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Riot Chapter 1

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Epic Irony

Profitable Prophet

PostPosted: Sat Mar 20, 2010 1:09 pm


I'm about to post what might possibly be the most epic thing I've ever written. I'm working on a book, titled Riot. I've completed the first chapter, and the second as well, and I'm about to conclude the third, but I thought that I would post chapter one to see if it's actually worth reading. I apologize for any present/past tense errors, I originally wrote it in present tense, and decided it would work better past tense, tried to change it... But not sure I got everything. So, just tell me what you think!
PostPosted: Sat Mar 20, 2010 1:17 pm


Riot
By Trace Oglesby
Chapter 1: Instability rising

My name is Alex. I was test subject number 11012, and I was being studied for the effects of mind altering brain wave frequencies on the human capacity for telekinesis. I lived in the top floor of a big building, with no windows, and all the doors were locked all the time. There were always doctors running in and out of the building, running tests and analyzing data. Being a test subject, the data was often concerning me.

There were two kinds of tests, the ones with the big machine, and the test where I moved things. At first, the machine nearly killed me, and I could only do that test only once a month; and my eyes would start bleeding. Then, I did the test at least three times a day, but the machine still hurt. The test consisted of me lying on a table, inside of a big machine with a metal bar that wraps around my head. The doctors used to put these needle probes into my head, trying to “measure brain waves” or something. But one day, the first day I started passing out, I woke up and the probes were fried, sticking out of my head like burning hot metal horns. After the resulting surgery to remove the probes, the doctors were worried about me. They didn’t know why I had fainted, or what would happen if they put me in the machine anymore. The worrying stopped when I took the other test.

The tests where I moved things were much less painful. Basically, these tests consisted of me sitting in a chair, tied down so I couldn’t escape. There were doctors in the same room, watching through the glass window at the objects placed there. What they told me to do was focus on the object, to try and make it move. At first, I couldn’t do anything but just stare. Then, after a couple weeks, I could make the items vibrate a little, by focusing on it intensely. Afterwards, however, I had a migraine for quite a while, and I noticed a slight glow in my veins. But then, I started passing out during the machine tests. After the first time I passed out, I did the test again, and could easily move small objects, such as a pencil and a quarter. Then, day after day, they tested me with bigger and heavier objects to move. A teddy bear, a football. Then a few weeks later, a computer. And a car tire. An engine block. The entire engine. The whole car. The more I moved, the more my veins glowed, and stretched out. I could move whatever I wanted, including the doctors. But I’d gotten enough scars to learn not try that again.

The machine tests were happening more and more often recently. My eyes continued to bleed. My veins continued to glow and stretch. But I was getting stronger by the day, and the doctors knew it.

The dream I had when I passed out during the machine test was always the same: my tenth birthday. The day they took me. I was sitting on my bed, wondering what my presents might be, like any other ten year old kid would. I walked into the kitchen, my head filled with thoughts of the new toys and how much fun the next few days might be. Then, almost to the kitchen, I heard a voice. A low, angry voice, too deep to be Dad’s. I opened the door, only to find my parents lying on the floor, in a pool of blood, and three men in black coats standing around them. The one I heard before saw me, and grabbed me. I tried to break free, but he stuck a piece of cloth over my mouth, and everything went black. Then I woke up, and the tests were over, and it’s time to go back to my cell, and clean my bleeding eyes and stretched, glowing veins.

Then, after three times of that, they made me move things again. Then dinner with the other subjects, who were also my best and only friends, then back to our cells. Daniel, Ian, and Matt, the others, weren’t the same. Matt seemed to always be really hyper and twitchy, and moved a bit too fast. Daniel knew things that nobody else seemed to. He knew when things were about to happen sometimes, and could learn about different objects through contact. Nobody knew what Ian could do yet, but he has severe anger issues and was always getting mad and trying to fight. The doctors were always talking about brainwaves during our lessons, something about broadcasting radio waves at a frequency the brain can pick up. I guess that’s what the machine was doing to us.

