Showing posts with label The Zander Chronicles. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The Zander Chronicles. Show all posts

Saturday, September 28, 2019

I Dared My Best Friend to End My Life [Part 7]


Hi everyone. God, I’m so tired. But this will truly be our last update. I can sleep once I finish this.

I’m sorry about Sophie’s bitch rant. I’m alive, as you can tell. I know I can’t prove it, but hopefully the details I include will be able to.

I’ll just start.

As I approached the church, I raised my hands in a gesture of surrender. That made my shoulder hurt, and I flinched. The two guards standing just inside the glass doors jogged out. They grabbed me roughly, and I let them set handcuffs behind my back.

I was quickly rushed me inside the church and out of view. They frisked me, taking David's hard drive from my hands, Zander's phone, and my sling. The confiscated items were set on a table. On the table, there was a pistol and two knives. Zander's things, I guessed.

Then the world went black as they slipped a hood over my eyes. I was carried to a car and driven for a long time.

When we stopped, they removed the hood, and I was blinded by the moon. It had been light when I'd gone to the church, so it had been a while.

I took slow, shuffling steps towards the farm I found myself at. There were three structures: a farmhouse to my right, a large tractor shed to my left, and three silos a little ways off. The driveway was made of compacted dirt and led to the farmhouse.

One of the guards drove away in the van. The other guard lightly pushed me to walk faster. We approached the front door of the two-story home. It looked old, but well kept. The grass was trimmed and weeds hadn't infected the spare spaces.

The guard opened the door for me, and I walked inside.

The interior was dim. The front door opened into a hallway that led down to a larger space at the end. Bedrooms branched off from the main hallway, and a staircase led to the second floor.

There were muffled cries and whimpers from some of the bedrooms.

I tried to close my ears and ignore them. The terror that was making my throat close up.

I was guided down the hallway until I got to the larger room, which combined a kitchen, living room, and dining room all in one. There was a door to my left, which they opened. It led to stairs.

The guard grabbed a paper bag off a countertop.

We descended the ancient wood steps and came to a second door. The guard had me turn around, and he undid my cuffs. Then, the guard knocked. Scuffling could be heard from the other side. I started to tremble.

He unlocked no fewer than six locks and bolts. The door was opened, and light spilled into the room. Seven teenagers all cowered in a far corner, covering their eyes from the light.

I was pushed down the last two steps into the freezing basement. The guard tapped my shoulder, and I turned around. He shoved the paper bag into my hands, then shut the door. All six locks clicked.

The basement was pitch black. Only a sliver of light illuminated the room coming from underneath the door.

Hesitant, I opened the plastic bag and felt around inside. A water bottle, a sandwich, a bag of chips, a fruit-by-the-foot. A meal?

I expected torture. I expected to be beaten. I expected to die tonight. Now they were feeding me. What the hell?

The other teenagers in the room were still tense. I could feel it in the air.

"Hello," I said cautiously. "My name is Clark."

No response. I didn't expect one. Zander said they tortured people, and these kids were likely no exception.

I started to offer my food to them, but was cut off when someone tackled me out of the black. I slammed onto the cold concrete and the bag was yanked out of my hands. They began fighting over the bag.

I dragged myself away across the floor until I came to a wall. I could hear the paper ripping and plastic getting torn open. The sliver of light gave me some view of their struggle.

The chip bag was split open, and chips scattered across the floor. They all dove as one, snatching as many pieces as they could and stuffing their mouths. They groaned and whined with pleasure.

Once the food was gone, someone broke open the water bottle. They all slurped and yanked the bottle from one person to another. When the dripping water stopped, they tore open the plastic and licked the insides dry.

I held my breath, hoping they’d ignore me.

Then a match was struck. One of the boys who looked 14 held the match over a candle in his hands and lit it. Four others did the same. They watched me with dark eyes.

The new light illuminated the room. The room was about 30 feet by 30 feet and bare except for one corner. It had a pile of blankets, pillows, a plastic bat and ball, and a few more candlesticks. They’d all been stashed in the corner that couldn’t be seen from the doorway without entering the room.

The rest of the basement was made of slick concrete. There were two windows, both on the wall to the left of the stairs. Both had an steel plate covering them.

The first boy caught my attention. He stepped forward, gripping his candle.

“Who are you?” He asked in a low voice.

“I’m Clark,” I repeated. “Zander’s friend.”

They all looked confused.

"Who's Zander?"

Okay, so these kids were completely in the dark, both figuratively and literally. I paused, trying to think of a good way to explain everything to them.

“You come down here with food, but don’t fight for it. You’re clearly not starving or injured. Who are you?” The boy said.

“Do you know David King?” I asked. He shook his head.

“Sophie Atrikson?”

“Yeah, we know Sophie!” A younger boy called out. Everyone glared at him.

“Shut it,” the 14 year old boy growled. “Yes, we know Sophie,” he said suspiciously to me.

“That’s who I’m here for. She took my mother.”

The kids stared at me in silence.

“What?” I asked.

“Sophie wouldn’t do that,” a young girl piped up. “Sophie’s nice!”

“What?” I said.

“Stop talking to him!” The 14 year old yelled over his shoulder.

“What’s your problem?” I said sharply, standing up. The boy stepped back. I was significantly taller than him.

“I’m the leader. We can’t trust you. The others could have sent you here for information. You can stay there against the wall, but if you come towards us, we will fight back.”

I felt my mouth drop open. Sophie Bitch Queen Atrikson. I couldn’t wait to get my hands around her neck.

The teenagers retreated, talking in whispers amongst themselves. I began to take deep breaths. I had an unknown amount of time to break out of here before they would come back for me and start acting on whatever Sophie had in mind.

I walked over to the window nearest me on the wall opposite the door. The teenagers all froze when I walked away from the wall.

“Hey!” The boy shouted. “Stay against that wall!”

“I’m looking for a way out!” I shouted back. “Give me one of your candles! I’m not going to hurt you! I’m here to kill Sophie and get you all out!”

The boy picked up the plastic bat, and I laughed. The thing would probably bend if he tried to hit me with it.

The boy had given his candle to a girl his age and was walking quickly towards me, bat in hand.

“Is this how you proved that you’re the leader?” I taunted, getting ready to fight. “By beating down anyone who disagreed?”

He was close enough to swing now. I rushed him, grabbing one of his wrists and twisting. The bat fell to the floor, and I twisted the kid into a headlock. His fingernails came up and scratched my cheek. I released his neck and pushed him across the floor. He stumbled to the concrete, but caught himself.

The boy was just about to turn and run at me again when the locks started to click on the door. All the kids instantly flocked together against the same corner. I backed away instinctively, watching the door.

It opened, and a man with a bruised face entered. It was the man who’d followed us out of the bar. Shit.

I watched him survey the room, not even looking at the pile of stuff in the corner. He looked down when he stepped on the remains of the paper bag, water bottle and wrappers. After two heartbeats, he advanced on the crowd of children.

“I told you not to eat until I brought you food myself,” he threatened. “Was I not clear?”

He grabbed one of the younger girls who looked about 12. He grabbed her by the hair and forced her to kneel in front of the remains.

“Who gave you this?!” He shouted.

The asshole was playing Sophie’s game. He was feigning innocence of my presence as part of the game.

The little girl pointed towards me and his eyes followed. He glared at me.

“That was for you, not for them,” he snarled, hauling the girl to her feet. He pulled a police baton out of his belt and whipped it to its full length. Was he a cop? Or had he stolen it?

Then he smashed it into the girl’s ribs. She screamed. The others screamed. I yelled, fists clenched.

“All of you get one,” he said, then pushed the girl back into the crowd. “Next!”

A younger boy came forward, trembling.

“Stop it!” I shouted, stepping away from the wall. He turned to face me, baton pointed at my chest.

“You stay out of it if you don’t want your own punishment!”

“I’ll bet you want to punish me after I slammed your smug face into the sidewalk,” I taunted. Make a mistake, you asshole.

He flashed a smile, then grabbed the boy by the neck and smashed the baton into his side. I took another step forward.

“Next!” He said.

Another girl this time. They’d done this before. My blood began to boil with rage.

Whack.

“Next!”

I eyed the plastic bat. Just wait.

Whack.

“Next!”

As he turned to see who was coming next, I sprinted forward, scooping up the bat. It was the older boy’s turn, and he watched me with wide eyes as I swung the skinny bat at the man’s skull. It hit with a wimpy slap, but it confused him long enough.

I tackled into him and shoved him to the floor, face first. I grabbed the sides of his head and lifted. Then I slammed it down into the solid floor. He shouted out in pain and twisted his body. I held him down, but only just enough.

“Help me!” I shouted. The teenagers were backing away. “COME AND HELP!” I screamed. No one did. The man twisted his body under me, and I fell to the side.

Shit. Shit.

I tried to stand.

The baton hit me in the side of the head and sent me careening into the floor. Everything went dark, and I went unconscious.



When I woke up, the teenagers were crowded around me. Candles encircled us and I could see their dirty, bruised, and scabbed faces.

“Are you okay?” A girl asked.

“I’m…” I started, lifting my head. They’d placed a pillow under me. A blanket covered my body. My head suddenly split open and I laid back, grimacing.

“Leo is a real asshole,” the 14 year old said. “He’s their leader.”

“No,” I rejected. “Sophie is the leader. Sophie is the mastermind.”

“Sophie’s the one who brought us blankets and pillows. She brings us candles, candy, food she can smuggle down, anything to help us. She’s staying with the others upstairs to keep us safe and alive,” a boy said.

“It’s… manipulation,” I said, closing my eyes and trying not to sound frustrated. “She’s only doing it so you’ll be loyal to her.”

“She helps us,” the 12 year old girl said.

“Well she’s kidnapped my mother, my friend, and his parents.”

“You fought for us,” the leader boy stated.

“Well, he’s an asshole, so--”

“Thank you,” the boy interrupted.

“I’m going to get you all out of here,” I swore. “Even if it kills me.”



There was no way out. The steel plates had been drilled into wooden window sill and then welded with a thick layer of melted metal. I could see lines of moonlight through the cracks, but the plates wouldn’t budge. The only object we had for leverage was the plastic bat, but Leo had taken it with him.

I rested my head as often as possible because it hurt so badly. I hoped Sophie would be angry at Leo for hitting me. Then again, I doubted she really cared. She just wanted a show.

