She`s Not Dead

January 19, 2018
By kellymadeline26 BRONZE, Carbondale , Pennsylvania
kellymadeline26 BRONZE, Carbondale , Pennsylvania
4 articles 0 photos 0 comments

She`s Not Dead
Today I received a strange note in the mail, it contained scrambled words like some sort of puzzle. The note did not have a return address and I had no idea as to who would send me such an odd note in the mail. I studied it at first and then shortly gave up, I could not figure out what it was trying to say. It was written in some sort of code that I was not familiar with.I was not sure if it was a different language so I Googled the words but, no results helped me. I put the note to the side to take a second look at it later.
I put the letter in the back of my mind and began digging through my closet for an outfit to wear to my highschool reunion. It has been 20 years since I graduated and have not seen some of my closest friends since. I am very excited to reconnect with them tonight. After going through countless outfits; I finally came to the conclusion to wear my black and white striped dress with my black Louis Vuitton shoes. I put on my dress and touched up my hair and makeup; then headed off to the reunion.
As I arrived at the class reunion I began to reminisce with my old classmates on the best days of our highschool years . My classmates began to joke around about one of our teachers, Mrs.Birdstein, our 11th grade math teacher. She was very nice, always helpful and an all around great teacher. Then suddenly she stopped coming to school, no one knew why she stopped coming or where she went. It was like she had fallen off the face of the earth. Of course everyone made jokes like she ran away to be with her side lover or she was a part of the FBI and needed to go on a special mission. Still to this day I do not know where Mrs.Birdstein is or if she is even alive.
Just before the reunion came to a close;my bestfriend Billy pulled me aside and said to me, “Please don't tell anyone this Sarah, I don't want everyone to get freaked out or cause a scene but today I received a strange note in the mail. The only words I could make out of it were “hello Billy” and “thank you” and it did not have a return address.”
I was shocked at what Billy was telling me, and that I was not the only one to get this messed up letter. I told Billy that I too had gotten a note that was similar to his. We both agreed that we would not tell anyone and would try to figure out the letter together early tomorrow morning. When the reunion came to the end, my best friend Alexa approached me outside of the building and began to describe the same situation that Billy had told me earlier. I told her that  Billy and I agreed not to tell anyone about the notes and invited her to my house to decrypt the notes and discover who sent them to us.
Early the next morning, I woke up to someone ringing my doorbell. Outside was Billy and Alexa, I invited them in and offered them a glass of water along with some danishes I had  prepared the night before. After indulging in a quick breakfast the three of us took out the notes we had received in the mail the day before. All of the three notes started with “Hello” and then our names and ended with “thank you.”They were exactly the same, so whomever wrote them had a connection to all of us. We then began to go through all of the suspected people we thought could have been pulling a prank on us, or maybe looking for our help. None of the names we rattled off seemed to come full circle. The topic of Mrs. Birdstein came up again and then  Billy said, “ do you remember those puzzles she used to give to us for extra credit?”
Alexa replied with, “No, what are you talking about Billy? She never gave any extra credit.”
“Yes, she did,” Billy argued. Billy explained, “the puzzle was to figure out the message by going back ten letters from the letter on the note to figure out the message.”
I asked Billy why did he bring this up he replied, ”I don't know the notes just reminded me of the puzzles she used to give us. Do you want to use the formula we used to solve her puzzles with and maybe see if it works on these notes?”
Alexa and myself both agreed it was worth a shot. The three of us used Mrs.Birdstein`s formula and decrypted the notes.  Once the note was decrypted it read, Hello Sarah, this is Mrs. Birdstein. I know I haven't seen or talked to you in over twenty years, but I need your help along with Alexa`s and Billy`s. I am locked in a basement in Charlotte,  North Carolina. This is the only way I could communicate with you without the people who are holding me captive finding out that Iam reaching out to you. Hopefully you can figure this out and help me. Thank You.
After I read the note I was in shock, there were so many questions running through my head. Who took Mrs, Birdstein? Why North Carolina? Why did she reach out to me? I looked across the table to Alexa and Billy who were in deep shock in what they had just read.
Alexa said, “So do we go and find her and how do we find her if we do go to look for her”.
