The woman was smiling gently, leaning back in her chair as a little girl clambered onto her lap, soft curls bouncing in the firelight.

“Mami! Tell it again!” The little girl giggled, eyes shining as her mother pulled her closer.

“Aspen, you’re almost eight. You hardly fit on my lap anymore.”

“Please, Mami?”

“Oh, you little devil!” Her mother laughed, tickling Aspen until she shrieked with delight. “The people who are in charge of our country have made some bad choices. Your daddy and I are helping fix the bad things so that when you grow up the government doesn't get to control your life, sweetie.”

Aspen looked up at her mother, grinning. “You and daddy are like superheroes!” Her mother smiled, chuckling… but the sound died in her throat. “M-mami?” Aspen whispered as her mother’s eyes took on a glassy sheen.

She didn’t know what caused it, but suddenly the realization that something was horribly wrong settled in her stomach. Her mother threw her off her lap mindlessly, a look of agony spreading across her features as Aspen’s head cracked against the tile floor. Then, her mother was shaking, bloody saliva foaming at the corners of her mouth. Aspen wanted to go to her, make it stop, but fear kept her rooted to the floor. Then, the screaming started. From her father’s study, first, but her mother quickly followed. It wasn’t the screaming that scared Aspen the most. It wasn’t the seizures or blood. It was the moment these things stopped, and a silence fell over the house. The moment she finally gathered the courage to crawl to her mother's side, gently tapping her arm at first, but then shaking her hysterically, screaming at the corpse to wake up. To smile. To not leave her. But it was too late. Later, the people would come, the hazmat suits and body bags would poison the memories of her childhood home, bringing with them the certainty that things would never be the same.

Aspen opened her eyes to the dark room, blinking back the tears that ran down her face. Every night she had to relive those eleven hours, even today, nine years after the event. She was seventeen. Too old for nightmares. It was five in the morning, but she knew that all that awaited her in sleep were the same dreams, seared into her memory. She dressed quickly, stumbling to the treadmill that occupied the corner of the apartment. The nightmares only made the waking world more difficult. At least in her head, she was surrounded by people. Some days, it seemed like even the corpses of her parents were better than… this.

Isolation. The only treatment for Motor Neural Shutdown. Not much of treatment at all, but Aspen tried to remind herself that she was one of the lucky ones. She had survived the disease, it was her parents she should feel sorry for, not herself.

Exposure to MNS meant that she would carry it for the rest of her life. Any contact with others and the disease would be instantly transmitted to them, killing them within moments. She was the world’s deadliest tag player. Aspen laughed humorlessly to herself, turning the speed of the treadmill up higher as she attempted to clear her head from the night's demons. A poster for MNS hung on the wall, all angry red lettering and bolded warnings. At the bottom, a phrase that haunted her deeply.

Survival Rate: 0%

The disease was supposed to be lethal, and yet, Aspen wasn’t dead. She supposed the thought should make her hopeful, but it just made fresh tears spring to her eyes. She was alone, trapped in a vacuum sealed chamber, and carried the disease that spelled an end to humanity itself. Was life even worth it? Aspen cursed under her breath, realizing that her thoughts had been slipping into dark places again. It was always worse in the morning, with the nightmare fresh in her mind. She pushed the speed on the treadmill higher, until she couldn’t think. For once, her restless mind was silent, leaving her with only the sound of her feet pounding against the rubber. She grinned as she slapped the stop button on her watch, marking the mile time in her journal. Her fastest yet. She felt her dread slip away and sighed with the kind of relief that only running could bring her.

She stumbled to the airlock, the three-stage seal that allowed the government to distribute food and supplies to her quarters without contact. Today was Monday, which meant her weekly delivery had arrived. Aspen released the rubber seal, absently thinking about how her mother could ever have disliked the government when their funding and deliveries were the only things keeping her alive. With her mind otherwise occupied, she didn’t notice the trespasser for a full ten seconds. Then, their eyes locked.

He seemed to be about her age, with greasy black hair that hung over his black eyes… eyes that locked onto hers like an animal, violence glinting just under the surface.

Aspen’s jaw dropped at the impossible sight of him, freezing her in place for what seemed like an eternity before her instincts kicked in. She stumbled backward, slamming the airlock door behind her, panting in relief as she considered what a close call that had been. It would be all right now, though. She could call the emergency number and the government would get him far away from her deadly skin. She glanced up at the boy and froze. His eyes were still locked on her, and as she watched he braced himself and slammed into the door.

What was going on? The question pounded in her head as she fumbled for the emergency phone, desperately trying to reach the government so they could spare the life of this foolish, foolish boy. A muffled creak sounded from the other side of the airlock as the boy slammed into it again, the seal protesting at the sudden onslaught of pressure. Realization hit Aspen suddenly. He was going to break down the barrier between them. She would be forced to watch him die, just like her parents all those years ago.

“STOP!” Aspen screamed, her voice cracking as her shaking fingers attempted to type in the emergency number. She was a digit away when the groaning seal finally gave way, and the boy crumpled on top of her, knocking the phone from her hand.

She felt the moment it happened, the moment his knuckles brushed across her ankle as he struggled to his feet, and dread seized the pit of her stomach. The boy looked at her with wild eyes, and Aspen braced herself for the disease to take root, glancing at her hands in shame. They were the hands of a murderer now.

Moments passed, and she watched the boy sadly, waiting for his eyes to glass over.

“So, do you talk?” The boy’s voice was haughty, and he glanced down at her like she was some kind of animal. Unease began to settle in Aspen’s chest.

“Why aren’t you dead?” She whispered, shakily climbing to her feet. “Why hasn’t MNS killed you?” The boy sighed and straightened his clothing casually as if her panic was boring him.

“Why would I be dead?” He remarked, taking the phone from her shaking hand.

“Because I’m contaminated,” Aspen whispered, meeting his eyes as she stood. It occurred to her belatedly that perhaps she should be terrified of this stranger, the boy who had the nerve to break into the room of someone carrying Motor Neural Shutdown, but curiosity won out.

