Universe

Tropico, CA

This was my final submission for the Fiction side of the Creative Writing course. I'm actually pretty sad to be ending it :( But this is another of my stories that is intended to be extended upon.

Imagine an Oceanside city, at dusk. The way the beach is so calm and quiet, with a few scattered torches flickering only slightly in the warm summer breeze. The way small buildings line the beach – huts, shacks (though absolutely stylish) and a few bars, with patios that sit atop the powdery sand.

Imagine how the height of the buildings increase as you travel further inland. Each one slightly higher than the next, dressed in soft, bright lights. Welcoming. And it gets more glamorous as the sparkling casino buildings pierce high into the sky, like beacons of hope.

Every road is lined left, right and centre with lush palms, each of those draped with white fairy lights that match those which ravish the corner shops and cafes. There are few cars at this time of night – it's not a sleepy city, but everyone simply walks. The Safest City in the World, Eight Years in a Row the town hall – the tallest of all buildings somewhat replicating the style of the Stratosphere – wears proudly, as a draping ribbon over the large glass doors.

And yet, in the heart of the metropolis, and just a little beneath, a teenage girl is lying, drugged, in front of an oncoming train.

"I can't!" Sam screamed. Her blond hair stuck to the sweat that had slickened her face, so she used two fingers to anxiously pull it off, and tuck it behind her ears, where it belonged. "We're kil-murderers!" she hissed. She retreated to the corner of the dusky, small concrete room, whispering something into her hands.

"Like you haven't done it before," Chris snapped. Sam shot him her signature how dare you glance. It would be wrong to compare her glare to knives – it was much more destructive. Two nuclear weapons pointing in the stocky boy's direction. "Okay," he took a second to collect his thoughts.

In another corner of the room, Grant had just realised he had heard right. "What?" His arms flailed, and then pressed against the side of his head. There was an oncoming thundering that was building in the room, so he wasn't sure if he was heard. Though after no one acknowledged the single word, that seemed to absorb into the cold, grey walls, he hung is head between sweaty palms.

"That's right," the final of the four said. She was pretty, wore her wavy brown hair well every time eyes were laid on her, and oozed the kind of confidence that some would find intimidating. But those some were exactly the reason Kerry was worshipped around school. She ruled with intimidation and admiration. But even she had dark circles clinging to the bottom of her eyes, and smudged black eyeliner that had once resembled wings. "Why did we even let him in on this?" she gestured to Grant, who had dropped to his knees, breathing deep to stop himself from crying.

Sam and Chris didn't react, except from small shrugs.

"All he did was... well, cause this!" she wailed in defeat, and slumped her body against the wall. The thundering was getting louder, pouring in through the one opening in the wall, behind where Chris was standing as though he were a superhero. Not the killer that he was.

"He is the only reason we're getting away with this," Sam defended, her signature glare making its return. She was the arty archetype, the animal-loving stereotype who wouldn't be caught dead with someone like Kerry. Much less, she wouldn't dare stand up to her while she was surrounded by her lame minions. But tonight, all bets were off.

"She's right," Chris gestured dismissively to Sam, who hid her satisfaction that a guy like him was taking her side, over a girl like Kerry.

"Ugh you two are so desperate for each other. We all know you hooked up after we formed this thing." She said, referencing the group that the three had formed some months ago. It had started out as a class project; do something crazy, and then write about it. Although back then, something crazy was Chris cruising around Tropico while Sam and Kerry lifted their shirts to unsuspecting strangers. 'I'll just pretend this is a work of fiction,' their teacher had said, while handing back their B grades.

Soon, it turned into a weekly thing; do something crazy. Shoplifting. Joyriding. Cliff diving. Though they didn't document this in school reports – no, instead they all ran an online blog which they updated at least once a week. This was the second time one of their plans had gotten out of hand.

"I didn't," Grant whispered softly. He wasn't much for talking to people like this, and since he was relatively new to the group, everyone still encountered a wave of surprise when he spoke.

Sam's face popped with a slight smile that even she hadn't expected. But it didn't last long.

"HELP!" the girl on the tracks cried. And this was accompanied with a shattering scream. Everyone's eyes in the room shot to the other people, in panic.

"She's awake," Sam whimpered, between forming tears. Even Kerry's face had broken into a nervous frown. "I can't do this!" she cried above the thundering. The train was closer now. Probably only a few seconds away. She wiped tears from her face with the back of her hands and approached the doorway.

Chris grasped Sam's shoulders firmly, tightening his fists to remind her that he was strong. "It's too late," he whispered.

The girl screamed some more, between laboured breath. She was running. They hadn't bound her – none of them expected her to wake up so soon.

"No it's not!" Sam claimed. She tried to shake off the well-built boy's grasp, but she was no match. The train was getting closer. Still, the girl wailed.

The sound echoing in the concrete cell was becoming unbearable. Almost everyone was shouting things, but no one cared enough to try and listen to the others. The train would be passing that archway with unimaginable speed at any second.

For one second, Kerry lifted her conflicted eyes from the floor to the opening. The girl, barely five and a half foot stood looking in. Her eyes were wildfire, her face flushed. Her sandy blonde hair tatted and falling out of its bun.

The next second, she was gone. The train thundered past, the sound so deafening it blurred everyone's vision for a second. A blissful second where they could almost pretend that it was all a nightmare. That none of it was real.

But not a single one of them could deny the reality and existence of the fresh blood splattered on the archway of the opening. Blood splattered onto the floor of the room. Blood splattered onto Chris. Blood splattered onto Sam. Blood splattered everywhere.

Somewhere in the chaos of the noise, the shouting from the four, the cries and screams, Chris had pushed Sam off and she cowered on the floor, weakly wiping off the blood between each whimper. He pressed two palms to his head and cried, a lot. Kerry was frozen in utter fear, staring at the opening. The train had already passed, but her eyes did not move a single bit. And finally, Grant rocked himself back and forward, face buried in his hands, body jolting every time he let out a sob.

"We have to go. We were never here." Kerry said, as though it was a general conversation. Her eyes pertained on the opening, but her body began to move towards it. "Now," she hissed. But she paused in the doorway. "And no one follow each other."

She spoke like an experienced sociopath. But sure enough, as Kerry stepped out of the room, Chris followed, carrying himself as though he didn't have the will to go on. Sam dipped out next, hugging herself, protecting herself from the rest of the world. Grant was the last. He looked left as he emerged – the direction the train was going. The lighting in the underground tunnels was dark, and the air was damp to breathe in. Mouldy, even. Still, he managed to see Kerry and Chris walking the tracks, several paces apart. So he turned right.

Sam trudged a few paces ahead. Still clinging to herself, whispering something. There was still a slight hum in the tunnel from the train, though it was probably a few stations on now. The tunnel had only one track in it, so it was tight, and Grant could feel it closing in on him as his rapid breathing failed to be enough to supply him with a sufficient amount of air.

Tomorrow was going to be an interesting day at school.