms in front of his body and continues, "So yeah, we had to knock you out because you didn't need to see where we are just yet. You know, secret and all that stuff. And before you ask, no, I don't know why you were selected. That's above my pay grade. They tell me you're coming, and I take it from there. So you ready to get started?"

You look up with confusion on your face and think of any number of different responses from one-word responses, to anger, to being incredibly sarcastic. Before you can put the words together to respond, the man continues.

"Okay, you're confused. I get it. Sometimes people are prepared for this, sometimes they're not. And some people can't make it through the training, while other times they can. I don't feel like giving you the long story, so you're getting the short story. Here it is: "You're in training be a spy. You get to decide the best way for you to do that. The training starts as soon as you get up off your lazy rear end. And at any time if you decide this isn't for you, you can go home. Of course, we will wipe your memory and you likely won't remember any of this, but that's your choice. Your other options? In this facility we teach stealth, charm, and weapons. So you pick one and we get started, or you choose to go home and I zap you. Got it?"

You look around and past the man and you can see that you are in a large warehouse with a high ceiling. There are a few doors along the far wall that appear to lead into smaller offices. Off to the right is a garage door, obviously where the van came in. The space off to the left is wide open, but there are some obstacles and the floor and some chains and rope hanging from the ceiling. The man snaps his fingers as you look around and says, "Hey, you with me here? We don't have all day."
> You agree to stealth training.
Whump! You bend over in pain as the main punches you hard in the stomach. Your eyes open wide and you gasp as you try and get air inside your suddenly collapsed lungs. The man says, "I see you. You suck at hiding. Want to try again?"
You aren't sure that you like this method of training. You assume that you're supposed to do something, but you don't really know what. You figure if you're going to continue this training that you need to at least move away from this crazy man who is attacking you. But then maybe that is the point -- to learn by doing. This seems a little odd because you haven't actually been given, well, any instruction at all, but you don't have a lot of choice at this moment. You don't have a lot of options here in the open space of the warehouse, but you do have some choice...
> You try and run behind the van and hide from the man.
You move quickly around the van, thinking that this is just stupid. Even a kid from grade school can watch you run away from them and see where you are. You get around the other side of the van and stop. The man is in front of you. He says, "You need to work more with the shadows and the light." He points out the different ways the light move and the shadows are formed in an around the van. He shows you many other ways you can blend into the shadows by using your body, the light, and natural lines.
The man looks at you and says, "We have time for just one more training session. I can teach you more details about what you already know, or I can teach you a different skill, the choice is up to you. And yes, there is going to be a test at the end of this. It will be a real test, and you might not survive. But I hope you do. So what do you select for you final training?"
> You stealth training
The man leads you over to a large table along the wall of the warehouse. Spread out across the table are a number of different types of gadgets and devices. He takes the time and shows you how to use some simple items to pick a lock and how to disable a security system. He shows you how you can use some of the gadgets to help you distract people and allow you time to move about without being seen or heard. He shows you simple ways to break into place and more difficult ways to bypass security systems and other types of systems designed to keep you out.
The man looks at you and says, "We are out of time. You are either ready or you are not ready. And that is what we will determine now." He turns and walks over to a door in the rear of the room and disappears through it. You are alone in the large warehouse, wondering if you were supposed to follow the man.
You have trained the following levels of skills:
Stealth: 3
Charm: 0
Weapons: 0
> You continue...
A moment later, another door in the wall opens up behind you. You turn quickly and see a rather well-dressed man enter the room. He holds the door open for you and gestures into the room. You walk towards the man and the door, but before you can enter the room, the man holds his hand up, stopping you short of seeing past the door.

He speaks with a British accent and says, "This is your final challenge. You will enter through this doorway and you may not return. This is no longer training, this is real. There is a man inside this room that will kill you. I don't mean that you get another chance, that he's trying to scare you, or that you'll get saved at the last minute. I mean that if you fail, you will die."

He clears his throat and continues, "That is not to say that we wish for you to die. Quite the contrary, we would like you to succeed. But if you are not prepared, then you will fail and in this case failure is death. Your death, in case that was not clear."

"Inside this room there is a table. On that table is a small box. Your job is simply to go to the table, retrieve the box, and return it to me. That is all. But, of course, it is not that simple. Also inside this room is a man whose job is to guard that box and prevent anyone from taking it. And that man has been authorized to use deadly force to protect the box."