“I’m sure you knew I was diseased, though” Aspen muttered, “seeing as you broke into the government's only quarantine unit. Why you are here?” Aspen’s voice cracked with desperation on the last note, and she chided herself for sounding so naive.

“For your information, Aspen,” the boy hissed, seeming to take delight in knowing her name without her telling him. “I did know you were contaminated, but that isn’t why I’m here. I have a favor to ask.”

“Allright,” Aspen growled, disliking her impostor more by the moment.

“I need you to hack the government firewall for me.” Aspen froze, fear racing up her spine for the first time. When Aspen had first been sealed in the chamber the government had given her a computer. They thought to be able to hold conversations with people digitally would keep the isolation insanity at bay, but as time progressed Aspen grew sick of talking to the same three government-approved people. So, she learned how to bend the rules of the system. It was simple enough at first, finding loopholes, tweaking code, but in nine years her abilities had improved. Now, she had the means to access any source on the web, and as helpful as the government may be, the freedoms they allowed Aspen were minimal. With her computer, she could at least pretend for a few fleeting moments that she was just another kid, hopping on her computer to play. But this stranger, whoever he was, shouldn’t know about the hacking. He couldn’t know… unless…

“Darn. CJ squealed on me, didn’t he?” Aspen rolled her eyes, chiding herself for trusting someone over the net, but she had known CJ from practically the beginning. If there was one person she trusted, it would be him. And if CJ had even the slightest belief in this maniac, she would hear him out, as much as it pained her to do so. “Fine. Talk.”

“I already said it,” the boy snapped, pointing to the computer. “Hack the government firewall, and I’ll be on my merry way.”

“That isn’t what I meant,” Aspen growled, done with this stranger's high-and-mighty attitude. Answer my questions, and I’ll decide if I’m going to hack the firewall for myself.

For the first time since he had entered the room, the boy looked uneasy. He stood, fuming for a few moments before he began.

“My name is Parker, and MNS hasn’t affected me because I survived it.” Aspen froze the heart in her chest racing like a caged animal.

“That’s impossible,” she interrupted, “the government told me I was the only survivor.”

“Which brings me to why I’m here. The government lied to you… and the lies don’t stop there.” Parker hesitated for a moment, as if deciding whether or not to continue, but in the end, he went on, his whispered voice barely audible. “The government. They created Motor Neural Shutdown.”

“You’re lying,” Aspen whispered, the word sounding hollow in the small room. It made sense, though. She had known that her parents were enemies of the government. They had wanted change in a system that hadn’t been altered in hundreds of years. Even as she shut Parker out it seemed like the last piece to the mystery of her parent's death had clicked into place. Of course. Of course, the government wanted to control her parents. Bile rose in the back of her throat as she thought of the years she had spent praising the government for saving her. Now, she just felt like a glorified lab rat, sealed away because she somehow defied the disease that allowed them to control the country.

“Look, I couldn’t care less if you believe me or not,” Parker snapped, the haughty tone back in his voice. “The only reason we’re alive is that our brains weren’t fully developed when the virus was deployed on our families, so we built up antibodies to fight it more quickly. We’ve been given a second chance at life, princess, and while you rot away in your safety bubble, I’m out in the real world trying to change things.” Aspen froze at this, turning towards Parker with murder flashing in her eyes, but for as much as she loathed this boy, she knew he was telling the truth. Every fiber of her being wanted to refuse him, but this was about more than his foolish attitude. There were lives hanging in the balance.

“Fine. What do you need from me?” Aspen whispered, her tone tipped with venom.

“I need you to hack the government mainframe so that I can find an antidote to the disease,” Parker said matter of factly as if he was part of some cliche spy movie. Aspen took a hissing breath between her teeth as he glanced at her, gesturing to the computer impatiently.

“You think I haven’t tried that?” Aspen whispered, her words scathing. Parker cringed, the hope behind his eyes flickering out, but Aspen wasn’t done. “What, do you think I spend all day in my room, dreaming about the prince charming who’s going to rescue me?” She was practically screaming now, her face inches from his. “I am as interested in finding a cure as anyone else. I don’t stay in this bubble because it’s safe, my lord,” she said, lowering her voice to a whisper as she gave him a mock bow. “I stay because I don’t want to kill anyone. I stay because my parents died at my feet, and if I can’t help people by being alongside them, at least I can do something here. I have searched every database. Shattered every firewall. There.Is.No.Cure.”

Parker slumped onto the bed, a guttural moan escaping his throat. Immediately, Aspen felt awful. MNS wasn’t his fault. He was just another scared kid, trying to stop the disease that controlled the country, even though he was immune to it himself. “Look, I’m sorry,” Aspen mumbled, awkwardly shifting from foot to foot. “It’s just not possible… oh my god. We’re immune to the disease.” Parker turned to look at her, rolling his eyes.

“Eureka,” he mumbled sarcastically, but Aspen hardly heard his answer, her own thoughts pounding in her ears.

“Parker, we’re immune because we have built up antibodies. Any contact with our skin and the disease gets passed on, but if we were able to analyze our blood…” Parker shot off of the bed, eyes going wide as he caught onto her train of thought.

“The antibodies in our blood can make others immune,” he interjected, already running to the airlock… just as it hissed open. The woman on the other side Aspen had only seen in news broadcasts, addressing the nation behind two feet of bulletproof glass. The Empress.

“Smart, smart kiddos,” She giggled as two guards rounded the corner, guns trained on Aspen and Parker. “You figured my little trick out, and I commend you both, but it just won’t do to release your antibodies to the public, would it? How would I keep my people in line?” She motioned for the guards, and time seemed to slow as each safety was clicked off, but Aspen didn’t freeze. She ran forwards, taking some small measure of delight as she tapped the Empress on the shoulder gently.

The Empress writhed to the ground, closely followed by her guards. “Tag. You’re it,” Aspen whispered, taking Parker’s hand in hers as she turned to race down the corridor.

