One Stupid Thing

3:1:81

The truck has been driving through the deserted countryside for what seems like forever. I don't think I've ever seen such a long white-picket fence. Endless rows of palm trees line either side. With every corner we turn down the dirt path, it just keeps going. I never thought we'd reach our final destination.

Every so often, the truck would have to halt and be inspected guards and their sniffer dogs. They blocked the path ahead along with a small barricade, nothing more than a wooden roadblock. This happened five times during the drive. Five. I counted.

Sprinkled in the fields surrounding us stood tall wooden outposts, guarded by even more armed soldiers in the same old beige uniforms. They scanned the area diligently, as if any sort of threat could pop out at any moment.

Kiara and I stayed completely silent, even making sure not to breathe too loudly. The last thing we want to do is give these soldiers a reason to use their power against us.

I almost wish that I hadn't grown impatient by the long ride. Standing in the middle of nowhere, stoic and intimidating, is an enormous mansion. Even larger than those on Figure Eight such as Tannyhill. Although the architecture is similar with its many pillars and arches. Guards stand at the ready on all sides and both levels of the home. The main thing I am wondering is how could one person need so much security? What could he possibly need protection from? Are these soldiers meant to keep everyone out or prevent anyone from escaping? Maybe both.

The driver and passenger of the truck, two men from before, each grabbed Kie and I by the arm and forced us through a black iron gate and down a gravel walkway that eventually led up to the main entrance to the building. A woman dressed in a black and white housekeeper get-up answers the door. Her expression is unreadable and stone cold. It gives away no hint as to the intentions of the man behind this plan.

The woman steps aside to allow Kie and I to enter the home. The two men trail close behind us with the housekeeper slowly leading the way through the foyer.

My eyes are drawn to the various artifacts littering the room. Every single shelf, table top and spare inch of wall space was covered with maps, emblems, trinkets and books of all sorts. The owner of the house must be a serious collector. A fiend even.

"Take them upstairs. The Orinoco Room," the housekeeper tells the officers, hardly acknowledging Kiara and I.

"This way." Another man with a foreign accent and a dark complexion who was standing beside the stairwell the entire time catches us by surprise, grabbing us by the arms and pushing us towards the spiral staircase. "Up," he commands. At the top of the stairs, he opens the first door we see and shoves us through the threshold. "Inside."

Out of breath and in shock, Kiara and I try to process everything that is happening, but it is all happening so fast. She whips around and faces the man. "Why are we here? Who are you working for?" she demands.

He ignores her questions. "Dinner at eight. I'd clean up."

"Just tell us what they want!" Kiara continues, her voice raising impatiently. The man backs away, beginning to close the door on us.

"Hey! Wait—" I start to protest, but the door slams right in my face, cutting off my plea. I instantly reach for the doorknob and desperately try to jimmy-rig it open, but it locked as soon as it shut. "Oh my God. This can't be happening. Not again," I groan. I turn to face Kiara who is already staring back at me. Her eyes have a fire of determination lit in them.

Kie huffs and crosses the room to the other side, passing a singular king four-post bed. She moves the sheer curtain to the side and peers out the window to the estate below. "Stella," she whispers, beckoning me over. In a few steps I am standing beside her, also viewing our surroundings. Soldiers patrol the perimeter, occasionally accompanied by a German Shepherd and every single one of them is armed with heavy artillery.