He gestures again into the room and says with a bow, "Would you be so kind as to retrieve the box for me?"
> You continue...
You step to the doorway and look into the room. It is a very dimly lit room, so you have to look carefully to see the contents. There is a spotlight shining on a small brown box in the center of a table on the far side of the room. Most of the rest of the small room is in darkness, other than what is lit by the light coming from the main warehouse. You can see through the door it is exactly as the British gentleman had described.

The entire room is about 15 feet square. There is a man standing, arms crossed in front of him, in front of the table. He has a large knife in one of his hands and you cannot be sure in the shadows, but perhaps a firearm strapped to his waist. He is staring off into the distance and is facing the wall to the left, so that you are looking at his left side. You cannot see anything on that wall where he is looking, but he does appear quite focused. The floor of the room is in darkness and you cannot really see anything else in the room. The box on the table is quite clear at this point...
> You attempt to sneak around, along the walls, and grab the box...
You quietly and slowly enter the room. You watch the guard but he does not move and does not appear to hear you enter the room. You watch the ground and carefully move into the darkness around the side of the room, trying to work your way to the table...
> You continue...
You make your way to the table and the guard hasn't moved yet. You slowly and carefully reach out for the box and lift it from the table, moving as slowly as you can so the guard doesn't see any movement. After what feels like an eternity, you pull back and into the shadows. You slowly trace your steps back the way you have come, moving back to the door and slipping out of the room.

You had a 90 percent chance of winning that battle.

You hold the box out to the man with the British accent and say, "I believe this is what you requested?"

The man nods and replies, "Indeed, that was sufficient." He closes the door to the examination room as he continues, "Now we shall have to see about our guard there, as he just failed his test." There is a yell, then a loud thump from the room, but the man ignores the sounds and walks away from the room, clearly expecting you to follow.

"You have passed the test, and that is good. You are now working for us." He holds his hand up before you can say anything. "Ah, no questions yet. You do not need to know who we are. Simply accept that we are working for the U.S. government, and we aren't listed in any of the directories. It won't matter anyway, because it's not like we're going to be issuing you a paycheck and withholding taxes for you."

He laughs as he leads you to a set of stairs in the corner of the warehouse. He stops at the bottom of the stairs and points up the stairs. "There, you see that door at the top of the stairs? This is where your service begins. Head up these stairs and into that room. There you will receive your mission briefing. Should you survive your first mission, we will see what else you can do, where you are needed, and what other information you may need to know. Now off with you!"

With that, he makes a dismissive gesture with his hand. He turns and walks away from you, apparently heading back to the testing room. He does not look back as he leaves you, clearly expecting you to follow his directions. You realize that you still don't know where you are, so you really don't have any options here.
> You head on to the mission briefing.
You head up the stairs to the indicated room on the second floor. You've seen the door there while you were training, but you had never seen anyone go out or into that room. You're not really sure what to expect. With a last look back at your trainer on the floor of the warehouse, you turn the doorknob and walk inside.

The first thing that greets your eyes is bright light! The far side of the room is all glass and the sun is setting in that direction, really bathing the room in bright sunlight. You raise your hand to block the light and blink your eyes. At the same time you brace for an attack, realizing this is probably a setup, as you try and look around the room.

You move to your right in a defensive position and blink your eyes again. As the room comes into focus, you realize there is a couch in the middle of the room facing a small desk. On the far wall, behind the desk to the left is a white board of some kind. There is a projector on the ceiling and a nondescript man sitting behind the desk. He says, "Oh, is that too bright?"

He presses a button underneath the desk and the windows immediately shift to a tint and the light is quickly reduced. The man gestures towards the couch, inviting you to have a seat. He says, "There are drinks there in the fridge if you need one." Taking another look, you see a small cube refrigerator on the floor next to the couch. You move towards the couch, not really sure that you know what is going on, or whether to trust this fellow. He watches you as you sit on the couch.

Without any introduction, he presses two more buttons on his desk. The projector lights up and the white board screen is filled with the face of a man with dark skin and a short, almost smashed-looking face. The man at the desk speaks, "This is el Martillo. He is a drug lord that has really caused a great deal of trouble recently. We want to eliminate him, but we cannot get to him. He has a great fortune and he uses it effectively to keep himself alive."

The man pauses, then looks directly at you as he continues, "He is a very dangerous man. Stay away from him. He is NOT your target. I repeat, stay away from him at all costs."

