Suddenly I could hear them again. They were whispering to me, leaning in close as I was sauntering through the forest at twilight; their breath tickling the sensitive skin on my my cheek, my neck, my upper arms, giving me goosebumps. I could see their transparent shapes dance across the clearing, feel their hands in mine as they tried to pull me deeper into the woods, away from my world and into theirs. Their laughter was ringing through the trees like silver bells, the layers between our realms suddenly paper-thin. The chorus of voices intensified as more and more voices joined in: some deep and growling, sharing the most ancient secrets of the earth, some soft as silk, silly and carefree.
	And suddenly that grey blanket that had been smothering me for all these years was slowly lifted. Cool fingertips touched my face ever so lightly. Cool, mossy air filled my lungs, a hint of lavender mixed in. The blissful smile on my face felt a little strange at first, unfamiliar. I had been away for too long. But I knew each and every one of the translucent forest folk, knew every one by name. 
	They were stories. Surrounding me since childhood, they had tempted me to play, long ago, had invited me - to the house next door, to the other end of the universe, even to worlds far, far beyond. Over the years, I had just forgotten how to listen, preoccupied with scrambling through all the duties and obligations the world had unloaded on top of me.
	It was the forest folk I belonged to though: I was one of them and I was all of them. 

_{Stories From 2025:}

(Quick note: Pulled the first story temporarily because I entered it in a competition. 🙂 So no. 2 has become no. 1.)

1 Hunted [Revised Version: Dec 2025]
2Day 301
3 Abducted
4 [NEW:] Signs (Parts 1 -3)
5 [Coming Soon:] Doors

Hunted

There was no moon and even the stars were mostly veiled that night, making it very difficult for me to see where I was going as I was stumbling through the forest. It had been a long time since I'd seen any houses; out here it was mostly forest and farmland. Without a real plan about what to do next or where to go exactly, I just tried to get as far away as I possibly could. As far away from him as possible. 
	Because I hadn't wanted to tip him off, I'd hardly taken anything with me. My tiny bag held a water bottle, some oatmeal bars, a few tissues and a little money. And the skirt and cardigan I had put on before leaving that afternoon were a bit too thin for roaming about at night. But it wasn't the chilly winds that September night that made me shiver: By now, Michael must know that something was up. I hadn't come back from my "little stroll" for hours. Had he already started looking for me, sent his men to bring me back? I quickened my pace. Every little noise had me look around. Was I being followed, were they already closing in? But there was only the sound of the wind and the distant, mournful cries of some bird.
	I tried to calm myself, but my breath and heartbeat just didn't comply. It also didn't help that I was almost running now, running uphill. Every mile I could bring between Michael and me was worth whatever discomfort I had to suffer for it. Exhausted, I nearly tripped over a tree in the dark. If only I had brought my phone, then I could have used that torch app. But it seemed too dangerous to take my smartphone with me, since Michael would probably have used it to monitor where I was going. So I just left it at home.
	"Home"? That sounded very wrong. Michael's estate had probably never been a home, but especially in recent years it had felt like a prison.
	Finally a small house came into view. It looked more like a cabin than a real house. Right at the top of the hill. And there was light in one of the windows! I could hardly make out the time on my wristwatch: half past ten probably. Pretty late to turn up at a stranger's house unannounced. But what did I have to lose? If I just kept walking, chances were that Michael or his men would find me sooner or later. Might be a better idea to hide for a while. Adopt some disguise maybe.
	When I arrived in front of the little house, the only one for miles and miles, smack in the middle of nowhere, I hesitated. All those horror movies started playing in my mind. The ones where the protagonist knocks at the wrong person's door. The very wrong person's. Like Hannibal-Lecter or Charles-Manson wrong. But was there anything that could really be worse than going back? And on the other hand...
	I took a deep breath and then another. Pushed the small button next to the door, almost jumping at the shrill, silver sound of the bell. Only seconds later, I heard a little shuffling inside, followed by few tentative steps. Then slowly, carefully, the door opened.
	My life with Michael hadn't always been that bad, you know. It had actually been pretty good in the beginning. He was kind, took care of me when I felt so confused, so lost, I didn't know which way was up.
	Who could I turn to now? Who could I trust? 
	"Yes?" the middle-aged man standing in the door asked. Probably in his early fifties, his curls were still dark-brown, but the gray stumble on his chin gave away that he wasn't as young as the rest of his face suggested. Wearing a black T-shirt on baggy blue-jeans, his friendly but cautious tone indicated that he wasn't too sure it had been a good idea to open his door that time of day.
	"I'm very sorry to disturb you so late," I said, the lie rolling off my tongue all too easily, "but my car broke down and my phone doesn't work, so I've been walking for half an hour and..."
	"Oh, I see," the man said, knitting his brows a little, then paused. "You can use my landline," he offered, now fully opening the door and gesturing for me to step inside.
	"Thank you, you're too kind," I said as I walked past him and into the dimly lit hallway.
	"Phone's in the living room", he said, indicating the half-open door to my right.
	I nodded.
	He closed the door. Putting his hands into the pockets of his jeans, he added, "I'll make us some tea."
	As he turned left, towards the kitchen, presumably, I simply nodded again, relieved he didn't ask any questions I didn't want to answer. But there was also a part of me that thought it pretty strange that he'd just let me walk around his house like this. Wasn't he afraid I'd steal anything? Then I remembered that the people around this part of Yorkshire were known to leave their front doors and cars unlocked. Very trusting.
	In keeping with the story I had just told him, I picked up the phone in the spartanly furnished living room. He probably lived here alone. Typing in some random number, I wondered what to say. Fortunately, no one was picking up, and the call wasn't going to voice mail either.
	"Hello?" I asked nevertheless. "This is Annika Sawyer. My car just broke down." I paused, seemingly listening to the person on the other end asking me something. Then I gave the fictitious towing service the address where the car had apparently broken down. Everything I had just said was a lie of course, even my name. Just in case I was being overheard.
	"Yes, it's fine if someone can be there within the next two hours. Thank you."
And I was just ending my make-belief call when my host entered the room with a pot of tea and two mugs on a little tray. There was also what looked like a milk jug and some sugar on the tray. He put everything on the wooden table in front of the black leather sofa.
	Gesturing to an armchair opposite the sofa he sat down on the latter, pouring me a cup of steaming black tea, "Here, this will warm you up."
	"Thank you," I said politely as I took the steaming mug.
	He also poured himself a cup of tea. Earl Grey, I decided after a first, tentative sip.
	"Milk or sugar?" he asked. "Don't have any lemon unfortunately."
	"No, thank you."
	Looking at me over the rim of his cup, he asked, "What did they tell you? You called a tow-truck, I suppose?"
	"Um, yeah. They'll be where the car broke down in about two hours. So I'll have to leave in 20 minutes or so to be there in time."
	"Oh, I can drive you there," he offered.
	"That's really nice, but I don't want to inconvenience you any further."
	"Oh, I really don't mind." He paused. "The name's Terry."
	We shook hands. His grip was strong and his hands were dry and warm, his smile genuine.
	"I'm Annika." Another lie. 
	"Annika, nice name. And it's no hassle to drive you there. Really."
	"Well, if you really..."
	"You shouldn't walk back there all by yourself. This really is the middle of nowhere and it must be close to eleven already."
	I took another sip from my tea. "So why do you live here, Terry, 'in the middle of nowhere'?"
	He shrugged, "This was my parents' house and they left it to me."
	"Oh, I'm sorry, did they pass away recently?"
	"Well, about a year ago." He put down his tea cup, a shadow of sadness flitting across his face.
	"My condolences."
	"Thank you." He really had a nice smile. It made his eyes come to life and made him look even more attractive. But there was also something else about him I couldn't quite put my finger on. Something in his voice and the way he leaned in to talk to me from the other side of the table.
	He ran his fingers through his hair. "I'm mostly working from home. And living here can be a little lonely some days. But you can walk through the fields and the forest here for hours. That's nice." He shrugged.  "Maybe I'll get a dog." 
	Loneliness. A feeling I knew all too well.
	"Ah, that's nice. Though I'm more of a cat-person myself", I told him.
	"Why?"
	"Dogs usually smell," I said, wrinkling my nose, "especially when they're wet."
	He laughed. "That's true."
	We finished our tea in silence.
	Then I asked, "Do you miss your parents?"
	"Yes. They were great people."
	"I'm sorry."
	"What about you? Your parents still alive?"
	"Yes, but they live very far away. I hardly see them." That came quite close to the truth actually.
	"That sucks," he said.
	"Well, my dad can be very... short-tempered sometimes so I don't mind so much." Not too far from the truth either. 
	"Can I use your bathroom?" I asked.
	He nodded. "Last door down the hall," Handsome Terry said, nodding in the direction I was supposed to go.
	"Thanks." I got up.

I was still a little cold from my walk. I had always despised the cold, which was probably why Michael hadn't suspected anything when I'd told him I was going for a short stroll on the grounds of his estate. Especially in these clothes. What a great idea...
	Warm water running over my hands and arms, I looked at my reflection in the mirror. Michael wouldn't control my life anymore. I'd made the first step to becoming a new person. And it wasn't fair he always kept me so isolated. These last years had been so lonely.
	I turned off the water. Looking into the mirror again, I flinched: Terry was standing right behind me.
	"Sorry, didn't wanna startle you. Here's a fresh one," he said, handing me a towel.
	"Thanks," I said, not sure what to make of this. What to make of him. And the fact that he was standing so close. I took the towel from him, but he didn't move while I was drying my hands. When I put the towel onto the edge of the sink, he stepped even closer. He was only a few inches taller than me. As I looked up at him, he once again moved closer and brushed his arm against mine. He smelled of teak and something almost sweet, like cinnamon. I didn't encourage him but didn't move away either. I just stood there, frozen. Then he bent down and kissed me. His lips were warm, searching. He didn't know there was nothing for him to find. Nothing but sorrow.
	When he drew away again, I smiled. What else could I do? Fake smiles came all too effortless to me now. I slowly walked past him, but before I could leave the bathroom, he caught me by the arm. Stopped me.
	Heart racing, I simply followed as he pulled me behind him, towards a closed door on the opposite side of the hall: the bedroom. 

Michael had often complimented me, especially during my early years at the mansion, which he used to call his "halfway house". Quite fittingly so as it was halfway between the realms of hell and those of the average folk living their comfortable lives the way they always had, oblivious to the pain and suffering of the likes of us, Michael's many pet projects. Misfits, whose strange passions and wondrous secrets fascinated him. He admired my slender built, my green eyes. Said everyone felt drawn to me, especially men. I never saw myself as quite the femme fatale though. And I surely didn't deserve to get locked away like this. Did I?

Just before reaching his bed, Terry turned towards me. He then took both my hands and drew me onto the bed with him. Landing on top of him, I looked down, supporting myself with one hand to either side of his head. Despite the bright ceiling light, his eyes had suddenly become so much darker. Time seemed to stretch like rubber band.
	He sounded a little huskier than before when he told me, "You really should be more careful. Walking through the woods at night and ending up in some stranger's bed..." His voice trailed off as he was tucking a lose strand of hair that had fallen onto my cheek back behind my left ear.
	He was really handsome, that one, especially when he was smiling like this. I bent further down until our lips almost touched. I smiled. He grinned too.
	Then I straightened up a little, "Actually, Terry, you should be more careful who you invite into your house at night", I whispered. Right into his ear. His smile widened. And in that moment I almost reconsidered what I was about to do.
	But this brief moment of indecision quickly gave way to grim determination, and I drove my fangs into the tender flesh between his neck and shoulder. Sheer bliss. He screamed, squirmed, tried to shake me off. But I'm way stronger than I look. Poor Terry didn't have a chance. 

All those years that he'd been probing me, studying me, Michael still hadn't quite figured out what I was. He only knew that I hadn't told him everything when he'd taken me in. And he probably suspected I was dangerous. But he was so blinded by this idea of protecting all of us mythical, magical creatures. It was like he collected us. And I only let him see glimpses of what I could do. Enough to keep him hooked. Michael's estate had been my safe haven, my little hide-out for the last five years. But I had always been hungry as normal food hardly sustains me. And yes, I had managed to break out a couple of times. But especially that last year, Michael seemed to get more and more suspicious, afraid something terrible might be hiding behind my pretty face. So it got more and more difficult to get away.