While I laid and rested, I told them as many details about David King, Zander, and Sophie as I could. They listened, and I could only hope they were accepting my story. No one made a comment about it. They just listened.

I woke up to a ray of morning sun shining right in my eye. I groaned and rolled over. Then I jolted.

Inspiration hit me.

I sat up a little too quickly and began to tear at the blanket that covered me. It was a thick, wool blanket. Perfect. I tore at it with my teeth until I thought I might tear a tooth out. When a tiny rip appeared, I knelt on the blanket and ripped a strip off.

The rip woke everyone else up, and they all stared at me in confusion.

“Stop ripping up our blankets!” The 14 year old said.

“What’s your name?” I paused and asked. He was confused.

“Jake,” he answered.

“Jake, help me rip these into strips. I have an idea on how to get out.”

“How?” He said skeptically.

“Just trust me! I don’t know how long we’ll have until they come for me! I need this blanket and one more into strips!”

By some miracle, everyone listened. In only a few minutes, we had 24 strips. Each one was about three inches thick and six feet long.

Next, I went to one of the buckets and managed to pull the wire handle off. Using the wire, I took a strip and managed to push it through the cracks around a steel plate. I pulled it back through so that it wrapped around one of the welded spots.

The kids caught on pretty quickly. We tied a strip around each welded spot on a window. There were 12 spots, but only eight of us.

We grabbed all the strips on one side and together began to pull. It didn’t budge, but we kept the pressure on while one kid went to check. The wood had begun to splinter ever so slightly around the screw holes.

We changed tactics and had two stand by the plate, and the rest pull on one side of it. We would pull for two seconds, then they would push for two seconds. The plate started to come loose. The screws they’d used weren’t deep enough to resist our efforts.

The kids, who had been excitedly talking about something new they were doing, now understood the gravity of our situation. We were escaping. They threw their entire weight and strength into pulling those strips. We put our feet on the wall and pulled as hard as we could, listening to the wood separate.

A kid sat by the door to listen for guards. They didn’t bring any food, which left me feeling hungry, but I didn’t complain. We were safe to work the entire day.

After working until the late afternoon, the plate had broken four spots that had been screwed and welded, and the plate could move at least an inch in one corner. We had fallen into a rhythm of swinging the plate, adjusting when it got loose, and doing it all over again.

That’s when we heard footsteps on the stairs.

They were coming for me.

The kids panicked, but I quieted them and quickly whispered for them to act normally, crowd into the corner away from the window, and hope they didn’t look toward the window. If they did, everyone should rush the guards. They all agreed.

Luckily, the window we had chosen was near the corner where everything had been stashed. It was just in the corner of your eye when entering the basement.

I stood directly in front of the two steps, hoping they’d just grab me and leave.

The door swung open, two unknown guys grabbed me, and locked the door behind us as we trudged upstairs.

I prayed to God they’d be able to escape.



I was hooded and driven a couple hours again. When I stepped out of the car and had the hood removed, we were back at the church. I was led back into the vestibule before the chapel and searched again. I noticed that all the items on the table were gone today.

Hands cuffed in front of me, I was pushed through the chapel doors. They slammed shut behind me and a lock clicked.

I was in the devil’s lair.

The chapel was large with at least twenty rows of pews. An aisle divided the wooden pews into two columns, all facing the front in solemn silence. Four large stained glass windows filled one wall, letting the dying sunlight color the room. A chandelier with electric lights hung from the ceiling, making the room look even larger.

Hundreds of candles set up around the pulpit. Large, red velvet curtains hung from the rafters against the wall behind the candles, descending a hundred feet to just inches above the floor.

I saw my mom first. She was seated in the far back corner to my left. A man sat next to her, his arm resting on her neck. My mom was clearly crying, but duct tape kept her from saying anything.

I moved towards them, but the man shook his head and pointed to the front. I turned.

Someone stood at the pulpit, leaning against it. They wore a black hoodie and seemed to be staring at the floor. My heart sped up as my illogical mind told me that it was David Fucking King, back from the dead.

But then I saw the long, stray blonde hairs hanging down.

I walked forward, making it halfway to the front before she spoke.

“There’s Clark,” the voice echoed through the empty chamber. The figure raised their head, and I saw her dim face. Sophie.

Her eyes locked onto mine as she pushed away from the pulpit and stepped to the side. She put Zander’s phone into her jacket pocket as she moved. She descended the three steps that led to the stage and slowly paced along the aisle towards me.

I tensed as she walked up to me.

“Relax, Clark,” she grinned. “We’re still waiting for the other guests to arrive now that you’re here. Have a seat.”

She lightly shoved me into the pew to my right, so I sat. Sophie walked back to the pulpit and pulled out Zander’s phone again, continuing to type. Occasionally, she referenced her own phone, typed out a message, then went back to work on Zander’s.

We sat there for an hour as the sun went down outside and the chapel’s only source of light came from the masses of candles.

I looked around as the light disappeared. There were lots of beams that ran along the ceiling, supporting the steeple beyond. The curtains, which had at first appeared perfect in contrast to the old chapel, had many holes in them. It was just an old, worn down church.

I caught my mom’s eye a couple of times, trying to check that she was alright. It was too dark to see her expression.

Sophie typed the entire time. I now see that she posted Part 6 while we were waiting. I’ve read it now, but at the time I wondered what she was doing.

When the doors opened behind us, Sophie looked up and I turned around.

Zander was shoved into the room, handcuffed and chained. He stumbled, and shuffled forward down the aisle. His face was bloody and bruised. Every movement seemed to pain him.

“No,” I uttered involuntarily. Then his parents were pushed into the room behind him.

No. No. No.

They hadn’t released anyone, even after Zander turned himself in.

Zander’s parents were guided up to sit on the row in front of my mom. Their hands were duct taped and so were their mouths.

I tried to understand the end game. I tried to understand the purpose of all this.

Now I know. They were just taking risks.

And enjoying every second.

And then I noticed who the guards for Zander’s parents were. Hernandez and another cop. The other cop left, leaving only Hernandez to sit with one of Sophie’s other assholes and our parents.

Son of a bitch.

That son of a bitch.

“Zander, good to see you again,” Sophie called. “Have a seat, I’m almost done here!”

Zander sat next to me. The chains had been wrapped tightly around his body, restraining his wrists to his chest. I started to pull at his chains to see if I could remove them, but he shook his head. His mouth was horribly swollen, I noticed.

His guard stood over us, and I stole a glance at him. It was Leo. His face was even more bruised and bloody. He caught my eye and glared. I tried not to smile. Provoking him wasn’t going to save anyone here.

After a few minutes, Sophie set the phone down on the pulpit and walked towards us.

“How was it, Leo?” She asked.

“Enjoyable,” he grinned maliciously.

“After you assaulted Leo,” Sophie said to me. “I let him take out his frustrations on Zander. Hope you both enjoyed your last night of rest,” she said to both of us. “Things are about to get interesting.” Her voice turned poisonous.

The doors opened again, and Katie was dragged in kicking and screaming. One of the guards who had driven me here was following Katie’s captor in. He gave Katie a punch across the face, and she fell silent, but not unconscious. Her hair covered her face as she looked around in bewilderment and finally rested her eyes on Zander.

Zander, who had turned to watch, tensed and his chains rattled.

“Tape her, please,” Sophie said calmly before turning her attention back to us.

“We found her last night at Clark’s place,” she grinned. Duct tape ripped in the background as she talked. “She’s not very good at sneaking around. You could have done much better, Zander,” she taunted.

Zander remained still.

“Well, now that everyone’s here, we can get started,” Sophie announced, spreading her arms. Katie was seated in the back of the chapel in the opposite row as our parents. Her guard stayed by her side. Someone locked the door from the other side, and it echoed through the chapel.

There was Sophie, the guard and Hernandez with our parents, the one by Katie, at least three more outside, and Leo next to us. Fighting would be useless.

“I just left a lovely post to all of your Reddit supporters,” Sophie said, waving Zander’s phone in the air as she walked back towards us. “I wanted to make sure I got proper credit for your disposal. I told them not to expect any more updates, hope you don’t mind.”

Her self-assured smirk made me angry.

“I would read it to you, but you already know most of it. I worked with David King, we built this family from the bottom up, he got careless with Zander and we had a falling out, blah blah blah.”

“We know the history,” I said. “But did you tell them why?”

“Why what, Clark?” She said sweetly.

“Why you had a falling out with David King.”

“I did, but let’s hear your interpretation,” she encouraged.

“Because he was selling you out.”

She frowned.

“The FBI tips were for both of us to benefit,” she countered. “The information we accessed was quite valuable to our family members.”

“And yet the FBI will be on their way soon.”

“Oh, will they?” She mocked.

“I sent them a copy of David’s hard drive before I came,” I said. “If you read my posts, you’ll know that already. How long do you think it’ll be until they find you?”

“Considering all the loose ends I’ve just collected tonight, I’d say my chances have drastically decreased.” Sophie smiled again.

“But you don’t have all the loose ends,” I said.

“Games with the police are a lot of fun, anyway,” she said, gesturing meaningfully to Hernandez. “But, I don’t have time to play poker with you. I have much better games in mind. Get up. Both of you,” Sophie demanded in an annoyed tone.

We stood, and she motioned for us to step into the aisle. Leo stood behind us.

Sophie pulled out a handcuff key and undid my cuffs. Leo stepped forward and undid Zander’s. Zander didn’t launch himself at Leo like I expected. He just sat there while his captor tore all the chains off his body that held his hands so close to his chest.

“We’re going to play a better version of the game David wanted to play,” Sophie announced. “Face each other.”

Leo grabbed Zander’s neck and dragged him backwards. I turned to face him.

“Now, Zander, I think you know what’s going on, so why don’t you start? Say the words.”

He hesitated and looked at her.

“No,” he said.

A muffled cry could be heard from behind us. I looked since I was already facing that way. His mother was being held back by Hernandez.

“No?” Sophie repeated. “But you so willingly dared David. So dare Clark. Or you know the consequences.”

Zander took a deep breath. He looked me in the eye. I could read the apology on his face. He looked pained.

“I dare you to ruin my life,” he said.

“No,” Sophie insisted. “Dare him to end your life.”

“I dare you to end my life,” Zander said, holding my gaze.

“Now you, Clark.”

