Control (On Hold)

Chapter 4

I think back to everything we know. Wyatt and I had been keeping a close eye on my parents ever since we noticed an unmarked car sitting outside of my house. Then, my parents started getting these weird phone calls. The phone would ring, and when I would try to pick it up, my parents would reach it before me.

One time, when my parents were outside, I actually had the chance to pick up the phone.

"Hello," I said into the phone.

"We had a deal, and you broke it. Watch your back, or you'll get stabbed," a deep voice said on the other end of the line.

"Who is this?" I asked, but the person on the other end hung up.

When my parents came back into the house, I never told them about the call, but I told Wyatt.

Ever since that experience, Wyatt and I knew something weird was going on, so we did some snooping.

We scavenged around my house looking for clues. I walked into my parents' room and searched through the closets, while Wyatt looked downstairs. When I didn't find anything, I started to feel discouraged, but I realized what I was forgetting. Why would my parents put something in plain sight? They didn't want me to find whatever they were hiding.

I started to knock on the walls, looking for a hollow spot.

"Bingo," I whispered when I finally found what I was looking for. The wallpaper was cut around the hollow spot, and I carefully lifted the wall's paneling. There was a small niche containing a metal box sitting behind the paneling. I took out the box and laid it on the floor.

"Wyatt!" I yelled. He was next to me in a matter of seconds. "I think I found something."

"It's locked," he said.

"Then we have to find the key."

"Where would they hide a key?"

I stood up and looked around. "Let's look under the floor."

We both searched the floor, knocking for hollow spots.

"Look! This board's loose," Wyatt called to me. I knelt beside him as he pulled up the board. Sitting underneath of it was a small, silver key. I grabbed it and took it over to the box. I stuck the key in the lock, and the box popped open. There were a bunch of papers inside of it.

Wyatt grabbed one of the papers. "It's your birth certificate."

"Let me see," I said as I grabbed it out of his hand. "Constance Tracey Olson III." What a horrible name. "Born on January 21st, 1999 in Control room III."

"Control room III? What does that mean?" Wyatt asked.

"I don't know. It says I was born in Rose, Florida. This can't be right."

"Did your parents ever say anything to you about them moving?"

"No, I thought we've always lived here."

"Apparently not," Wyatt said as he looked through the box. "What's this?" He handed me a map of the United States. A red dot was marked on Rose, Florida. A note was written next to it.

"We get Connie," I read aloud the note.

"We get Connie? What does that mean?"

I shrugged my shoulders and analyzed the map. There were red dots everywhere with little notes next to them. Some notes looked rushed, while others were neat. I looked at the dot pointing to my current house's location, Shamrock, Nevada.

"Our last stop," I read the note. Wyatt stared at me, and was about to say something when I heard the front door open.

"Hurry!" Wyatt yelled, "Put this stuff away!" We stuffed the box and the key back into the wall and floor, and I ran downstairs.

"Hey, mom!" I yelled.

"Hey, what's up?"

"I'm just with..." I looked behind me, but Wyatt wasn't there.