When I got up from the bed a few minutes later, Terry was still handsome, but very pale. His mouth and eyes wide open, he didn't struggle anymore. I had taken my fill. His sweet blood would quench my hunger and keep me warm for a while. Time to move on before Michael or his minions found me, I decided. Better to take my chances now that I had just fed. Much stronger and faster than before, I might be able to outrun them. And I might not even have to.
	I looked at Terry for one more moment; and as I walked out of the house, even his parents, had they still been alive, would've probably sworn it was him leaving. After all, that's what we Fire Demons do. Ancient and deadly, we're masters of disguise. We'll walk among you hiding in plain sight. 
	Watching. Waiting.

Day 301

DA Y 301, the plate of the car driving in front of me read. It was a grey, cold November morning, the streets wet with rain as this peculiar memo from the universe got to me on my way to work. 
	Day 301. That's what it seemed to mean. Less than a year from now. But what date? I wondered. And what would happen to me then? Somehow, I had the weird feeling that this was a message for me personally. That someone had come up with exactly this number plate to tell me something, something about my future. That something important, either happy or sad, was going to happen to me 300 days from now. Or maybe that I had to make a decision of some sort that day?
	I tried to burn the mysterious message into my brain as best I could, suddenly sure I'd forget it if I didn't put an insane amount of effort into remembering. 301, 301, 301... Five minutes later the car in front of me turned left as I went right, taking the mysterious message with it. It had just been a short glitch in the Matrix; nothing to see here, nothing to worry about. Life could go on as usual.

Except it didn't. That day I could hardly focus on the classes I was teaching because I kept thinking about that number plate, telling myself I was crazy to think it could be any kind of message. Of course it wasn't. I didn't believe in any of that new-age crap. Usually I didn't anyway... Maybe I felt vulnerable because I had been thinking about quitting my job for quite a while now. But as a German civil servant, you simply don't do that. No one does. It's just inconceivable. Outrageous even, to throw away the only secure job left in this economy, this day and age, on this planet. Quitting would also mean saying goodbye to a big chunk of my pension and most importantly to a heap of health benefits. And my job wasn't all bad, was it? Students were mostly nice, parents polite and colleagues easy to like.
	And even if I didn't have the last secure job on earth, there'd still be another problem: Who'd hire me? Apart from teaching German and English, I had never done anything else professionally, didn't have any work experience in any other field. Did I really want to venture "out there", where the sharks were already circling? The mere thought gave me goosebumps.
	But there had always been this dream to start a creative business. To earn my money writing stories, drawing or painting stuff. Sculpting maybe too. Who would buy my art though? Wasn't it completely naive and unreasonable to expect to be able to make a living this way, especially in the current climate? Who was I fooling? I could surely never make ends meet. And still...
	The first free minute I got, during break, I checked the date on my phone: 7 November 2024. So 300 days from now, that would be August or September. I started counting, then changed my mind and asked Google. Much quicker. 3 September 2025, it said. My birthday. I shivered. Pure coincidence, surely. Something I'd laugh about only a few days later, maybe only a few minutes from now. Still, it felt as if someone had just walked over my grave.
	"David! Here you are," a voice hovering right above me said.
	Startled, I looked up from my phone, "Hi, Steffen."
	My colleague was sitting down on the red staff-room sofa next to me. Probably the one couch in the world you could never lean back on because the back bent waaayyy back then. Kind of symbolic. Steffen was a bit older than me. His round, usually slightly flushed face always cheerful, he was a very grounded, very practical guy. He taught English and Biology.
	"Are you alright?" he asked. "You seem a little... off."
	"Um, yes, I'm fine," I lied. "Great even. You just surprised me."
	He lifted his big, bulky shoulders in a quick apology, "'Kay." Then he glanced at my phone. "You're working?"
	"Kind of." I paused. "The next teacher conference will be held here again, in the staff room. Did you know that?"
	The distraction worked. Steffen hated meetings of any kind. They were the one thing that could dampen his spirits. Like me, he viewed most of them as a nuisance as we usually talked about a lot of unimportant stuff there they could have simply given us in writing.
	"Oh, no," he complained. "I thought it was online! Wasn't that the one good thing Covid brought? Online meetings?"
	I nodded. Then the bell sounded.
	"And online lessons," I added. "But then I'd miss the... distinctive odour of the guys from 8f coming from their sports lesson, which I will have the pleasure of in a few minutes."
	He laughed whole-heartedly. It was a guttural, snorting sound. I think there was no other way he knew how to laugh, which was one of the things I liked about him.
	"Well, then best of luck... Maybe one of them will still discover there's running water in the men's too."
	I smiled at him weakly, "Doubt it. Got to go."
	With that I scooped up my bag and keys. Just another day at the office - well, another school day actually, right?

As the next days turned into weeks, I was still haunted by this idea though that something important, possibly awful was to happen to me on my 42nd birthday. I felt stupid to mention this peculiar idea to anyone though. And I was sure I'd forget about all of this soon enough.

But then the universe contacted me again. It was about two months later when I heard a strange, rustling sound coming from my backyard. I was sitting in my living room watching TV, so I first thought the rustling was part of the series I was watching. In The Walking Dead, there were always one or two zombies hiding in the bushes. But as the sound persisted and didn't quite fit what was going on on the screen, I cut the TV sound and listened. It definitely came from outside, from the back garden. I hadn't lowered the shutters yet, so I looked through the window behind the couch. But the glass only reflected the light from the TV and the ceiling. Turning both off, I got up and looked again. But it was too dark outside. What was going on there? Some animal rummaging through the leaves below the apple tree maybe? But I couldn't see anything. Maybe it was just very small? Shrugging my shoulders, I was about to sit down again when I suddenly saw a little bright light from the corner of my eyes. I turned my head: There was a tiny star hovering low above my strawberry patch. What the f...?
	Walking through the back door, I realised that the strange sound I had been hearing was also emanating from the UFO. It really looked like a proper star, despite its size. The light coming from the thing was being emitted in a rather irregular pattern. Something like lightning pulsed around the star, and sometimes there were bigger bursts of light shooting out into the dusk, similar to the eruptions on our sun. Wow. What could that thing be? Some kind of drone?
Eager to find out more, I cautiously walked towards it, finally squatting down right in front of the baffling object. The thing didn't move, just kept hovering about thirty or forty centimetres above my strawberry plants. But who was controlling it? It could hardly move on its own, could it? Was there someone watching me through the thing? I guessed it would have been difficult to see past the bright light it was emitting though.
	As I kept studying it, I got the distinctive feeling that something really weird was happening here. The sound coming from the thing also started changing. First I wasn't quite sure but after a minute or so the frequency had definitely evolved. The sound was less like a rustling and more like a ringing now, climbing higher and higher. I got a little concerned and decided to back away.
	And not five seconds too early. The light suddenly got even brighter, there was a loud plop and the little sun really exploded, showering my garden and me in a thousand tiny, glittering particles. I was so shocked I must have stood there for quite a while: eyes wide, mouth gaping. What the fuck?!
	As the darkness was getting deeper, the little "star" fragments kept shimmering. It was very pretty but also very unsettling. I finally decided that there was nothing to be gained from staying outside any longer. Maybe I could find something on the internet about the strange UFO that had just exploded in front of me?
	As I turned around to go back inside, I came across my apple tree and stopped abruptly. There was a number glittering on the bark of the tree now! A cold shiver ran through me as I looked at the writing on the tree: 243. The universe was still counting down. 

I hardly slept that night. And the first thing I checked the next morning was the number on the tree. In the morning light it didn't shine as brightly as it had at night, but it was still clearly visible. I touched it, tried to rub it away, but the strange glittery substance wouldn't come off at all. Confused and a little frightened, I thought about calling in sick, but then decided against it. Getting out of the house would only do me good. And how could I miss the teacher conference that afternoon? Steffen wouldn't have anyone to bicker with about the insanity of it all.

Needless to say though, I hardly heard anything that was said at that conference.

When I came back that evening, I walked straight up to the apple tree. And my heart plummeted when I saw that the number had changed: 242 the message read now. The tree was definitely counting down. Counting down the days to... well, what exactly? A sinister voice in my head told me it might be counting down the days I had left. 
	But what could I do? My online search for strange flying "stars" in the area had come up empty of course. Should I show anyone the strange number on my tree? But who could possibly help me with something as peculiar as this? There might be someone online who... Gosh, who was I kidding? I didn't know what anyone could possibly do or tell me that could help. But I pulled my phone out of my back pocket anyway and took a picture - if only to reassure me I wasn't just imagining the glowing number. 
	The next days the number kept changing. Always in the evening and always around the same time. Though I had first gotten "my message" (on the number plate) in the morning, the number always changed shortly after five now. 241, 240, 239... Would it do that until September then? And why? What kind of message was that, just counting down? All kinds of absurd and dark reasons for this weird countdown went through my mind: aliens arriving, the end of the world and, like before, my own demise.
	I shivered at the thought that that damn tree was counting down the days I had left. Shouldn't I then do something about it? Stop the countdown somehow? But even if I cut down my favourite tree - who was to say the hedge next to it wouldn't take over? And even if the visible display of the strange countdown could indeed be stopped, wouldn't my days still be counted down, just invisibly then? Wasn't it better to at least be able to see the numbers change? Keep an eye on them?

The idea that they were counting down my life time stuck with me. It settled in my thoughts, in my heart, in my gut. And the more convinced I became of the truth of this assumption, the more closely I examined my life. And the result disquieted me. Immensely. It just didn't seem like I had done anything with my life at all. Despite being born into a part of the world where you had all the opportunities you could ever hope for, what had I accomplished with this wealth of choices? Okay, I had finished school, read many books, even attended uni to finally become a teacher. After two years of teacher training, which had been the worst two years of my life. And okay, I had travelled a bit, even settled down abroad, here in Germany.
	But despite growing up in London, I didn't even have to learn a new language as my grandparents had always spoken German with us kids, me and my sister Flora. Guess I should give her a call one of these days, I thought, if indeed my days are numbered. Though we'd been really close as children, we only sporadically talked to each other now, once every couple of months maybe. Usually at her birthday or mine, at Easter and the like. On Christmas Day we usually met at a restaurant or at her and her family's house in Brighton. She hadn't come to visit me in Germany yet. Our lives had increasingly drifted apart these last years, maybe also because I couldn't relate to what was going on in her life. She seemed to have it all figured out, had settled with her husband and two kids in a cosy little cottage by the sea. I, on the other hand, still wasn't sure what I wanted my life to look like, even though I was six years older than her. My baby sister.

	It still took me a couple of days to finally pick up the phone.
	"It's not Easter yet, is it?" Flora joked. 
	I sighed. "No, I just wanted to hear how you were doing, that's all."
	"Well, that's nice. Laura's one of the big stars in a school play tomorrow," she then informed me. I could hear the pride in her voice. Laura was five and her brother, Henry, three, but Flora was in awe of anything her children did.
	"Great," I said, managing to almost sound enthusiastic about what was probably a play about little frogs and flowers.
	"That play's stupid!" I heard a tiny voice in the background. Laura's little brother, no doubt.
	I smiled. "Henry is not so excited, I take it?"
	"No, he doesn't even want to come," she said. The next words seemed to be directed at her son. "But he'll come anyway, and he'll enjoy himself greatly and see what a perfect princess Laura will be."
	I then only heard a theatrical sigh. 
	"Anyway. What's up with you?" my sister asked.
	"Nothing much," I lied. But could I really tell her about the UFO in my backyard and the apple tree counting down... or whatever it was actually doing?
	"Might travel to Canada in the next holidays, at the beginning of April."
	"Ah, great. Where exactly?"
	"Toronto maybe."
	"Not another two months in a secluded shed in the mountains?" my sister teased.
	"No. I only have two weeks off then, so that's out of the question."
	I had indeed spent about two months in a little shed by the river Yukon in between two semesters at uni. And loved every minute of it. My sister could never understand why anyone would want to stay on their own for so long. But I had often sought solitude. Considering this, becoming a teacher had probably not been the wisest of choices. People drained me, at least when I had to deal with them in droves.
	"No, this time it's going to be a city trip."
	"Well, bring me back some maple syrup this time... or one of those fluffy bears."
	I smiled. "Will do."
	There was a brief pause, then my sister said, "Have you heard from Eve again?" 
	Eve. My ex-girlfriend. The one who got away. Our parents had long since passed away, but I could still feel their concerned, sympathetic looks the day I told them my girlfriend and I had split up. No grandchildren from me any time soon. I hadn't thought about Eve in a while and I was so not prepared for this mix of intense feelings suddenly rushing through me. Love, loss, heartbreak. It was me who had broken it off then and gone to Germany, fled even. But I still wasn't quite sure if that had been so clever. Maybe I had just been a coward, not ready to truly share my life with anyone yet. Maybe I had made the worst decision in the history of really, really horrible decisions. 
Eve, Flora and I had grown up together, and Eve had always been one of Flora's closest friends. But I had neither seen nor spoken to Eve in - what? Five or six years maybe? I didn't even know where she lived now. 
	As if my sister had heard my thoughts, she said, "Do you know that Eve moved to Germany a few months back?"
	What?
	"Where, do you know?" My voice suddenly sounded strange in my own ears.
	"I think to some southern state. I can ask her. We sometimes still talk on the phone."
	"I didn't know that."
	"Well, I didn't quite know how to... I didn't want to open any old wounds."
	"That's okay." I wanted to say I was over her, but somehow I couldn't make the words leave my mouth.
	Eve. Eve was here in Germany. With the apple tree counting down my days, I suddenly got the overwhelming urge to find out, make sure she was okay. Maybe even visit her? 