“I dare you to end my life,” I whispered. I could feel my limbs begin to shake. Holy shit. One of us was going to die. And she was going to make the other one do it.

Sophie turned around and picked up something from the pew behind her. It was two knives. Zander’s knives.

She held them out.

One had a circular handle with a compass at the butt of the handle. A military-grade knife. The blade was at least six inches long and had a serrated side to it. The other knife had a flat handle with only a four inch blade. It was also serrated on one side.

“Each of you pick one,” she commanded.

Zander immediately reached for the one with the circular handle, but she pulled it back.

“Guests first, Zander. Have some manners,” she scolded. Then she held the knives out to me. I recognized the knife with the flat handle and grabbed it. The one Zander hadn’t tried to grab.

I had to trust Zander.

Zander was given the other blade, and then Sophie retreated gracefully to the pulpit. Leo stayed a few steps behind Zander.

“Last one alive gets to decide whose parents live,” Sophie said from the pulpit. “Any funny business and everyone dies. I’m giving you a chance.”

“I’m sorry, Clark,” Zander mouthed while she spoke. “I’m so sorry.”

My jaw trembled, but my grip tightened. I refused to die.

Sophie’s last words echoed throughout the chapel. “Dare starts now.”

Zander suddenly lunged, stabbing his knife towards my chest. I jumped aside just in time.

“Zander, wait!” I cried.

He swung his long knife at me, and it came just short of my nose. I was trapped into stepping backwards as he took swing after swing at me. Katie was shouting through her gag and banging on the pews.

I was only narrowly escaping his swings. Zander was grunting with every swing, but his eyes bled with determination.

It was fucking horrifying.

“Zander!” I shouted.

He swung again. It sliced my left arm, cutting very deep. Blood seeped out of the wound and I cried out. Droplets of blood flew around as I moved to dodge. My shoulder started to ache again from my physical effort.

Gripping my knife, I stepped forward and swung at Zander’s chest. He was out of the way and then back again too quickly. Another slice caught the inside of my arm.

I gasped and stumbled back against the three stairs leading to the pulpit and almost fell. I was able to keep myself from falling, but I had to either get onto the stage, or get stabbed. My heels were jammed against the first step.

Zander plunged his knife in a downward arc, heading for my chest. I grabbed his arm with both hands and pushed for my life, my own knife digging into my hand. My foot stepped up and onto the first stair.

His arm slowly descended, narrowing in on its target. Sophie laughed with delight. Katie screamed, ripping at the tape over her mouth. Both of our parents were trying to shout too.

I put my other foot on the stage behind me, then stepped back. I released his arm. His knife crashed down into the wood floor, jamming in a crack between floorboards.

Zander instantly pulled at it, and it slowly started to come loose.

I used my chance and kicked him in the chest. He released the knife and backpedalled along the aisle, slamming into a pew. He dropped to the floor and cried out in pain.

I walked towards him quickly, knife angled in my hand for stabbing.

“Go on, Clark!” Sophie cheered. “Great work!”

I had no choice. There was no other option. I knelt down slowly beside Zander, who was dazed. I raised the knife above my head. Even as Katie ripped the tape from her lips and screamed my name, I plunged the knife into Zander’s chest.

The serrated edge clicked repeatedly as the blade punctured Zander’s body.

“NO!” Katie cried, trying to rush over. The guard grabbed her.

Zander gasped and looked at me, raising his head. His limbs writhed in pain. Blood spread like a ripple across his shirt. He put his shaking hand on my arm and stared me in the eye. He stopped moving and laid his head back. His hand fell from my arm and hit the ground with a dull thud.

I just knelt there, holding the knife in his chest.

That’s when a gun fired.

We all looked in terror.

Hernandez had shot the guard by my mom in the head.

Pandemonium ensued.

Katie spun and grabbed her stunned guard’s knife from his belt. His throat was slashed open and gushing in an instant.

At the same time, Hernandez aimed at a stained glass window and shot again. Part of it shattered and fell to the ground with a small crash.

Then the windows exploded. Flames flew everywhere as hand-made molotov cocktails smashed into the walls and floor. Fire spread like liquid throughout the wooden structure. Gunshots from outside filled the air and bullets whizzed into the building.

Sophie shrieked in confusion, dropping behind the pulpit and looking around.

I jumped up, startled. Katie cut herself loose and shouted something to Hernandez. Hernandez nodded and aimed his pistol at the door. He pushed our parents down so they were hidden behind the pews.

Leo ran towards me, and I jumped into the row to avoid him. He leapt over Zander’s body, off to secure Sophie. Katie was on his heels, staying low to avoid the bullets. She paused for half a second when she got to me. She looked terrifying with blood splattered across her face and shirt. I couldn’t understand her expression. She moved on.

I ran for my parents.

I scrambled on my hands and knees along the aisle until I got to Katie’s dead guard. There was blood everywhere.

I caught a glimpse of the guard’s gun under his body. With all my strength, I rolled him over and snatched it.

“You fucking asshole!” I shouted to Hernandez while I grabbed the gun.

“I’m helping now, aren’t I?!” Hernandez shouted back. “It was Zander’s idea!”

“Who’s shooting?!” I yelled, gesturing to the windows.

“No idea,” Hernandez admitted. “I’m just supposed to stop anyone who comes through here!”

Fucking Zander.

“Hand me your knife,” I said. He obliged.

I scooted along the aisle until I came to my mom, keeping my head low.

“Oh my god, Clark,” she sobbed after I cut the tape from her mouth. She put her arms around me despite having taped wrists.

“Let’s get that tape off,” I encouraged, cutting the tape.

“Stay low,” I commanded, then flipped over the pew to cut Zander’s parents free. I looked towards the front to see what was happening.

Katie had shoved Leo from behind, making him crash into the candles and knock them into the curtains. The fabric was now blazing brightly. The walls of the church had already caught fire and the flames were quickly engulfing the ceiling.

Smoke obscured my view as Katie and Sophie circled one another. Sophie had grabbed Zander’s knife from the stage and was swinging it around her as a threat. Why she didn’t have a gun was beyond me. Katie held the knife she’d taken from the guard and looked for an opening.

Leo pulled himself from the flaming web of candle wax and whipped out his gun. Katie saw him and spun to include him in her peripheral vision. The two closed in on her. She backed towards the flaming curtains, away from the two psychopaths. Sophie was talking, holding a hand out to keep Leo from shooting just yet.

I saw a movement in the aisle. Zander God Damn Mother Fucking Jones slowly raised his hand up and yanked the knife from his chest. The roar of fire drowned out his cry of pain. The blade had shrunk to be only an inch long, but he still clutched it as he got to his feet and stumbled toward the stage.

Leo never knew what hit him. Zander pulled his shirt back and slashed his throat with the tiny blade. Blood splattered across the stage, visible even from the back of the chapel. Sophie turned in surprise. Katie rushed forward, tackling Sophie backwards off the stage. They landed in the first row of benches and began wrestling.

Zander was grappling with the flailing Leo as he swung his gun around and fired shots into the ceiling. He was unconscious in seconds, however, and Zander let his body drop off the stage with a resounding thud.

“We have to go!” Hernandez yelled, grabbing my arm. “The fire is too much!”

That broke my trance. It was time to leave. The chapel had gone up like a tinderbox, and flames roared all around us.

As I passed the message on to our parents, Sophie’s gurgled scream could be heard over the flames. I shuddered.

Hernandez moved to the door, pistol still in hand, and pushed on the handle Locked. Shit.

He threw his weight against it, but it didn’t break. I joined in, and together we broke the doors open. There were no guards standing on the other side.

“Get them out!” I yelled.

Time to get Zander.

I raced down the aisle towards the stage. Katie was supporting Zander, who was struggling to stand.

“Let’s go!” I shouted.

I lifted Zander’s other arm and we lifted him, running for the door. When we got to the vestibule, I saw the bullet holes in the wall and shattered glass. The two guards lay in pools of blood. Good. The cop was nowhere to be found.

Coughing and spitting, Zander, Katie, and I left through the main doors into the night.

Katie and I kept carrying Zander until we were far enough from the building to not inhale smoke. We all gasped in fresh air, and coughed out the smoke. An orange glow lit up the sky as flames ascended hundreds of feet in the air.

I set Zander down to find my mom. I noticed that there were two other girls with us, each holding pistols. They were younger than us. Probably only fifteen or sixteen. I didn’t have time to pay more attention because my mom ran over.

“Clark!” She yelled, grabbing me. “Oh my God, oh my God,” she kept saying as she hugged me.

Zander’s parents grabbed ahold of him as well, talking incoherently as they looked at his bruised body. Zander’s dad supported him by an arm.

“We have to go,” Katie gasped. “The authorities will be here at any time. They’ll arrest Zander and all of us.” No one questioned her plan, not even Zander’s parents.

We were quickly rushed to two cars that were parked far away in the lot, just out of view of the front door. Zander, his parents, and Katie went in one car. Hernandez, my mom, and I went in the other. The two girls drove each car.

We sped away from the burning church just as the air had begun to fill with sirens.



Zander wasn’t taken to the hospital right away. First, the girls took us to someone’s home. That someone was a very obese but friendly man named Remy.

Remy inspected Zander and said he needed a hospital. It wasn’t just because of the stab wound, but also from potential internal bleeding that Leo may have inflicted.

Before I could insist on speaking with Zander, he was driven quickly to a local hospital.

The rest of us all treated burns and cuts. I somehow had the unfortunate luck of being stuck alone with Katie in a bedroom while she stitched the two cuts in my arm.

“You didn’t have to actually stab him,” she said angrily. “Hernandez was just about to shoot the guard. I thought you really were killing him.”

“And I didn’t know you had a private army on the way,” I retorted. “Zander knew what we had to do. He was prepared to take it as far as necessary.”

“So he brought a fake knife?” She asked, annoyed.

Katie and I had looked at the knife I’d stabbed Zander with. Zander had refused to let it go in his shocked state. We’d glanced at it as he held it. Only the tip of the blade was showing now, which was about an inch long.

I’d recognized the knife when Sophie held them out for us. I’d seen it in Zander’s online purchases. The hilt was a joke knife fitted with a plastic blade. The blade was supported by a spring, and would click down until the blade disappeared when you pushed it on something. Zander had replaced the plastic with a real blade.