Sitting at lunch after the first test of the day, Ian was telling me about how mad the tests make him, while Daniel thought and Matt twitched. Just another usual day here. I zoned out while Ian was talking to me, and I thought about what that place was to me: all of our failed escape attempts, all the scars I have because of that place. Even if I left, I would never get back what these people took from me. I thought of all the times I’ve been beaten, how many times the machine has made my eyes bleed, so many that it changed the whites of my eyes and my iris and pupil to red. How many times my veins have pulsed so hard, so close to bursting, that it left markings on my skin, almost like a tattoo, only the pain to get these were so much worse. The way that when I move things without touching them, my veins glow an eerie blue color, for reasons unknown to me. The things I never did, the things I’ll never get to do. The pain they’ve caused me, and how badly I wanted revenge.

Thinking I’ve zoned out, I heard the whirring of spinning blades in the distance, getting closer and louder, and a voice somewhere beside me told me, “Get ready to run.” That snapped me out of my daydream, and I looked at Daniel. He nodded, and shook Matt. I kicked Ian in the shin. We stood up, and walked slowly towards the cells, as if we were going to bed.
Suddenly, there was a really loud noise, like an explosion, and grinding metal. We all ran through the hallway, with the guards, to saw what had happened. Above the carnage and dismay, Daniel yelled to us, “A helicopter just crashed into the building!!!” All the guards and doctors were in a panic, wondering what to do. I looked to Ian, Daniel, and Matt. Sensing an opportunity, we all ran towards the hole in the wall, and without a real plan, leap. Stunned for a moment, I stare.

I looked up, expecting the bright blue of the sky as I remember. Wanting so hard to saw that blast of color, that sweet vision of freedom, the disappointment almost physically stings when my eyes meet the cloudy grey of the beginning of a storm. The clouds were ridiculously shaped puffballs, and a shade of depressing grey. Already starting to unleash its payload of water on the earth below, we fell with the rain.

I looked below me, and saw the city I left behind, so long ago. It’s grown considerably, and I stared in shock as I saw the seemingly impossibly tall new buildings. Needles of concrete and glass sticking into the thunderstorm clouds, my first view of freedom seemed an ominous warning. Finally, my sense of awe and shock over freedom ended, and I then saw the ground rushing up to greet us with a cold, hard slab of concrete. The adrenaline kicked in, and I knew exactly what I had to do. I picked up Matt, Daniel, Ian and I, just like a couple of objects in the tests, and right before we hit the ground, I caught us, stopping us from being smears on the sidewalk.

We landed safely, and sat there for a moment, looking at the surrounding city; only one thing comes to mind. “Freedom!” I looked at us, four random teens that fell from the sky wearing uniforms with numbers 11011 to 11014, and looked at the people standing around, pointing at the smoke billowing from the building, totally ignoring us. I turned to the others and said “we need new clothes.”

I looked around, and saw a familiar sign from my early childhood: Fred’s General Store. We walked inside, calm, as if nothing were happening. Then, picking up a few articles of clothing, we hopped into the dressing rooms, changed quickly, and sprinted out of the store. With all the commotion and disturbance outside, we slipped out unnoticed. We ran out, fully dressed in our newly shoplifted clothes, and headed towards the outskirts of the city.

The edge of the city, the suburbs, reminded me of my old life. I thought, for an instant, “I’m free; I can have that life again!” Then a familiar nightmare image that haunts my sleep returned to me. My parents, lying dead on the floor in a pool of blood that’s flowering out, framing their faces that were screaming in silent agony, their voices extinguished by eternal sleep. I ran, and the others followed. I turned to them, and I asked, “Why are you still following me? We’re free now. We can do whatever we want.”

Ian spoke up for them. “Exactly. And we want to stay with you. So shut up and stop complaining.” He laughed and patted me on the back.

I smiled and replied, “Well, I can’t argue with THAT logic…” we continue walking, past the suburbs, right out the city limits, into a road that lead into a forest. We walked through the forest, looking around, not really scared. It got darker quickly, but we knew that there’s nothing in these woods that could hurt us any worse than what’s already been done. We occasionally heard a rustling in the bushes, or some noise in the trees, but it was nothing dangerous. So we continued on our way, not really paying any mind to our surroundings, mostly buried in thought about what we were going to do now that we were free.

We got through the woods with little effort, and emerged on the other side to saw a small town nestled in a valley, with mountains on both sides. From our view in the edge the woods, with night having fallen completely, it looked like a popup picture from one of those fairy tales. Like the perfect little peaceful village settled in the valley, with the mansion on a hill with a pond at the bottom and a clock tower in the distance, with a perfectly crescent moon lying above it all in the darkness. I’ve read enough fairy tales to know that its towns like this usually burn to the ground early on in the story, and the main character swears revenge or something. But this was real life, not some book that someone was reading. Wasn’t it?