He looks back at the screen and the slide advances to show a smaller, thin man that is starting to bald, but has a dark, even tan. The man says, "This is Jack Kauffman. He is an accountant for el Martillo. He is currently in control of an SD card that has a bitcoin account worth over ten million dollars. The SD card is your target. We need el Martillo to not have that money. We don't really care if you steal the card and bring it back to us, or if you destroy it. Your mission is to ensure that el Martillo and Jack Kauffman do not have that card."

"Jack Kauffman moves about and has some protection, but our intelligence has let us know where he will be shortly and when he will be moving. They change plans all the time, but we think this is the time to strike. There is a plane waiting outside to take you to Cuba now. When you arrive, there will be a car waiting for you at the airport. You will need to drive, the keys will be in it. A contact will meet you at Cafe Quinta Avenida with final details when you arrive."

"We do not trust the locals and el Martillo's tentacles run deep in the area. To identify yourself to the contact, you will ask, 'Is the coffee any good here?' He will reply, 'It is good, but not as good as Kenyan.' To confirm, you must reply 'Ah, but Kenyan is too expensive.' If there are any deviations from that code, the contact will not reveal his information. The abort word is 'tea.' If you or he say any phrase with the word 'tea' in it, you immediately abort the mission and return to the airport."

"Remember, stay away from el Martillo and steal or destroy that SD card. That is all." He gestures towards the door in the glass wall. For the first time you notice that there is a door there, and there is a small runway outside. As you stand up, you can see a small private plane sitting near the bottom of the stairs outside the door with the airplane door open.
> You go to the waiting airplane.
You head towards the door. The man has started to pull some papers out of the desk and is reading them. He ignores you as you open the door only to be assaulted by the sunshine once again. There is a wave of heat coming off the runway that catches you by surprise, but it is quickly washed away with a gentle breeze.

You walk down the stairs and towards the plane. As you approach, a man dressed in a uniform steps from around the side of the plane and gestures towards the entrance, welcoming you to the plane. You move up the steps and into the plane. Inside the plane is clearly a luxury craft designed for the rich. There are four swiveling captain's chairs, wood grain cabinets, and a number of flat screens. You take a seat and sink into the soft leather of the chair.

The man in uniform steps onto the plane behind you. He says, "Sorry, but due to secrecy, there will be no flight attendant on this flight. You can sit anywhere, and I suggest you keep your seat belt on at all times." It then that you notice there are seat belts in the leather chairs. The man continues, "The flight should be over in a couple hours. I would announce when we're landing, but it will be pretty obvious. Enjoy your flight."

Without pausing for questions, the man pulls up the stairs, closes the door, then steps into the cabin. The door to the cabin closes with a click and you are alone in the plane. A few moments later you hear the jet engines start up. You wait for the announcements that never come and the plane starts moving. A minute later you are pressed back into your seat as the plane speeds up down the runway.

You sit back and relax in the seat, planning to get up and explore the plane soon. Before you know it, you are out cold, enjoying the comfort of the seat. You awake with a start when the wheels of the plane touch down onto the ground once again. You look around quickly, trying to re-orient yourself as the plane taxis to a terminal. Looking out the window you see a small shack at the side of what looks like a very new runway. The plane moves towards the shack and in no time the captain comes out of the cabin. Without a word he opens the door and puts down the steps. He stays on board the plane and gestures you towards the exit.

Stepping outside, you feel the humid heat wash over you. The sun is shining brightly, and you can only assume that you are in Cuba. Blinking in the sun, you can see an old sedan parked next to the hut. You start walking towards the car and you hear the door slam shut behind you. The plane is already in motion before you make it to the car. You shrug and figure that it's too late to back out now.

The gravel crunches under your feet as you walk towards the car. There are bits of dust in the air and you can see a long dirt road headed in two directions from the small hut. Walking past the hut, you don't see anyone in the building at all. In fact, it looks like it has been abandoned for some time now. When you arrive at the dark blue car, you look inside and can see a set of keys sitting on the seat. Next to the keys are a map with four locations circled in red. You can tell that one is a runway, apparently where you are now. The second is in town, so that must be the coffee shop. The third looks like an estate on a hill, which must be el Martillo's house. The last is a large building and the only one labeled on the map, and it is labeled, "Hotel Melia Habana."

