text: [Themes: modern, drama, psychological, mystery, dystopia]
  
  The wind whistles through the sky-scraping sequoias of Washington State, rushing through their limbs and deep within the folds of my jacket. It's cold here during mid-winter, and strikingly beautiful. My bated breath, a visible vapor, joins the fray and whisks off into the forest. They will be here soon. I need to get to Seattle, but where the fuck is the moon?
  
  "I'll ask you once more, do you recognize any of these individuals?"
  
  He holds up a polaroid of a woman in her mid-twenties, arm around another person, a man. They're both wearing fatigues; the man smiles brightly into the camera. Around them, some sort of celebration rages.
  
  "Bring the photo closer, I think one of the barstools in the background looks familiar."
  
  "These aren't even the questions I want to ask you, Mr. Schatz. We know exactly who these people are, you know that. So, just tell us what we already know, no harm in that."
  
  "I'll think about it."
  
  My interrogator's lip often quivers when he gets frustrated, and it did so now. The soft brown hairs of his mustache tremble and sway from side to side, despite the stagnant air in the room.
  
  "Answer just this basic info, and I promise that today you will avoid the knife. I will protect you."
  
  "I'm not willing to get used to answering your questions."
  
  "Well, then you'll get used to this treatment." He motions over his shoulder to a masked figure who'd been standing motionless in the corner of the room. In a single fluid motion, he pulls a dull knife from his overcoat.
  
  [Author's Note: A tale of torture, travel, and terrible secrets. For the Tiny 'Topias Jam, even if it is slightly wordy.]
  
  > Pain
  As elusive as the moon is, eventually a smidgen of its light peeks through the cloud canopy, settling on the snow. To get to Seattle I must travel with its movements, westward. Should've picked better footwear. Although the snow cover is not terribly thick, there is enough that an hour into my travels my boots are already soaked. I can feel a bit of moisture on my toes.
  
  I sense myself becoming drunken off the pain of the cold, the sensation of an eventual slumber. In this sloppy state, they'll find my tracks in the next half hour. No time to go back and fix my mistakes.
  
  A branch snaps behind me and I've already vanished beneath the snow near the base of a tree by the time I can hear footsteps. Sounds like a single person, but they're getting closer. The snowy tracks lead up directly to where I'm hiding. I could spring on them when they get close, hope to take them out quickly, since it's only the one. Or I could wait, it's almost certainly too soon for them to have caught up, it could be an animal or a hiker or something. Last thing I need is some outdoorsman calling the cops.
  
  > jump at your Pursuer
  I still my body, not a particularly difficult task when my muscles have already been stiffened by the cold. Minutes pass. The footsteps definitely sound human, sharp and light, and growing louder. Eventually, a shadow descends on my hiding place.
  
  I spring out of the snow, but the frost has already permeated through my limbs, and in my lunge to grab onto the person, I trip and fall into the fluff. A pair of hands seize my shoulders.
  
  "Hey, it's alright. I'm with you. Why'd you hide in the snow? You would've had better luck just running if I were after you."
  
  I try to speak but my lips are terribly cold, hiding in the snow must've taken more out of my body than I'd assumed.
  
  "Here, have a little of this." My savior, a woman with silver streaks in her hair and a gentle frown, pours something from a canteen into my mouth. A lukewarm, chocolatey taste fills it, and I find the ability to speak.
  
  "W-w-why? You should be running right n-now."
  
  "Don't think I'm being completely altruistic. We have a better chance in a struggle together. Find your legs, and let's get going.
  
  "Wait, what's your name?"
  
  "Kauffmann. You?"
  
  "Schatz."
  
  "Nice to meet you, Schatz. Now let's go."
  
  > Go
  A miracle befalls us as we navigate through the winding trees. Fresh snow. It falls softly and fills our tracks, giving us much needed peace of mind. We eventually find shelter to recover from the cold, a small brush gathering right before a massive, frozen lake. The risk of breaking through the ice was not great, but we would be completely exposed and easy to spot. Best to rest before attempting that. Kauffmann lays out a series of plastic sheets in the brush.
  
