The rain dripped down in slow, steady drops. I winced every time one fell upon my head. “When is it going to stop?” I asked myself. “Dark day, dark day!” I screamed into the empty void that I had succumbed to. I knew I was crazy. “Rain drops keep falling on my head…” I sang in deliriousness. Chinese Water Torture was my only enemy at this point. The rhythm of the water against my head sent a chill down my spine. I had other challenges ahead of me, but they were far away in my future.
“Help me!” I yelled. No one answered, of course. I was in a dark, cold basement that had been abandoned for months, and the one who had chained me to this cold, gray pipe left me here. I’m sure that he had some guards posted around this place, but I was not sure where they could be. I don’t remember when I was thrown down the stairwell, nor did I know when I was beaten to a bloody pulp. It felt as if I had been in this eerie place for weeks. One of the last things I remember before I passed out was being kicked in the back. I knew I had amnesia, and I remembered everything… except for who I was.
I was shackled and trapped; I felt like I was an animal. Being a DCA (Di-Cephalous Agent) was a tough job, but I never knew that it could be this hard. I knew my boss would fire me, considering that I had been captured. The first rule about being a DCA: don’t get caught. I blew that rule. I sat there thinking about all that had previously happened to me. Let me start from the beginning:
Hi, I’m Darcy. I don’t know who I am, so I just chose that name. The DC hired me in 2000; I majored in computer science in college, and my boss, Mr. Don Ting, liked that I was able to track down some of the biggest criminals across the country just by using a computer. As illegal as it was, I specialized in hacking. That’s how I was able to get all the information I needed.
For this case, I was to track down Torrance Morfran, the lead man in the BCATO (Bio Chemical Activation Terrorist Organization). This time his plans were of the most severe kind: preparation of mass-destruction of the planet. He had access to samples of Small Pox, and he was planning on spreading it all over the world.
His modus operandi was unknown- it was my job to find that information. Time was running out, and the DCAs and I only had a few short weeks till the entire human race perished. My first priority was to track down Morfran’s headquarters. I found out that the cops had been chasing him for months. He had committed other crimes in the past, such as stealing and destroying property. He fled America the week before, and was heading for his base in the Czech Republic.
I needed to get on the next plane possible, or otherwise my chance to catch him would be ruined. My plans consisted of becoming part of his crew, gathering as much data as possible, but not attract any attention to myself. I was to be a scientific researcher for Small Pox, and help him determine the best way to spread the virus.
After “working” with him for a week, I began to find very horrifying information about Small Pox and his plans. Morfran was planning on getting a sample of small pox in tubes, and spreading it at business offices when no one was around. When people would arrive at the offices the next morning, they would catch the virus immediately. They wouldn’t get any symptoms for two weeks, but after that, things would become deadly. I knew I needed to get a hold of Ting as soon as possible.
That evening I was trying to contact Ting at DC when everyone left the BCATO office. “…victims who catch the virus will get a high fever, experience fatigue, head and body aches, and sometimes begin vomiting. These symptoms last for two to four days. Then a rash will emerge on the tongue and in the mouth, spread to the rest of the body and develop into painful, raised sores that remain for three to four weeks,” I said to Ting over the phone. “Get Morfran,” Ting said. “and one last thing, if anything goes wrong, use the emer-” Click. I had been disconnected. I felt a chill run down my spine.
“You evil traitor!” Morfran said in a horrifying voice. “I’m going to kill you! Come here!” I ran as fast as I could away from him. Just my luck, Morfran caught up with me as I was heading down the stairwell. The next thing I knew I was sliding down the stairs, rolling and tumbling every few steps. When I reached the bottom, Morfran had grabbed me and shoved me hard to the ground, and I was unable to move.
“Damn you to hell!” he yelled. He began to punch me repeatedly until blood was pouring out of my nose. The last thing I felt was a sharp kick in the back. Then I passed out.
“Mr. Morfran…Mr. Morfran…” I heard someone say in the distance. “Wake up… the operation is over…” The voice continued.
“What? What are you talking about?” I asked in disbelief. “What about Morfran? I have to stop him from spreading small pox! Dark day! Dark day!” I began to shout as I sat up abruptly in my bed. “Quiet down now, dearie,” said the nurse as she pushed me back into the bed. “You are Morfran,” she said softly. “Torrance Morfran is your name. You fell down a flight of stairs at the station while you desperately trying to catch your train. Many people ignored you and accidentally tripped over you…and, the doctor also realized that you have schizophrenia when he took a CAT Scan of your brain. It’s a surprise that no one seemed to realize how awful a state you are in,” the nurse said in a gentle tone.
The rain fell in slow, steady drops. I winced every time one fell upon my head. I was strapped to a bed; an IV was placed in my arm. A nurse took a cool cloth and dampened it, squeezing the water on my forehead. Shock therapy was about to take place. All of a sudden I began to feel woozy, probably from the shot that the doctor had given to me through my IV. “Rain drops keep falling on my head…” I sang as I fell into a deep sleep.
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her freeopendiary, the Philosophy of Time travel, by Gretchen Ross
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