“He didn’t tell me a thing about the knife,” I argued. “I just recognized it and thought I understood his plan.”

“Clearly nobody had all the pieces of the plan,” Katie sighed. “What a fucking insane idiot.”

“Who are the two girls?” I asked her.

“They were with me while I was kidnapped. They failed the torture test and were prostitutes for Sophie. It was Zander’s idea to bring in as many as we could. I only found the two of them in time.”

“The enemy of my enemy is my friend,” I quoted Sun Tsu.

“Yeah, something like that,” Katie said. “Zander was beating up pimps partially to prove that we could protect them. They were afraid to help.”

“They saved our lives,” I said.

She finished stitching and went to leave.

“Katie,” I said. She paused, looking over her shoulder at me. “Thank you.”

“It’s what we do now,” she said, then left the room.



I spoke a little with Hernandez before posting this because I know you’ll ask about him. He was encouraged by Zander to start digging stuff up on Sophie and her gang a while ago. He was supposed to make as much noise as possible to get their attention.

When they kidnapped his daughter and threatened him, he pretended to be coerced into action.

Instead, Katie followed to where they’d kidnapped his daughter and sprung her free before going to my house and getting caught intentionally.

Hernandez gave a couple of his guns to the girls and Katie gave them the homemade molotov cocktails.

I still don’t fully understand the timeline, but I’m sure in time they’ll be able to explain.



I got to see Zander today at the hospital. Katie and I snuck in with Hernandez’s help.

He’s aching all over, but they did find some internal bleeding. They’re treating him. He’s officially under arrest, of course. He’s handcuffed to the bed, and a police officer is standing outside. Hernandez let him take a break while we snuck in.

I don’t want to include our entire conversation because it’s personal.

“Why didn’t you include me from the beginning?” I asked.

“I saw those files with every detail of your life in them. Your life and Katie’s. I watched you take a bullet for me. I could never recover if either of you--if any of you died. I thought I could get rid of them all on my own. I was wrong. They targeted all of us, not just me.”

“How did you know I’d know the knife was a fake?” I asked.

“I didn’t,” he said. “I just hoped you’d still be so mad at me that you really would stab me. It had to look real.”



“What do we do now?” I asked. Katie and I were standing around Zander’s hospital bed. It was almost time to leave.

Katie had her arm intertwined with Zander’s. She was practically glued to him ever since we got there. Knowing the new Katie, I don’t think she did it for herself. I think she did it to reassure Zander that she wasn’t going anywhere.

“There’s still more of them out there,” Zander confessed. I thought of the kids still probably at that farm house. I have no idea how to find them. I don’t know where that farm house is.

“We have to hide the two girls, hide our families, hide both of you, and then it’s back to hunting for me,” Zander said like a heroic asshat.

“Bullshit,” Katie said. “I’m helping.”

Zander looked at me, one eye half closed from swelling.

“You know the truth now, Clark,” he said. “What’ll it be?”

“I’m in.”



Thank you all for your support and encouragement. We don’t plan to use Reddit anymore. Our enemies are far too accustomed to it now. It is no longer an advantage: it’s a liability. Forgive us for not keeping you updated.

We will keep fighting.

We will keep hunting.

We will save them.

Because that’s what we do now.

-Clark, Katie, and Zander

---

I Dared My Best Friend to End My Life [Part 6]


I couldn’t leave you all on such a terrible cliffhanger. Clark lacks the suspense in his writing that Zander was able to leverage. His cliffhangers are lackluster. Allow me to intervene.

Let me tell you the real story of David Fucking King, as you all so vehemently call him.

David knew from an early age that he was different. That he was better than most people. His peers were concerned with sports and other useless activities, while David learned how people worked. He learned how to manipulate people early on, and it served him well his whole life.

He always enjoyed control. Control was everything to him. That's why manipulation served him so well.

His parents didn't approve of his favorite activities. He loved to design traps. He told me once that traps were all based on behavior, and that trap-making was a natural extension of his core ability to understand motivations and manipulate them.

They brought him to a psychologist, who analyzed him for some time. The psychologist, of course, became scared of David. Since the psychologist was trained to see signs of manipulation, David had a hard time controlling him.

So he killed him. It was David's first real kill.

He's admitted once to me that he regretted killing his psychologist. David wished he had tried harder to manipulate the one person in his life who refused to comply. He wished he had let the psychologist challenge him. Instead, he took the easy route.

I, of course, applaud David for killing him. The man would have committed David to an institution forever the moment he had the chance. He'd already tried to hold him in confinement once, but David manipulated his way out of that trap. If he hadn't killed the psychologist, he might never have met me.

If I attached labels to my emotions, I suppose I did love David King. Not in a "I want a stable future with you" way, but as a type of adoration. I'm a manipulator myself, and meeting someone who was able to manipulate me was... thrilling.

He had me spinning around doing tricks for him without me even realizing it. David truly was a master at his craft.

We met after the dare with Zander began. He talked about it with some regularity, and I offered suggestions. After only a short while, however, he stopped talking about Zander.

I asked him about it, and he said the exercise was boring him because Zander refused to fight back. He guessed that Zander had even forgotten about their dare and chalked his small misfortunes up to bad luck. He had things planned, but they were dependent on Zander trying to fight back. I made some suggestions, but nothing cheered him up.

That's when I brought home Jack Hemsey. We weren’t living together, but he came to my house with some regularity.

"Who's this?" He asked when he came to my home after work one day.

"Your new student," I laughed, guiding Jack over to him. "Jack here is dying to learn your craft."

"My craft?" David said dubiously.

"Yes, darling, he wants to learn how to ruin people's lives! It seems he has an enemy that he really despises. I met him online, and I think you could teach him how to take care of his problem."

David reluctantly heard the boy out. Jack was timid, and he acted like a young boy.

Within only a month, Jack's enemy was in prison with enough evidence to convict him when the trial came around. I could see in David's face that he enjoyed that challenge. Jack did too. They bonded so well over it. Jack became confident and outspoken. David supported him. It was similar to a father-son relationship, despite their close ages.

I was feeling pleased as I watched them ruin Jack's enemy. Going back online, I searched for someone else who might be in Jack's same predicament.

I brought home Walker one day, and Jack didn't like him. He didn't trust Walker at all. After only a couple of days, Walker tried to leave and go to the authorities after we'd disclosed our activities to him. Jack killed him through a lengthy struggle. It was sloppy, unfortunately. So sloppy that I called David.

He was livid. He helped clean it up and dispose of the body, but he was very angry and shouted incessantly at me for the mistake I'd made. I accepted my punishment willingly. I deserved it. I’d been careless.

Only a couple weeks later, I was at my favorite bar, the bar where David and I had met, when I stumbled upon Kraig Munson. Kraig had been in and out of incarceration his entire adult life. His large stature didn't get him very many points when interviewing for a job. He often resorted to stealing to support himself.

I brought him home and immediately called David over for an analysis.

"What the hell are you planning to do with him?" David had shouted.

"Teach him to succeed! Give him a minimum required effort to the point that he's useful to us and our operation!"

"US?!" David cried. "We don't have anything! There is no operation! Jack and his problems were a side project. A hobby."

"Well, you've not had a crack at your hobby for a long time. It's affecting you, I can tell," I cooed. He shoved me away.

But he knew I was right, even if he didn't admit it. He began to train with Kraig and Jack to keep himself sharp. I began to find new targets.

A little less than a year later, we had our... well, I suppose family is an appropriate word. Me, David, Kraig, Jack, and many others. We did everything together and learned how to take care of ourselves and maintain the right minimum effort, as David taught. David was involved, but not completely. He helped us here and there with covering up our activities, but I took command. I was, and still am, their leader.

Each of them used to have enemies. Each of them had worked one-on-one with David to ruin their enemies. These activities got us into trouble on more than one occasion, but it was nothing we couldn’t weasel out of. Sometimes we’d take too much risk, but things would take care of themselves. After some time had passed, all of our individual enemies were either dead or imprisoned.

Except for one. Zander Jones.

And David recognized that.

He pushed everyone away and began to really crack down on Zander. And you all know how much David ruined Zander’s life.

Unfortunately, David wanted to take things slowly with Zander. I pushed him constantly, making him accelerate plans. We had our own family to look after and a business to build. Zander couldn’t be a multi-year project. It had to be over quickly.

That’s why I kidnapped Katie.

David was very angry when we did it without telling him. He stormed over to our holding location for new victims and hit me. Hard. After some convincing, he relented and integrated it into his plan, but he was angry that we had forced him to accelerate. David was trying to savor the dare too much. He didn’t care what happened to the girl, so long as we kept her alive and healthy enough for future use.

We took good enough care of her.

Once Zander was arrested, I tried to assure David that his mark was down. I tried to convince him that his contest with Zander was finished, just like all the others. But he couldn't let go. And in a move that was so idiotic and careless that I'm embarrassed to recount it, he broke Zander out.

But I didn't vocalize my criticisms. Because he was David King.

We ruined four more enemies while Zander was on the run for that year. Each one was carefully plotted out to eliminate exposure and risk, at David’s request. Especially since David himself had to go on the run. Despite the small risk, he received the hobby very well.

During David’s time on the run, he refused to see me or the others directly. He used Jack as an intermediary to pass information. He demanded to be left alone, and we obliged. He created us, after all. We started our own preparations to get David underground and keep him safe.

And then Zander started to post. And David got excited. David got too excited.

He began to fantasize about continuing to ruin Zander's life. All the things he could do, all the extravagant traps he could build and set into motion. I had to step in. I confronted him, disregarding the consequences. Through Jack, I told him to ignore Zander and focus on our more important and pressing problems.

He shouted at Jack to send a message back to me. He said it was not my concern and that I should stay focused on the business rather than interfere with his personal affairs.

Up to that point, we had been raising a profitable venture into human trafficking. Another way to ruin people's lives. Another way to design traps and execute well-designed plans. The thrill was constant, and it fulfilled our appetites.

But David King would not be satiated until he had ruined Zander Jones.

When Zander called David out, Jack told him to ignore Zander. David refused. I told him he had to kill Zander if he couldn't stand to just ignore him. He reluctantly agreed. We plucked Katie out from our personal collection, and David took Jack with him to the meeting with Zander.



When Jackson came home after sneaking into the warehouse, and verified that David and Jack truly were dead, we all grieved. I grieved for Jack more than for David.