Seconds after my sister had to get off the phone and find out what exactly her son had swallowed that he wasn't supposed to, I started a web search and found out that Eve worked for a big tech company in Heidelberg, less than a two-hour drive away. I checked the time on my wristwatch: one o'clock on a Thursday afternoon. I had called my sister right after coming home from work. Thursdays I usually got to get home early.
	And before I had quite registered what was happening, I was sitting in my car again. A small bag with water, an apple and my wallet on the passenger seat, the key in the ignition and my phone right in front of me, as I was already entering the address of Eve's firm into my navigation app. Shaking my head at these strange plans of mine and taking a deep breath, I started the engine. I still had two hours to think about what to tell Eve, how to explain why I was suddenly showing up like this.

But as my car rolled onto the company's parking lot, I still didn't have a clue what to tell her of course. I could hardly show up here of the blue and tell her about some tree counting down numbers in my backyard, could I? Or that I thought my time was running out and I just wanted to see her one last time? That would surely frighten her - and probably also have her doubt my sanity. But I didn't have another good reason for being there. It's not like they were hiring English teachers at her company...
	Should I just keep sitting here in my car until she got off work and went to hers? No, that really sounded like full stalker-mode... I should probably head to some info or reception desk and ask where she worked exactly and if I could see her. Probably because I had something urgent to tell her? What if this was her day off?
	But as I was grabbing the door handle to open the car door, still thinking about what I could tell the receptionist or Eve, the latter had already entered the parking lot. I froze, unsure about what to do. She looked exactly the way I remembered her, her brown her falling in silky waves down her shoulders. (I still remembered how soft her hair was and the delicious smell of her apple shampoo.) Her walk was brisk despite the dreamy look on her face, her mind clearly elsewhere. That had always been one of the things I loved most about her: Her capacity to completely lose herself in worlds only she had the key to. My heart felt so heavy in that moment, I was sure it was about to slip right through me. I probably shouldn't get out of the car, I thought. That loud clunk, with which my heart would then fall onto the paved parking-lot floor, would only scare her.
	But before I could stop it, my hand had already yanked the car horn. That did startle Eve of course and her gaze focused again as she turned her head towards the sudden noise.
So I got out of the car, my heart still heavy despite thousands of tiny butterflies in my stomach, and I waved at her. "Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you."
	Her weak smile mirrored mine and she she raised her brows.
	"Andy," she said, disbelief in her voice, "what are you doing here?"
	"Oh, I..." Yes, what was I doing here actually? Well, I... "I'm here to see you," I managed, as if that explained anything.
	"Me?" She frowned, a confused smile on her lips. As as she was slightly shaking her head, the afternoon sun got caught in her emerald eyes and entangled in her golden-brown curls. Oh, she was still beautiful.
	I had to clear my throat, choking on long-forgotten feelings. "Yeah, I... had some weird couple of weeks and I just remembered that I hadn't seen you in a while, and I had the sudden urge to see you," I rambled on, shrugging my shoulders helplessly and feeling pretty-damn stupid.
	"Okay..." Her voice trailed off. She obviously didn't quite know what to do with that information.
	After a few uncomfortable seconds she sighed though. "Do you know The Cider Tree, in the town centre?" she asked.
	"No, but my phone will surely be able to find it," I told her, probably sounding a little too eager.
	"Good. I need to head home first. But we can meet there in... let's say an hour?"
	"Okay, great. See you there then," I said. She nodded, then went to her car.
	As she was driving off and I was looking for the address of the pub, I was not so sure if she'd really show. But then I'd have tried at least. 


Twenty minutes later I was sitting in the pub waiting for her. Still at a loss of what to tell her exactly.
	I had chosen a table facing the door so I could check every few minutes if anyone came through it. And about half an hour later, ten minutes earlier even than she said she would be here, Eve entered the pub. She seemed a little tense too as she was looking around, and when she spotted me sitting at a table in a far corner, her face lit up. I smiled too, wider than I probably had smiled in years.
	She slowly walked over and I guess my heart must have skipped a beat or two. She was still mesmerising, that one; her walk elegant and her eyes wide-awake, radiating kindness as well as intelligence. Why the hell had I walked away from our life together?
"So great to meet you again," she said and we embraced. Of. Course. She. Even. Smelled. Great. Gosh... Was it still Eternity? I tried not to linger too long though that was the only thing I wanted to do in that moment: just hold her all evening.
	"Guinness?" I asked as we sat down opposite each other. 
	She nodded, and when the waitress came over, I ordered two.
	She looked at me, her smile fading a little. "How have you been?"
	"Oh, I've been okay. Great even. Got a job at a high school near Gießen," I told her.
	"Ah, and do you like teaching kids?"
	"Well, most of the time..." We both laughed a little.
	"My sister told me you had moved to Germany too. A couple of months back?"
	She nodded. "Yes. A got a great offer to work for one of the German branches of our company here, so I took it. Fortunately, someone had helped me brush up my German a couple of years back."
	A lopsided smile appeared on my face. "Glad I could help."
	The waitress then came with our order. Our conversation stopped and probably both struggling for what to say next, we each took a sip of the beer, which was a little too bitter for my taste. But I wasn't much of a beer person anyway.
	In that moment however, I realised that I had never stopped being an Eve person. I still loved everything about her. Her deep-green eyes, her long lashes, her self-conscious smile.
	"You look great," I said. And you smell good too. By the way, still want to get married. Seems I've changed my mind about the whole leaving-you thing. Just today it occurred to me how stupid that was. Let's just pretend it never happened.
	She smiled, but there was a kind of rueful look in her eyes too. "You haven't really asked me here to tell me that though?"
	No, I'm stupid. That's why all these conversations are only happening in my head. Well, what exactly did I want to tell her?
	"Um, I just heard you were living here now too so I thought..." I awkwardly looked down on my hands.
	"We could be friends again?" The sudden ice in her voice made me look up, surprised.
	"I'm sorry, I didn't really know what I thought, I suppose..."
	She took another sip, then shrugged her shoulders.
	"It was hard, you know. When you told me you'd leave for Germany..."
	"Sorry."
	Another shrug. "Well, that was a long time ago." She sighed.
	"So anything new with you? Married and kids?" she asked in a tone so light and casual it was hard to bear.
	"No." I laughed and shook my head. "Still not the type for kids," I told her.
	She had always wanted kids. Two actually, a boy and a girl. That was one of the reasons we hadn't worked out.
	Her eyebrows went up. "But you teach, don't you?" 
	I laughed. "Yeah, but I get at least paid to do that." I paused. "And I'm actually not sure that teaching high school is quite right for me."
	"Oh, sorry."
	Now it was my turn to shrug my shoulders. "I guess I never quite fit in anywhere."
	"But you always seemed to be so good with people. Much more patient than me," she said.
	"I don't know about that."
	I took another sip from the bitter Irish brew. "It's just that I seem to be stuck in this neverending cycle of teaching stuff that never changes much, having my students write tests about it, marking their papers, sending them out into the world, only to take on the next group."
She nodded sympathetically. "Yeah, that's gotta be tiresome. We also have a lot of paperwork and so on that keeps us in an endless loop." She rolled her eyes dramatically. "But all in all, it's rather interesting work."
	"What do you do exactly?"
	"Well, our company develops new methods of fighting common illnesses that are hereditary. Maybe you've heard of CRISPRCas?" 
	I nodded. It was a way to remove specific parts of the genome as far as I recalled.
	"That's a method we use."
	"So quite the cutting-edge stuff?"
	"Well, some of it, yes."
	"Unlike me, who still teaches Shakespeare..."
	"Oh, don't sell yourself too short, Andy-Ant."
	I smiled at the nickname. I hadn't heard that one in a very long time.
	"And what about you? Married and kids?" I asked.
	She was just taking another sip. Swallowing, she shook her head (and my heart gave a little happy jolt). "No, no kids." A pause. "But Josh, my boyfriend and I, have been talking about marriage."
	"Ah, I'm happy to hear that."
	The lie rolled off my tongue so easily, but I guess she still heard the hint of bitterness in my voice because - once more - her brows rose a little. "Thank you."
	"So have you been together long?" I asked.
	"About two years. He was part of the reason I came here. There were good job opportunities for both of us," she said. "He's in marketing."
	"Ah, great." Of course she hadn't come here because of me. To reconnect. What was I thinking?

We still talked for about two hours that evening. I had forgotten how easy it was to talk to her. And how much I had missed that. Her voice, her smile - it all felt like home. As we finally went our separate ways, she even kissed me on the cheek. And despite it being such an innocent, fleeting gesture, that kiss, I still felt it there on my cheek, hot and wonderful, many hours later.

In the aftermath of our meeting, there were many sleepless nights when I thought of her, asked myself if I should just tell her how I felt. But leaving her behind and then calling on her years later when she had finally found happiness again, was hardly fair. So I settled for reading her Linked-in and Xing pages and stalking her on Instagram. 
	Month after month went by and there were days when I forgot that there was that tree in my back garden, which kept counting down the days until... whatever happened. But once every week or so I'd look at the number again. And I still got the feeling that I should do something, something to stop it from counting down further. But I didn't know what that could be, and I still couldn't bring myself to show it to anyone.

And as I began isolating even further and my world shrank accordingly, its colours dimming a little more each day, it became harder and harder to find a good reason for getting up in the morning. My day job seemed all the more pointless, but while it had always been difficult to carve out the time to see friends, pursue any of my creative hobbies like drawing or writing, go to concerts and the like, I now found myself even cancelling plans on the weekends I would have had the time. Everything seemed pointless and I was drifting from one day to the next. Anxiety, self-loathing and sadness sometimes so bad that I called in sick and spent the day in bed - waiting for that weird, otherworldly clock on my apple tree to count down the days until I would finally be put out of my misery.

And finally that day was almost there: The tree had finally counted down to one. It was September, the day before my 42nd birthday, the tree laden with mostly ripe apples. I would have to harvest them soon. Looking at the innocent, glittering number, I felt utter terror and sheer relief, both at the same time. 
	In the afternoon of the following day, yes, my birthday, I sat down in front of the tree, with a bottle of red wine next to me. I was just opening the bottle to pour myself the first glass, feeling properly sorry for myself, when the door bell rang. Who would be visiting me? My sister maybe? But she had already called.
	There was still a confused frown on my face when I opened the door. Eve laughed at my serious expression.
	"Hi there. Thought I'd come by to wish you a happy birthday," she said.
	I was so shocked, I didn't say anything, just stared at her.
	"I don't want to crash your party. Just wanted to give you this," she told me, putting a small, beautifully wrapped present into my hands.
	I took it, recovering just in time to stop her from leaving. 
	"There's no party you can crash," I said. "But it would be really great if you stayed for a little while."
	She had already turned around but looked back at me now. And that smile on her lips might just have been the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. I felt slightly dizzy. And giddy. And very much afraid.
	Tilting her head to one side, she contemplated my invitation for a few seconds. And when I was already sure she'd politely decline, she said, "Well, okay - if you're sure..." 
	"I am," I told her firmly. Gosh, I had never been more sure of anything in my life.