You open the door and get in the car. The keys do indeed fit the ignition and the car starts up easily. The gas tank indicator shows full and you have to decide what to do next.
> You take a run past el Martillo's place and check it out first.
You decide that the best way to approach this situation is to head for the heart of the matter -- el Martillo's. You drive down the road and quickly find your way to the massive mansion of the drug lord. The mansion is high on a hill and there is only one road that leads to the top of the hill. You follow the winding road up the hill and notice a number of different fences and walls. You even spot a video camera following your movements on the road.

You reach the top of the hill and there are two men standing near a large gate with what look like small machine guns. They stare at you as you approach the gate and do not move to the side. The road continues along past the gate and you quickly move to keep the car moving. One of the men moves with his gun and looks like he might start shooting at you. You quickly accelerate and the tires squeal as you take a turn heading back down the hill.

You realize this was not a great idea -- you didn't get a look at the mansion or the drug lord, and now they know you are here and have a picture of you. You look in the rear view mirror and see the men watching you drive away. You continue down the hill and away from the men, back towards town. You can consult the map and see the way towards the center of town and to your hotel.
> You head on towards the Melia Habana Hotel.
Inside the hotel room you can see that this is indeed a luxury suite. This is the top of the line for the hotel and the city. There are top quality furnishings and a large Jacuzzi tub in the bathroom. There is a large king bed in the middle of the room and the room is large enough to also have a lounging area with a leather recliner and a large desk. Next to the desk is a sliding glass door that leads outside to a large balcony with chairs and a small table as well.

On the desk you see a legal-sized folder. You go over to the folder and open it up. Inside you can see a picture of Jack Kauffman meeting with el Martillo. There are a couple of additional photographs of Jack from different angles so you can recognize him easily. On a second page are two addresses listed as his home address and a work address. There is a map with the locations circled and they are both near the hotel. There are also two envelopes in the folder.

Inside the first envelope are two first-class tickets on a flight from Havana to London and a second pair of first-class tickets from London to your home. These are dated for tomorrow, so to use them you will have to complete your mission today or tonight. The second envelope includes a folded piece of paper. The text of the paper is hard to read, but you can see that it indicates that Jack Kauffman takes the item home at night with him every night.

Looking out the window, you see the sun is now beyond the peak of the sky -- it is after noon and you do not have that much time left in the day. If you are going to deal with the accountant at his office, you will have to make a move quickly. If you decide to wait until night, you have a little more time to prepare.
> You will move now and attempt to break into the office during a break and steal the card.
You are very suddenly interrupted by a loud banging on the door. You hear, "¡Abrir! ¡Policía! Abre esta puerta ahora!" The banging continues and you hear, "Policia!" The sturdy door is shaking in the frame and you know that you only have a moment to decide what to do...
> You move quickly and quietly and attempt to escape out the window of the top floor of the hotel.
You turn and check out the window. The window does not open, surely some kind of safety device. The banging on the door continues as you run to the balcony. The glass door slides to the side silently and the wind catches you by surprise. You step out the door and survey the area. There are balconies below this one and down to the road. You turn and move quickly over the edge of the balcony to try and maneuver down from one balcony to the other...
> You continue...
Your feet find the balcony below yours as you hear the men ransacking the hotel room above. You wonder briefly is the police are going to pay for the damage, or if the hotel will try and bill your cover. It doesn't really matter to you as you swing onto the next balcony and then quickly scramble over the edge to reach the next lower floor. As you swing down again, you hope no one is out enjoying the afternoon on their balcony. As you move down, you are happy to find that the area appears quite abandoned on each floor.

Finally you reach the bottom floor and easily drop to the ground. You look around the alley and see no appears to have noticed you dropping in from above. You casually straighten your clothes and head down the alley away from the front of the hotel where you can see red and blue lights flashing. In a few moments, you are away from the hotel and in the clear.

Note: You had a 85 percent chance of winning that battle.

You walk around the streets of Havana a bit, taking in the sights and watching to see if you see anyone following you. You don't notice anyone, most people here seem to be minding their own business. There are a few tourists here and there, and they are mostly obvious with their fancy, upscale clothes and the fact they are taking pictures with their cell phones.