I don't know why David killed Jack. Jack was like a son to him, I'm sure of it. Maybe he did it to provoke Zander. Maybe he did it in a moment of overexcitement. Either way, I hate him for it.

I hate you, David. You killed one of our greatest creations.

Fuck you, David King.

Now that David is gone, I intend to finish Zander like David often fantasized. Not out of respect for David. Not out of hatred for Zander either. But out of respect for what David and I have built. Without David, I wouldn't have everything I ever wanted. Without Zander, I wouldn’t have my family. I wouldn't have these creations who I can rely on for anything and everything.

Clark was the obvious choice for Zander's new opponent. At first, I was worried he wasn’t trained enough, but when he killed Kraig in that car accident and took care of Mandie at the bar, I became satisfied with his capabilities. Of course, he won’t be willing to play without the proper motivation. His mother.

Knowing Zander, he will probably offer up his own life so Clark and his parents can live. That’s why I’ve asked someone to pick up Zander’s parents too. I’d use Katie, but I don’t think that would motivate him enough. His parents are innocent. Katie isn’t.

As for Katie, we’ll find her and bring her back to my personal collection. She's a fighter. I'll train her and mold her into a new creation just like the others. She's halfway there already.

And now we have come full circle. Best friend pitted against best friend. To the death, this time.

I’ve given Zander a miserable night’s rest, while Clark had a relatively easy night yesterday. I need them to be evenly matched for fairness. Once Leo gets here with Zander, everything will be finished. Only one will join our collection and become profitable for us. Nothing short of death wins. Whoever wins gets to decide whose parents go free.

This ought to be exciting.

Don't expect there to be an update.

Hope you’ve enjoyed the show, Reddit.

I know I have.

~Sophie

---

I Dared My Best Friend to End My Life [Part 5]


I didn't go home. I was too stubborn.

It was starting to get dark out as I went back to my car. Since it was parked at the bar, I decided to take a picture of that wall, then head home. Even if Zander didn't want me involved, someone had tried to kill me. I was involved now whether he liked it or not.

I walked inside the bar behind a group of twenty people. The gruff bartender now had another, younger one helping out. Good. The place was filling up quickly.

I sidled over to the wall of pictures and looked around while I fished Zander's phone out of my pocket. When I pulled it out, it had another message.

M4N513THO: Where's Zander?

I got irritated.

2463573Z4B: Who is this?

I sent the message, then opened the camera app. I pointed it at the wall and took a series of photos, hoping I'd be able to zoom in later and see every image clearly. Glancing around, I made sure no one was staring at the idiot taking pictures. No one was.

Ordering a water, I sat at an empty table with two seats and began scrolling through the pictures to make sure they were good enough. I zoomed in close and found the image that the bartender had shown us earlier. The faces were clear and recognizable in the picture.

I recognized the guy from the bar, and the asshole who’d tried to kill me. I hadn’t ever seen Sophie in real life, but her face was clear in the picture. There were still three out of five unknowns.

"Five psychopaths," I muttered to myself.

I spent some time looking at the other images on the wall. None of the five were appearing in any other photos. Then I came across one picture that startled me.

David Fucking King's face stared at me from the wall. My heart exploded in my chest, and my palms started to sweat. I closed my eyes to take some deep breaths. Just a picture. David King is dead.

When I was calm, I looked at the image again. He was grinning his usual charismatic smile, but had his arm around someone. I zoomed in on them.

It was Sophie Atrikson.

The confirmation was startling. David King had known Sophie Atrikson.

Then Zander's phone pinged in my hands.

The same person had sent an image. It was a picture of me. In the bar. Sitting at the table, phone in hand. They had taken it from an angle where you could see my face.

Fuck.

I could tell from the image that they had taken it from the front door of the bar. I looked around, searching for any of the five faces.

Nothing.

But the place was packed.

And, as a result, I was safe. Right?

I took deep breaths and tried to look as calm as possible. The picture was a threat meant to scare me. If I acted normal, it would throw them off.

Ping. Another message.

M4N513THO: Where's Zander?

I replied.

2463573Z4B: I don't know.

M4N513THO: Don't know or don't care?

2463573Z4B: Both.

M4N513THO: Come meet me outside.

Nope.

2463573Z4B: Fuck off.

M4N513THO: It'll be easier.

2463573Z4B: What will?

No response. The phone didn't ping for ten, fifteen, thirty minutes. The stalker had left. I only assumed it was one of the five, but we knew there were more. It could have been anyone.

My water ran out and I had to piss, so I passed through the bar to the bathroom. I looked around before I went in to be sure no one was following me. Everyone was sitting, talking, and enjoying their evening.

I walked in, went to the urinal, and started my business. A toilet in the stall flushed, and someone walked towards the sink. I ignored them. Number one rule of the men's restroom: don't make eye contact.

Something cold and sharp materialized on my throat.

"Hello, Clark," a woman's voice whispered in my ear. I swallowed, which flexed my neck into the blade. I quickly zipped up my pants.

"Told you it would be easier," she said. I could hear her smile.

"You're insane," I said. "There must be a hundred people outside. All I have to do is scream and you're caught."

"If you want to stay alive, you won't scream," she said. "So, how's Zander?"

"I already told you, I don't know where he is," I growled.

"My friends seem to disagree," she said. "So I decided to ask you again when you're under a little pressure." The blade was pressed harder into my throat.

I'd trained for this. I'd trained for this exact situation: knife to the throat, facing a wall. I couldn't keep a small smile off my face as I grabbed her wrist and ducked down to get behind her. Her elbow smashed into my face as I ducked, then she shoved me to the ground. I hit the tiles towards the bathroom stall.

She laughed while I pulled myself backwards. I took a good look at her.

She had black hair that was cut short and definitely wasn't one of the five from the picture. She was my same height and approximate age. She played with the knife in her hands while she watched me, trailing her fingernails across the flat surface.

Definitely a psychopath. Fantastic.

I scrambled to my feet as she brandished the knife in front of me. I took my arm out of the sling, ready to fight.

"They told me you knew some self defense," she taunted. "You probably should have practiced more."

"I'll remember that the next time we meet," I said sarcastically. My eyes were desperately searching for a way out. She was between me and the door. Behind me was the single stall which contained nothing useful enough to be a weapon.

She stepped forward and swung at me. I jumped back, pushing the stall door all the way open. The woman lunged for me, and I swung the stall door into her face. She grunted and held her nose with one hand, backing up.

That's when the door behind the woman burst open.

Zander God Damn Mother Fucking Jones charged into the bathroom, tackling the woman from behind. She slammed to the floor with a thud. The knife left her grasp and slid towards me.

“Holy shit,”was all I could say as the woman started to slowly got to her hands and knees.

Zander walked around her towards me. He didn’t look me in the eye. Without a word, he snatched the knife off the floor. Using his free hand, he grabbed her by the shirt collar and dragged her into the stall. He held her head over the toilet and set the knife to her throat.

"Where's Sophie?" He asked evenly. She was still dazed and took a moment to respond.

"As if," she spat.

"Last chance," Zander replied.

"What're you going to do? Kill me? You wouldn’t even make it out of the building."

"You'll be dead anyway, so it doesn’t matter to you," Zander said. Then he pressed his knee into her back, covered her mouth with his hand, and stabbed the knife into her neck.

"Jesus Christ," I hissed, backing away.

Blood splattered on the wall and dripped into the toilet. Zander held her there as she struggled and bled out. When she stopped moving, he propped her up so she was limply on her knees, head in the toilet.

I could only watch in horror.

"That'll buy us time to get out of here," Zander said. He slipped the bloody knife into a pocket on the inside of his jacket. The bathroom thudded with the music outside, but I could hear the slow drip of blood into toilet water.

I didn't realize I was hyperventilating until Zander put his blood-free hand on my shoulder. I looked at him and saw dark rings under his eyes. His face was hardened since the last time I'd seen him. He looked... defeated.

"Clark," he said calmly. "Clark. Hold it together. Just until we get out of here, okay? Just keep it together."

I took deep breaths. Zander went back and locked the stall from the inside. He then crawled underneath to get out. From this angle, it just looked like someone was puking into the toilet.

It sounded like it too.

Oh, God.

Zander put his hands into his pockets, and we walked out of the bathroom. I kept my face normal as we took an eternity to walk past everyone out of the bar. The door hissed shut behind us and the sounds of the city took over.

Zander guided me to the right, and we walked for a couple of blocks before turning into an alley. The same alley where the girl had been kidnapped, incidentally.

Then I lost it. First came the tears. Then the sobs.

"ZANDER, WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!" I sobbed loudly. We separated, turning to face each other. I pulled at my hair, terrified.

He was shaking his head, also tearing up. "Clark, I'm sorry. I didn't want you involved in this. I didn't."

"What have you done?!" I shouted.

"Keep it down, just a little," Zander said, stepping forward.

"Zander," I growled angrily. "Tell me what’s going on."

"These people aren't fucking around like David King did," Zander said. "David King resisted killing. The game was in manipulation. For these guys, it's about seeing what they can get away with."

"What does that even mean?" I asked.

"David King wasn't working alone, even when he was targeting me," Zander said.

"Yes, I know about Sophie knowing David," I spat. “You may have made Katie slow me down, but I know that at least.”

"I told Katie to lead you away from this because of what these assholes are doing."

"And what are they doing?"

“Ruining a lot more lives than David King ever did. They're kidnapping people and torturing them. If they pass the test, they learn to become just like David King. They learn how to ruin people's lives and join the team.”

“If they can't pass it, they become prostitutes or slave labor or whatever else. I know it doesn't sound that horrible, Clark, but I've seen what they're doing to people and it's sick." Zander breathed heavily. He squeezed his eyes shut..

"It makes me so mad," Zander burst out, turning to kick a dumpster. He lowered his head and clenched his fists. His right hand was still red from the woman’s blood.

"Why did you kill her?" I asked. "If she knew where Sophie was, why did you kill her?"

"I already know where Sophie is now," Zander said, turning back around. "I just recently learned that. But I gave her a chance to change her mind. I gave her a chance to live.

"I'm hunting down every last one of these fuckers because they don't deserve to live. Especially Sophie. They've done things to people that you can only imagine. I'm making sure they can never hurt anyone ever again.