A little while later we were sitting on the patio. From there, you could see the infamous apple tree, but as the number was on the opposite side, everything looked quite unsuspicious to Eve. Eve, the only guest at my little impromptu birthday party. 
	I got another glass and poured us some of the wine. As I hadn't expected anyone, there wasn't much else I could offer her though. I had fished a package of tiny pretzels out of the kitchen cupboard. That was it. But she didn't seem to mind.
	Soon we were chatting away again, and the evening quickly turned into night. She had travelled a lot in the last year or so and told me all kinds of cute, weird and funny stories about places she had visited and people she had met. 
	But we also talked about the places we had visited together. Once, maybe ten years before, we had visited Italy. It was late April and we had been hiking all day along some famous Cinque Terre trails with astounding views over the Mediterranean Sea. In the afternoon, it was unbearably hot and we longed for a swim, but all the beaches in the area seemed to be private ones. So despite knowing that the sea was always just a stone's throw away, we still couldn't get there. It had been truly frustrating. Asking a local boy, we finally found out that there was a narrow path down the cliffs to a rather secluded, dreamy bay with black beaches. All excited, we followed the boy's instructions how to get there, but when we had arrived at the head of the path, there was a sign saying it was forbidden to use the track because it had not been maintained properly and was not open to the public for this season yet. I wanted to give up and head back to our hostel, but Eve just couldn't take no for an answer. So we cautiously walked down the path hoping the condition it was in was still okay. There were a few patches where it was quite dangerous and we were afraid of falling to our deaths. But in the end, we made it. And no one else had been as stupid to take that path of course, so we were completely alone. I will never forget the view of the black sand with some huge grey rocks growing out of it, the sun already hanging low above the ocean. Glittering waves rolling upon the sand. It felt like stepping onto the beaches of an alien world. Eve's face was flushed from the strenuous walk, her eyes bright with excitement.
	Needless to say, we spend hours on that beach and only went back up the trail when it had become so dark that we hardly saw where we were going. Fortunately, Eve could light the way with her phone. I still remember how happy I felt just to be with her. Why had I been so stupid to walk away from what we had?
	Suddenly I noticed Eve looking at me expectantly. I must have zoned out for a moment.
	"Sorry, I..."
	"Just tell me if I'm boring you!"
	Shaking my head, I held our my hands over the table, palms up. And she put her hands in mine. It was such a simple gesture; she probably never even thought about it. But it rekindled something that had been dead for quite a while now.
	Holding both her hands, I said, "No, of course not. I was just thinking..."
	"Yeah? About what?"
	"About how much I've missed you."
	She cast down her eyes in that moment, a hint of a smile on her lips.
	"Really?" she asked, her voice suddenly very tiny, like a child's. She didn't look up.
	"Yes, really. I'm sorry that..."
	"Well, that was... quite some time ago." She paused, biting her lower lip. "How long has it been?"
	"A little over five years?"
	"Sounds about right." She sighed, finally looking at me again. But there was something in her eyes I couldn't quite name. For a moment, I was lost for words.
	"Oh, I haven't opened your gift," I said, pulling the neatly wrapped parcel towards me. Thankful, I could do and say something else.
	"Or do you want me to open it later?" I asked.
	"No, go ahead. I... I actually don't mind, either way," she told me.
The tone in in her voice that had me look at her more closely then. But she just smiled, leaning back in her chair. She didn't hold my gaze for very long though.
	"It's just a little something," she added.
	"Still. It's very nice of you."
	"How did you know where I live by the way?"
	"Your sister."
	"Ah." I leaned a little forward. "For once, I'm really glad that she could never keep a secret." We both smiled and I felt the bond between us tugging at my heart once more, the way I had always felt it when we were together.
	I slowly opened light-blue box. Inside, I found a silver key chain. I picked it up looking at the picture dangling from it. When I saw what it was, I felt the tears welling up. 
	"Thank you. This is perfect," I said.
	She smiled, "Glad you like it."
	Then I got up and hugged her. In that moment I just never wanted to let her go.

"Something really strange has been happening to me these last few months," I finally told Eve that evening. It was already dark but quite warm, so we had wrapped ourselves in some blankets I'd fetched from the house and were still sitting outside. For some reason, we both didn't want to get that drunk and had switched to tea a few hours back. I had also ordered some pizza, which was to arrive soon.
	"What do you mean?" she asked. 
	I got up and held out my hand. "Come on," I said and then I lead her to the infamous apple tree.
	"Wow, that's... interesting. And rather pretty," she said as she saw the number one glowing on the tree stem. Then she looked at me questioningly.
	I just shrugged. "Don't look at me. I didn't put it there. It just appeared there about eight months ago."
	"You're kidding." She crossed her arms and pursed her lips. 
	"Well, actually, there was a little star hovering over the strawberry patch. But it just burst and then I saw the number 243 glowing on the tree. And the tree has been counting down since then."
	"Counting down to what?" 
	"I don't know. But I guess we'll find out soon because the number always changes around this time of day."
	She raised a brow. But before she could tell me that this was all bullshit, the number did indeed change again.
	"Look!" I said.
	She did look at the tree, which now showed a glowing spiral. As we looked on, a brighter spot was moving through its arms, vanishing in the middle, then appearing again at the tip of the outermost arm. This made it look like the spiral was slowly moving.
	"How did you do that?" she asked. Now squatting before the tree, she slowly ran her fingers over the glittering symbol on its bark.
	"I didn't do anything!"
	She looked up at me, one brow raised. "Andy, come on!"
	"No, really..."
	Eve sighed and looked at the number again. "Well, if the tree has indeed been counting down all those numbers, this is pretty but still a little anticlimactic, don't you think?"
	And yes, I did think so. A strange mix of disappointment and relief washed over me then. 	What had I expected to happen?
	Eve shook her head. "Can we go inside? It's getting cold."
	"Of course." I helped her get up again. She wanted to fetch the glasses etc. still standing on the table outside.
	"Oh, just leave it. I can pick all of that up later." Actually, it would be quite a while before my thoughts returned to ordinary things like doing the dishes.

	"So these are all your books?" she asked standing in front of the two big shelves in the living room a couple of minutes later.
	"Not quite."
	"Ha, I knew it!"
	"Yeah, I'm still quite the book hoarder. But I do teach English so..."
	"Not a good excuse."
	"Probably not," I admitted sheepishly. "Especially since I've quit my job today."
	She looked at me in surprise. "Wow. You really weren't happy at that school?"
	"Well, I don't think teaching is really for me, no matter the school."
	In answer to the unspoken question in her eyes, I told her I hadn't quite figured out what it was I wanted to do. Write maybe.
	"These aren't the only books," I then confessed, shrugging my shoulders. "There's another bookshelf in the bedroom and one in my study."
	"So Shakespeare and Wilde are probably in your study?"
	I nodded. 
	"And in your bedroom?"
	"Some of my favourite SF and Fantasy novels. And some poetry books."
	"Uh, poetry." She smiled.
	"What's that's supposed to mean now?" I asked, in mock distress.
	"Well, I did think you might be gay when we first met..." 
	"Thanks a lot."
	She laughed. "Well, it's actually quite the compliment," she said, now standing right in front of me looking up. She was only a few inches shorter than me, so her face was very close now.
	"Is that so?" I asked, bending down a little. Falling into those green eyes of hers was all too easy.
	"Gay men are usually quite... intelligent. They are fashionable and mostly very nice," she said.
	"Not to forget handsome," I added.
	"Not to forget handsome," she agreed.
	I really wanted to kiss her in that moment and it took me a lot of effort to straighten back up again.
	"You had your reasons for leaving," she reminded me.
	"I can't remember what they were. I was just plain stupid."
	"Come on, Andy, don't play with me."
	"But I don't." I sighed. "I see things very differently now." And I had, ever since that tree had counted down the days. I had started wondering what I had done with my life. And whether I hadn't thrown away the one good thing in it. If she wanted kids, then why the hell not? Worse guys than me managed to become decent fathers. Sometimes.
	In that moment she looked at the photo hanging above the couch. Different shades of blue its only colours, it showed a boat on the shore of a lake. And in background you could see the shape of a woman standing on a small landing stage and looking out onto the water. 
	"That's Lake Åsnen in Sweden," she whispered, clearly moved to see it there.
	"Yes, it's one of my best memories," I told her.
	We both knew it was her in that picture. I had taken it during our first vacation as a couple.
	"We really were happy then," she whispered.
	I nodded. "Thank you again for the key chain," I told her, pulling it out of the pocket of my jeans. If you held it next to the print above my sofa, you could see that both of these pictures belonged together. The small one on the key chain had been taken that same day, but it showed a guy sitting in a boat. A very happy guy. It lacked the melancholy quality of the other picture as Eve had photographed it in the early afternoon, not at dusk.
	"But you have a boyfriend now," I said. "And you're even about to be engaged." I couldn't help it, it almost sounded like an accusation. As if I had the right...
	She looked at me, a tentative smile on her lips. "Not anymore."
	"What?" What did she say? Had I imagined her saying that?
	I clasped both her shoulders. I wanted to shake her. "What did you just say?"
	"We've broken up."
	Such a simple sentence and it still unhinged my whole world. I more fell onto the sofa than sat down on it. "Wow."
	Suddenly free from my tight grasp, her shoulders came up in a quick, nonchalant gesture.
	"So there's someone else?" I asked.
	She sat down next to me. "Yes, there's someone else," she said. And then she kissed me.

"Hey, come outside, you have to see this!" Eve calls me. The sun has just come up and we've hardly slept. Somehow we've also missed the pizza guy ringing.
	What is that crazy woman now doing outside? I think, my heart so full of love I want to scream.
	As I walk out onto the patio, I see her standing in front of the apple tree. She gestures for me to hurry.
	With just a white blanket around her, her red leather boots, golden curls all messed up and emerald eyes flashing, she's quite the sight. The grey veil covering my eyes these last weeks has finally lifted.
	I want to take her into my arms again, like I did for most of the night, but she points to the trunk of the tree. "Look!" she urges me once more.
	Then she picks one of the apples from the tree and takes a gleeful bite. "Not bad," she mumbles. 
I walk up to her, a stupid grin stuck on my face, and eventually do look at the tree: The glowing number on the bark now reads 00001.