After a bit of time, you take a seat at one of the many coffee shops. You wave the waiter away when he offers you a drink and you survey the area. You remember the maps from the room and wonder if you were supposed to take them with you. You realize that since you did not, your mission may be compromised. At this point you do not have a lot of options. You can either continue on your mission and try to complete it, or you can take the tickets you grabbed and make an exit from this country.
> You continue your mission.
You decide that the best way to deal with this situation is head-on...but perhaps with a little subterfuge mixed in. You head for the office listed for the accountant. When you find the location, you see it is a small, but relatively busy small office front. From the outside, it looks like there is a common area and then a few different offices off in different directions. It look like there is more than one accountant here and perhaps some consultants, lawyers, or other professionals that all share the common front office.

You remember where the accountant parks his car, so you decide to use that information. You walk in the door quickly and rush over to the attendant. She is a middle-aged woman who looks like she is going to be happy to tell you, "no." Pretending to be out of breath you say, "Please, quickly! I need to see Mr. Kaufman right away!"

The woman frowns at you and looks down her nose at you as she says, "Indeed. Do you have an appointment?"

Expecting this you continue, "This is not about..." You take a quick look around and say, "There's police involved. They are going to come here. Something about Mr. Kaufman's car."

The woman does not look impressed and makes no move to help you. You try harder to convince her of the danger of the police and imply that Mr. Kaufman himself may be in danger. You know that you've got to make this work or you're never going to see that SD card...
> You continue...
You gesture towards the door and in the direction of the parking area. You step back out the door in look in that direction, coming back into the room with fear on your face. You implore the woman, "You have GOT to tell Mr. Kaufman! Don't you understand that the police are coming here now?" The woman simply stares as you. Finally she says, "If you would like to make an appointment to see Mr. Kaufman, I would be glad to help you."

You slam your hands on the desk and yell that the woman. You realize that you are starting to lose control and are losing this battle. You take a deep breath as the woman looks at your hands. You see her reach her hand under the desk. You step away from the desk and again explain that the police need to see Mr. Kaufman about his vehicle. At this point even you realize that you are just repeating yourself and this woman is not going to budge.

You move towards the door and suddenly one of the doors to the other offices opens up. Two short, but very wide men shove their way through the door. You turn and hold your hands up to show them that you mean no harm, and they quickly approach you and one grabs each of your wrists. In a second they are painfully twisted behind you and they are guiding you out the door.

They drag you out the door and you expect to be shoved to the ground, but instead they shove you around the corner and into an alley. You find your face shoved roughly into the solid stone wall. You hear a crack and feel incredible pain in your jaw. Then you slide down the wall with some assistance and you can feel skin being torn off your face. As you hit the ground, one of your wrists is released, but the other is twisted and pulled around behind you. There is another loud pop and you scream in pain as your shoulder is yanked out of its socket. Before you can turn, a foot slams into your chest and knocks the breath out of you. You are gasping, trying to get enough air into your lungs to scream out in pain when another foot slams into your head, thankfully knocking you out cold.

Note: You had a 10 percent chance of winning that challenge.

I'm sorry, it appears that you have lost. Please be sure to try again, as there are many different paths to this story. As a tip, if you're seeing low percent chances of winning, you might want to try selecting options where you have trained for that skill. Thank you for reading!


Your feet find the balcony below yours as you hear the men ransacking the hotel room above. You wonder briefly is the police are going to pay for the damage, or if the hotel will try and bill your cover. It doesn't really matter to you as you swing onto the next balcony and then quickly scramble over the edge to reach the next lower floor. As you swing down again, you hope no one is out enjoying the afternoon on their balcony. As you move down, you are happy to find that the area appears quite abandoned on each floor.

Finally you reach the bottom floor and easily drop to the ground. You look around the alley and see no appears to have noticed you dropping in from above. You casually straighten your clothes and head down the alley away from the front of the hotel where you can see red and blue lights flashing. In a few moments, you are away from the hotel and in the clear.

Note: You had a 85 percent chance of winning that battle.

You walk around the streets of Havana a bit, taking in the sights and watching to see if you see anyone following you. You don't notice anyone, most people here seem to be minding their own business. There are a few tourists here and there, and they are mostly obvious with their fancy, upscale clothes and the fact they are taking pictures with their cell phones.

After a bit of time, you take a seat at one of the many coffee shops. You wave the waiter away when he offers you a drink and you survey the area. You remember the maps from the room and wonder if you were supposed to take them with you. You realize that since you did not, your mission may be compromised. At this point you do not have a lot of options. You can either continue on your mission and try to complete it, or you can take the tickets you grabbed and make an exit from this country.
> You head for the airport and abort the mission.
You decide that by leaving the papers behind that you cannot complete the mission. Surely el Martillo will be notified and he will quickly move some extra protection in for Jack Kauffman. You hail a cab and tell him to take you to the airport. You step out of the cab and head for the airport entrance, taking out your tickets.