  "Best to keep dry clothes dry. I'll wake us up just before dawn, so we can sprint across the lake under the cover of darkness." We stay close to each other, embracing sleep almost immediately.
  
  I wake up alone.
  
  > look Around
  I sit up slowly on the plastic, causing a thin layer of water to slide off of it and into the snow. Kauffmann's supplies are still here, and it's not daylight yet. She might've had to use the restroom. Still, I'm not satisfied.
  
  Then, a blood-curdling scream pierces the peaceful night, revving the muscles in my body to stand. Words follow.
  
  "Schatz! Run! They're here! Run across the lake!" It's Kauffmann's voice. I turn to grab my pack and run, not wasting a moment. I swipe at Kauffmann's pack while emerging from the brush, but slip on the snow and miss it. There's no time to go back and grab it, I can already hear multiple sets of footsteps.
  
  The moon is as brighter than it has any right to be, transforming the frozen lake into a beacon. My footsteps feel heavy, pounding on the uneven surface. I take a glance back. Kauffmann has emerged from the trees, pursued closely by a man in battle rattle, and equipped with night-vision goggles. I feel his gaze pass over me. She gets about ten steps across the lake before he slings some sort of rifle over his shoulder, takes aim, and fires. The projectile, what looks like a small beanbag, hits Kauffmann in the shoulder and she crashes into the ice, face first.
  
  > keep Running
  I grimace, but keep running. I'm in no condition to take on a trained combatant. Instead, I focus on the other side of the lake, which was getting closer by the second. One moment I set foot on the soft snow on the other side, the next, an impact in the small of my back pushes all of my organs forward in my body. I slam against the ground, completely winded.
  
  I almost have enough energy to get up and keep going, but then another projectile slams into the back of my head. Everything briefly becomes as white as the snow, and then fades to black in one swoop.
  
  I sit up slowly on the plastic, causing a thin layer of water to slide off of it and into the snow. Kauffmann's supplies are still here, and it's not daylight yet. She might've had to use the restroom. Still, I'm not satisfied.
  
  Then, a blood-curdling scream pierces the peaceful night, revving the muscles in my body to stand. Words follow.
  
  "Schatz! Run! They're here! Run across the lake!" It's Kauffmann's voice. I turn to grab my pack and run, not wasting a moment. I swipe at Kauffmann's pack while emerging from the brush, but slip on the snow and miss it. There's no time to go back and grab it, I can already hear multiple sets of footsteps.
  
  The moon is as brighter than it has any right to be, transforming the frozen lake into a beacon. My footsteps feel heavy, pounding on the uneven surface. I take a glance back. Kauffmann has emerged from the trees, pursued closely by a man in battle rattle, and equipped with night-vision goggles. I feel his gaze pass over me. She gets about ten steps across the lake before he slings some sort of rifle over his shoulder, takes aim, and fires. The projectile, what looks like a small beanbag, hits Kauffmann in the shoulder and she crashes into the ice, face first.
  
  > go Back to Save Kauffmann
  I turn around.
  
  The soldier (or hunter, perhaps), levels his rifle against me and I brace myself for a painful impact. But, it never comes. Instead he hits the side of his weapon with an open palm and throws it on the ice, drawing a baton from his hip and running at me. Jammed. What a stroke of luck.
  
  The next stroke of luck comes when he gets closer. I wind up my right hand, throwing a punch as he comes within distance, holding the baton straight out in front of him. The tip is crackling with electricity. Before it hits my ribcage, he slips on the ice, and the tip of the baton falls towards the ice. His face falls into my fist.
  
  Pain shoots along my forearm, up into the elbow, but the adrenaline keeps me punching. At that angle and with the power I applied, I'm sure he's unconscious. Kauffmann has already stumbled to her feet, holding a hand on her bruised and knotted shoulder.
  
