Pandora’s Box - Gift

A young lady begins packing up her belongings.

She’s meticulous when placing her items into a military green backpack. The multi compartment bag houses four unique pockets. Each pocket has an embroidered patch with her favourite Rock bands.

Her stock of pens and pencils nestle inside the Motley Crue pouch. Her calculator slides into the ACDC spot. Her iPhone fits snuggly inside the Led Zeppelin pocket, and oddly different from the bunch, Matchbox Twenty, her wallet rests.

Giving each a once-over, she closes and ties them tight. On the desk lay six books she collected for a research paper.

One by one she conjures the titles aloud, “Quantum Physics, Realtime Gateway, Secret Cerebrum, Split Particles, Astrophysics, and lastly, Secrets of the Atom…there that’s all of them,” she concluded.

Sliding the editions across the surface, she stacks them into a neat pile near the edge. She then scoops the stack under her arm and presses them firmly against her chest.

“Ah, shit,” she grumbles, “Still need to grab my bag.” Her mind scrambles for a solution to this conundrum. “Hmm,” she pondered. Then it struck, “I’ll toss my bag up and when the strap loops, I’ll punch my arm through.”

So, in uncharacteristic fashion, she imitates a finishing move you’d only see in the arcade game Street Fighter.

Mrs. Thompson , the librarian sits watching the young student struggle to keep the stack of books together. The girl gives the librarian a Grinch’s smile when she places the lot on the desk.

Warily examining the titles, Mrs. Thompson asks, “Alexis, what kind of mischief are you playing at?” Looking around Mrs. T’s shoulder, Alexis notices her student profile on the monitor. Then replies gleefully, “Oh, it’s just a little theory I’m developing.”

Still puzzled, Mrs. T. glances the titles again and asks distressingly, “What in God’s green earth, are you working on?”

Alexis turns to add to her previous statement, “If I can prove, just part of my theory, I believe my paper will be a complete success.”

Mrs. Thompson ponders the answer and her glowing grin then skeptically replies, “Ok, well good luck.”

“Why thank you, Mrs. T,” Alexis retorts heartily and spontaneously spins into a playful pirouette, nearly hitting the librarian in the face with her backpack.

Alexis winks before skipping through the turnstile and into the lower bowl.

Making a course towards the exit she visually gathers the architectural interior, admiring the way the assembly of shelves converge into the centre, row upon row, like the fletchings of an arrow.

Pushing through the set of mosaic doors to leave, the frigid cold air greets her like a slap in the face.

It grows across her delicate olive skin, changing its complexion slightly. “Burr, it’s so much colder,” she groans, then adjusts the lapels on the coat to cover her bare neck.

“Some tunage for the road,” Alexis quipped. Swinging her knapsack around her body, pulls out a set of earbuds along with her iPhone.

Strumming from artist to playlist, she tries to find one fitting for the trip. “Ahh, perfect,” the soft intro lifts with a twang to a set of guitar strings.

A slider drags its lengthy neck, the plucky impression enters her senses. Joining the strings is the pulse of ivory keys when a sudden crash of cymbals breaks the rhythmic plane.

Rob Thomas begins swooning, “Someday they’ll find your small-town world, on a big-time avenue, gonna make you like, the way they talk, when they’re talking to you,” lyrics to the song by Matchbox Twenty; “Hand me down.”

Alexis reapplies the bag onto her shoulders then tucks the phone into her back pocket before striding down the marble steps.

During her descent, she recalls the day. It lingers on her mind, rolling like scenes from a flashback in a movie. She can still hear the masses from class, ridiculing her ideas and mocking the process of her work.

Even her professors were quick to explain that her findings lack support or validity, but Alexis knew otherwise.

Onward she strolled, taking “The Sarah Elizabeth Henderson Boulevard,” the quickest route to get across campus and her dorm.

And still she grew restless, exhausted and tormented by the naysayers. “If it's proof they want, then it's proof I’ll provide,” determined in her whispers yet anxious to demonstrate the truth exposing herself.