You step up to the security gate and hand them your first class tickets. The security person scans the tickets, but instead of the green light, a red light shows up. The bored security person scans the ticket again, but again the red light shows up. You try not to look nervous as the agent calls over another airport security person.

They speak for a moment in Spanish, then the new arrival tries to scan the ticket. Again the ticket shows up red. The new arrival gestures for you to come with him. He leads you to a small door near the security area and opens the door for you, gesturing for you to enter. As soon as you do, the door slams behind you. You find that you are in a small room with a little table and two chairs on opposite sides. There is another door on the far side of the room. Checking the door behind you, you find that it is locked, so you take a seat in the chair.

A moment later, the door on the far side opens up. A heavyset man smelling of cigarettes enters the room and looks at you. He has a gun and a badge on his belt. He says something in Spanish that you do not understand, so you shrug. He smiles and says in broken English, "You try to leave with no ticket?" You're not really sure how to respond to that because you don't know anything about your tickets, so you shrug again. The man nods his head and smiles again. He says, "el Martillo sends his greetings."

Your eyes grow wide and dart about. Before you can make any plans for escape, the man has drawn his gun and is pointing it at you. You jump to your feet and hold your hands up, but the man does not wait and fires. The bullet catches you in the chest and you can hear your lungs sucking in air as you drop to your knees, trying to hold onto the chair. You can hear the man laughing as your world fades to black...

I'm sorry, it appears that you have lost. Please be sure to try again, as there are many different paths to this story. As a tip, if you're seeing low percent chances of winning, you might want to try selecting options where you have trained for that skill. Thank you for reading!


You are very suddenly interrupted by a loud banging on the door. You hear, "¡Abrir! ¡Policía! Abre esta puerta ahora!" The banging continues and you hear, "Policia!" The sturdy door is shaking in the frame and you know that you only have a moment to decide what to do...
> You open the door and attempt to talk your way out of the situation, even though you don't speak Spanish.
You take a deep breath and step towards the door. You look down and brush a little dust from your chest as you reach out for the door handle. You press down the handle and pull the door open. Three very angry looking policemen stand at the door, looking surprised that you opened the door. One has his pistol in his hand. You smile and take a last breath as you prepare to try and explain that you are not who they are looking for...
> You continue...
You show the police your biggest smile and start to explain that you are not who they are seeking. Instead of listening to you, they slam you to the side as one man runs past you into the room. They continue to yell at you in Spanish and you cannot understand them. When you try and speak, one of the policemen punch you in the face. The one from inside the room calls out something else in Spanish and the other two draw their guns. As you attempt to turn around to explain, they both fire into your chest. You look at them, still not understanding, as your life slips away from you.

Sorry, it would appear that you have lost. Please do try again, especially if this is your first time. There are lots of different options and possibilities. Be sure to try acts that you have trained, as you will have a much better chance of success if you do!

You had a 10 percent chance of winning that battle.


You are very suddenly interrupted by a loud banging on the door. You hear, "¡Abrir! ¡Policía! Abre esta puerta ahora!" The banging continues and you hear, "Policia!" The sturdy door is shaking in the frame and you know that you only have a moment to decide what to do...
> You take a stand, open the door, and attack. The police!
You decide that if they are going to take you down, you are going to go down in a blaze of glory. You take a moment to rig a quick explosive on the back of the door and step away from the door. You take cover behind the corner of the bathroom and wait. When they strike the door one more time, the explosive goes off, blowing the door off the hinges and towards the hallway. You step around the corner, staying low, gun at the ready to fire at anything that moves...
> You continue...
Looking over at the door, it takes a moment for the dust to clear. You don't see anything moving, so you stand up and stare into the dust. You step towards the door, trying to make out the figures in the dust cloud when suddenly guns open up firing in your direction. You turn and twist and attempt to get back under cover as a bullet finds your back, spinning you around. A second round hits you in the chest and you crumble to the ground, as everything quickly fades to black.

Sorry, it would appear that you have lost. Please do try again, especially if this is your first time. There are lots of different options and possibilities. Be sure to try acts that you have trained, as you will have a much better chance of success if you do!

You had a 10 percent chance of winning that battle.