The Final Exam

Incoming Call

I gasp for air. I find myself in a dark room, with only a dim light overhead. The only sound I can hear are my sister's quiet sobs.

Our mission is compromised. Now we face dire consequences.

We have our arms and legs tied with rope around cold metal chairs, and Margaret bears a blindfold, with a few tears running down her rosy cheeks. Strange, why is she blindfolded and not me? The only answer I can think up only means danger for my sister. The monster is mad. The monster has been betrayed. "Jon... Jon are you okay?" Margaret shifts her chair a little to face me. "You hit your head..."

"I'm fine, don't worry about me," my sentence pauses with a light sigh. "Do you know what's going on? What happened?"

"She got us, Jon, she found the letter before I could leave. She was so heartbroken... her mind can't handle that without going berserk! I should have seen this coming... And now she's angry! We're going to die here alone in the dark and no one will know because it's all my fault!"

"Shh... We're not going to die... We'll find a way out, and we'll be okay. Do you know where we are?" I try comfort her, though it's hard not to believe her.

"She dragged us here and I couldn't see much... but I think we're in Lab 1. Jon, I need to tell you the truth. Her name is Yeni Figueroa. I'm sorry I never told you. It was our secret, and I was the only thing keeping her happy and stable. She has been here for years, all alone, doing something she probably initially didn't want to do. Then I saw what she was doing, and there I realized she needed help outside mine." Her head drooped down in some strange emotion. Shame, mixed in with guilt and fear. Lots of fear.

She starts again, "I'm sorry. I know you wanted to catch her way more than I did."

"It's okay. I'm glad you told me. And l even if you didn't, that would be fine. I could never hold a grudge with you." I too respond with an unusual emotion. I truly am forgiving her, but my annoying conscience tells me I'm lying.

The Sister smiles. Slightly. We're still in the devil's lair. And we need to get back to Earth.

I get to work by trying to scoot the chair behind Margaret's, so that we end up back to back. As I begin to untie her ropes, I hear footsteps.

"Hey Kellers! Welcome to YGL! But of course you already know that." There stands a seemingly vivacious young lady, despite her subtle yet notable dark under eyes, in a casual maroon dress and a white lab coat with the letters YGL embroidered on the pocket.

It's HER. It's Yeni Figueroa. My eyes widen with disbelief.

She glances at our failed effort to escape. "Ah, trying to hightail it out of here, huh? Well that's rude. I still haven't had my fun yet!" Yeni pushes my chair back to where it was.

"Now... what's your real name, J? I bet it's something boring like Jack, or Jacob, or—"

"It's Jon. Spelled L-E-T-U-S-G-O." She's our age yet she acts like a 10 year old. Not what I had expected.

"Alright. Boring name, cool spelling. Big deal. But listen, I have a really tight schedule including you two and I don't have any time for, what's it called... quarreling. So let's get started." She walks to the back of the lab, and starts grabbing elaborate tools, many of them sharp.

Margaret's blindfold falls off and onto the ground, and when and I look up, I see her standing there, free from the rope, behind Yeni. Immediately, Marg grabs her in a chokehold while pulling her toward the front wall. The shiny metal instruments ring like a thousand bells as they fall to the smooth tile.

"You wouldn't dare," Yeni stares into Margaret's enraged eyes and starts again, almost monotonous. "After all we've accomplished, after our partnership, don't tell me you don't feel anything wrong about what you're doing."

Margaret softens her grip on Yeni's neck. "You're right. I wouldn't. But I need to turn you in. Not only are you hurting people, you're hurting yourself too."

"No! You're wrong! I'm carrying the weight of the YGL legacy on my shoulders and I intend to continue that legacy!" Yeni violently pushes her away, tears in her eyes. I can't believe it. She has emotions.

The two start fighting as I sit there helpless. I have to intervene. I start to wiggle free from the ropes, trying to untie the knot from the inside out. Margaret jabs her elbow in Yeni's ribs, wincing after Yeni punched her jaw. They lock in position for a moment, with Margaret holding her wrists at bay and Yeni staring at her wide-eyed and heart-broken. They don't want to fight.

Finally Yeni pushes Marg to the ground, threatening her with a scalpel. "You don't deserve to be my partner anymore! Not after what you have done! You'll just end up as one of my tests."

I'm able to get free and knock out Yeni with a chair before she pierces my sister's right eye enough to kill her. Margaret shrieks in pain as I try to help her.

I'm against the clock. I have to stop the bleeding.

I try to improvise by ripping out my sleeve and wrapping it around her head. Quickly, I help Margaret up. "We... need to get t-to the elevator," Margaret gasps, trying to get over the pain. "She most likely locked up our trapdoor. The only other exit av- available is the elevator she uses to get supplies from the outside."

We quickly exit Lab 1, run through a narrow hall and up two flights of steep stairs. We then arrive at a work room with two desks. They are both covered in papers, notes, files, and an abundance of other forms of data I can think of. "What are we doing here? We need to go." I grab her arm as she enters further into the room, my manner filled with haste.

"Wait. I need to leave my footprint here. We're never coming back, and I don't wanna be the only person to survive her," Margaret takes off her cheap necklace with the key and places it deep in a drawer.

"She will try everything she can to erase me. From the earth, from her mind, from her life. But she will never succeed in her heart."

We suddenly hear distant footsteps up the first stairs. "Let's go!" I yell as I grab her and we start sprinting.

Tip

Tap

Tip

Tap

She somehow inches closer with every minute.

"Jon! Help me!"

.

.

.

.

.