Suddenly rustling from the bush broke her jumbled thoughts. Swiftly she turns to place the noise, see which culprit created this distraction.

And she found a curiously welcoming pair of glowing orbs staring up at her, belonging to a baby raccoon. “Awe,” she cooed delightfully ... “are you lost, little guy?”

She could see the cub sniffing for a scent, its whiskers reflect light, like strands of fiber optics, before the critter scurries across the dim-lit path and out of sight.

Chuckling, Alexis carries on to her dorm. She abruptly stops, holding the visual moment.

Absorbing the perspective atop this eighty-foot drop stairwell, she's thinking how it oddly felt comparable to the stairs from the scene in “The Exorcist”, the ones where Father Karras is launched from Regan's window, before tumbling down to his excruciating death.

Unphased by this gruesome piece of cinema etched in her memory, Alexis shrugs it off by taking her first step.

She continues contemplating how she may transfer her ideas into proof by any means necessary. An ideal outcome that won’t compromise what she knows to be true.

Arriving at the first landing, she pauses, pulling out her iPhone again. Only this time she decides on something louder, loud enough to drown those negative voices in her head.

Scanning the playlists, she reaches one that perfectly fits her mood and quickly pressed play.

The explosive burst of Nikki Sixx’s bass guitar is closely escorted by the thunderous kick of Tommy Lee’s drums. The song “Looks that kill” rushes into her head from the well-known LA band, Motley Crüe.

The rocking anthem like a two sledgehammers blast between her heartbeats and breathes, lifting her spirits.

As the music pumps, something catches her attention at the base of the stairs. The emergence of two husky shadows.

Thinking nothing of it, she glances at her phone before placing it back into the pocket. When she detects two more figures systematically turning up in simultaneous fashion at the top of the steps.

At first, she thought logically many people use this path on a daily basis to get from one end of campus to the other, but it was the timing she found nerving.

She reconsidered the probability for a split second, then remembered, after 8 p.m. this path was restricted to female students, a well-known declaration since the tragic death of Sarah Elizabeth Henderson, to whom the boulevard was named.

The story goes while heading back to her dorm, she was brutally raped then murdered, forcing the university to ban all males, students or faculty. A stigma attached to the school and placing it under fire for having piss poor security!

A black mark in its forty-year history and sadly it was the ending to a once brilliant future for Sarah. Alexis immediately recognizes that a couple of lights were plucked out near a set of surveillance cameras; these were installed to monitor student activity on the grounds.

“Somethings off” she whispered, her instinct alerted. Taking the next set of steps down towards the next landing. She experienced a weird sensation a feeling that each one of her steps was equally matched by theirs.

Once she arrived standing on the second landing these four figures dressed in black suits ascended upon her position.

The male to her immediate left, presented his FBI badge and spoke with an authoritative stern voice, “Mrs. Armitage, I’m agent Marks, this is agent Jordan, agent Hanson and agent Glass,” each displaying their badges. He lunged to grab her left arm, continuing to say, “you’ll need to come with us”.

Amid his introductive statement, agent Glass had snuck closer to Alexis and cautiously grabbed her right wrist from behind. The other two men preparing themselves as backup, should the situation escalate.

Alexis took a look around, carefully observing the surrounding area for others, her expression wasn’t of worry or fear, nor was she frantic to search for somebody who’d be able to help.

It seemed that every one of her reactions was deliberate, she immersed herself back into this present state, refocusing her energy onto her assailants.

Calmly raising her shoulders, she stood tall, took a deep breath, and firmly said ... “I’m afraid, gentlemen, you’re sadly mistaken, I’m not going anywhere with you!”... suddenly, the man to her right without hesitation drew his weapon, horror shot off his face, while attempting to stop himself.

Using every ounce of strength in his muscles to pull the pistol back, his body began to shake uncontrollably. Pearl-shaped droplets of sweat emerged from his hairline as the gun continued to shift erratically, pointing in the direction of his colleague.