Abducted

"Why me?" I heard myself ask, my voice so hoarse and tiny I hardly recognised it.
	The scruff, haggard stranger driving my car glanced at me, then shifted in his seat. "You didn't buy any frozen stuff. Would be a shame if, say, a frozen pizza went to waste, wouldn't it?"
	Pizza? Really? I had just been abducted because I hadn't bought pizza? 
	He saw me staring and smiled. It was a crooked smile, almost shy.
	I really didn't know what to make of him. Well, he was crazy, that much was certain. But where was he taking us? Should I just open the passenger door in the desperate hope of not shattering every bone in my body when hitting the pavement? A quick look at the dashboard confirmed that we weren't travelling that fast: just about 70 km/h. Fast enough to severely hurt myself though if I really jumped out of the car now. And what if he stopped then and just picked me off the road, hurt and even more helpless? What if he just stuffed me into the trunk? At that thought, my heart started tumbling around in my chest. It might be better to wait until we had to stop somewhere, I decided. Make a run for it at the next petrol station maybe.
	My kidnapper seemed oblivious to all these wild, fearful thoughts. Not twenty minutes ago, he had suddenly opened the car door and gotten in on the passenger side as I was just about to drive away from the supermarket. He had pulled a gun on me, and before I had fully grasped what was happening, I was driving to a more secluded part of the huge Tesco's parking lot. There we switched seats and he drove off. I didn't even think to scream or try and run. Just found myself sitting in the passenger seat, not really clear on how I had gotten there, that guy now driving us to god-knows-where.
	And all that because I hadn't bought any frozen pizza? Turns out that eating healthier had been the worst decision of my life. And probably more life-threatening than simply taking up smoking. My kidnapper looked at me sideways as I was trying to stifle the hysteric giggle building up in my throat. Only half successfully though.
	He raised his eyebrows. "Sorry I'm putting you through all this. But it'll all be over very soon."
	Wh... what? Gosh, maybe I should really try to jump out! I thought. Tentatively, I pulled at the small handle to open the door. Nothing. He had locked me in. I felt sick.
	To keep my mind from going to all those dark places now lying in wait, I tried to get some sense of the stranger in the driver's seat. He didn't look that menacing and he probably wasn't much older than me. Especially when he smiled, he seemed really young. Like 23. But I assumed he was older. 30 or 35 possibly? His dark brown hair was a tousled mess that didn't quite touch his slim shoulders. And he looked like he hadn't shaved in a couple of days. His clothes seemed old and didn't fit him too well. They also seemed a little weird and mismatched in their bright colours and different patterns. His green-and-white striped pullover was torn in a few places and his checked trousers a little too big for him.
	Maybe I could overpower him if I put all my strength into a surprise attack? He was pretty tall but rather thin and didn't seem very strong. But his green eyes were bright. Awake. Radiating crazy but clever too. There was an air of urgency, maybe even desperation about him. Where did he need to go so fast? And why bring me?
	I glanced at my watch: half past two in the afternoon. Tom, my boyfriend, wouldn't be home for hours. No one would miss me. No one would look for me - until it was too late. Buster, our cat, might notice that no one was there to feed him, but he couldn't call anyone.
	Call! Where the hell was my phone? In my jacket maybe? I slipped a hand into one of its pockets and my heart did a little optimistic somersault. There it was! But then my heart dropped like a stone, a very cold stone, and I remembered: It was still in may handbag. In the trunk of the car! What I was clutching wasn't my phone, just the case with my sunglasses. Not sure I'd need those anymore... 
	But my thoughts about how to retrieve my phone from the trunk during our first stop came to a sudden halt and we as well: The road in front of us was blocked. There had just been an accident and a police officer was regulating traffic. 
	My kidnapper quickly looked behind us, but there were a lot of other cars behind us. Impossible to just make a u-turn. 
	My breath caught in my throat as he looked at me, once again pointing his gun. 
	"Now, don't do anything stupid," he whispered. "Or this won't end well for any of us."
	Hiding the small weapon under his pullover, he slowly drove up to the accident sight. It seemed like ages until we finally reached the officer. My kidnapper even managed to nod his head and smile at the policeman as the officer waved us through. A first chance to get help gone as quickly as it had presented itself. But no one had been hurt either. I noticed that I had held my breath and tried to breathe again without hyperventilating.
	My kidnapper accelerated and soon we were driving down a lonely country road at about 100 km/h. Too fast to jump out now anyway - even if I wasn't still locked in.
	"Where are we going?" I asked. Still not sounding like myself at all.
	"The less you know, the better," he said.
	But then he seemed to reconsider. "Maybe two more hours up north." He paused. "Do you have anything to drink?"
	I nodded, opened the glove compartment and took out a small bottle of water. My emergency water, as Tom put it. He always made fun of the fact that I brought water with me wherever I went. I opened the bottle and held it out to the guy. He took it, drank a few sips, then handed it back. I hesitated but. Deciding that getting a cold from my abductor would probably be the least of my worries for the foreseeable future, I then also took a few sips before putting the cap back on and the bottle back into the compartment.
	"Oh, we'll get along fine," he said all of a sudden and I shuddered, truly creeped out by what he might be implying. He now seemed almost relaxed, strangely happy. As if telling me we'd "get along fine" made it true and everything okay.
	A few more minutes passed in silence. Then he turned on the radio, switching channels until he found a song he liked. Even sang along. "Take on me, take me up..."
	And I really didn't know if that creeped me out further or if I wanted to smile. But he got so caught up in the song that I couldn't help but smile a little. Then he looked at me and my smile faded as quickly as it had shown up. What was I doing?
	He seemed to read my thoughts and sighed. "Don't worry. I'm not such a bad guy. And I'm also not crazy. My name's Daryl, and I swear I've never abducted anyone before - or stolen anyone's car. You'll understand when we... when we arrive."
	"Where? Where are we going?"
	He pressed his lips together, shaking his head. "Just bare with me a little longer."
	Then, after a few more minutes - the radio was still on but he wasn't singing along anymore as another song had started that he didn't seem to know that well - he turned his head towards me. 	"What's your name?" he asked.
	For a few seconds I considered lying. But what was the point? This wasn't really about me. I had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time.
	"Carrie," I said, sounding a little more like me again.
	"Carrie," he repeated thoughtfully. "Carrie..." Fortunately, he didn't break into song though. (My friends and especially my boyfriend always teased me singing that stupid Europe-song to me, especially if I was just messing up.) So strange, that man though. And why would he ask my name if... No, just don't go there, I told myself.
	As we continued driving along this lonely, straight road, right through the middle of nowhere, along beautiful meadows and dark forests and despite all my fears and worries, I started drifting off. The radio was still playing some shallow pop song, which somehow comforted me immensely. I had gotten up at half past four that morning to prepare an important talk I was to give at work that day. It had been quite a stressful day since I had also had to cover for Cindy, one of my colleagues. Even at lunch Steven, another colleague, and I talked about a new project. Now it all seemed so trivial and meaningless, especially if this was going to be my very last day on Planet Earth... And I was just so tired...
	"Wake up, sleepy. We're here," I heard a voice say. And as I slowly opened my eyes, blinking against the evening sun, he loomed right over me, his face only a few inches from mine. I tried to shrink back in shock, but as I was still sitting in the passenger seat, there wasn't anywhere for me to go.
	Daryl smiled at my distress. "Come on, time to get out."
	He was out first, but had taken the car keys with him. Of course. So I dutifully undid the seatbelt and got out after him. For a moment I stood next to my door, stretched and yawned. 	Anyone watching would have assumed this was just an ordinary trip. The girlfriend had fallen asleep on the long car ride to... Well, where were we?
	I looked around and couldn't believe my eyes. An icy weight settling in my stomach, I saw that we had arrived at Jackson Ferry Terminal! Where was he taking me?
	"We'll leave the car here. Take out what you need."
	I nodded and gestured towards the trunk. He pushed a button on the key he had been holding and I heard the trunk unlock with the usual clicking sound. So I walked over to open it. And as I was slowly opening my purse, I thought about how to get my phone in the most casual and unsuspicious manner possible. But I had hardly opened the bag when he was already standing right next to me, watching. My heart fluttered nervously.
	"Let me see what you're taking out," he said. Fuck. No phone then.
	Fortunately, I had brought a small toiletries bag with a comb, some face cream and a few other necessities to work that day. Antitranspirant too. Might already need that...
	He also allowed me to take something to write with me as well as my jacket and the sandwich, orange juice and chocolate I had bought at the store. And I got the water bottle from the front. I put everything into the shopping bag from the supermarket, but I wasn't allowed to carry it myself. He put it into his rucksack. My passport, money and driving licence too. Also kept the car keys of course. Then he took my hand.
	"If anyone asks, we're a couple. Met only recently - but fell in love right away."
He smiled and started laughing when he saw the look on my face. "Come on. It won't be long now and you'll be rid of me. But I need you to cross this damn river with me. No one will be looking for a couple."
	Hope suddenly flared up in my chest. Would he really let me go? I looked straight at him, searching for any hint whether that had been the truth. But who was he running from? The police probably. But why? What had he done?
	I didn't ask any of these questions out loud though as it seemed pretty clear Daryl wouldn't answer any of them. Not yet. So I just went along with his story and tried to smile at the guy asking for our tickets. Never letting go of my hand, Daryl held up his phone and the man scanned our tickets. 
	"Welcome to Blue Sky Ferries," the ticket guy said. He was a middle-aged man, the salt-and-pepper hair and beard probably adding a few more years to his actual age though. His voice was a little hoarse and his gaze lingered on me just a little too long. I looked up at him, wondering if he was really hitting on me, with my "boyfriend" right there, next to me.
	Instead, he seemed concerned. "Everything alright?" he asked me.
	Reflexively, I shrugged, slightly nodding my head. "Of course."
	"Sorry," the man said, "you seemed... sad somehow."
	"Oh, she's just got a toothache," my "boyfriend" was quick to explain, the brightest smile on his face now. He squeezed my hand, and I nodded again.
	"Ah, sorry to hear that."
	"I've already got a doctor's appointment for later," I lied, and he seemed content with my answer. Not sure how I felt about that.
	"Well, then I hope you'll soon feel better." He smiled encouragingly and I returned the smile - convincingly enough it seemed.
	We made it onto the ferry without anyone else paying any attention to the scrawny guy in his mismatched clothes and the girl whose hand he kept holding.
	Two minutes later we were standing at the railing on the upper deck and he was putting his arm around me. I shot him an irritated look, but he just smiled. And as the ferry slowly moved away from the shore and the wind was picking up, it was actually kind of nice to get some extra warmth from someone as my jacket was much too light. And what could I do? Start screaming and provoking Daryl (if that was even his real name) to pull his gun on me or any of the other passengers? Maybe lose it and just kill all of us? I shivered and he pulled me a little closer. Ironic.
	The trip across the lake only took as about 15 minutes. We just kept standing there in silence. And some of the other passengers might have thought: These two must be deeply in love. They don't even need any words. Fortunately, he didn't try to kiss me or anything as he probably knew that I might not play along. Not convincingly enough at least.
	After a few minutes I felt him relax a little. And my heartbeat slowed a bit as well. There seemed no immediate danger and I was still tired, physically as well as emotionally.