Walking towards the town, we started looking at the houses. Spotting a particularly spooky looking house with broken windows and a hole in the roof, we realized that it was most likely abandoned. I turned to our band of misfit test subjects and said, “Are you guys thinking what I’m thinking?”

“It’s been 6 years since I’ve had a piece of pie?” Matt asked.

“Well… that and that house over there was probably abandoned and a really good place to hide out for a while.” I said.

“Oh…” he said, then smiles. “We can get pie later though, right?” he asked.

“What was it with you and pie, dude?” Ian asked.

“Pie was amazing!” replied Matt.

“He has a point, you know,” said Daniel.

“Enough with the pie already!!” I yelled. “Can we just go to this house and chill now? I’m tired!”

“Alright, alright. Calm down.” Matt said, and we all go into the house. “We’ll just get pie later.”

I smacked him upside his stupid head.

“Ow! Hey, what was that for?” he whines.

“I said enough with the freaking pie already!” I yelled, and then
turned back to the house, which we were now standing in front of. I looked at this ran-down shack and smile at our new home.

“Well, its windows might be busted, and there may be a hole in the roof…” Ian said, “But I thought we could live here.”

“Well, that’s the plan.” I said, and everyone nods. We head inside, and looked around. It’s a total dump, complete with roaches, and a dead rat lying on the torn sofa. I pick up the rat the same way I picked up those objects in the tests, and I toss it out the window. Ian takes out a lighter he stole off of a smoker back in the city, to light up the place a little. We find some previously used, but still serviceable candles to light. After the house was more illuminated, we saw the sofa has a large stain on it, and I wonder what made it. Deciding I’d rather not know, I flip the cushion over and we just pretend it wasn’t there. “Home sweet home,” I say.

“Yeah. Right.” Daniel replied sarcastically.
The next morning, I awake to a growling stomach. “Man, I’m STARVING.”

“Well, there’s a dead rat outside on the porch,” Matt replied sarcastically.

“Don’t be crude,” Daniel said. “What we need to do was get a job.”

“I’ve got a better idea.” Matt said.

“And that would be…?” Dan asked.

“Well, we’re poor, orphaned, and homeless…” Matt said. “We could probably beg up a good meal and some spare change, don’t you thought?”

“I’m not begging.” Ian said.

“Suit yourself,” Matt said, and walked out the door to go begging. I watch him go, and shake my head.

“There goes a true moron.” I sigh, and Matt yells from outside,

“I heard that!”

I laugh, and then turned back to Dan.

“So, what was this about getting a job?” I asked.

“Well, I saw a grocery store as we were walking to this house,” he said, “so maybe if we got a job there, we could get discounts on food too.”

I smile, pat my genius friend on the back, and said, “Alright, let’s go.” So we do. Walking down the street, we saw the few people walking around, glancing at the four strange looking kids heading towards the store.

I walked up to the counter, looked at the tall, bearded man standing behind it and said, “Can we speak to your manager? We’re here to apply for a job.” He looked at me for a moment, then laughed.

In a heavy southern accent, he replied, “Sonny, I AM this here store’s manager. Now what can I do ya for?”

I repeat myself again, “We’re here to apply for a job.”

He looked at me funny again, and walked to the back room.
Coming back out, he said, “Well aint you four just the durn luckiest? We just so happens to have four openings, right here.”
I tilt my head to the left slightly and said, “So, that’s it then?”

“Well, to be formal and official, I have to get some identifications and what-not.” He said, frowning slightly. “But other than the formalities, yessiree, those jobs was as good as yours, if’n you want em.”

“Alright, cool,” said Ian, and then he takes his dog tags off and hands it to the man.

“What in Sam’s Hill was this?” he asked. “You aint no marine or army man. What’re you doin’ with them here dog tags?”

“Those were my ID tags, sir. If you looked on there, that’s my name and subject number.” Ian replied calmly.

Dan said, “I don’t thought it works like that here…”

Ian said, “Well, that’s the only identification we have.”

The manager looked at us funny. “Where’d y’all say y’all was from?”

“Do you have a map?” I ask.

“’S on the back wall,” he said. “Why?”

“Well, I can show you. I don’t know the name of the city.” I reply.

“Aw, durn… Y’all was them there city types, aint ya?” he laughs.