  "Come on! There's sure to be more!" I hiss at her, motioning for her to join me. She nods, but the reliable and assured face I saw yesterday was gone. Something had happened back there.
  
  > Escape
  We run as fast as our legs can carry us, and whether they lost the tracks at the lake, or whether there really was only one pursuer, we aren't chased. It isn't long before the lights of Seattle begin to light up the horizon. We stumble into the city, but aren't all that out of place. It may actually be easier to blend in here, amongst the homeless.
  
  By the time we arrive, the sun has just begun to peek over the mountains. Kells Irish Pub. Innocuous on the outside, homey on the inside. As soon as we enter, a man stops us.
  
  "Koughman? Shots? Yew bouth made it? FUck ye-e-ah!"
  
  "Oh shit! Only a few hours to spare too!"
  
  "Dude, check out that massive welt on Kauffmann's back, her shirt's been torn to shreds!"
  
  "Here, a drink on me."
  
  Someone comes up with a camera and snaps a picture of us; I smile, Kauffmann doesn't. Another person comes to offer congratulations. A stout, older man, and our instructor.
  
  "Well done, Trainee Schatz, Trainee Kauffmann. I see you had an encounter? We'll talk with the boys back at camp, see if we can figure out who it was. Most of 'em want their embarrassing moments hidden, so no guarantees. Celebrate the day away, we'll graduate you in the afternoon."
  
  He disappears into the crowd, and I turn to celebrate with him, but Kauffmann grabs my arm, and whispers to me.
  
  "I need to talk to you in private, now."
  
  > follow Kauffmann
  Kauffmann pulls me deeper into the pub, past the drunkards and bruised men and women, into the kitchen. She opens up a pantry and shoves me into it, putting a finger to my lips. I begin to seriously question whether I heard what she had said correctly about talking to me in private when she speaks.
  
  "Quiet. Not a sound. Take a look at this." She takes a small book out of her jacket and shoves it into my hands, looking at me expectedly. The title reads: The End Codex. "I can't open it for you, open it up. I found it in the forest last night."
  
  I give her a weird look and open the book up, and that's when the inexplicable happens. I learn everything. Everything there is to know. Every fact, every feeling, every...
  
  "...secret. Every secret." Kouffmann finishes. "I had to share this with someone, I don't know what it is. Ever since I've found it there have been things that have been revealed, about what we do, who we work for. I can almost predict the future, Schatz."
  
  For the umpteenth time on this trip, I can hardly speak.
  
  "Why did you show me this... you just... I can't..."
  
  "Take it all in. It's bizarre, it's horrifying. We have to leave."
  
  "You... leave. I can't. You shouldn't even be leaving. They'll look for you. This unit isn't something you just walk away from. And the secrets... I don't... what..."
  
  Even the simple truths, regarding things as simple as our instructor, the man I shook hands with not a moment ago, hit like a maelstrom. The amount of innocents he'd killed, that he'd enjoyed killing, staggering. And it wasn't just him. It was damn near everyone. Conspiracies that had been declared false, mysteries deemed unsolvable, determined.
  
  "I haven't put it all together yet, Schatz, but I need someone to watch my back. We've been lied to, let's figure it out together."
  
  > go with Kauffmann
  "But that's not what you did, is it? You didn't go with her, Mr. Schatz. You were a good little soldier."
  
  He sits down in front of me, and the tip of the blade is removed from my skin. Against the open air, the pain is arguably worse.
  
  "It's alright. You gave us enough to go off of. And this book you mentioned, the End Codex? Well, I'm afraid that if you've read it then there are a whole lot more questions that I would love to ask you. Enjoy the blanket that you've earned, Mr. Schatz."
  
  With a slight smirk, he gives the command to loosen the bonds on my wrists and I'm left to contemplate ways of ending my life in this freezing concrete cell.