Suspense Short Story – “Dazed”
Photo credit: biberta from morguefile.com
Why do people act as if they know you and can read your whole life in just a glimpse? I suppose they expect me to be drinking a strong black coffee right now because of my sophisticated dress and above average status. Well, I on the other hand, enjoy stretching out at a café booth, like listening to more lively music, and I would much rather have a neon yellow drink in my glass. However, I don’t get much time for this.
After my morning jog along the streets of Rochester, this is where I come. I’ve always thought of this café as my spa, the place where I could get rid of all my troubles and just relax. I sit here and recall the zestful times I used to have with my family, but they left me with no warning and with no time to plaster their faces in my eternal memory. My mom was into network security like me, and my dad worked for military security. I had lost almost all remembrance of them. It left me and the rest of the world in shock, and I still wonder what it would be like now if we had skipped September 11th, 2001 altogether.
So I told you how this café brings me relief. Well, this is not entirely true. Just a few weeks prior to now it delivered me the greatest plight of my life, as if it were returning all the troubles I had burdened it with. The Monday during summer break was like all the rest. I woke up early and attended my martial arts class, which I figured was a good idea since I lived so close to New York City. Afterwards, I jogged to the café, and ordered my usual bright drink. At the pace a girl parched, yet wanting to enjoy the sweet, carbonated taste of a drink would, I gulped down my soda and ate the delicious cookie I had also ordered. When I had finished I unwillingly gathered my jacket and bag, and headed back to my apartment. I was exhausted when I returned, but still running on the inspiration of my parents, I knew I had to keep studying for my network security exam. I unloaded the objects out of my bag, and examined them realizing they were not my own.
How could I be so stupid! Now that I looked at the bag it very faintly resembled mine. I started to search closer in hopes I could find out whose the bag was and return it to them. However, instead of discovering a name of a person, I saw written clearly on a folder in black Sharpie: NORTH KOREA- NUCLEAR TARGETS. My mind instantly started racing. Maybe it was for a college class, or a game, or maybe it was from an investigator, but I could not entirely accept any of these reasons. I was curious and had to find out more, so I did. Anxiously, I removed the papers that rested in the folder’s crevice. Scanning the pages revealed that North Korea was planning to attack several U.S. cities, one being New York City. Not only that, but it also made known the times.
Immediately, as if I had planned for it my whole life, I jotted down the information and sprinted back to the café to swap the bags. I got there and, as soft on my feet as a gazelle, snuck in and switched bags. I had opened the exit door, but like an outreached arm, the doors’s handle grabbed me. It stripped my hand purse right out of my arm, and made enough sound to cause the owner of the bag to turn around. He saw me, jumped up, and as he started running toward me I noticed a small pistol on the inside of his leather jacket. I did not have time to grab my purse, so I turned around and ran. Running each morning had primed me for this exact moment, and I was able to lose him. I hurried back to my apartment and began by dialling the number of one of my closer friends from Rochester Institute of Technology, my college. I quickly explained all that had happened, and told her there could be someone following me.
Now, to help you better understand why my friend dismissed what I told her, I need to tell you what happened in another important part of my life. After I had lost my parents, I developed a brain disorder from the shock I was in. You could almost consider it as a form of schizophrenia. Ever since then, when I have dreams, I can not always distinguish them from reality. This has gotten me into trouble before, but nothing ever like this. My friend kept telling me it was part of the disorder I had, and that I was just in a daze. I kept insisting, but she was also busy, and was not in the mood to have her time wasted. We finished our conversation, with her still not even slightly believing me, but, more importantly, with me beginning to doubt all I had previously witnessed. The next hour I pondered all that had taken place and became even more uncertain of myself. Just before I was going to disregard all that had happened, I remembered the note I had written. It had to mean it had happened right? I thought back to how my parents would have handled this situation, and I knew my parents would have wanted me to follow what I believed. So, without any more thinking involved, I got into my sky-blue Prius and drove to the one person I knew I could trust, my older brother.
I quickly sped, not wasting any precious seconds, and arrived at his condo in D.C. Luck finally may have been creeping back into my life; because he was there, which was an anomaly considering all the work he does. I relayed the story to him, but, just like my friend, he would not accept it. I am guessing it was out of pity, but although he showed no interest in saving our country, he agreed to help. In spite of the fact that my brother was against it, I called the police and reported the findings. They took it in to account; but I find it very unlikely they did anything, because after I talked my brother explained to them what had happened after our parents’ death. So, with no one on my side but my brother, which I was starting to doubt even that now, I laid down on the pull-out couch he set up for me in his living room. The night went quickly, and I could barely sleep knowing that a nuclear explosion could happen at any moment.