“But you can't be involved in this, Clark. When you started to chase after me when I went missing, I had to keep you away. You found the house while I was there, so I left the hard drive, police reports, and my phone there for you to find. I hoped they would distract you from really looking for me. I hoped that all the information would keep you too busy reading to come find me.

“I told Katie to keep you behind me until I could finish these bastards off. Now they’ve pulled you in to get to me.”

“You’ve manipulated me!” I shouted.

“That’s nothing compared to what could happen to you now. Clark, I need you to go underground again, just like with David King, but further."

There was silence between us. He watched me carefully.

"Zander, I'm really pissed off at you," I said quietly.

"I know that, Clark, but I--"

"Let me finish." I interrupted. "I saved your life. I fought David King with you. I went under the radar, moved around, laid low, hid from everyone, set traps, and god damn it, I took a bullet for you!

“I don't care how horrible and sick these people are. You don't get to decide for me. You don't get to decide whether I jump in and help you or not. You tell me the truth, and then I decide."

"What David King did is child's play compared to them, Clark."

"I don't care," I said. "The truth, and then I make my own decision.”

Zander hesitated. "Fine," he sighed. "Fine. First, read the hard drive. You haven't seen it yet. Go home. Read what's on it. Then make your decision.”

“Why can’t you just tell me, Zander?” I ranted.

“Because you need to see the scope of what they’ve done. Give me my phone," he said.

I hesitated, but handed his phone to him. He typed in his new number and saved it. He also saved the password to the hard drive as a draft text and handed it back to me.

"Call me when you've made your choice. I expect you to want out."

"I expect to want in," I retorted.

"Go," he said, then turned and walked towards the exit at the other end of the alley. He raised the hood on his jacket as he turned right at the adjoining street. I took deep breaths and tried to calm down.

What the hell has happened to Zander Jones?



I drove home very distracted. The knife plunging into the woman's neck kept popping back into my mind. Zander's now weakened face did too.

It took an hour longer than usual to get home. I walked inside to find it empty. My mom had left a note on the table.

"Working late tonight! Dinner is in the fridge! Love, Mom."

The microwave heated my broccoli and cheese casserole while I booted the computer that contained David's hard drive. A black screen appeared, asking for a password.

'KnightvsDragon,' I typed, referencing Zander's phone. The computer hummed and began the boot process. I set the phone on the desk while I walked over to pull my food out. I took a bite and sat back down to start my search in the My Documents folder.

That's when Zander's phone pinged. A new account.

50PH13: Where's Mom?

I dropped my fork. Everything began to spin.

I ran to the kitchen counter, snatching up the note. There it was. The 'o' in "Working" had a line through it.

No.

It was a code we had established as part of our security routine. Any note left under duress would have a line through the first word that contained an 'o' or a zero.

No. No. No.

I called Zander. He didn’t answer.

I grabbed the casserole dish and hurled it at the wall. The glass container shattered, spreading casserole everywhere and making a dull ring fill the apartment.

“GOD DAMN IT, ZANDER!”

I gripped the side of the kitchen counter with my unslung arm, wanting to rip it apart in anger.

The phone pinged. Another message.

50PH13: Where's Zander?



Thank you all for following along as I've tried to find Zander in these last posts. Thank you for your support, your encouragement, and your suggestions.

This could very well be my last post. This could be the last thing I do before I die.

I'm turning myself over to them tonight.

There's no hope. There's no chance. All I can hope for is that they'll release my mom if I do what they say. All I can do is trust Zander.

You may have noticed that the first posts started out covering each day, but then I was unable to keep up with the current day's events. I came home to find my mom missing on July 26th. It's now been three days. I've spent that whole time hiding a couple towns away in case they came to my home for me.

During that time, I've read David King's hard drive.

That's how I know we're fucked.

Let me fill you in as quickly as possible. I have to leave soon.

I called Zander a million times after getting that last message. It took him so long to call me back. An entire day.

So I read. I read all day and night on the 27th.

I found entire databases on us. All of us. Katie, Zander, me, Ivan, our parents, everyone. There was also one on Sophie, Jack, and Kraig. Guess that’s how Zander found their names to request their police reports.

There aren’t just entries on us. There’s entries on Detective Hernandez, his colleagues, his boss, the public defender’s office, the prosecutor’s office, and others.

The databases contained… everything. Our social security numbers, birthdays, routines, past relationships, copies of our entire social media profiles, almost everything you could think of. David knew us. He knew us inside and out.

The worst part isn’t that these databases exist. It’s who wrote them. Each observation and fact is initialled. DK is a common initial. David King. But so is SA. And JH. Sophie Atrikson and Jack Hemsey. And four others: JN, MT, LR, and PW.

Which means that Sophie knows us as well if not better than David did.

How could they know so much about all of us? Why would they devote that much time and energy? Why?



David’s file on Sophie, Jack, and Kraig was written solely by him. I can assume that it was written only for his personal use. So far as David’s file is correct, this is what I’ve learned about Sophie.

It isn’t completely clear how they met, but it was obviously a sexual relationship. They met up repeatedly. David would tell her about his “Zander problem” and she would offer suggestions.

David’s analysis of her stated that she was very similar to him in some ways, but drastically different in others. They were both cold people who got bored with life easily without a challenge. Sophie has less of a moral compass than David, according to him.

Sophie is more of a risk taker, while David was a risk calculator. The more risk and chance of getting caught, the more excitement Sophie gets from it. David enjoyed the careful planning and meticulous calculations. He recognized their differences.

She confided in him once that she’d been abused and molested by her father while she’d grown up. When her father had come to her bed on the night of her sixteenth birthday, she’d stabbed him with a kitchen knife that she kept in her room that night.

Sophie got away with the murder by sneaking pieces of her father’s body out of the house in her backpack that night. One by one. She hid the pieces far away and the body was never found. Her mother was devastated, but the police never found out what had happened to him.

She told David that it was the most exciting night of her life. An inexperienced sixteen year old girl murdering her father and trying to get away with it all in one night? Thrilling.

Because of her history, she firmly believed that horrible events make people strong and capable. The weak cower in the face of horrible events, while others become their best selves. This rang true with David and he agreed with her.

Before meeting David, she had already decided to personally make as many people into their best selves as possible.

Sophie told him that she mugged people during her weekends. She loved to see them fight back, hoping that her actions were making them better in the long run. But she wished she could see the fruits of her labors.

She fully supported what David was doing to Zander. She believed the same as David: that he was making Zander into a better person by making him fight. When David began to grow bored of Zander because he wasn’t fighting back, she brought home Jack. Jack had someone he wanted to ruin, and Sophie convinced David to help him as a side-project.

In a matter of weeks, Jack’s enemy was in jail.

David was satiated. Jack was pleased. Sophie was ecstatic.

So Sophie brought home another. And another. And then she started kidnapping.

Behind David’s back, she kidnapped people and locked them in a custom basement she had made with the help of her new friends. Jack and the others all felt like they were their best selves while helping Sophie. They all wanted to make others the same way.

So they began to torture people. The worse they were treated, the better they thought the person would turn out. And for some, it actually worked. For others, they ‘failed’ and were pushed into prostitution or forced labor.

David found out secretly about their activities, but didn’t reveal anything to them. Instead, he did something that I don’t completely understand. He messaged the FBI.

He began feeding them tips in exchange for access to some of their databases. The tips were small enough to keep them away from Sophie, but juicy enough for the FBI to arrest a few of Sophie’s friends. He doesn’t mention what data he was accessing.

That fact confuses me. Whose side was David King on? Was he just using Sophie for information? Or did he actually want to stop her without revealing it was him?

That’s when the data on the hard drive ends. I assume David had an updated version on another computer after this hard drive was stolen. But this data is enough to tell me how fucked up Sophie is.

And how small the chance is that we’ll ever survive this.



Zander finally called me back yesterday morning. He didn’t have any good news.

He’d been planning and spying on where they were, trying to figure out the best way to get my mom out. And that was when he’d seen his own parents. Sophie had kidnapped them too.

Zander was calling to tell me that he was on his way over there to turn himself in. It was his best shot at getting everyone out alive, he said. He asked me not to tell Katie, but he was telling me in case it didn’t work. If he didn’t contact me in a day, I was to go to the FBI and give them David’s hard drive. The stubborn asshole refused to tell me where they were ‘in case you try anything without thinking.’

Only a few hours after the conversation with Zander, I received a new message.

50PH13: Where’s Clark?



The license plate told me nothing. No one at the DMV would tell me anything about who owned the dark green honda with the license plate. It was futile. Zander might have been able to do something with it, but I was stuck hanging up in defeat.

I still can’t figure out what the apps on Zander’s phone are. I’ve turned them off, but kept moving just in case they were tracking apps like some of you suggested.

There’s still so much I don’t know, and that contributes to my depression and hopelessness.

Zander had resisted telling me their location in case I tried anything without thinking.

Well, I’ve thought about it. A lot.

I also listened to what you all had to say.

Finding Jackson was easy. He was staying at our old apartment still.

I wasn’t sure if he knew where Sophie was when I first attacked him. Seeing him at the warehouse as a coroner was too much of a coincidence, so I hoped he really was in on the plot. He was. The bastard.

I pretended to be as insane as Zander and even brought a knife with me. Jackson believed my character. He had a few broken fingers by the time I got what I needed, but he’ll live.

I couldn’t kill him though. I only left him a couple hours ago. He’ll have told them by now that I asked for the address. They’ll expect me. In fact, it’s probably a trap.

I’m going in after Zander. It’s only been a day, but I’m going in. I tried to trust Zander, I really did. But I can’t rely on him to get my mom out. And with Hernandez under Sophie’s oppressive thumb, I can’t turn to the police either. I saw it in his file. They have a massive target painted on his daughter’s back, and he knows it. I don’t blame him. Even the other officers have notes on them for leverage points. I can’t trust any of them.

I can’t trust anyone.

I don’t know what else to do. We are now in the present, everyone. I’m numb, defeated, and depressed. No matter what I’ve done, I’ve been dragged inevitably to this point. If I resist, they’ll hurt my mom.

You guys have been sitting and hoping for some big reveal. I know you’ve been hoping that this is all one big elaborate trap. But it isn’t. I have no plan. I’m just a regular guy who happened to get wrapped up David King’s mess. I’m a bystander. I’ve tried to be Zander and come up with some plan, but I have nothing. And, seeing what Zander has become, it terrifies me to even attempt to become him.