Doggedly I followed Daryl off the ferry, still not ready to risk the lives of all these people around us. Right in front of us, a family of four exited the ferry, the two small kids, brother and sister, wondering excitedly if there'd be bears too at the zoo they were about to visit.
	"Have a good day," a hoarse voice right next to me said. Looking up, I saw right into the ticket guy's brown, smiling eyes.
	"Thank you."
	"And be sure to see a doctor."
	"Of course."
	Then we stepped off the ferry, another chance to beg for help gone. What if I had just tried to write something on a piece of paper and put it into the ticket guy's pocket? But Daryl had the pen and paper I had managed to bring. And he hadn't left my side either.
	By now, I also needed to pee. Badly. Luckily, there was a public toilet at the docks, right in front of us. I looked at Daryl, who was again holding my hand. 
	"I'm sorry, but I really need to..." And I trailed off, nodding my head at the toilets in front of us.
	He looked at me sceptically. But there was just one cabin each, I wouldn't even be able to talk to anyone at the lady's. 
	"Okay," he said and we walked there, still holding hands. When we reached the two stalls, I expected him to let go, but he didn't. 
	"Sorry," he whispered, "but I need to go to."
	"Well, there's another one, right next to..."
	"No, no, nice try, darling."
	And before I could make a scene or anything, he opened the door to the lady's bathroom and shoved me inside. He followed right behind, locking the door behind us. And everything went black. I drew in a sharp breath. What was happening? But a moment later the lights came on again, and I remembered that the light sometimes went off automatically in these little bathrooms once the door closed. You just had to hit the light button next to the door then. And I had always thought that stupid - but never quite as frightening as this time. 
	He smiled. "You go first. I'll turn around." Pulling his gun out from under his pullover, he added: "Don't do anything stupid and you'll be home by tomorrow morning."
	Great. Never had had to pee in front of someone who might shoot me any moment. And what did he think I'd do? Attack him from behind? 
	So I did what I had to do and when he heard the sound of the running water as I started washing my hands, he slowly turned around. I dried my hands, walked back to the door and now kept my back turned towards him too, staring at the closed door. It would open too slowly, no chance to make a run for it.
	Running water again. At least he washed his hands after... I turned to see him smile at me. He closed what little distance there was between us. Then he put his left hand on my shoulder and with his free hand pushed the orange button to my left, his right. The door opened.
	"What now?" I asked.
	"We'll walk to a friend's house."
	And with that, he took me by the hand again. From the corner of my eye, I saw an old lady stare at us. She probably had her very own ideas of why we had just locked ourselves in together. I sighed. Daryl followed my gaze and started grinning as he saw the lady's stern expression. His grin even widened when he looked at my annoyed face. I just shook my head.
	As we walked on, it was slowly growing dark. There were some street lamps though that lit our way into town. Whitesands was a pretty small town, that had mainly survived because of the ferry and the zoo a couple of kilometres west. It had been a mining town until about ten years ago. After the nearby ore mine had closed, many miners and their families moved away. Some shops and hotels had closed too.
	And now, at about seven in the evening, there was hardly anyone around. I wondered if that could be my chance? What if I tried to pull free and just ran away? Would he follow me? Would he really shoot at me?
	"Oliver," a woman's voice said, sounding surprised. Daryl turned towards the sound. So Daryl wasn't his real name, it was Oliver.
	"Margot!" He embraced her, but it was only half an embrace as he didn't let go of my hand. 
	Margot smiled. Then looked at me questioningly but not unfriendly.
	"This is Carrie," he told her. "I had to... bring her along."
	The woman, tall and blonde, probably in her early fifties furrowed her brows. 
	"Well, you can tell me everything inside. Come."
	With that, she led us to an ordinary looking house in an ordinary neighbourhood. The front gate squeaked as she opened it. We walked through a small front garden with a huge willow tree and some rose bushes, then up three or four steps. She got out her key and opened the front door for us. Stepping back, she ushered us inside.
	Once we had stepped into the hallway, I pulled free from Daryl's... no, Oliver's grip. Margot looked at us, confused. She gestured towards one of the doors. It was the kitchen. I sat down exhausted and still terrified about what might happen next. Margot actually looked quite nice. She turned the main light on and got three glasses from a cupboard. 
	She was just putting them on the table when Oliver asked: "Did you get what I asked for?"
The woman nodded and walked to another cupboard. She then opened a drawer and took out an envelope she silently handed him.
	Oliver opened it to take out the contents: some money, a passport and a folded piece of paper he didn't look at.
	"Thank you. You might have just saved my life."
	"Glad I could help. I owe you." With that she fetched a water bottle from the fridge. Margot and Oliver sat down as well and I looked from one to the other. Who were these people? Who was he running from?
	And just as I was about to open my mouth and ask these questions aloud, police sirens sounded. And all of a sudden, it was blindingly bright in the little kitchen. We looked at one another in shock. 
But a few seconds later, the police cars had driven right past, taking their blindingly bright headlights with them.
	Oliver let out the air he had held in. And Margot shut her eyes in relief. Somehow I felt relieved too. I shouldn't have, but I did.
	"Let me fix you something to eat and then you can tell me what the plan is." Margot looked at him, "If you trust me as much that is."
	"Of course. You know that."
	She didn't seem convinced but didn't add anything either. And a few minutes later, steam rose from a kettle on the stove and there were bread, butter, some sausages, cheese and a few tomatoes on the table. We sat down to eat. Until then, I hadn't noticed how hungry was. I hadn't even had a proper lunch. So I thanked Margot for the food, but apart from that we didn't talk much. Margot seemed to wait for Oliver to finally open up about his plan, but his mind seemed elsewhere. 
	Suddenly I couldn't take it anymore. "Are you going to kill me?"
	Margot's eyes widened. "What? What did you tell her?"
	Oliver sighed, then pulled out the gun from under his pullover. I jumped a little at the movement.
	"You didn't?" she asked.
	"I... I just didn't know what else to do." 
	"So you just waved Fred's toy gun in front of her and more or less kidnapped the poor girl." 
	"More or less," he admitted sheepishly and shrugged his shoulders. 
	Margot made a disapproving sound and shook her head.
	"What?" I asked and reached for the gun now lying in the middle of the kitchen table. It was quite small but... 
	Oliver didn't stop me as I grabbed it. I looked at it more closely. "It's just a toy?" I shouted, feeling red-hot anger rise inside of me.
	"You bastard!" I waved the gun in front of his face and he held up both hands, palms up.
	"Well, sorry. But what are you angry about here? That it wasn't a real gun?"
	I chucked the toy back onto the table. If he put it like this, it did sound quite unreasonable.
	"No," I said defensively. "I'm pissed that you frightened me like this. Kidnapped me and had me believe you might murder me and everyone around us if I made one false move."
	"Oliver!" Margot shouted, exasperated. "How could you...!"
	He just shrugged his shoulders. "I just thought I had a much better chance getting here if she was with me. They're not looking for a couple, you know."
	"Who is not looking for a couple?" I asked. "Who is after you? And what did you do?"
	Oliver didn't answer right away. No surprise there. Instead, he looked at Margot, who was sitting right across from him. When she slightly inclined her head, something seemed to crumble inside of him.
	"I don't think you should know all the details. It could be dangerous for you too. But I stole something... Information that could..."
	"Ruin some very powerful people," Margot finished the sentence. "People who would do anything to stop Oliver from leaking that information."
	My next question wasn't louder than a whisper. "Anything?"
	They both nodded. Great. And that stupid toy gun had just made me feel a little safer again. Stupid but safe.

"Whaa... What time is it?" I asked and blinked. A few faint rays of sunlight were falling through the window. Where was I?
	I looked up at Margot, who was standing in front of me, and I remembered: This was her guest room. Margot had given me one of her T-shirts to sleep in and made up the bed. After I'd brushed my teeth etc., they had locked me in though, which should have bothered me. But I was just so tired. Took me just minutes to fall into a deep sleep. 
	I only woke up when Margot shook me. "You can take a shower if you like. I also laid out some clothes for you on the armchair over there. Some of mine. They should fit well enough."
	"Thank you," I mumbled, still only half-awake.
	"Come down when you're ready," she said. "I'm making breakfast. Tea or coffee?"
	"Coffee," I said. As kidnappers went, they really weren't the worst kind. There'd be coffee!
	Once she had left, all those moments of the past day burnt into my memory in every detail slowly rushed back. And apropos rushing, I needed to pee.
	So I went to the bathroom, where I also brushed my teeth again, then showered. Still glad I had brought that little toilet bag to work the day before. Then I put on some of the clothes laid out for me. Margot was a little taller than me but apart from that, we were of pretty similar build. The jeans I chose were a tad long but I'd manage. Now we'd probably make a more convincing pair, Dar... Oliver and I.
	Oliver. Margot and he had talked about what he should do next and decided it was too dangerous to use the information he had stolen right away. It was better to lay low for a while, wait for things to calm down, blow over. And Margot knew about a place he could hide for a couple of weeks. Very remote and off-grid, where no one would come looking for him. Or so they both hoped.
	They had taken great care though to avoid discussing what that top-secret information was Oliver had stolen, in front of me at least. But the way they talked about the whole thing made it sound like Oliver had only stolen that information because it was about something dangerous. Something the world desperately needed to know about. I had no way to know if that was true of course.
	He'd take Margot's car and lots of provisions. But on the way to his hide-out, he'd drive me to some bus station in the middle of nowhere. From there, I should make it back to the ferry in less than two hours. Enough time for him to vanish before anyone asked questions about my missing "boyfriend".
	My boyfriend... Tom had probably realised that something was wrong when I hadn't come home last night and hadn't answered my phone. Had he already called the police? Had they already found my car?
	A part of me wished they had because this might mean that I'd be brought home much sooner. But there was another part of me, a tiny voice somewhere, wishing that they wouldn't find it at all. I still didn't know much about Oliver and Margot, but last night I had slowly started considering that they might not actually be the bad guys in this story. Whatever this story turned out to be.

One hour later, I was back in the passenger seat with Oliver driving. I still had some trust issues though. Who wouldn't after what the guy had put me through. But if he had told me the truth, if there were some dangerous criminals after him just because he knew too much, waiting to get home just a little while longer wasn't such a big ask. 
	Oliver turned the radio on. Static, then some classical music, which Oliver skipped - thank God -, then the news. Seems I hadn't missed much. The wars in Ukraine and the Middle East were still raging, temperatures were much too high for late September and Manchester had won another football match. I'd never understand people's fascination with football. Then the beginning of a pop song I liked. Now I don't remember which one it was exactly. It was cut short anyway.
	"Another urgent message, folks. From Chief Constable Summers." A faint click, then the deep, dark voice of the area's chief of police. My heart started racing and an alarmed expression slipped onto Oliver's face.
	"We are requesting the public's help in this case. 28-years old Carrie Simmons didn't come home last night. She doesn't answer her phone and - since of this morning - is presumed missing. Ms Simmons was last seen at her place of work in Clemens, Crowley Urban Planning, at three pm yesterday. If you can provide any information about her current whereabouts, please contact the local police. She is about 5.5, has dark brown eyes and reddish brown, curly hair."
	A brief pause. Then Tom's voice: "Please, Carrie, tell us where you are. Tell us you're fine."
	"There hasn't been a ransom call yet", the constable clarified, "but we have to assume that Ms. Simmons has been kidnapped. If you see the woman described in the company of one or two men, do not interfere. They could be dangerous. Just call your local police department."
	Then the song set in again, but Oliver turned it off. His hands were shaking a little as he slowed down to finally stop the car by the side of the road. We hadn't even left town yet.
	"Fuck," he said. With emphasis.
	I didn't say anything. Poor Tom. I hadn't thought so much about what he must be going through. Until now.
	Oliver sighed, shaking his head in frustration. "I wouldn't have thought they'd already be looking for you. I... I hoped we'd have a little more time."
	I nodded. "What do you want to do now?"
	"I don't know." He bit his lip thinking. "The main highways up north and also the one south will probably be watched. I wanted to drive you up north to Cherrings and then let you make your way back to the ferry from there but now..."
	He sighed again. "Okay, we'll drive west, through a couple of small towns, Hopefully, the police don't expect that. And here..."
	He turned round and rummaged in the pockets of his jacket lying on the back seat. Then he handed me a cap.
	I put it on to cover my "reddish brown, curly hair," and a few seconds later, we were driving again.
	"I'm sorry but it will take you longer to get back to your car now."
	I shrugged. Of course I felt bad for giving Tom such a scare, but I was also slowly considering it a real possibility that Oliver was a victim in all of this too. He said he had stolen the information, but he hadn't talked about the circumstances. Was he some kind of whistleblower?
	"Okay," I said simply. 
	He nodded, a weak, thankful smile briefly showing on thin lips, then he concentrated on the road again. But not before I had seen something new in his gaze - or maybe something that had been there right from the start but I just hadn't been able to see it then: a nervous flicker in his eyes. The idea that he might feel as scared as me helped me somehow.
	We had driven on for maybe two hours, right through the middle of all kinds of backwater hamlets when my stomach started rumbling.
	"Can I get my sandwich from your backpack?" I asked.
	"Well, I think Margot threw it away actually."
	I looked at him in dismay and he laughed a little. "She wasn't sure whether it was still okay. But she put a lot of other food into my backpack. Have a look and take what you like," he said.
	"Thanks."
	So I got the backpack from the backseat and rummaged through it. There really was a lot of food in there, all ready to eat. I finally took out a sandwich Margot had made for us as well as an apple and a mall pack of orange juice.
	"You're not hungry?" I asked, already chewing a bite from the sandwich. Tuna and tomatoes it seemed. 
	"No, maybe later."
	But half an hour later, all thoughts of food or anything else in that category were violently erased from both of our minds. We were travelling along a poorly maintained country road through the middle of nowhere when, just a few meters behind a bend, we would almost have crashed into the car in front of us, which was going really slowly. We then saw that there were three more cars in front of us, all driving very slowly, the third and farthest away just stopping. 
	"A police blockade," Oliver whispered, fear tightening his throat.
	He put the car in reverse and retraced the last two meters. Then we were behind the bend, out of sight of the other cars. Luckily, there were no other cars behind us this time.
	How had I switched sides so quickly? Shouldn't I have been relieved to see the police? Get home sooner?
	Oliver turned the car around and sped off. I was listening out for police sirens following us. But they didn't seem to have noticed our suspicious manoeuvre. Relief washed over me.
	We just drove on for a couple of miles before I could muster a coherent thought again. "Wow, that was close. What now?"
	"I'm sorry, I have to take you with me."
	"But..."
	"Look, there'll be road closures now everywhere. We'll just have to lay low for a while. For you it'll just be... an extended weekend," he said.
"No, no, no. Oliver, I just can't! Stop the car right now and let me out!"
	I opened the car door to show him I was serious. Forgotten to lock me in this time, the bastard.
	But he was quick. Managed to pull me aback into the car and close the door again. Then I heard a clicking sound. The door lock. Fortunately, there was no one around. He had swayed into the other lane quite a bit.
	"You forget that you don't have your toy gun anymore. And that I could hit you!" I shouted.
	"I had hoped it wouldn't come to this."