The sun broke up over the horizon like I imagined the explosions would look if I were not able to stop them. My brother had beaten it though, and was already gone for work. I prepared myself for the rest of the day, and headed to the kitchen to see what my brother had available for breakfast. My plan was to stay at a hotel until I knew it was safe to go back to my home, but before I left I had to eat and find a computer to search for a nearby hotel. I looked, but all I was able to find was his personal laptop. Because he was gone, and I was pretty sure he would say it was okay, I removed his laptop from it’s case. Strangely it was still on, and it also had the previously opened documents up. It was not as if I was trying to snoop through his stuff, but rather it was me being a concerned and curious younger sister, and I quickly glanced at the title. Was it even possible? I promptly re-scanned the top of the page, but it did not change. I began skimming through the contents of the documents; and it revealed the impossible, my brother was a North Korean spy.
I knew I must not waste anytime getting out of his house. I left, abandoning all my belongings, and headed to one of the last people I thought I could trust. We had met in my network security class, and I had worked with him on a few projects outside of school. However, besides that I really had not known him that well. He was more of a Trekkie than a sports jock, but that did not matter now because I needed smarts. I had taken the ID card I found in my brother’s brief case, and although I was not sure it was possible, I planned to stop North Korea from firing the nuke.
Turning in to his drive, I saw that he was home, and rushed to the door. He answered it welcomely, and invited me inside. I did not waste time explaining to many details, and simply told him I needed his help stopping a nuclear attack. He stared at me blankly for a few seconds, but after realizing I was completely serious, he took me back to his office. I handed over the ID card, and with the exact same casual expression, he took it. I guess his plan was to hack in to North Korea’s system and plant a virus, which was only possible because of the level of clearance my brother had. Unlike people who fantasize about saving the world would think, the virus entered quickly and smoothly. He did it with such poise and focus you would not know he was preserving the lives of millions. In just a few hours my friend and I had rescued New York City, and I soon found myself standing on a podium with the president. There were hundreds of people watching as I accepted the highest honor an American citizen can achieve, a Medal of Freedom.
That is when I heard something. It was faint, but it slowly grew louder. It resembled the sound of a bomb, and I began doubting that I had actually saved the world. It gradually faded into a short high-pitched beeping sound. The world went black. I heard the sound of my brother, and grew frightened. My eyes twitched easing their way into the bright light, and slowly they were able to make out the structures around me. First I recognized my brother in between the outline of a door. To his left was a dresser, and next to it was a hamper; but not just any hamper, it was mine. I was in my room, back at my apartment!
My brother proceeded in telling me to get ready. Supposedly I had told him we were going to spend the day together catching up. I was scared, and he recognized the fear in my eyes. He reached for my arm in a comforting manor, but I responded by thrusting it away from me. Eventually, because it looked as if my brother had no clue why I was upset, I led him into the kitchen and began explaining what had happened to me in the previous days. He had a sympathetic look on his face. My brother assured me my story was simply not possible and that it must have been a result of my disorder. He told me he was not at his home, but was actually on a business trip. This I could hardly believe.
Did he think I was stupid? However, after this, he followed by offering condolences for the death of my college friend, and then informing me the young man died my freshman year. Obviously this could not be true, because he had just helped me save the world. My brother, again identifying the doubt I had, brought up my friend’s death certificate online. It was real, but that meant my past few days were not. I was crushed, but my brother thought following our plan and still going out would help me get my mind off things. I also think he then felt more persuaded to look after me. I went back in my room to get changed for the rest of the day. I took my blouse out of my closet, and then continued to go over to my dresser to get the rest of my clothes. I opened the drawer, but I noticed there was a unusual item in the compartment. Only a sliver was visible, and it shined elegantly, reflecting the light that came in from the window. I uncovered it, revealing it was a beautiful royal blue ribbon. At the end of the strip of silky fabric was a silver star-shaped medallion that possessed the colors and stars of the American flag. It was my Medal of Freedom.
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By: Matthew Blackledge