I’ve done what I can, but I’m not Zander Jones. I’m Clark Ulysses.

I’ve sent a copy of the hard drive to the local FBI office, left a voicemail for Katie, and am standing at the edge of the treeline near the old church they’ve purchased and holed up in. I’ve brought Zander’s phone and the hard drive with me in case they hurt my mom to get me to bring it. Anything to keep her from getting hurt.

All that’s left now is to press ‘submit’ and walk over. The guards will see me, and it will be too late to turn back.

If this is the end, goodbye, Reddit. You’ve been great friends.

-Clark

---

I Dared My Best Friend to End My Life [Part 4]


Hello everyone,

Once again, thanks for all your love and support. It’s hard to stay motivated the more I learn here in the present day. I’m trying not to make too many comments about the present day because I want to get you all up to speed.

Oh yeah, some of you have asked about the two computers. I’ve been going through them and they are similar, but not identical at all. It’s like if you were to switch off using two computers, one each day. They are similar in that sense.

I’m sorry I haven’t spoken to you very much in the comments. I know Zander did, and you all loved it. I’m just too depressed and feeling hopeless.

I’ll continue where I left off now.

We left the station with Hernandez and got back into my car. It was late afternoon now.

"Well, we still have leads," I said. "We learned who Jack Hemsey is, and I bet we could check on the others through social media too."

"And the bar," she added. "We're going there next."

I drove us there. It wasn't far from the police station, only a couple of blocks, but the heat made us stick with driving.

It might have been slightly larger than any other bar I've ever been to, but otherwise it was normal. Incoherent music filled the air, and the hum and drone of light conversation filled gaps in the music. The bar was pretty sparse since it wasn't that late.

I paused for half a second when I thought I saw David King sitting in a booth, staring at me. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply. Katie noticed and waited for me. She gave me a questioning look, but I shook my head. Thankfully, she didn’t persist.

We sat down at the bar and ordered a beer for each of us. I fully intended to ignore my beer. I'm not a drunk driver. We just purchased them to blend in and hopefully make the bartender more cooperative.

Before the drinks arrived, Zander's phone pinged again. Same message.

M4N513THO: Where's Zander?

I ignored it.

When the bartender brought us our drinks, Katie turned on the charm.

"I'm looking for an old friend of mine I used to hook up with," she said over the music and conversations. "Jack Hemsey?"

"Name doesn't ring a bell," the gruff man in his forties replied.

"Maybe Kraig Munson?" I asked. He gave me a peculiar look.

"Nope."

"What about Sophie Atrikson?" Katie said next. The man paused.

"Sophie Atrikson," he said with a sigh. I couldn't tell if it was a sigh of exasperation, or longing.

"You know her then?" Katie prodded.

"Yeah, she used to come here a lot after work," he said. "Is she your lover too?" He said, winking at Katie.

"Sophie's also an old friend," Katie smiled undeterred. "I used to hang out with the crew a lot and lost contact a while ago."

"Hate to say it, but she was banned from this bar for fighting about... oh, I dunno over a year ago?"

"Who was she fighting?" Katie feigned surprise.

"Some guy who came and hit on her all night. The bastard wouldn't leave her alone. Eventually she slapped him, and he jumped all over her."

"She got banned because a creep hit on her and then attacked?" I asked skeptically.

"No," the man chuckled. "He had her down for a few seconds, but then she came right back and beat the living shit out of him. It was quite a sight! Unfortunately, the owner kicked her out. I didn't have much say in the matter."

“The guy didn’t get kicked out?” I asked.

“I don’t remember… I think he was allowed to stick around a couple more times, but after a while he never showed up again either.”

"Was she upset about being banned?" Katie asked.

"She didn't kick the owner's head in, if that's what you mean," the man laughed. "She respected his decision and I haven't seen her since."

“Were there any other fights around that same time?” I asked.

“We have our fair share of fights and brawls in here, just like any bar,” the man said sharply. “I don’t remember all of them.”

"Did Sophie ever come here with anyone else?" Katie asked. "Friends? Dates?"

"Sounds to me like you're a mourning ex-girlfriend," the man winked again. He just wouldn't drop the insinuations, would he?

When neither of us responded, he straightened his back. "Eh, probably a few times. In fact..." he said absentmindedly.

He wandered off to a far wall next to the entrance. It was covered in photographs. Stenciled letters above it labelled the area as "Favorite Moments." He plucked a picture off the wall and brought it back, setting it on the counter in front of us.

It was a picture of five people, all crowded in close and grinning. They all had their arms around each other and were posing in front of the back wall of the bar. The man pointed to the girl in the middle. She had dirty blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail. She was average in height compared to the other people in the picture.

Besides Sophie, there was one other girl and three guys. The lights around us were dim, so I couldn't make out a lot of their faces. One of the guys was enormous and stood over all of them, hands spread across all of their backs.

My eyes widened. I recognized him immediately as my attacker. I exchanged a furtive glance with Katie. She understood my message.

"These glorious bastards each beat our old drinking record one night. Sophie had already been here a few times before, but this time she brought a few friends with her. Before this, she spent a lot of her nights talking with me and getting to know the staff. She could also put 'em down like no other," he laughed.

The fact that my attacker was in the picture made me want a copy. It would be nice to know their faces. I pulled out my phone and held it up to take a picture, but the man gave me a suspicious glare.

"Alright. I've played along. What're you after?" He growled, pulling the picture back.

"Like I said," Katie replied. "Just looking for my old friends." With that, she hopped off the bar stool, and I followed suit. We left the bar casually, but left our beers untouched. As soon as we were out of sight through the bar's windows, Katie stepped up her pace.

"What--what's going on?" I asked, jogging to keep up.

"You had to pull out your phone like an amateur, didn't you?" Katie accused.

"I'm sorry!" I said.

"We'll go back another time when it's busier and take a picture of the wall," Katie said. "But right now, it's time to leave."

"Why are you in such a rush?" I asked.

"Because one of those guys in the picture was in the bar," she said. "I get the feeling we're being followed."

Sure enough, one of the guys in the picture sauntered out of the bar behind us just as we reached the crosswalk.

"I don't like this," I said as we waited for the light to change.

"I don't like being followed either," Katie said, discreetly watching the guy.

"No, I mean the teamwork. We have Jack Hemsey, who's connected to Sophie through the picture in the bar and the police reports. Now we have someone from the picture following us, and another one that attacked me. That's a good indicator that they're working together. God knows how many others there are."

"Fair enough," Katie said as the light changed.

We crossed quickly, and the guy slowly followed, acting nonchalant.

We made it to my car, but not much further. Katie suddenly tensed up and looked further down the street. I was taking out my keys to unlock my car when I noticed her tense stance. Her face darkened into a fury I've never seen before. An anger that could only be resolved through murder.

She suddenly took off down the sidewalk, running more furiously than I'd ever seen someone run before.

"Katie! KATIE!" I yelled after her. Damn, she was fast. I ran around the car and looked down the road for what had provoked her.

Two men were grappling with a young girl, trying to pull her into an alley just half a block away. In broad daylight.

Shit.

I raced after Katie, running as hard as I could without tripping. Running with my sling was awkward. I looked at the street, hoping someone else was coming to help. None of the cars passing by could really see what was going on because the sidewalk was lined with parked cars.

As I got halfway there, Katie made contact. She ran at one of the men from behind as he held the girl. Her arms were outstretched, preparing to tackle him. The man let go at the last second and swung his fist, smashing into Katie’s jaw. He’d been waiting for her.

She was taken completely by surprise and went down instantly.

The other man continued to pull the girl along, his hand smothering her mouth so she couldn’t scream.

He shoved the girl into the trunk of a black van that was tucked further into the alley. I could barely see the open doors from where I was. The girl’s legs kicked, but he pushed them in and slammed the two doors shut.

The man that had hit Katie reached down to grab her. He started to lift her arms to carry her away when I started shouting at him while I approached. He instantly dropped her and ran back to the van.

They both disappeared into the alley. Katie was barely starting to lift herself off the ground. In a split second decision, I turned around and raced for my car.

That’s when I noticed the guy from the bar running towards me. I sped up, getting ready to fight.

“Come on!” I taunted, full of adrenaline.

Instead of starting a fist fight and risking the van getting away, I dropped to the ground and kicked his legs. He was caught completely by surprised and flipped straight down, his face colliding with the concrete. There was a solid crack when he hit.

I rolled to my feet and kept running towards my car.

The keys fumbled in my hands as I struggled to unlock the door and turn the ignition. My car stuttered to life, and I pulled into the street, cutting someone off.

I had only gone a few feet when the black van reversed onto the street out of the alleyway. It jolted into gear and sped into traffic. Behind it, Katie ran into the road, chasing them. I had to swerve to avoid hitting her. In the rearview mirror, I saw saw her speed back to where my car had been. She must not have seen me swerve.

I settled in behind the van, moving to the same lane.

So, pursuit it was.

My phone rang, and I picked it up, knowing who it was.

"Where are you?!" Katie shouted.

"Following that van," I said calmly. "Don't worry, I'm on it."

"Those FUCKERS!" She screamed.

"Katie, calm down!" I yelled back. "Go back to the police station or bar and stay there. The guy from the bar is still by you. I think they’re all working together. Watch yourself! I'm calling the police now to tell them what's going on."

Before she could respond, I hung up and dialled 911. I put it on speaker phone and held it in one hand with the steering wheel in the other.

"911, what's your emergency?" The operator answered.

"Hi, I'm in pursuit of a black Dodge Ram 1500 van. Two males have kidnapped a young girl and are driving away with her."

"What is your location?" The operator said. I told her the street I was on and the intersection we were approaching. There were very few cars out on the four-lane road, so there was little risk of losing him.

"I'm sending vehicles your way. Once they arrive, please pull over and I'll send an officer to come talk to you," the operator said. "Stay on the line here with me so I can keep getting their location."

She asked me to read off the license plate, and I did. I froze.

It was the same.

The same license plate number as the car outside Zander's hideout. Different car. Same plate.

Teamwork.

At that moment, a car came out of nowhere from my right. It was heading the same direction, but shoved into my lane to push me towards oncoming traffic.

"Oh fuck," I said, putting the phone in my lap and gripping the steering wheel with both hands. My phone flew out of my lap as the other car, a familiar, dark green Honda Accord, slammed into the side of my car a little harder.