I remember the taste of adrenaline on my tongue, the slightly metallic, acidic flavor, as if I had been sucking on a mouthful of pennies. Slinking through the abandoned store, hooding our flashlights like professional thieves, and speaking in whispers whenever we dared speak at all, we gathered the things we deemed worth taking in a pile at the back, near the bay doors. One of them had been left open, leaving a gap of about three feet. We had seen our chance earlier in the day while walking past outside the chain link fence, and excitedly made our plans to come back after dark.

I lived in a small apartment complex next to a run-down strip mall, with several abandoned stores and a few fast food restaurants still limping along within it. Me and a few of my neighbors had heard about how some guys had been caught stealing copper wiring from inside the walls of one of the stores, but before they got caught, they'd been bragging about making a lot of money selling the things they had stolen. Apparently one particular store had shut down with all the merchandise still inside. The descriptions they gave made it sound like a motherlode, and to our inexperienced ears, it sounded like it would be easy.

There was only one security guard for the whole place. If we kept a lookout posted and everyone stopped what they were doing when he came by, we could clean the place out.

Most of us were in our mid-twenties. We were full of piss and vinegar and thought, as most young people do, that we were invincible. We were also mostly broke, and looking for extra beer money after work or class was something we embraced wholeheartedly. New ideas were discussed every day we found ourselves without the money to wet our collective whistle. And this day was only different in that we had stumbled across the open door, thus giving us our plan.

We waited until after dark, dressing ourselves all in black like cat burglars, and snuck down to the site on foot, giggling and cutting up until we got there, and then we all stole quietly around to the back of the store. If we had only known what would happen, would we have been so casual?

The darkness was intermittent, with street lights and neon flickering randomly along the strip. The smell of honeysuckle was in the air, blowing to us from further up the street where a mobile home park had used it for a hedge around their boundaries. Short hairs escaping my ponytail tickled my face and I tucked them behind my ears as I followed the shadow in front of me. Randy went first, having won the toss to be the person in charge, leading us all around the fence, to the split the other thieves had told us about. One by one we filed in, Randy holding the fence up and touching us all as we went through, as if to count us and make sure no one was lagging.

The smell blowing from the building to us on the breeze, had undertones of something dead, and I remember wondering what it was and not wanting to go inside. I kept thinking something had made a kill and had gone inside there to hide and eat it. All of my hairs were standing at attention, cautioning me with that not so subtle warning. I picked up my pace, and pushing through my friends, I grabbed Randy's shirt to get his attention. He whispered for the others to go ahead and wait for him at the doors as he held a handful of my shirt in his fist, keeping me there with him. After telling him about my reservations, he nodded, thinking and then towed me to the doors by my shirt and told me to stay put and watch. After hearing my best owl, he told me to hoot if the guard came, and they all disappeared into the darkness, leaving me alone by the doors.

It was quiet, with the muted sounds of the street behind me and the empty parking lot in front of me, and the breeze picked up, making me shiver as I sat still on the concrete. I had been warm while we were walking but now the chill crept out of the ground and covered me with its dampness. I heard rustlings in the bushes at the fence and squinted trying to see in the dark. I wondered which way the guard would come from and held my breath so I could hear. It was quiet for so long I was beginning to think I had been left behind.

Just then the guard came around the far corner of the building to my right, the beam of his flashlight cutting through the dark mist. I hooted, cleared my throat and hooted again. Nothing happened except the guard continued to advance. When he was halfway across the parking lot, I finally heard an answering call. I stood up carefully, and slid back into the loading bay, keeping to the shadows. I hooted back, feeling anxious and excited all at once. A few more owls called back to me from inside the building, sounding so genuine I remember wondering if any of them were real. I thought I heard a noise behind me, and turning, nearly collided with Randy, coming to see why I had signaled. I squeaked in alarm, grabbing onto him to keep from falling down as he steadied me with a warm hand. Recovering quickly, I pointed out the guard walking across the lot toward us, his light swinging from side to side and his shoes grinding on the scattered gravel. Randy put his mouth to my ear and sent me to warn the others, sliding his knife from the scabbard at his belt as he crouched behind the door jamb. I could barely breathe as I crept quickly to the next cover, and ducking behind the extinct movie counter, I listened for any noise besides my rapidly beating heart and the sound of my breath whistling in and out. I hooted as soon as I had my wind back, afraid to move anymore with the guard so close, and heard several muted answering calls from somewhere behind me in the store.

It was pitch black inside the movie kiosk and the floor was covered with spilled VHS tapes, making it hard for me to sit still. The movies kept shifting beneath me, snapping and creaking every time I dared to move. I could almost hear Randy shushing me inside my head. My attention was diverted back to the bay doors by a slight noise. Just then I found a crack and pressed my eye to the tiny peephole. The light coming through the open bay door was broken by the shadow of the officer as he passed between it and the streetlight outside. I heard the muffled scrape of a shoe on concrete and a grunt like my old papa makes getting up from his Lazy Boy. I thought he must have seen or heard something, because he was coming in.

We had forgotten to watch him for a while first to ascertain his regular routine, so we had no idea he came inside every third pass he made of the loading dock. I can't believe we were actually so careless as to have skipped such an important step, but I wasn't in charge and we had all agreed to take Randy's instruction. In the excitement, Randy had forgotten, and we had all assumed he had taken care of everything, so no one else thought to check. I didn't know him that well but I trusted him. Mainly because we were sleeping together, and I had that blind trust we all have in our first few relationships, comfortably secure in the false knowledge of things working out in the ideal fashion of our fantasies and daydreams. But that night things took a right turn away from them.

Randy told me later that it was my safety he was worried about the most. He felt responsible for me and that was the reason he gave for his impulsive actions.

I was unable to see much through the crack I had my eyeball pressed over, but a tangle of light and shadow rolled by several times, and flashes of light struck my retina as something bright was lifted and lowered so fast I almost didn't see it. At the same time I heard another human grunt, this time unlike anything I had ever heard before. It sounded hollow, like someone had let all the air out of him.

I was close.

