The sun was fully up by the time we got ourselves together and made our way out of the forest, heading back to where me, Selena, and Ryu had left Wren. But the trip back was antagonizing. We had lost Frank’s partners and Sybil was missing, but most importantly, Greg’s death. But I was too worked up to really think about my relationship with Greg. Plus, there was the small matter of being in severe pain. My leg hurt, so I could only badly limp. Ryu and Selena helped me walk, the rest shuffling about, and then there was Frank.

Galen slowly came to, his head aching from being punched by a gun. At first, it was just lights and movement. Over time, though, everything became clearer, the voices piercing. Finally, Galen fully came to, headache and all, but otherwise alive. He tested his ears and eyes, just making sure that they didn’t cause a concussion. Everything checked out, so then he focused on where he was. He was in some office room. It looked abandoned, the paper scattered around and the shattered computer monitors on the cracked and water-damaged desks.

Galen was sitting in his office, going over preparations to take Bug into custody. He felt like a wannabe inventor trying to become an actual inventor. It was one idea after another. He just couldn’t figure out a way militarily that would even work out successfully for them. It was getting to the point that he would be forced to enlist the help of military strategists and historians to aid in this endeavor. But Bug might simply be too powerful for Galen, the Agency, and the best the military had to offer.

“Galen, your report on the Destructors Incident?” Albert Coleman, the Secretary of Defense, asked Galen.

This was first meeting between Galen and the National Security Council, plus the Joint Chiefs, since the explosion of the crystal three days ago... but this wasn’t the first meeting between himself and the Council about Bug, whom this meeting was no doubt going to be about.

“Greg? You’re… you're…” I stuttered.

Greg laughed, which then turned into a coughing fit. “I’m alive, you fucking bitch,” he said once he recovered.

“That wasn’t my fault!” I screamed at him. In responsible, he snapped his fingers and Cara punched Lacey in the face, knocking her over. Lacey couldn’t hold back her tears and started sobbing, but was so dizzy that she couldn’t seem to get back up on her knees. What was causing Lacey to be sick like this? Was it the rock? And why did Cara punch Lacey? I thought I was the target, not her.

There was simply too much going through my head to go back to sleep, so I stayed up. My name, my true name, was, if those figures could be trusted, Jamie. It wasn’t that bad of a name, so that was good. But still, those figures, they screamed it out in anger and pain. What happened? What did I do? Most importantly, what was the Dark Place? The last time, I assumed that I was dreaming, and that place was a representation of my mind. Now, I was sure that I wasn’t dreaming. This raised the question: if I wasn’t dreaming, then what was I doing?

Early Saturday morning, I was digging underneath the bed I slept in. I don’t know why I was, maybe I was bored, maybe I was trying to forget the unpleasant experience the day before. Honestly, the classes after lunch were just as a bad, and I got no information about Lhasa. But now, digging underneath a bed gave me time to think about it and now, I really didn’t want to know what had happened to Lhasa. I was also rethinking the whole school thing.

Lacey was asked to come down to Harrisonburg to hang out with Bug for the day at 9 pm the night before by her grandmother. That request sparked a stern talk about why spending time with Bug was a very bad idea from her mother, directed at both her and her grandma. This stern talk turned into an argument between her and her mother which then led to an argument between her mom and her dad. Lacey could hear the argument, as her parents made no attempt to keep it quiet. Her father was for Lacey going to Harrisonburg to spend time with Bug, whereas her mother was completely against it.

A week and a half later, I was still deeply bothered by Lacey’s revelation about my mind being sealed off. While I had gotten my mind reading somewhat under control, I still hadn’t gotten my emotions under control. And being stuck in this godforsaken tiny house didn’t help me. The old lady refused to let me leave the house. She herself didn’t even leave. Her neighbors brought her everything, or so she said. I never saw anybody enter the house and when I was allowed to walk into the backyard for fresh air, I never saw any neighbors.

Snowmen plotting revenge. Servants of Krampus plotting death and torture. Rotarians plotting... a carol sing? Sample five short holiday stories by Cashmere Chloe, Trismegistus Shandy, TGSparadox, M. A. Thermidor and Hikaro.

After my body slamming experience, I was transported to a hospital. It was obvious that the police officers didn’t notice the bruises and scarring on my arms and neck moments after I walked onto the farm due to their reaction when they went to cuff me. They raised my hands to cuff them, my sleeves fell down a bit and the rest was history. Instead of a trip directly to the local jail in a cop car, I got to make a pit-stop at the hospital in an ambulance. The bad part about this was that it gave Frank a seemingly endless supply of ideas about who I could be. And it wasn’t good.