In the ultimate scenario of bad luck, the phone bounced and hit my arm. My arm hit the 'End Call' button, and the phone slid to the passenger-side footwell. Just perfect.

I risked a quick glance over my shoulder. The same gigantic man was behind the wheel of the Accord. His nose was bruised and purple, which made me smile a little.

"Wonderful," I said sarcastically to myself. Then I hit the brakes.

The cars behind us had already braked and cleared the way after noticing that my car was being rammed. The Accord scratched against my car as it sped past. It came to a stop a ways away, brake lights shining brightly.

The black van continued onward.

I ground my teeth, then hit the gas. I went into the median lane and flew past the Accord. The van made a left turn, and I followed suit, thankful that the light had stayed on a green arrow.

My rearview mirror told me that the Accord was also catching up.

Who the hell tries to create a car accident while in city traffic?

The van made another left as the light turned red. Several cars honked as I flew through the intersection. The Accord narrowly avoided an accident behind me.

Just as I was turning forward from watching the Accord, I saw the van turn right. When I tried to follow, I saw another car coming from my left and had to slam on my brakes. He did too, and screamed at me silently through his window. I desperately motioned for him to drive, but he kept screaming. I stepped on the gas and sped on. The Accord was getting too close for comfort.

When I went around the corner, the van was gone.

There wasn’t time to slow down and look around. The Accord was quickly approaching. He must have cut off the guy I almost hit.

My goal now was to lose the Accord.

I hit the pedal and swerved into the median. We shot past traffic and got up to 50 mph. A traffic intersection was coming up, and I desperately tried to figure out where I was going to go. The left turn light turned green, and my decision was made. I slammed on my brakes and skid my way through the left turn, picking up speed as soon as I'd straightened out.

The Accord was quickly behind me.

"Okay, okay, just stay alive long enough for the cops to catch up to you," I said to myself. Then I saw how close the Accord was getting.

I took a hard right, thankful that this intersection also had a green light. My phone started to buzz, and my right turn had brought it closer to me. I snatched it up with one hand and clicked 'answer.'

"Clark, what's going on?" It was Katie. "I saw you get hit by another car and--"

"No time!" I shouted. "Call Hernandez! The asshole from the hideout is trying to kill me with his car!"

As if to back up my claim, the Accord bumped me from behind. I sped up, putting the call on speakerphone and dropping it into the passenger seat. It slid just out of reach.

It was a poor choice, because I couldn't hear Katie's muffled voice over the roar of my old engine.

"I can't hear you!" I shouted. "I dropped my phone!"

The intersection I was rapidly approaching had all red lights. Shit. Shit. Shit.

I looked left. Then right. The cars might be just far enough apart.

Might.

I hit the gas and tried not to shut my eyes. My car got a little air as I shot through the intersection at 70 mph.

"Oh God," I exhaled with a sigh.

There was a sudden, loud crash behind me. I checked my rear view mirror. The big asshole had t-boned someone's truck. The relief was instantaneous.

Unfortunately, the adrenaline started to drain out of me immediately.

I slowed down to match the speed limit and took several random turns to move diagonally away from the scene. I grabbed my phone and saw that Katie had ended the call. I redialed and waited for her to pick up.

"I'm... okay," I breathed. "He crashed." I sat still and felt all my energy drain away while Katie shouted into the phone.

"Clark! Where are you?!"

"I'm... somewhere," I said, looking around. "In front of the Key's bank a few blocks away, I think."

“They took her to the Key’s bank?”

“What? No, the van got away,” I sighed.

She groaned angrily. "Come back to the bar," she said.

"The police are gonna be all over me," I resisted.

"Don’t be melodramatic," she said. “Traffic cameras will have caught everything.”

Struggling to move my lethargic limbs, I reached my hand out and put the car in drive.



I made it back to the bar, and the police officers who were on the scene took us back to the police station because I was unsteady. They needed my statement, but Katie insisted I rest because of the adrenaline. As a result, I was seen by an EMT at the police station while I told them what I could. I didn’t mention any backstory. I only said that I’d pulled out into traffic to chase the van when the other car started slamming into mine. They accepted my story that I was just passing by and noticed the assault.

I asked what had happened to the guy who’d been chasing me. He had been killed instantly in the car crash. So was the guy in the truck that got hit. They were working on cleaning up the scene now, but didn’t even know who my pursuer was. It was an absolute mess.

The man who I’d tripped must have ran off after Katie chased the van into the street. She said she couldn’t find him anywhere once she ran toward my car. I was upset because he could have provided some good information, provided we could have gotten him to talk.

I laid exhausted on a bed in a small room of the police station where officers could take a nap. The EMT had just left, and Katie and I were left alone.

“They’re going to arrest me for reckless driving,” I said nervously.

"You're still stuck in David King mode," she replied. "Cameras on the street will have recorded everything. Right now, we just need to get you off the street and somewhere safe. Zander will kill me if you get hurt again."

I was about to ask when she'd spoken to Zander about me when the door burst open.

"What the hell was he thinking?" Hernandez shouted, bursting into the room. The EMT was right behind him.

"Detective, you can't just--" The EMT was saying.

"Why the HELL did you think getting in a car chase was a good idea?!" He shouted, glaring down on me. I squeezed my eyes shut. My heart rate shot back up.

"Hernandez, STOP!" Katie shouted. I could hear her pull him back.

"First Zander, and now you! Who the hell do you two think you are? Do you think you're above the law? Did David Fucking King make you think you could do whatever the hell you wanted and people would sympathize?"

"Zander?" I croaked. I sat up, eyes blinking.

"Yeah," Hernandez growled. "Apparently he's been crawling the city and beating the hell out of every pimp he can find!"

“What?” Katie said.

“The 'victim' who got beaten up this morning? He said the perp asked a lot of questions about Sophie Atrikson. Who else do we know that’s looking for Sophie Atrikson?” Hernandez accused.

My eyes widened. Zander.

“Apparently, the victim doesn't know who she is, but the perp didn't believe him. He got beat on for a while, then the ‘perp’ took off, stealing his keys, phone, and wallet. The description matches Zander,” Hernandez said sharply.

“If that’s Zander, then he wouldn’t take those risks without a damn good reason,” Katie said firmly.

"Damn good reasons don't get you out of jail!" Hernandez shouted at her.

"All. Right." The nurse said in a loud, firm voice. "Detective, you are out of line. Leave. Now. Or I'll call Chief Gunderson."

Hernandez stomped out of the small room and slammed the door.

"I’m sorry," the EMT said. “You should be able to rest now.” I shook my head.

"Don't worry about it," I said, rubbing my eyes.

"Can we talk in private?" She asked the EMT. He nodded and stepped out.

"So, Zander is out looking for Sophie by beating up potential pimps and hoping they know her?" I said, furrowing my eyebrows and looking down. "That doesn't make any sense."

I looked back up, staring Katie in the eyes. "What did you mean Zander will kill you if I get hurt again?" I asked.

She took a deep breath.

"I've been lying to you a little," she said. "’I’ve been talking to Zander online since you found his hideout."

"What?" I hissed. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because he asked me not to."

"Tell me anyway," I insisted.

"Zander doesn't want you mixed up in this," Katie admitted. "He asked me to keep an eye on you and keep you out of the action if you ever caught wind of what he was doing."

“Well, clearly I caught on," I said.

"Not completely," she said. "I've been leading you down a trail that Zander took a while ago. I've intentionally slowed you down.”

“Just because Zander told you to keep me out of his way?”

“That’s not what it is,” Katie calmly stated.

“Then what is it?”

“I got into David's hard drive. And I know a little about what Zander’s doing. I know why he’s doing it."

I stared at her, my jaw setting.

"When the hell did you do that?"

"Last night while you were still asleep. I guessed the password."

"And when exactly were you going to tell me that you got in?"

"I don't know," she said, as if we were in a game of poker.

"So, I find Zander's hideout, give you access to what he was working on, ask for your help in finding him, and you start hiding information?!" I started to raise my voice. "My best friend is out doing dangerous shit, and you're hiding things!"

"I'm telling you now." She retorted neutrally. "I'm telling you now because you almost died today, Clark. You were almost in a car accident because of some bad people. And they want to hurt you because of Zander. Because of Zander and because of me."

I hesitated. So did she. Her eyes started to mist over, but she closed her eyes and steeled herself. Her eyes opened with the same dimness I'd seen before.

"So he doesn’t want me involved, but he’ll let you get in on it?” I snarled.

“I’m already involved,” she said in a dark voice. “I can’t stay out of it, but you can.”

“What. Happened. To. You.” I clipped. “God damn it, Katie, stop lying to me and tell me what you know!”

“No, you’ll try to get involved,” Katie retorted.

“I’m already involved!” I shouted. “I almost died today, according to you! Doesn’t that make me involved?”

“It makes you a target,” Katie said calmly. “A target that can hurt Zander if they get you. That’s why we need you to hide. We know they’re specifically after you.”

“Zander recruited me to help with David King, so why the hell can’t I help now?”

“Because they’re worse than David. Way worse.”

“Oh, so now you know who we’re after?” I spat.

“YES!” Katie yelled, standing over me. “THEY HELD ME CAPTIVE FOR A YEAR, CLARK, I KNOW WHO THEY ARE!”

I refused to back down. “So he’s doing it as revenge for you? Is that it?”

“No,” Katie said, annoyed.

“Who are they, Katie? Are the three people in the police reports victims or perpetrators?”

“Perpetrators. Sophie is the queen bitch,” Katie admitted. “But that’s all you need to know.”

“And you knew that all along,” I accused. “So you’re not going to tell me what this is all about?”

“No,” she replied.

"Well, if you're going to wait until I almost get killed to tell me secrets, then I don't want to be a part of this anymore," I said. I stood up and walked to the door. Katie jumped and grabbed my arm, holding me back.

“You can’t leave until I get you somewhere safe,” she said, looking me in the eyes.

“Fuck off,” I said, then yanked my arm out of her grasp. I stormed through the police station, picking up speed as I went. I didn't want to be anywhere near this anymore.

I got to the street and ran.

-Clark

---

I Talked to God. I Never Want to Speak to Him Again

     About a year ago, I tried to kill myself six times. I lost my girlfriend, Jules, in a car accident my senior year of high school. I was...