Randy whistled long and loud; our prearranged signal that it was time to leave, and I began to hear the rustlings and shuffling noises that told me everyone was coming my way. I stood up and stepped out from behind the counter I had been crouching behind. Not wanting to leave empty handed, I scooped up an armful of movies and dumped them into my bag. Then looking quickly around, I grabbed a curio shelf and an adding machine that looked like it came straight out of a 50's gangster movie, and made my way, heavily laden, toward the doors where I could see everyone gathered in a loose circle around something dark on the floor. I pushed my way through into the circle and stopped short. The security guard was lying on the concrete, a dark patch spreading beneath him. I stared at him in shock for what seemed like a long time, but surely could have only been seconds. Someone touched me and I jumped back away, colliding with someone else in the dark. Then we were all running together, following Randy to the fence. He grabbed the edge and pulled it up, pushing us all through, whispering, "GO, GO!" to each of us as we passed him. Panic caught and I didn't stop until I caught up to some of the others up the street. Randy was right behind me, pushing us all to keep going.

Later there were multiple sirens, and ambulances and rescue vehicles rushed to the empty store, their lights pulsing over the neighborhood for hours. We all crouched in my apartment, afraid to move; sure the cops would be coming for us any time.

Nothing ever happened to us, and no one ever found out. Randy gathered us all together the next day and we all solemnly cut ourselves and swore the blood oath to him, never to reveal what had happened that night. But I'll never forget the way the man reached up, pleading with us for the help that would come too late, while his lifeblood dripped down his wrist. I will always think of the copper smell and how it reminded me of the taste in my mouth.

Randy and I didn't last much longer after that. I couldn't see him the same way, knowing he had taken the life of another, even if he said it was for me. I didn't want it to be for me. I didn't want to always wonder every time I watched one of those movies, or placed something on my stolen shelf, if there was a little girl out there somewhere, missing her Daddy.

But I made myself keep them and I say a prayer every time I use them, for the man whose life is on my head.

“CJ? Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“Mink, of course it’s not a good idea. We’re sneaking into a top secret government lab to rescue my brother with a ninety-nine point nine percent chance of being caught.”

“Thanks for the reassurance.”

“That’s what I’m here for.”

“Shh! We’re coming up on the fence!” CJ looks at the fence, checking for the sign that would confirm they were in the right place.

There is was. AREA 0012. The test field for Project Gold Sparrow. The fence was covered in barbed wire thicker than her wrist. Cutting through it would be impossible. Going over it, already tricky because of the barbed wire encrusting the top, would be impossible looking at the fact that it was twenty feet high. It was that tall for a reason, CJ knew, but she also knew that she had to get in. And, two thirteen year old girls wouldn’t be let in, with or without clearance. Too much risk.

But CJ wasn’t leaving without Tyler. No matter what it took. CJ took a risk and touched the fence. A small shudder went through her. On top of all that, the damn thing was electric. 20 thousand volts, by the way it felt.

CJ, like her brother, was extraordinary. Her brother only got caught because you can only hide pyromancy for so long. CJ’s power was much more suttle. She absorbed electricity. Tyler told her that if she practiced, she’d be able to use it. But she had no time for practice after Tyler’s kidnapping. She had to dig up files, from all over, to find him. And she had to learn how to hack. Luckily, she knew a guy - or rather, a girl, named Ming “Mink” Ralin. The two had become inseperable ever since.

Here they were. Stopped by a fence.

“I’m gonna climb it,” CJ said. Mink looked at her.

“What? You-”

“I can handle a little electricity.”

“Yeah, but you don’t know how much! You’ve never tried to-”

“Mink. I’m doing this.” Mink fell silent, knowing that any attempt to sway CJ was in vain.

Mink watched CJ climb the fence with enough apprehension to fill the Atlantic ocean. She watched the tiny sparks dance across her skin like psychedelic butterflies. If Mink hadn’t seen this before, she’d have assumed she was hallucinating. But, as it turns out, hallucinations can’t climb electric fences without gear. CJ could. Mink knew better than to talk. Any sound now could blow their cover and screw everything. Maybe it already was blown. CJ waved from the top before dancing over the barbed wire. Now came the tricky part. Coming down. If she fell, she’d be dead or broken. Either way meant getting caught. If her electricity absorbers stopped working, she’d be fried. Also bad. And if someone saw her, she’d be shot, which didn’t prove useful either.

CJ winced as her feet found the fence. A pressure was building behind her eyes. The pressure was so distracting that she didn’t even realize that her hands had slipped and were now slashed by the wire. She started climbing down as fast as she could. The electricity was building in the pit of her stomach.

At last, she reached a safe distance from the ground, and dropped the rest of the way. The fizzing inside her started to fade.

She was in. Now, she needed Mink.

“Where do I go from here?” she whispered into the microphone on her cheap walkie talkie. It was cheap, but it worked.

“You see those trees?” CJ nodded before realizing Mink couldn’t see her.

“Yeah.”

“Go there. Then, the entrance on your left. It’s unlocked. I hacked it.”

“Damn, Mink. You’re the best.”

“That’s why I’m here, girlfriend. Now go! The next guard’ll be at your spot in five minutes. Hurry up beforr he comes around a corner and sees you.” CJ ran like the devil towards the trees. She ducked behind a trunk at the first spot she could. She easily found the unlocked door.

“Mink, is this the place.”

“Yup. Proceed with caution.”

“Caution’s my middle name.”

“Sure, CJ. That’s what the J is for.”

“Yup.” CJ grabs the handle and tugs. The door opened, and she took a step forward.

“Carmen Jane Stewards. Nice to see you here.” CJ looked up into the eyes of Marion Grey.

“Give me back my brother,” she growls.

“Don’t worry,” says Grey with a twisted grin. “You’ll be joining him soon.” In an imperceptible movement, CJ turns the power off on her walkie. Mink couldn’t reach her now, and that meant they couldn’t reach her, either.