“Technically, yeah.” I said, and then walked to the map, and
point to the small dot that represents the city we just came from.

“Y’all were from Mordreth City and y’all don’t know it?” he said, dumbfounded.

We looked at each other for a moment, silently.
The manager takes a closer looked at us, a strange, lost group of abandoned teens. Then he turns to me, and stops suddenly. Noticing my glowing veins, he said, “Sonny… them there’s some fancy tattoos ya got there.”

“These? Oh. My parents… they were cultists. I got these when I was born,” I lie calmly.

He then looked at my solid red eyes, and stops dead. “Boy, just what were you?” he asks, now more scared than curious.
I hand him my ID tag without saying a word. He reads it, and then he looked at our group again. “Now, y’all… I don’t want no trouble. Just why were y’all lookin for jobs round these parts?” he asked.

Matt looked at the manager with the biggest, saddest puppy eyes I have ever seen, and say simply, “we need food, and money to repair our house.” He looked at us again, and he sighs. Then, with a twinge of pity in his voice, says,

“Y’all are hired, I guess.”

For the next few weeks, we work. Daniel and I were box boys, setting up boxes in the back room. Ian was a shelf-stacker, putting supplies on the shelves in the store. And Matt was a delivery boy, running to and from houses that ordered things from the store. The jobs were relatively easy, and they’re made even easier for some of us by our powers. Stacking boxes was a piece of cake when you can pick them up without even touching them. Of course, I have to do that when Keith, the manager, wasn’t looking, otherwise we’d be fired. He’s already freaked out by me, and I’m not surprised. I’m rather freakish looking, I suppose.

Heading back home, now into our 3rd month of freedom. I sigh, and I realize that I’m almost happy with this. I have a good job for a kid, I’m living in a house that’s in much better condition than when we found it, and I’m living with my best friends, in this perfect little town. The only thing missing was… well, nothing.

I’m lying on the couch, next to Matt who’s in one of the chairs, and Daniel in the other, and Ian on the floor. We’re talking, relaxing, and just enjoying our freedom. Lying there, talking with my best and only friends, I ask them, “How long do you think this can last?”

Nobody answers for a long time. Then Ian said, “I don’t know…”

Matt adds, “Hopefully, a long, long time.”

Daniel stays silent.

The next morning, as we head to the store in silence, I thought aloud: “why was it so quiet?” only to looked around and realize that there was no one around us. Wondering what was going on, we go into the store. Behind the counter, Keith was sitting there, talking to himself. Mostly mumbling, but occasionally twitching and moaning.

He turns to us, and we saw him fully: his tall frame hunched over, his dark beard stained darker with blood. He growls at us, and hops up on the table. He shrieks; an animalistic, tortured sound. Responding to the call, we hear calls eerily similar throughout the store. Suddenly, we’re surrounded, at least six people on all sides, all in the same condition: Howling, covered in blood. They all come for us at the same time, and before any of us has time to react, Ian screams in fury, and flames erupt from his fingers and mouth, enveloping the onslaught of insane creatures. Within seconds, we were surrounded by charred bodies. We just sat there for a moment, mostly from shock, but also partially wondering just what exactly was going on around here.

After grabbing a ton of food, and a pie for Matt. We head for the parking lot, where the plan was to hijack a car and get back to the house. Out the window, however, we saw something that sets the alarm bells ringing: a limping, bloody figure, heading straight for the store. Instantly wary, we decide to take the side exit instead, to sneak around and get to the parking lot from the other direction. We walked to the side exit, past the bathrooms, and walked through the door…. Straight into a garage full of people, all snarling, twitching, and covered in blood. They stop snarling for long enough to spot us, and then charge.

The next few moments were a blur: Matt was fighting so fast I can hardly saw him; Ian was blasting people to bits and leaving a trail of charred, smoking bodies in his wake. I throw someone into a group, and they all go down. I turned and face one, and rip him apart, beating someone with the pieces. Daniel pushes a rack of boxes over onto about five of them.
And just as suddenly as it had started, it’s over. I’m looking at the carnage, when we hear screams in the distance. “I thought they heard us,” said Ian.

“What makes you thought that?” said Matt, in a very sarcastic tone.

“Because they’re right over there,” I said, pointing towards the horizon, and at the army of people running at us, thirsting for our blood. People who, just yesterday were asking us how we were and inviting us to dinner. We all sprinted towards the nearest car. Dan gets in the driver’s seat, then hotwires it and starts it up. I get shotgun, and Matt and Ian were in the back.