Wood. Was that wood? Yes, wood. A wooden ceiling. I felt so tired and there was a strange taste in my mouth. What day was it? Wasn't I supposed to be at work? Then slowly everything came back to me. Everything except how I had gotten here exactly. I remembered the police road block but then... And where was here anyway?
	The sound of a door closing. Footsteps. It was Oliver.
	My head dizzy and aching, I managed to sit up."What have you done?"
	"Chloroform."
	"You chloroformed me? Seriously?"
	"Well, I..." He trailed off, then shrugged his shoulders helplessly.
	Toy gun and then chloroform. Quite the progression. And here I'd thought he was one of the good guys.
	"Where are we?"
	"Sorry, I'm not telling you that. I will tell you however that I'm not planning on keeping you here much longer. Just a couple of days."
	"Why? Wouldn't it be better the police found me far away from you?"
	"Well, you might be more deeply involved in all of this than you think," he said, a peculiar expression on his face.
	What was that supposed to mean? That he had somehow decided to make me an accomplice? Or had he actually not picked me at random?
	I slowly got up, swaying a little. He held out a hand to steady me but I brushed it off. 
	"Bathroom?" I asked. He pointed roughly into the direction he'd come from.
 
The cold water splashed into my face a few seconds later revived me a little and the fog inside my head slowly cleared.
	Chloroform. And I had really started believing his story, trusting him even. But now I had seen what he was actually capable off. A horrible thought crossed my mind and I looked down at my clothes, tried to feel if there was anything wrong. But it didn't seem he had done anything else. Though I'd probably never know if...

Wood. Was that wood? Yes, wood. A wooden ceiling. I felt so tired and there was a strange taste in my mouth. What day was it? Wasn't I supposed to be at work? Then slowly everything came back to me. Everything except how I had gotten here exactly. I remembered the police road block but then... And where was here anyway?
	The sound of a door closing. Footsteps. It was Oliver.
	My head dizzy and aching, I managed to sit up."What have you done?"
	"Chloroform."
	"You chloroformed me? Seriously?"
	"Well, I..." He trailed off, then shrugged his shoulders helplessly.
	Toy gun and then chloroform. Quite the progression. And here I'd thought he was one of the good guys.
	"Where are we?"
	"Sorry, I'm not telling you that. I will tell you however that I'm not planning on keeping you here much longer. Just a couple of days."
	"Why? Wouldn't it be better the police found me far away from you?"
	"Well, you might be more deeply involved in all of this than you think," he said, a peculiar expression on his face.
	What was that supposed to mean? That he had somehow decided to make me an accomplice? Or had he actually not picked me at random?
	I slowly got up, swaying a little. He held out a hand to steady me but I brushed it off. 
	"Bathroom?" I asked. He pointed roughly into the direction he'd come from.
 
The cold water splashed into my face a few seconds later revived me a little and the fog inside my head slowly cleared.
	Chloroform. And I had really started believing his story, trusting him even. But now I had seen what he was actually capable off. A horrible thought crossed my mind and I looked down at my clothes, tried to feel if there was anything wrong. But it didn't seem he had done anything else. Though I'd probably never know if...

The first days it was pretty tense between us. He always kept an eye one me, afraid I'd take the first chance to run. Locked me in when I was sleeping. And I had grown very uneasy again in his company. Not quite afraid but cautious, very unsure about how far to trust him.
	But I didn't know where we were, not even in which country. The cabin stood on top of a ridge overlooking lush, vast forests and a river. There were no buildings I could see, no proper road, no nothing. It was beautiful out here though the cabin was very rustic. There was no running water and just an outside gravity shower that mostly used rainwater. The water in the river was okay to drink but we had to get it up in buckets from down there, which was pretty exhausting. 
	The first days I kept my eyes and ears open for any sign of civilisation. A light in the darkness perhaps, indicating another cabin close by, or the sound of a helicopter looking for me. But there was nothing, no one. We seemed to be utterly alone.
	On our fifth day in the wilderness, Oliver opened the cabin door in the early morning and there was a crate of groceries standing in front of it. I looked at him, my eyes wide. So there was someone out here with us, there had been a couple of hours ago at least. But Oliver just smiled.
	"You won't tell me who we got that from, will you?" I asked.
	"No. The less you know..."
	"Oh, for God's sake..."
	"It was a good friend. One of the few people I trust. He'll keep us fed until this whole situation... resolves."
	Whatever that meant. I sighed and once Oliver had put the crate on top of the kitchen table, I started helping putting the food and the other stuff away. One item made me pause though, I held it up to him, both brows raised.
	"Well, I just thought..."
	I really didn't know what to think as I took out the two packages of sanitary towels and put them into the small bathroom, which only had a sink and a wooden tub in there. The toilet was outside too. Should put a few there as well.
	So weird. What was I doing? Playing house with my kidnapper?

A few days later I sat on the porch overlooking the little stream downhill and a few trees growing on the opposite shore. Someone had taken great care to get rid of all the trees in between us and the river. At least as wide as the house there were only a few saplings growing but you could see some tree stumps, which was a little sad but also great because it allowed for that unobstructed view of the river as well as for the sun warming the house in the later afternoons. Especially today, the sun on my face felt great after some grey and rainy days.
	In addition to the paper and pen I'd brought with me, I had found some paper as well as a few crayons in one of the kitchen drawers and had started sketching the scenery before me, with the first yellow and red leaves glistening in the afternoon sun.
	Coming back from a short walk, Oliver asked: "What are you doing?"
	"Sketching," I said.
	To my surprise, he didn't just walk past me, nodding but uninterested like my boyfriend Tom usually did but sat down on the porch next to me. 
	"Wow. You're good," he said, and I couldn't help but smile a little. He sounded so sincere.
	Still I shrugged off the compliment. "Well, I've drawn since I could hold a crayon, I guess."
	He looked at me, wondering about something he didn't want to share it seemed.
	Instead he said: "Well, I drew a lot when I was a child too. But I wasn't much good." 
	He paused scratching what was slowly growing into a beard." You are very talented though."
	"Oh, you're just humouring me so that I don't run off the next time you're going for one of your walks," I said, not a 100 percent sure I was completely joking.
	But where would I run to? I still didn't know where we were.
	"Tied down by flattery," I added, trying to reassure him I was merely joking and not planning my escape, which I actually wasn't. For the moment at least.
	His brows raised and a loop-sided smile on his face, he briefly touched my shoulder in acknowledgement, then got up.
	I heard the door behind me open and close, the wood squeaking a little. Then I was alone again.
	Who was he? And was it really a coincidence that he had picked me?
	I kept sitting there drawing the beautiful autumn landscape until the sun sank low and my fingers were slowly getting stiff from the cold. So I grabbed all my stuff and went back inside.
	There was a fire going in the living room and Oliver was sitting on the couch, half lying there actually and reading some novel. He didn't even look up as I came in and put my jacket on a hook next to the door. Instead, he kept reading, a warm smile spreading across his face. This was the most carefree and relaxed I had seen him so far.
	I sat down in the armchair opposite him and drew a cotton blanket around me. I was feeling a little chilled after sitting on the porch for so long.
	A few moments later, he looked up at me, still smiling softly. I couldn't help but smile back.
	"So you've been drawing this whole time?"
	I nodded.
	"Would you show me?"
	I shrugged, handing him him the small stack of drawings I had brought back.
	He looked at each drawing for quite a while, even tracing some of the pen lines in one of them with his finger.
	"You're really talented," he said then. "I like them, especially the one of the house." He skipped back to it, turning it towards me.
	"It looks... like a home," he said thoughtfully.
	"Oh, don't get any ideas, boyfriend!"
	He smiled at that, and once more, I did too. How was it possible that my kidnapper was so much more interested in my art than Tom? For the first time in many months, I actually felt seen. 

The next day however, our little "Little-House-in-the-Praerie" routine would be violently cut short. And the day hadn't even begun. It must have been around five when a persistent knocking at the front door woke us. 
	"Get up, get up! They're coming for you!" a woman shouted. Margot. It was Margot's voice. Relief flooded through me a the thought. It was just Margot. But why? Wouldn't the police finally knocking our door down be the only appropriate reason for feeling relief? I guess subconsciously I already knew that Oliver was hunted by someone that wasn't the police. And for much more sinister reasons.
	Oliver was at the door before I had even put one foot out of bed. As he had been sleeping in the living room, he would have been much faster at the door anyway. Fortunately, he didn't lock me in anymore. Probably thought I wouldn't be stupid enough to run through the woods at night, not knowing where the next town was. And he slept lightly anyway. It probably also wasn't a mere courtesy that he had taken the couch. Sleeping a few meters from the front door, he'd probably wake up if I ever got any ideas. He also kept the key close and the windows barred. So, still some trust issues, I guess.
	I stumbled out of the bedroom as he was just opening the front door and Margot stepped in. 
	"Margot, what...?"
	She interrupted him right away. "You've got to go. They're already on their way."
	Then she looked at me. "Seems he tracked her."
	"Who?" I asked, but they both ignored me.
	"I thought the dampening field..."
	Margot shook her head. "Seems they finally found a way to locate her nevertheless. There's no time, Oliver. Just go."
	He didn't argue but threw a few more things into the small backpack lying by the front door. 
He held out his hand. I hesitated. Margot and Oliver both looked at me. And before my brain had fully realised what was happening, I had taken his hand and we were out of the door. On the run again. And though I still didn't know what or who we were running from exactly, some part of me had decided to trust this stranger.

We didn't get far though. I had trouble keeping up as Oliver led me down the path to the river, almost dragging me after him. As I stumbled over some tree root, he caught me. And on we went, along the shoreline. The sun had just come up when we reached a little boat. So this was his escape plan. Probably had been all along.
	"Not a very good plan," a voice right behind us said. A voice I knew.
	We turned. 
	"Tom," I said. What was going on? How had he found me? And who were those other guys with him, who were pointing their guns at us? Were was the police?
	"I had to safe my little troublemaker, didn't I?" Troublemaker. I had always hated that nickname. 
	He motioned for me to come to him, but I just stood there, confused. It was as if I suddenly saw him clearly. There was no compassion in his voice, no love. He called me to him like you might call a dog. But I refused to obey.
	He laughed, and it was a harsh, cruel sound, a drastic contrast to the innocent, beautiful nature surrounding us. His brows knit together now and his eyes becoming small slits, he lifted his own gun and waved his free hand, "Come."
	I didn't move. Oliver, who stood half next, half behind me, had also frozen in his tracks. 
	Tom sighed. "Get them," he told two of the men with him.
	They looked quite intimidating as they now stepped towards us. My eyes darted to Oliver.
	"Duck," he said. And I did.
	And all of a sudden Tom and the four armed men with him were lying on the ground.
	"Wha...?" I looked at them trying to make sense of what I was seeing. They didn't move.
	"Are they dead?" I asked, my voice suddenly tiny. "What did you do?"
	"I stole this from your boyfriend's laboratory," Oliver said, holding up what looked like a taser. "A prototype. But it only knocked them out. They'll be back on their feet in... Oh, I don't know. Very soon."
	He inclined his head towards the boat. "So we need to hurry. Come on."
	But I just stood there. This was all too much. Slowly, my brain started putting two and two together.
	"So it wasn't a coincidence you picked me, was it?"
	Oliver first pulled up his shoulders, then shook his head sheepishly. "Sorry. But I needed..."
	"Something to blackmail Tom with? Some kind of insurance?"
	"No, I..." He held up both arms in frustration. "Look. There's a lot you don't know about Tom."
	Well, that much was true. Tom was in marketing, for God's sake! But now he had some kind of secret facility developing strange new weapons? What the...?!
	"Come on," Oliver said again, more urgently now.
	I looked at Tom and his men. Then at Oliver. Then some movement in the corner of my eye caught my attention: One of the men was starting to move.
	"Uh... okay," I said. "Let's talk somewhere else."
	"Wise decision."
	Two seconds later I we were pushing the boat into the water. Then crawled in. The water was ice-cold and I shivered as my trousers had become all wet of course. Oliver's too but he didn't seem to care or even notice, simply started rowing. Nervously, I kept looking back at the five men on the shore. Fortunately, they only came to very slowly it seemed. When the first of them sat up, we were almost out of view.