Now would be a very good time to learn how to discharge electricity, CJ thought as Grey led her down the hall. Since I have so much stored up. She tried very hard not to look at Grey. She didn’t want to say his first name, even in her head. That made him human. That made him real. As of right now, he was Grey, and he was nothing in her mind but another color on the spectrum. She looked up at one of the other agents. Her name was Jewell Reed. Her nickname was Blue. CJ had made color coordinated names for each agent on the case. There was George Arwin, Black; Rain Quallen, Purple; Onna Lapell, Red, and Gertrude Belle, Turquoise. Then there was Grey and Blue. CJ passed all of them on the way to her cell, and she gave each a withering look that they expertly ignored. Then she entered the holding cells. There was George Garten, GG, the boy with lizard skin. There was John Sparrow, the one who the project was named after. He had bird wings. Then their was Scarlette Ingrid, who could read minds and move things with hers; Karl Johannessen, a water manipulator, and last but not least, Ean Knopp, a girl who could bend steel with her bare hands. Her cell was the most secure. CJ searched with all her might, but she didn’t see Tyler. Just the other Sparrows that she’d read about in the files that Mink had dragged up.

“Where is he?” CJ asks, barely audible. Grey chuckles.

“He’s in the lab.” CJ stewed in silence for a moment.

“We always figured you were like him. A freak. We just waited for you to slip. And, with the video of you climbing that fence, we have our slip.”

Of course, CJ cursed herself. They let me in. They were waiting for her to reveal her talent. And now she had. She looked up. Straight ahead was a compound cell, big enough for two people, with a glass wall seperating the two parts. She assumed that’s where her and Tyler would be kept. Like pets. No, not pets. Lab rats. As if they were being tested to cure cancer. But no. She was thrown into one and she hit the metal hard. Then, she realized it wasn’t metal at all. It was stone. Of course. Metal would bend and melt if fire heated it for long enough. And they were assuming she was a pyro too. Family ties and all that. CJ curled into the corner farthest from Grey and found herself up against a cell with an old man in it.

“Hey there, girly,” he said in a scratchy voice. “You’ve gotten you-self stuck-y.”

“Yeah,” CJ said, shifting away from him. “Why are you ‘stuck-y’?”

“Me can see the future,” the man said. “And you’s future is good-y for me.”

“Why is it good?”

“You gets us outs of here, he said, “all us Sparrows.”

“I do? How?”

“Don’t know,” said the man. “With your lighty.” CJ assumed he meant her lightning. What was an old man doing here? He seemed so much older than the rest. Everyone else was under twenty. In their teens. Carmen, if the files were correct, was two years younger than Ean, who was the youngest in their files. How did the old man fit into all this?

“What’s your name?” CJ asks, not remembering his face from any of the files.

“I is Levoy. Levoy Lemmings. L is me name, please.” CJ nods slowly. He wasn’t ringing any bells. Odd. He was either new, or...

Could he be from an old project? What if “L” wasn’t a Sparrow at all? What if he was the true starter of this mess? This project could be called Project Lemming for all she knew. Something bigger than the Sparrows was going on here. The Sparrows was just the most recent generation of freakazoids. What if L was the first?

“Ack!” yelled a boy as he’s shoved into the cage next to CJ.

“Halloo, Ty-lee,” says the man.

“Hi, L,” says the boy in a tired voice. He turned to CJ and froze.

“Carmen...” he said, as if not comprehending who’s in front of him.

“Tyler?” CJ asked, staring at the figure in front of her. This couldn’t be her brother. The look in his eyes was one of utter defeat. Her brother was invincible.

“Carmen, oh Lord, they found you...” He slumped over. “Oh God, no...” His shaved head moved back until it rested on the back wall. He didn’t have a cage behind his cell like CJ did. He only had concrete.

“Tyler?” Carmen pressed her face up against the glass, scrutinizing him like a kid in a zoo. “Is that you?”

“It’s me, CJ.” CJ knew he was telling the truth. This was her brother, the mighty Tyler Stewards, the one who could scare off the worst gang, protect her from the cruelest of bullies. Here he was, looking more like a dead man than her brother. She heard the torment in his voice.

“What did they do to you, Ty,” she asked in a hoarse whisper.

“They’re trying to make more of us. More Sparrows. To make an army.”

“And L? He isn’t a Sparrow.”

“No. He’s from an earlier project. Not sure what, though. If he is from a project, the others are all dead. Haven’t seen any like him.”

“What did they do to you?” Tyler smiled weakly.

“They tried to beat the freak out of me.” He lit his middle finger like a candle as he stuck it up. “It didn’t work, so now they’re trying to clone me. That doesn’t seem to be working, either.” He struck his burning finger into the glass. “Back up. First thing’s first, I’m gonna give my baby sis a hug.” CJ smiled a little. Her eyes were sparkling. Here he was, trying to be noble and play things off like he had when she was ten.

“They’re taking me to a summer camp,” he’d said. “I’ll be back before you know it.” But he wasn’t coming back. And CJ had found him. She scooted back from the melting glass that was now pooling in the crevices below her feet. Steam rose from it as it cooled. Within minutes, the barrier of glass had all but melted away to nothing. CJ scrambled across the stone bars and smoking glass to throw her arms around her brother.

“Tyler, I thought you were gone forever...” Tears started leaking uncontrollably from her eyes, and she felt water drip from Tyler’s as well.

“I thought you were too,” Tyler whispered. CJ looked up at him.

“Hey!”

“What?”

“I planned the break-in date, so that it came at the same time as something else.” Her eyes sparkled.

“What?” Tyler asks.

“You’re twenty-one today!” Tyler looks up.

“Huh. I forgot,” Tyler says. “It was three years ago, right? You were ten.”

“Yeah,” says CJ softly.

“You’re thirteen now,” he says with a smirk. “Welcome to your teen years!” CJ laughs.

“They’re going great so far,” she says with a smirk. "I've finally gotten to see you again, for starters." Tyler grins.

"Wow. Going great for sure."

"And I broke into a government base," CJ says with a laugh. "Not many thirteen year olds can do that, even with help." Tyler's head shot up.

"You had help?" he whispered. CJ nods.

"I have a walkie talkie. Want it?" Tyler shakes his head.

"Absolutely not. Keep it hidden. That could be our ticket out of here." An idea starts boiling in CJ's vat of escape plans.

"Do they watch you pee?" she asked. Tyler shook his head slowly, a grin spreading across his face. Now there's the brother I know, CJ thought. Nothing can defeat him.