Billy said,  “I say we don't risk our lives to save some teacher we barely knew. I think we should just take these notes to the police and let them take care of it.”
I interrupted the rest of his sentence and said,”no we cannot just give these to the police. She choose us we need to help her.”
Billy said,  “Sorry but I'm not coming with you Sarah I have a wife and kids at home I am not risking not seeing them again to save Mrs. Birdstein.”
Alexa agreed with Billy and declined the idea of going to save Mrs. Birdstein. I thought about what my friends had said about risking our lives for a teacher we hardly knew, but something inside me told me I had to go and at least look for her. I told Billy and Alexa that I was going to go look for Mrs. Birdstein and they were welcome to come if they pleased, but again they both declined.
The rest of the day I spent my time researching Mrs. Birdstein and her connection  to Charlotte, North Carolina. Why was she in a town that was nearly seven hours away? After a few hours of countless Google searches I stumbled upon old divorce papers of a Francesa and Rick Miller. I remembered that a student once accidentally called her Mrs. Miller and Mrs. Birdstein quickly corrected him and told him that it was Mrs, Birstein now. Francesa Miller had to be her, it matched her first name and I know she used to go by Mrs. Miller. I then began to research her former husband, Rick Miller. I found out that Mr. Miller has a property in Charlotte, North Carolina. I figured that is where Mrs. Birdstein has to be. I quickly booked a flight to Charlotte for the next morning and ran upstairs and started to pack my bags.
I woke up early the next morning, grabbed my suitcase,locked my doors, and drove to the airport. As my plane started to board I started to have second thoughts about this adventure I was about to go on. I didn't even know what I was going to do when I got there. Am I just going to go up to the door of the house she is supposedly in and ask “Oh is Mrs. Birdstein in there.” I still felt it was vital for me to go down there and check it out. My section was called to board the plane and I slowly got up and handed the attendant my ticket and walked on to the plane.
Before I knew it the plane had landed in Charlotte, I gathered my suitcase, rented a car, and began to drive to the address I had found online of Mr. Miller's house. I slowly drove by the house, it looked like no one had stepped foot in the house in ten years. The only sign of life on the property was a black 1988 Ford Mustang. I tried to scope out the house the best I could.  I drove around the block four times to get a look at the basement window. There was only one window that was in the basement and it was too small to see through from the street. I decided to park my car and sneak up and peek through the window. As I approached the window I got a sick feeling in my stomach and had an instinct to run away. I crouched down and peered through the window. Sure enough I saw an older Mrs. Birdstein tied to a bed with a man sitting in the corner typing on a computer. I wanted to see the man's face so I could know if it was her ex husband who had kidnapped her. The man slowly got up from his computer desk and walked toward Mrs. Birdstein. He took a large bat from underneath the bed and began hitting her with it. I had to stop myself from letting out a scream, I ran away from the window and back to my car with fear.
During the ride to my hotel I was in a state of panic. I did not know whether to call the police or go back and try to rescue her myself. It was late at night so I decided to try and go to sleep and figure out what to do in the morning. However I could not even shut my eyes I felt that I should go back to the house and try to get Mrs. Birstein out of the house during the night because her husband might be asleep. I sped over to the abandoned house. As I approached the house there was another car in the driveway which was not there the last time I visited the house. I parked my car on the opposite side of the street and just observed the house. I saw the front door open slowly and one man motioned back into the house to come out. Five men existed the house carrying a large garbage bag. The garbage was moving, Mrs. Birdstein was inside! They threw the bag into the back of the white mustang. Mr. Miller then exited the house and handed each of the men who carried the bag a stack of money. He then got into his car and started to drive away. I could not believe what I had just saw, I started my car and started to chase Mr. Miller`s car. I got as close as I could to the back of his car and saw Mrs. Birdstein squirming around in the garbage bag. Mr. Miller had noticed that I was following his car and reached over to the passenger seat and picked up a gun. He pointed it out the car window and took a shot a me. The bullet went right into my chest. I lost control of my car and hit a tree. I stayed paralyzed in the seat of my car as the police lights and sirens surrounded me. The EMTs tried to talk to me and keep me awake, but my eyes slowly rolled to the back of my head and eyelids shut.



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