Matt just sits there, as Ian blasts fire at the insane people chasing us, and I grab random objects we pass and kill as many as I can. The damage we’re doing was cataclysmic, but still not enough. And the car we picked just happens to have run out of gas. I hear Ian mutter “just freaking perfect”. I heard Matt say,

“I’m going to look in the back,” and luckily for us, whoever owned this car was a hunter. There’s a shotgun, two pistols, and a machete. Ian looked at Matt when he offered him a weapon, and laughed. So, Matt tossed the shotgun to Dan, and he keeps the machete. I get the pistols. I load them, and say “was it just me, or were we going to do stuff like this a lot?”
The car stops. The mob was almost upon us, and there’s hundreds. We hop out, and instantly start shooting and blasting away.

Immediately, I can tell it’s hopeless, but I keep fighting. A headshot here, picking up a car and slamming it into a few people here, lots of casualties, but not enough. They just keep coming. Ian blasts them away ten by ten, leaving piles of ashes and a smell oddly reminiscent of a sausage breakfast at the lab cafeteria. Dan pumps the shotgun and blows them away. Matt was nowhere to be seen, but the random person who falls over for no apparent reason has just met his machete.


They don’t stop coming, and we don’t stop fighting. It’s clear we need to ran, to get away, but we’re surrounded. We’ve already lost; it’s only a matter of time. The fighting was a blur, randomly crushing people with whatever I can grasp my mind around. Explosions every few seconds, Ian was completely out of control. Blasts of fire erupt off the middle of the street, looking like a demonic volcano got up and started to walked around and go off randomly.

I decide to take some inspiration of the cartoons I watched as a kid, and try the “flip the roads like a carpet and they all fall over” trick. It doesn’t work quite as I expected it too. A chunk of asphalt, about fifteen feet across, flies up, all the people on it included, and slams into the side of a building. Getting an idea for a miracle escape, I call for everyone to get beside me.

As they all gather, I start lifting the asphalt below us. On command, it lifts and starts floating. I turned us away on our makeshift air-raft, and we fly to our building. The sensation of flying was amazing. The knowledge that I have total control makes it even better.

But as I fly, I start to feel woozy, and blue spots start showing in my vision. I guess I don’t have total control after all. Just when we get to our building, I drop the asphalt, and suddenly the world goes. Just whites out. Blank.

A few days later, I wake up, and I’m lying inside of our building, lying next to Matt on the floor. Matt was asleep, and Daniel and Ian were nowhere to be found. I start to worry, and then I hear the door slam shut downstairs. I walked to the stairwell, right into Daniel as he ran up the stairs to wake Matt up.

We both scream, and we both fall over. Ian just looked at us and laughs, and then Matt wakes up and wonders what just happened. Then we all laugh together, with the exception of Matt, who was still confused, which makes it all the funnier. Then we hear a scream from outside and a car alarm go off, and that snaps us back to reality. Then Ian and Daniel remember the reason for their haste:

“We found out what’s going on!” yells Daniel enthusiastically. “It was in the newspaper!” “Remember the machine, and the day we escaped? That helicopter that crashed was just a distraction! Whoever crashed that helicopter stole the machine!”

“How does that explain everyone going crazy?” I say.

“Whoever stole it must have reprogrammed it to drive people insane, instead of enhancing the brain functions!” said Dan.

“That doesn’t explain how everyone was crazy. We had to go into the machine one at a time, didn’t we? So how could that effect all those people in so short a time?” Matt said.

“Whoever stole it and reprogrammed it must have hooked it up to something to broadcast further! Like… a radio station, or something!” said Ian.

“Would that work? Would a radio station broadcast a powerful enough signal?” I ask.

“No, it must have been something even more powerful… something with frequency broadcasting signal capabilities much higher than a radio station.” said Dan.

“What do you thought it was?” Matt and I say simultaneously.

Silence hangs in the air as we await Daniel’s answer. Dan looked around, takes a deep breath, and sighs.

“A satellite.” Answers Dan. Silence for a few seconds, as the depth of this news sinks in. I’m sure that we’re all thinking the same thing: if it’s hooked up to a satellite, could it affect the entire world? Were we the only ones left?

Epic Irony

Profitable Prophet

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