"Hey!" CJ yelled. "Grey! Some official asshole here! Lemme out! I need to freakin' pee!" A man carrying a mop and a bucket walked over.

"Kid, you need to take a piss?" he asked in a heavy southern drawl.

"Yes, and if you don't get me to a bathroom, I'll make sure you're the one to clean it up."

"A'right," the man said. "Try anything funny and I shoot y'all." CJ nodded as if solemnly promising. The man unlocked the cage, staring fixedly at Tyler, who he presumed to be a larger threat. After all, CJ couldn't burn anything. He leads her into a stall and shackles her to the sink. "You have two minutes." CJ stared at him.

"Are you gonna watch me? Man, what a gentleman you are." The man grumbled and shut the door.

"It's a minute and thirty seconds now," he said through the door. CJ pulled the walkie out of her pocket and turned it on.

"Mink! It's me! I got caught! Help!"

"Mink in. I told you this would happen, CJ. You earned it. I'll be in, tomorrow morning. Can't make it any sooner."

"That's great."

"Did you find Tyler?"

"Yeah. He says hi."

"I'm sure. Anyway, I'll be there. Tomorrow at six a.m. And I'm never late." CJ shoved the walkie talkie into her pocket and turned it off. She flushed the toilet.

"I'm done," she yelled. The janitor yanked open the door.

"About time." He shoved CJ roughly back into the cell and locked it with a horrible click. "Freaks." Tyler shoved a flaming hand at the janitor, who stumbled back.

"Call my sister a freak," he hissed. "And I'll kill you." The janitor turned around, feigning nonchalance, but the wheels on his little cart squeaked because he pushed it a little faster than it can go.

"Nice," CJ said. "I wish I could figure out how to dispense electricity."

"You weren't practicing?"

"I was finding you."

"Of course you were," Tyler said. "Hey. Thanks. I just hope we get out of here."

"We will," CJ said with more confidence than she actually feels. "In the meantime, you can give me lessons." Tyler snorted.

"Yeah, but it won't help." CJ raises an eyebrow.

"Even if I have tens of thousands of volts absorbed?" Tyler's eyes widened.

"You're kidding."

"Am not."

"You really have that much?"

"I climbed the fence to get in," CJ reminded him. "There's a lot of electricity in those. It was making me itch." Tyler laughed.

"Sis, if we can figure out how to shoot lightning bolts, we won't even have to wait for your friend. We can get out of here. And hell, let's bring the other Sparrows with."

"Wait... how?"

"All the locks in this place are electric. Overload them, we're out. For good." CJ laughs. Freedom seemed alien. She hadn't even spent a night in this thing, and already it was feeling impenetrable. Flawless. Imposing. Trapping. Impossible to escape. But there were cracks appearing in that facade. We can get out of here. It seemed impossible. But it was not. It was implausible. But, CJ was realizing, maybe those two were more seperate than not.

"Look at the family reunion," said a cruel voice. CJ growls, sounding more animal than human.

"Grey." Grey leaned down so he's face to face with them. Tyler shoved his hand at him. The fire only barely missed him. He was inches too far away, and he knew it. CJ could see it in the taunting look on his eyes. If only she knew how to shoot him in his smug face with her own powers. He would be too close, then. Too close to escape. She stared at Grey with less compassion in her gaze than a rock that had been abused it's whole life. Her gaze was harder than rock, actually. More like a steel dagger. Hungry for blood.

She felt her hate harden. She was almost scared. Scared by the emotion she felt towards this man. He didn't deserve any of her attention. But he stole her brother. He'd ruined her life. He had karma chasing after him like a rabid dog. She realized she was sparking when she looked down at her bone white knuckles. Little fireflies danced around her fists. If only she could direct it at him. Direct raw power at him. Fry him. If only.

She closed her eyes. That's how people did it in the movies. They closed their eyes, and then they blew things up. She closed her eyes and imagined lightning strinking Grey directly in the chest.

"Oh my God," she hears Tyler say. That must be good. It must be working. She imagined lightning pulsing through him. She opened her eyes. Grey was smoking. She scrambled back.

"Holy shit! Did I do that?" She hugs the back of the cage. Her breath turns ragged. Had she really meant to do that? Had she meant to kill him, as evil as he was. She zapped the lock and the door opened. Tyler laughed.

"You did it!" CJ wasn't listening. She was staring in horror at the smoking crater in Grey's chest.

"I... di... oh God, shi-" she rushed out of the cage to a trashcan and vomited on it. Tyler ran up to her.

"It's okay. Now, come on. Let's get out of here." They ran through the aisles of cages, blitzing all the locks. Soon, two dozen Sparrows, only half of which CJ had even heard of, were following them down the hallway, including a very giddy L. How many of these people had been squirreled away without public notice. The ones she’d heard of had family who noticed. What if all these others didn’t? A guard came running around a corner at top speed. Tyler blasted him with fire. The magic of being a freak meant that being hopelessly outnumbered didn’t matter. It was no wonder that the government wanted an army of them.

**UNFINISHED**

CRITIQUE REQUESTED!!

(if there are any spelling/grammar/capitalization mistakes, please tell me as the check doesn’t work on the prose site and I have to it all manually and I am lazy and often forget to do it. Also, I changed the character’s names halfway through, so tell me if you see any names that need to be corrected. Thanks!)

It's a local haunt, the ancient stone prison which still stands on a small city street. You might miss it if you drive too fast. The city's best kept secret is the view from the abandoned building's roof, but to get there you need to do some sneaking, some climbing, a little manuevering. It's anyone's guess what ghosts haunt the crumbling structure's abandoned cells, or what makes the noises in the basement. There are stories of murder, torture, hangings. There are stories that would scare the ghosts themselves away, but not the teenagers.

No. Nothing deters the young, the invincible.

Not even the police. There's a constant battle of wits between the cops and the kids when it comes to this old prison. The police find a way to seal it, the kids find a way to break back in.

There is a hole broken through at the base of a wall on the first floor, currently the only way in or out of the building. A small hole, perhaps three feet in diameter. Just large enough to squeeze your shoulders through and drag the rest of yourself inside.

