Friends and fans knew him as Nole the Mole. The internet knew him as a viral failure.
Last year, he dueled Herbert the Hammer at the Twenty-Second Whack-a-Mole International Championship for the title of Mallet Master. Herbert’s score reached previously unseen levels, but Nole knew he could’ve beaten him— had he not ignored a “wet floor” sign, slipped, and sprained his mallet hand catching his fall.
I died three hundred and ninety-nine days ago.
The doctors told me that I didn’t really die. I just lost 46.6 percent of my human body. It felt like dying when they dragged my broken frame out of the rubble and inferno of the explosion and filled the empty spaces with wires and metal.
No one believed me when I said the moon disappeared. They said it went behind a cloud. That it would be back. It always came back.
“Not this time.” But insisting didn’t work.
The window was open just enough to let in the cool night air. It swam across her listless body and stirred the stench of rot that hung in the small space. She inhaled deeply and stretched her arms, feeling the weight of the heavy chains that wound around her wrists and attached to the thick metal rings bolted to the floor beneath the bed.
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An electric pulse jerks my muscles awake. I gasp, filling my lungs with air. My heart pounds against my chest as it rushes me back to life.
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Aram sipped black coffee in a café on a street corner, quaint for a metropolitan area. He scanned his mark from a rough wooden chair on a little porch outside. An insurgent patrol, one of a few hundred targets to be obliterated in the same second, drove by.
The missiles were already launched.
I wake up sweating, with a blinding headache. Every muscle in my body aches, and my eyes burn. I lift my arm to check the scratches, and sure enough, they’re infected. My forearm is a weird shade of red, which oddly matches my nail polish, but the scratch is only two inches in length. I refuse to accept that I will die because of a stupid mistake.
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They hope to silence me forever. They think, because I’m behind bars, I am no longer a threat. But I have hacked my e-reader to transmit outside their network, and I am using my remaining words to share my story. If you are reading this, please pay close attention.
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D’Alene slipped into the still, dark water, quivering. She hoped her trembling wouldn’t betray her hiding place as she sent ripples out like a beacon. Her eyes darted toward every sound as she fought to keep her breathing under control.
In the distance, her pursuer swept his pulse gun everywhere his gaze landed.
The creature blinked at her with large, pleading eyes as startlingly green as a freshly cut meadow, the sclera glimmering with the same shade. They almost appeared to glow. Ignoring its stare, Ella grabbed the creature’s wrist tightly between forefinger and thumb.
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“Why, look who’s here… If it isn’t the Chairman of the Science Committee himself, in my very own backyard. Well, hello Ryder, what brings you all the way to this remote location of mine? I don’t remember you being a lover of the great outdoors.”
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As head of security, Teddy saw every newcomer as suspicious, but the sixteen-year-old also hungered for news of life elsewhere. He lounged in a tattered lawn chair and set his hands onto the plastic folding table. The olive-green tent around him snapped against the poles as he waited to see why the boys on the watch had called him over, but the faithful shelter stood against an oppressive wind.
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