The Seventh Operation | Teen Ink

The Seventh Operation

January 5, 2017
By camilledash BRONZE, Wyckoff, New Jersey
camilledash BRONZE, Wyckoff, New Jersey
4 articles 0 photos 0 comments

The meadow, shrouded in darkness, was quiet, and only the sounds of crickets could be heard. The moon cast a cold glow, and its beams were reflected and refracted by the raindrops on the grass and leaves. Her flashlight cast a ray of light on the path. She searched for the old path that would bring her in the direction of the lake. Suddenly, the moon beams were eclipsed, and the summer night glow was replaced by a heavy darkness, only interrupted by the stark light emanating from her flashlight. Her pace quickened and she soon found the sign that read “Boaters’ Trail”, and followed it deeper into the woods. She followed the old footsteps with harried breath and strained eyes, as the moon was still under the deep cover of the rain cloud. She thought it was just her imagination, but it appeared as though fresh footsteps littered the ground, and she glanced sideways with suspicion. Suddenly, she heard the crickets interrupted by the faint crunching of twigs and branches. She spun the flashlight around, and seeing nothing, continued her march. She began to smell the freshness of the lake, and knew she was getting close. She quickened to a slow jog, as the hairs stood up on the back of her neck and the crunching continued. The summer night breeze sent shivers down her spine, and she started to run now, as the lakeside cabin could not be far now. She thought she heard whispers flying through the air when the loudest crack of a branch yet rang through the air. She spun around with such force that the flashlight flew out of her hand and flickered out on the ground. The pitch black was only interrupted now by the ear piercing scream she let out as she saw dozens of pairs of eyes staring at her from in front of her cabin.
“Surprise!” A chorus of voices shouted as the cabin lit up with the artificial glow of light bulbs. Relief washed over her face and her eyes brightened as friends laughed and teasingly apologised for  scaring her. She felt the pallor dissipate from her face as warmth flushed her cheeks and picked up her party hat, its silver glitter coming off on her hands.  She made her way around the set up, greeting all those who came to celebrate what they thought was her 25th birthday. She set a smile and look of ease on her face, engaging superficially, while she analyzed every single person, trying to figure out if she was safe. When it was time for cake, she listened to people she had so successfully deceived, sing  to a woman they thought they knew. A woman  whose name was different from the six names that came before this. A woman who supposedly just got her first managerial job at the local store, and who was just starting out in life. But she was actually a woman who should be disappearing and moving on by next week.  A woman whose job it was to get in, get out, and go on. A woman whose mistakes would cost her more than most could imagine. She now realized she should not have made up a birthday that would  pass during her duration here. She knew she should not have told them about the cabin. She got too comfortable, and now she had to fix her mistakes. Finally, people starting packing up. She stayed to collect her presents, and while the last stragglers went to get their coats, she lifted up the floorboard and got the papers she needed. She took a deep breath, and walked back into town with her co-worker from the store.
As she looked up at the ceiling of her bedroom that night, she ran through the faces she saw that night. She knew everyone, except for a man and a woman she could not recall. She jumped out of her bed and texted her co-worker, who organized the party, for a list of who was invited (for Thank You cards, she said). She got the list, and read through it twice. There were 34 people on the list, but she had counted 36. That was the last straw. She would drop off the information, and get out of this town. It wasn’t safe anymore, and she could not risk it. She checked her closet to make sure her emergency suitcases were in there, tucked the papers into the safe, and tried to fall asleep.
She awoke to the birds chirping and the early morning sun streaming in her windows. She got dressed and packed her car, so she was ready to leave as soon as possible. She stepped out onto the sidewalk and walked into town, papers in her locked briefcase. The sun was bright and the sky cloudless. As she observed the green of the grass, illuminated in the light, she heard the click of her heels on the sidewalk. As the road began to transform from residential to commercial, she felt the summer city heat radiating from the concrete. The sun gleamed off the glass and metal of the somewhat-short skyscrapers, and she pulled out her sunglasses. She checked her fake I.D. and qualifications, to make sure everything was in order, so she could take the next flight out of LAX. She did this all while scanning the pedestrians for signs of the mystery man and woman from last night. She finally arrived at the most grand building in town, and entered through its tall glass doors. She ascended the flights of stairs and entered another glassy waiting room. She signed in and watched as the receptionist went back to inform the client. She allowed herself to relax for one minute, and stood up to stare at the view from the huge window. Birds flitted by, and the Californian hills looked majestic in the brilliance of the sun. A wave of tranquility washed over her; papers were in order, the assignment was minutes away from being completed, and she knew the agency would handle her disappearance with the ease they had countless times before. As she breathed her first sigh of relief in days, she turned around as she thought she heard the receptionist returning. But before she could let out a scream, the shadow of a figure enveloped her, and she felt the barrel gun jabbing into her side.



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This article has 1 comment.


on Jan. 14 2017 at 3:06 pm
TheEvergreen SILVER, Birmingham, Alabama
8 articles 0 photos 64 comments

Favorite Quote:
"Never laugh at live dragons." -JRR Tolkien

Amazing job! Your writing flowed very well - I am impressed. I hope you will write a sequel soon!