And there! See? If you look very closely you can just see the movements of tonight's crowd. Three bodies jumping and sliding between shadows, locating the break in a chain link fence by the lazy light of a street lamp in the distance, leaping over the drainage ditch that encloses the old brick stronghold. If you come closer- walk stealthily now- you can just see the spot where the bricks have been chiseled away and removed. One by one, they disappear inside: first the smallest girl, the apparent leader of the crew, then a young man, who seems slightly less sure but dives in anyway, throwing himself past his fear into the dark unknown on the other side of that tiny opening. The third person, larger than the first two, seems to size up the space, debating whether he will be able to fit through, and then with some coaxing from his friends also squeezes through into the prison.

Ironic, isn't it? To break into a structure that countless others have so desperately wished to break out of.

What say we follow them more closely?

The break in the fence, it's here, see? I'll go through first and hold it open for you- careful, it's snagged a piece of clothing. Don't want to tear any holes, do we? Now, can you make it over the ditch? It's not so very wide, see? Just a good jump, you can make it-

Yes! Excellent!

We're almost there now. I hope you aren't terribly claustrophobic. The wall is thicker than you think it would be. But you're only in the tunnel for a moment, out on the other side before you know it. Well, no I have no idea what's in there. Of course it's not safe, why else would we do it? Just go on in now, I'm right behind you.

Inside the prison, the cells stand small and close, the bars mostly rusted away, but some relics still resting not quite in peace here and there- a toilet bowl, mostly broken, long unused. A rusted metal plate on the floor of a cell. A tin can. What's left of a bed. Anything wooden has decomposed long ago. But what is metal or concrete or brick has somewhat better stood the test of time. Most of the windows are shot out or broken, but some of the glass is left intact. Stay away from the windows now, we don't want to betray our presence.

There is a staircase at the end of the hall, going up to higher levels and down into a cavernous basement. We dare not descend. Up it is. One flight, the next, and another.

Of course the structure is sound. Yes, I'm sure. It's stood for hundreds of years, it won't cave in tonight. Keep climbing.

I said stay away from the windows!

What did you see? A police cruiser? Here, let me look.

No lights, and they're driving away from us. It's just a coincidence. They don't know we're here. Come on, I'll show you the roof.

There's a ladder on the top floor, perhaps fifteen feet tall, extending to a hole in the ceiling. Treaturous to climb in the winter time when there's ice on the rungs, but in this warm time of year it's perfectly safe. I've climbed it a dozen times.

You're afraid of heights? And you tell me this now? Come on, you can make it. I promise, the view from the top is worth it. Would you rather I climb up first or follow you up?

Alright, look- I'm right behind you. On the rung below you're feet. If you fall I might even be able to catch you!

Okay, come on now, you're only six feet off the ground. I know you can do better than that. There you go, one rung and the next. One at a time. I'm right below you now, so don't take any steps backward.

Oh, if you keep shaking like that you will fall off! Now come on, you can't move when you're grasping the ladder like it's a ship's mast in a storm. Keep it moving! I promise, the minute you're up an the roof you'll feel better. There you are. So close now, just a few more feet. Don't look down now. I said DON'T look down! Oh, come on.

Okay. You're on the last rung you can climb to now. You have to take one hand off the ladder- stop shaking so hard, you're making me nervous! Yes, like that. Hold on with one hand and use the other to push up on the metal door in the ceiling. There you go! Now just climb through the hole- Yes! Perfect! You're up. See, that wasn't so bad. Come to the ledge now, look at this view! You can see the whole city from here. My favorite view. There's downtown. And there's the river. And there's the freeway over there, see it? And the stars- aren't they bright tonight?

What are you looking down for? Nothing interesting on the street and you're missing this view! What? The cop car is back? It's parked now. Across the street. Did you see an officer get out? I can see through the windsheild even from here, and there's no one in the driver's seat. I'll walk the perimeter of the roof and see if I can glimpse anyone moving at the base of the prison. If anyone comes in we need to get down the ladder fast and find a place to hide.

There!! I see someone! He's at the entrance where we came in. But... why isn't he entering? Is he waiting for someone to leave so he can catch them coming out?

No, wait. Look closer. What is he holding? Bricks? Is he... he can't be! I think he's sealing the exit! Come on, we need to go!

Fast! Down the ladder! Faster! I don't care, we have to go!

Now run down the steps. I said run, not fall! I swear, if we get trapped here because of your clumsiness... You're ankle? We don't have time for a sprained ankle! Lean on me, I'll help you down the rest of the stairs.

Okay, we're almost there. I think we can make it. One more flight of steps. Ten more steps. Good. Almost there- five more, four, three, two, one- we're on the bottom level! Okay, I'm going to leave you here and make sure the entrance isn't sealed off yet. I'll run. I won't leave without you. The officer must still be here. He can't be finished yet. I'll make it. I can make it... we can't get sealed in....

"Hey!" I yell. "Hey, we're still in here!" I bang on the brand new brick filling in the hole that used to be our exit route.

"Hey!" I yell louder. "Come on! You can arrest me, I don't care, just don't lock us in here!"

I yell louder, "HELP!" But there is no reply, no hurried chiseling from the outside, only the echo of my voice as I start to give up hope.

I hear the scuffling of running feet echoing in the cavernous hall behind me and the blinding rays of flashlights.

Three teenagers come up behind me, shining their lights in my eyes.

"Who are you?"

"What's going on?"

"Why the yelling? Do you want to get us all arrested?"

They jump when they hear you dragging your bad ankle, limping and groaning through the pain. Like they've seen a ghost down here in this dusty hole of a place. I might welcome a ghost at the moment. Maybe he would know how to get us out of this predicament.

"We're sealed in," I moan. "They sealed the exit. We're trapped."

You gasp and almost pass out. One of the kids catches you.

"We can't be..." the timid boy says.

"Does anyone have phone signal?"

"None here."

My own phone is dead.

"There has to be another way out," says the small girl, the one who first climbed into the building.

"That was the only way I knew of," I say. "But maybe we could signal from the window?"

