“Hi, space-shit. State your name, your ranking, and where you’re from.”
“Likewise, asshole. My name’s Laura and I’m a lieutenant in Japan Station No. 1 from St. Thomas, a neighborhood in the Capital space city on Earth’s moon.”
“Do you know where you are?”
“No, I don’t. But I would appreciate it, if you took me out of these restraints.”
“Too tight for you?”
“Just a bit.”
“Okay…how’s that?”
“Better.”
“So Laura, you know you’ve trespassed onto our territory. You’re in the Realm of Shadows, section 80. We’re in an underground quarters on earth. As of now, you have violated the peace-agreement the shadow people and the space earthlings; your people. Do you understand there will be consequences because of your violation, Abigail?”
“For every action there is a reaction.”
“Let me repeat myself. Do you under—”
“Yeah, I get it. I heard you the first time.”
“Okay. Your sentence is in a maximum security sanctuary for eterni—”
“I’m sorry, you call your prisons sanctuaries?”
“That is correct.”
“How long am I going to be in this euphemism of a prison for?”
“For eternity.”
“This is a joke right?”
“I don’t have a sense of humor.”
“What’s your name?”
“My name?”
“Yeah your name. You must have a name, right?”
“Tchakalackbartreanmay. Most people call me Tchalackbartrean. My friends call me Tchakalla, which you can call me.”
“We’re not friends. And I would appreciate it if you would lower your weapon.”
“This is just precautionary measures. You’re a danger to me, my peoples, and this facility. You know where we are, you’ve seen too much.”
“Only because you told me where we are. Take that light out of my face. Jeez. Look, I was wandering around and I found this spot. I didn’t have an objective to seek your underground spot out. You can take my word for it.”
“Why should I trust you?”
“Because I’m the only person who knows where Abigail Fowler is.”
“That’s impossible.”
“Is it now?”
“She’s dead.”
“Not in the slightest bit.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“This isn’t a time for your trust-issues to emerge. Listen to me, she’s alive. I’ve seen her, in the flesh.”
“Let’s say I do believe you. What do you want in return for giving us this information.”
“What do you think? My freedom.”
“I can’t do that for you.”
“You can. I’ll tell you where she is. And then you take your key, come over here, and unlock these cuffs off me. It’s that simple.”
“I wish it were that simple. But I can’t do that for you.”
“Okay, if you can’t let me go. What can you do for me?”
“How about this…”
“Wait—what are you doing with that gun.”
“What do you think? You have five seconds to tell me where she is. Starting now. Five seconds.”
“You really know how to make a girl feel wanted.”
“What?” Four seconds.”
“So all I get is nothing, if I fell you where she is? What’s my incentive?”
“Your life. Three seconds.”
“I’m dead already.”
“You don’t know the meaning of death. Two seconds.”
“Have you ever killed anyone. I’m sure you’ve never touched a gun until today.”
“One second.”
“Fuck you Tchakalla!”
Tchkalla pulled the trigger, the gun kicked back, and the bullet entered Laura’s forehead, her head exploding, blood spurting everywhere. He reached over, grabbing her shirt-sleeve, and wiped the blood off his gun. And then, he left the room and closed the door, a pool of blood spreading over the floor, seeping into the hardwood.
Andy Tran is a young professional working and living in the Washington DC metro area. His work has been featured in The Virginia. Normal, Defenestration Magazine, and Calliope, and currently at Queens Mob Teahouse. He's a graduate of Virginia Commonwealth University, and he has a degree in English.