Short Story

The day was filled with pandemonium and chaos. “My boss wouldn’t us leave. People were crying. All the radios and TV’s were on.” Kouski said. “It just wouldn’t stop.”

It was 7:15 P.M. on a cold December Friday in Aurora, Illinois. Jack Stroman the forty-five year old police officer was picking up coffee from a Dunkin Donuts drive-thru. He received an alert from his car radio about a domestic dispute about five minutes away. He paid for his coffee at the window and headed over to the address. When he arrived, he noticed that he would have to take care of this situation solo. He knocked on the door and yelled, “Aurora Police, Open Up!” He stood at the door for thirty seconds until he knocked again. Still, there was no answer. All of the sudden he heard a powerful scream from a woman. He proceeded to open the door with his gun in hand. “Aurora police!” He shouted again. A loud “Help me!” came from the top floor. Jack ran up the

Days passed, and life went on normally until one night. Ralph came home from work to flashing lights and sirens. A spotlight blinded him, as his car was stopped by heavily armed CTD troopers, and he was forced out of his car at gunpoint. Ralph was mercilessly slammed onto the hood of his car and roughly handcuffed.

I awoke to the sound of gunshots in the night. My air mattress had deflated and I was lying on the church’s cold tile floor. Police were banging on the doors and the security alarm was blaring. This was my first night in Memphis, Tennessee.

As I glanced at the clock that showed twenty to seven, I noticed that time had gotten away from me. Working overtime had started to become an ongoing habit, as there never seemed to be enough hours in a day to finish any work. Knowing that all the doors were controlled by automatic locks and the doors inside the building would be locked because it was past six, I started to pack my things up, including my badge that would get me into my building on future mornings. Heading for the exit in my section, with the thought that a storm was supposed to arrive tonight in the back of my mind, I thought nothing of the flickering lights above until I ran into a situation. As I attempted to leave for home after working late last Friday night, not only

Around 6:30pm all I could hear was a loud voice echoing from the street, “Everyone Evacuate Immediately!” Local law enforcement evacuating everyone in the neighborhood.

I was freaked out, so I ran to the door, and then remembered Hurricane Irma was on the other side. I walked back in and picked up the phone to call 911. I dialed the number and nothing. With it being plugged into the wall and there being no power, I realized it wouldn’t work. I grabbed my cell phone, but there was no service. I knew the storm could produce tornados with EF3 or larger tornados. With a murderer in the building and a possible tornado outside, I was shaking.

The bucketheads wouldn't stop shooting. It was getting harder to keep deflecting all their shots. I could feel Kanan growing more tired too. If Zeb and Sabine didn't get the shield generator soon we might not make it.

Devoid of movement or light, the cockpit's only hint of life was the insistent hum and faint bio-chemical stink within.

“Mr. Tartt? Mr. Tartt?” A security guard asked stepping into the storage closet looking for me. I finished typing the email that was being sent to Kasten VanMeter, a detective that I thought could reveal the suspicious activities happening here at Mount Massive Asylum. I stood straight up, closed my laptop, and walked to the entrance of the room where I was met by the security guard. “Where have you been? They called for you 5 minutes ago.” He asked in an irritated manner. I ignored his question and walked down a long cold hallway to where I was requested. As I entered, the doors slid apart making a whooshing sound. Several men in Hazmat suits glanced at me and then went back to work. I walked in hastily and sat down at my desk.

"Hank?" I knocked on the open door, poking my head to see the lanky brunette boy huddled over his desk. He was working away at whatever it was he was so keen on finishing.

As soon as I finished, there was a loud pounding at the front door. An angry, threatening voice followed saying, “This is the police, come out with your hands up.” At this time we knew this was no joke.

You felt weird basking under the artificial light of the school director’s— more specifically Mari’s— office so late into the night. She’s stayed late at school her fair share of times, both for Aqours practice sessions as well as for swim club meetings. But as she watched the clock strike half-past one at night, You couldn’t help but feel as though she was present in another world. She leaned on the bookcase behind her, seated on the wooden floor.

My teary eyed siblings and I watched from the top of the front steps as they took him away. The tall, big bellied man lounging in the living room couch watching television a few moments ago was standing restlessly in front of an open police car door. The officers lowered his sweaty shaved head into the car and with his gruff, strong voice he yelled,

Many more days have gone, and the country got worse than before until my dad received a night phone call from a stranger who threatened him, and told him don’t come to work again or otherwise you will make your family member a target; a target