We spend the rest of the night trying to flag down cars with our flashlights shining from the windows, but it's a brick building in a small city of brick buildings, situated along a little-used road, and if you drive too fast you miss it. No one sees us, no one hears our cries for help when we yell until our voices go out. Ironically, the bars across the windows are the only ones still intact and strong enough to keep us from being able to climb out.

We are trapped, enclosed, entombed in this abandoned building.

Imprisoned in a prison.

(Critique Requested)

The stink of mold and rot seeped between the bowed planks of the floor. The peachy pink wall paper had long lost it's youthful cheer. It pealed away from the walls in curling slivers. What little sun managed to break through the dirty newspaper covered windows did little to temper the shadows that crawled across the creaking floor. Dust hung stagnant in the atmosphere almost thicker than the air itself.

In the corner of the living room a three and a half legged chair balanced precariously against the wall, teetering over a broke floorboard. A silence seeped from the patchy plush carpet, rising to my ears with a deafening hum. I stepped gingerly across the floor cringing at every creak, afraid I'd wake the house from it's sleep. My heart seamed to rattle in my chest, where the fear came from I wasn't sure but it was far from enough to stifle the curiosity that egged me onward.

Up the back stairs that seemed to be held together by denial alone.

Through the dark hall, scattered with shattered window panes.

I didn't know what possessed me so but I needed to know what had happened here, in these halls, in these rooms, behind these doors that clung to their hinges. Where was the little old lady I'd seen long ago? That night when she'd stood like a ghost by the rode, with her silver white hair and silky white robe, was she ever really there? Would I ever really know?

As I crept through the house, where no one should wander, I looked for my answers but kept my voice low. As alone as I seemed, it didn't feel so. The house, it held something, I felt it. But what? We may never quite know.

In mere seconds, I was inside the door and had locked it behind me. I huddled at the door, with one ear pressed against it to listen for movement outside, and the other ear perked to detect any disturbance inside. Sheltered now from the cruel elements, my body began to warm and my fingers regained sensation.

When I was satisfied that nobody was aware of my unlawful entry into the house, and my eyes had adjusted to the augmented gloom, I took note of my surroundings. A kitchen opened up on my right, with countertops and cupboards lining the walls. A large water basin was in the corner near the outside wall, and a coal stove in the far corner. A small two-person breakfast table with chairs stood against the far wall. On my left was a pantry door, with the narrow pantry occupying the awkward triangular space underneath a staircase, which began at the other end of a hallway which led directly away from the door where I was standing.

Even from where I was standing, however, I could see fresh indications of occupation. Rather than a uniform layer of dust on the countertops, I saw handprints and spots where water had recently splashed on the surface. One chair was slightly askew at the table, and the dust beneath the chair was scattered, indicating recent use. A pair of indoor lounge slippers had been nonchalantly discarded by the door.

I glanced down. I was currently standing on a woven straw mat, placed in front of the door for intruders to brush the outside dirt from their boots. If I were to move from the doormat, however, I was sure to leave footprints in the collected dust. While my shoe soles were probably anonymous, my shoe size was not. I’m sure Madigan had many friends, but I was doubtlessly the only one who bought shoes from the children’s section. I kicked off my boots and donned the slippers. They were ill-fitting, but by curling my toes I managed to keep them from sliding off my feet.

I shuffled out of the kitchen and down the hallway, passing the stairs on my left and stopping in front of the first door on my right. The solemn front door of the house stood a few more paces before me, solid and silent. It was bordered on the right side by a narrow, frosted window pane that scattered the pale yellow light from the streetlights outside. A modest crystal chandelier hung above the entrance, and the cable that suspended it ran over a pulley attached to the high ceiling above the entryway and back down to a hand crank attached to the side wall. I hazarded a guess that this was for the purpose of lowering the chandelier to light its kerosene lamps; an inspection of the crank showed that it had not been used in a long time. An empty coat rack stood to the side, seemingly without purpose.

I cautiously listened at the door next to me for any indications of inhabitants, but it was as creepily silent as the rest of the house. I cracked the door open and peered inside to find a small study, complete with bookshelves, a leather- upholstered easy chair, and a large, soft, furry round rug trimming the floor. A large bay window projected out of the room giving a peripheral view of the street outside. This room, however, had none of the signs of usage that I had seen in the kitchen. The seat of the chair was unmolded and looked as if no one had sat in it for weeks, and the arms of the chair had an unbroken layer of dust. I closed the door without entering and turned to face the stairs.

A wrought-iron banister bordered the stairs, with a polished wooden handrail that matched the wood used for the stair treads. As I ascended the steps, I was careful to step on the leftmost edge and hold the banister to distribute my weight, in case any of the stairs creaked. I hadn’t yet made any significant noise in the house, or heard any sounds from any part of the house, but there wasn’t any harm in being cautious, and it felt good to keep in practice.

At the top of the stairs was small landing and an open door, leading to a small indoor lavatory. From just outside the lavatory, I could hear the faint whistling of wind, which likely indicated a small ventilation chimney in the ceiling. Next to the door was a large floor-to-ceiling mirror, similar to the ones in the Price mansion sitting room, but only about four feet wide. I reflected for a moment that this bachelor pad similarly boasted fine examples of glass artisanship, much as the mansion did, but on a more modest scale.

The landing contained just one door - the last remaining room in the house. I approached it with the same caution that I had given every other room, and was rewarded with the same disappointing silence. Behind the door was a moderately-sized bedroom, with a large semi-circular window viewing the street in the front. The bedroom showed no signs of recent occupation, but also no signs of struggle or distress - the bed was made, clothes were hung in the closet or carefully folded in dresser drawers. On one hand, I was glad not to see the dead corpse of my friend; on the other hand, I was disappointed not to find any significant clues. I was starting to think that this home invasion would be completely unrewarding, when a brief flash of movement caught my attention.

A figure was silhouetted in the frosted window pane next to the front door, and from the shape and mannerisms of his shadow, it seemed like he was trying to peer inside the house. I knew this to be futile - the window was entirely opaque, and the interior of the house was entirely unlit. I watched as the shadowy figure slowly figured this out, and moved away, headed down the street.