“TOM!”... “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”... grumbled agent Jordan under gnashed teeth, as shock and unease riddled over his own eyes. “Yes Tom”... ridiculed Alexis ...“what are you doing?” she gestured while mocking the gentlemen!

Agent Hanson continued to struggle, fighting to maintain control of his weapon, but he would lose the battle, when the gun stopped, merely inches from his partner's head, at dead bang.

During Toms tussle to dominate the handling of his revolver, the commotion was the right kind of distraction for his fourth colleague Jon, the gentlemen standing beyond Alexis’s left shoulder.

He had also drawn his nine-millimeter pistol in the same fluid motion as Tom and now, it had rested pointed directly at the head of agent Marks, their superior and team lead.

“John!” ... he growled, staring down the trembling barrel of his associates’ gun, then demanded!...“what in God’s name is wrong with you two guys?”...

Blinded by the red in his own eyes, agent Marks snarled through his prominently flared nostrils and like a fierce bull attacked, “Put your weapons, away”... he hesitated momentarily then yelled ...“This was supposed to be a routine operation,”... his voice grew gradually hoarser and angrier “NO GUNS!”, “NO VIOLENCE!”, “JUST APPREHEND THE SUSPECT!”, “A CLEAN SWEEP, “YOU TWO GOT THAT!”

Alexis burst like a balloon, popping in response like someone had poked her with a pin, ... “I’m not sure they comprehend what you’re saying!” ...

“Shut your mouth,”... he roared back, pulling Alexis’s arm closer trying to hook her wrist into the handcuffs.

In that instant, agents (Tom) Jordan and (Jon) Hanson had both reached across their colleagues, exactly synchronized, mimicking one another’s movements, as though they stood before their reflection in a mirror, then with an equal amount of force, struck agents Marks and Glass in the face with their elbows...breaking their nose!

Agents Marks and Glass gathered their senses, pulled themselves off the ground, both covered in blood, and both quite frustrated with their friends.

When without warning they kicked out their weapons in what almost seemed retaliatory, but it was more than that, deadly more.

They could hardly contain their actions, as their bodies were overcome, like marionette puppets manipulated to perform under extreme pressure.

The intensity mounted to a fever pitch, each agent slowly realized that this situation was no longer in their control.

All four watched in horror, each staring down a hollow barrel to a loaded gun, wondering what else in the world could go wrong.

Just then a breeze briskly passed between the men and Alexis. It grew more fiercely, blowing like a ferocious prop fan. The gusting wind swirls around them, collecting the nearby leaves and other debris on the platform.

Gathering in speed, aggressively whirls as quick as Nascar drivers during the Indy 500.

When the ground began to tremble, shaking them all off-balance. The thick concrete slab beneath Alexis’s feet snapped, cracking apart in the conductive shape of a lightning bolt streaking across the sky.

A thin red molten sliver of light boiled at the rim, it began to spread, opening further and wider, as the vortex carried them all up into the air. They hovered above the newly formed gaping hole; a separation large enough to suck them into the mysterious abyss below!

And in a brilliant wash of light, Alexis was pulled in, plunging through the threshold, and disappeared out of sight. The agents manically wailed in shock and dismay, spitting screams of dread. When surprisingly another crashing sound of thunder split the ground opened, near the base of the stairs. A beam of bright light soon followed and Alexis mystically reappeared, floating for a moment in the rush of air, as the earth closed in on itself below her, gently touching down and standing firmly on solid ground!

She turned to glance up at the men still pointing their weapons at one another and struggling to contain their situation. Agent Marks caught Alexis’s stare in his peripheral, as beads of sweat rolled over his brow, pouring like a stream of water escaping through a crack in a flowerpot. He peered down at her, gazing momentarily, almost as if he was pleading for mercy.

When an explosive bang, shot out into the bitter night sky. All four men had relieved their revolver of a single bullet into one another’s skull and in a clump of flesh, they dropped like stones through the hole Alexis conveniently left behind, vanishing into the unknown. The cavity sealed shut as quickly as it appeared, leaving no trace of the event!

“Clean Sweep” ... whispered Alexis, continuing her journey home.