"Okay, spill," I told Oliver once we had hidden the boat under lots of leaves and branches, about half an hour downstream.
	He looked at me ruefully as I stood there in front of him, crossing my arms in front of my chest. I wouldn't walk one more step before he had told me what was going on.
	Oliver sighed. "It wasn't a coincidence I picked you two weeks ago. I had already been following you for about a week. To work, back home, to your drawing lessons, the supermarket..."
	"Creepy."
	He winced a little. "I know."
	"But why abduct me? You already had the prototype so..."
	"Well, it..." He hesitated.
	"Well, what?"
	"It wasn't the only prototype I wanted to... get my hands on."
	"Okay...So... you kidnapped me to get that other prototype as ransom for letting me go?"
	But why hadn't he made contact with Tom then? Or had he?
	"No, you don't understand..."
	A faint chop-chop. A helicopter. I was coming closer. We both looked at the sky. It was just a small speck, but it was heading right for us.
	"We have to go."
	"But..." 
	"Come on! Please!"
	Taking his outstretched hand, I gave in and we ran. Into the forest. Just running and running until we couldn't hear the helicopter anymore. It might not even be searching for us. But after Tom turning up with all those heavily muscled men and their guns I wasn't too keen on finding out who was sitting in that chopper. I just didn't know what to think of my boyfriend anymore. What had happened before we could get into the boat hadn't quite felt like a rescue attempt on his part.
	After about half an hour of running along some obscure tracks through the forest, we stopped for a few minutes, exhausted and out of breath.
	There was a strange look on Oliver's face though.
	I held my hurting thigh. "What?"
	"It's just so astonishing..."
	"My fitness level? Like non-existent..."
	"In a way," he said cryptically.
	What was that supposed to mean?
	"I could kill you, you know," I said.
	"I know. Please don't."
	I managed a tired smile, but he looked strangely serious.
	The sound of the chopper again, really far away though.
	Oliver looked up nervously. "Maybe we should..."
	"No, no," I told him, still trying to catch my breath. "You're not getting out of telling me again. Spill."
	A deep sigh. Then, finally, the truth. But that truth was so incomprehensible, so enormous, so crazy that it only stayed with me for a few seconds. Then it was gone and I only remembered that he had just told me something utterly bonkers. But terrifying too. But what it was...
	"And that's why I just had to get to you, take you away from him," he told me. And that was the first thing about his little speech I could properly process and remember.
	I just looked at him flabbergasted. What was happening here?
	"Carrie? Do you understand what I've just told you?"
	I shook my head. "No, I..."
	"Well, it's a lot to take in of course. But I'm sure that once you've..."
	"No, you don't understand!" I interrupted him, almost shouting now. "I... I can't remember anything of what you've just told me! I only know you said SOMEthing..." I trailed off, looking at him, utterly confused. "You DID just tell me something, didn't you?"
	He opened his mouth to say something but then just shut it again. Confusion and disbelief slowly morphing into comprehension and finally acceptance.
	"Wow," he said. "He's good."
	"Who?" I asked, though I already knew the answer.
	"Tom. He never wanted you to find out. That's why you're so crixxshffffaaaiiiillling, you know."
	"No, Oliver, I don't," I said, frustration boiling inside. "I... I think I heard the verb you've just used but then... it was gone."
	"Oh." A long pause.
	"Well, we'll figure this one out, I promise. Margot might be able to help. For now, just remember it's all Tom's fault."
	The bitter, compassionate smile on his face was hard to bear. "He did something so you wouldn't find out."
	I nodded, reassuring him that I had indeed understood. But had I?
	"So what did he do? Have me hypnotised or something?"
	"Something like that," Oliver said, but from his tone I suspected that that "something" Tom had done was anything but close to what I had suggested. But what else...?
	"Let's go," Oliver said.
	"Where are we going?"
	"There's a safe house, not six miles from here."
	"And you're sure Tom doesn't know about it?"
	"Pretty sure, yes."
	"Okay. Until I know more about all of this, I've decided to trust you."
	"Good choice."
	"We'll see about that. But Tom is..."
	"Creepy and not as attractive and charming as you remember?" Oliver offered.
	Despite everything, I laughed. "He didn't stalk me at least."
	"Well, he didn't have to, he just had you crghggguhywgsgssssjjjuuttulllen for him.
	"From the look on your face I'd say you didn't quite catch that either?"
	I shook my head, my mouth a thin line of frustration.

It was already late afternoon when we reached the safe house, both totally exhausted. From under some rock, Oliver happily retrieved the key to its front door. We stumbled through and Oliver made for the kitchen. There was no running water, but someone had stacked up a few water bottles on on of the kitchen counters. Seconds later we both drank greedily.
	Then he eyed me cautiously. "It's really amazing how kfdjhfuzrzuesihdskkaaa you seem, you know."
	"No, I don't."
	He raised his shoulders. "Sorry. We'll get through this."
	And somehow I believed him. I still didn't know if we were really on the same side here, but I knew with every fibre of my body that Tom and I weren't. And maybe I never had been. Maybe there had always been something off about him, about our relationship. Maybe something I just didn't want to know about. But borrowing my head - and my heart - in the sand didn't seem to be an option anymore.
	A knock at the door. We both froze looking at one another.
	"Oliver, Carrie, are you there?" a familiar voice whispered through the front door.
	Margot again. How had she found us?
	Oliver opened the door and they embraced. "So happy to see you," he said.
	"Likewise."  
	Looking at me, a big smile on  her face, she added, "And I'm glad they didn't get to you either."
	She then walked towards me and I was happy to be held as well.
	"Thank you. The last hours have been terrifying," I told her.
	"I can believe that."
	She turned to Oliver. "Have you told her?"
	"I tried. But it seems that Tom, that bastard, has put some kind of neural block on her. She can't retain anything I tell her about sjdkjjwiohiuixyjciosur."
	"I was afraid he'd done something like that."
	"Can you help me?" I asked her.
	She bit her lip. "I'm not sure. But we can try. But let's eat something first," she said, taking off her backpack.
	My stomach rumbled loudly at that, which put a smile on all our faces. I'd come to like these two, I realised. 

"How does that feel?" Margot asked.
	Sitting next to me in the tiny living room now warmed by a fire, which Oliver was just adding a few blocks of wood to, she massaged my neck and spine. I wanted to tell her that this was fine though I didn't really understand how that should help me remember, but then everything went black.

"Carrie?" Oliver's voice next to my ear.
	I opened my eyes, now lying on my back. We were still in the living room but it had grown dark outside. Had I fainted?
	"What happened?" I asked them drowsily.
	"We tried to remove the blockage."
	"But you... fell asleep," Oliver said. 
	"How do you feel now?" Margot sounded concerned.
	"I think I'm alright," I said sitting up.
	"Good," she said. "You remember Oliver telling you about another prototype he was after?"
	I nodded.
	She paused. "He got it actually. It's you. The most dangerous weapon in that laboratory has always been you."

This time, it took quite a while for the fog in my head to clear. I felt nauseated. Then, after what might have been minutes or even an hour, I became aware of the room, the couch I was still sitting on again. And I saw Oliver and Margot standing there, talking. Their faces were blurry at first and I couldn't make out what they were saying. Then their faces as well as their words suddenly started taking shape, making sense. Oliver's and Margot's voices seemed to come from very far away though.
	"Her internal matrix might have broken down," I heard Oliver say.
	"Just give her a little time. She simply needs to adjust. That's a lot to take in, you know..."
	"But she's not human! She's..."
	"An android," I completed Oliver's sentence. They both turned their heads, looking at me in astonishment.
	"You're back," Margot said warmly and I managed a weak smile.
	"Am I? Seems I was... so much more yesterday," I said. And as I sat up, I felt my eyes well up.
	Suddenly Oliver was kneeling in front of me, taking my hands. As I let him, the first tears were falling.
	"How could you be any less?" he asked. "You're so much more. You are capable of so much more than we."
	"But I'm not even... not human, not a real person."
	He let go of my left hand and reached up, touching my wet cheek. 
	"How can you say that?" he asked. "Looking at you now, you look really human, you know."
	"But that's just... make belief. I'll never know how it really feels to be human. Like you."
	"Wow. Darling, no one knows what it truly feels like to be another person," Margot said.
	I looked up at her: "Am I a person?"
	"No less than we are," Margot said without any hesitation. And I loved her for that. If what I felt was love. 
	"Who are you?" I asked her.
	"I've been working for Tom Stenton," she finally admitted. "And I helped build you."
	I shuddered involuntarily. Hearing her say that felt like someone had suddenly taken all my clothes. I felt naked, exposed.
	"I'm so sorry. This must all be... terrifying," she said.
	I nodded, my tears slowly drying up.
	"Why did he, did you built me?" 
	"To prove that it was possible." She paused. "To create a weapon unlike any other."
	"A weapon." I felt the hairs on my back standing up. "But what could I do?"
	Margot and Oliver exchanged a look. It seems they were silently debating how much to tell me.
	But then I heard it again. The sound of the helicopter.
	"They're here," Margot whispered.
	Oliver and I glanced at each other. Then it all seemed to happen at once.
	I hadn't even gotten up when there was a loud knock at the door. More like a fist hitting the wood. How had they managed to exit the helicopter that quickly? 
	"Open up or we'll break down the door," some stranger's deep voice shouted.
	Oliver slowly walked up to the door, took a deep breath and then opened it just as the guy was about to hit the door again.
	"Not necessary," Oliver told him and stepped out of the way so they could enter the small foyer that was leading right up the living room, where Margot and I were still standing. Terrified. Four heavily armed men in black uniforms came in. They looked like a SWAT team from some movie. Then Tom entered.
	"You're okay," he said, looking at me.
	"Right. You wouldn't want your precious merchandise suffer any damage," I said.
	"Ah, so they've told you." He paused, considering his next words carefully. "I... I always wanted to tell you. But this would have compromised the whole..."
	"Experiment? Charade?" I offered, my arms crossed in front of my chest and my voice shaking.
	"You have always been so much more than that." Another lie. 
	Then he looked at Oliver. "She knows? How were you able to...?"
	Only then did he notice the third person standing there with us. "Ah, Margot. I should have known." He spat out the words. His eyes were only small slits now.
	She didn't say anything, just shrugged her shoulders very lightly. Her mouth a thin line. What was she to him? I wondered. What had their relationship been like up to this point? And what would he do to her now that he knew she had betrayed him?

"Don't worry, this is simply going to be a little check-up," the bespectacled guy in the white coat told me as he touched my neck connecting some cable to the base of my scull. A weird, prickling sensation, then a light humming sound.
	He walked to some monitors facing away from me and looked at the data coming in.
	An unpleasant thought crossed my mind, "Can you also access my memories?"
	"Yes, as a matter of fact, we can." His smug answer put goosebumps all over my arms and back.
	"I'm sorry," he said, looking at me. "I know that nothing of this is really fair to you. And I don't know if this still means anything, but I told Mr. Stenton that we should tell you who you were and what was going on, right from..." He trailed off and I heard footsteps approaching from behind me. I couldn't turn as I was fixated on some kind of table they had positioned almost upright. But I recognised that gait.
	"But my dear Dr. Burrows, we agreed that this might just be too much for our sweet Carrie here." 
	Tom. He walked around me and all I wanted to do is scratch that stupid smile from his face. If only I could get free...
	His grin even got wider when he saw the distress and anger on my face. He held out one hand to touch my face. I spat at him.
	"Wow. Not your favourite person right now, I get that."
	"What have you done to Margot? And to Oliver?" I almost shouted these questions though I wasn't quite sure whether I really wanted to know the answers.
	"Nothing, my darling. Not yet." He paused. "There'll have to be some consequences of course." He came even closer. So close I felt his warm, moist breath on my skin. I wanted to melt into the cold table behind me.
	 "No one steals from me, especially not my best... toy," he whispered, a vulgar smile spreading on his face. How could I ever found him attractive, charismatic even? Now I just wanted to kick him, but my legs and feet were tied to that stupid table as well. 
	"Go on, Dr. Burrows," he said turning towards the other guy still monitoring the data coming in. The white coat nodded. 
	"And I want a detailed report by this evening." Then, looking at me again, he added, "Bye, darling." Oh, I so wanted to kick the bastard and wipe that stupid grin from his face!
	He turned to leave, but there was another burning question I needed to ask. "Wait."
	He stopped, raising an eyebrow.
	"Why did Oliver say I was your most dangerous weapon and not that stunner-thingy he stole from you?"
	"Ah, he told you that?"
	I nodded. "Come on, tell me."
	"Very well. We can still erase this information if we need to."
	So they didn't want to destroy me? Comforting - but on the other hand...
	He sighed. "What's the easiest way to take over the government?" he asked me.
	"Elections?" I volunteered, eyebrows raised and eyes wide.
	He smiled at the joke shaking his head, "Try again."
	"A revolution or a coup d'état?"
	"Better, but no. Exchange government officials with your own people."
	But how could he...? And then I got it, all the blood (or what I had always thought to be blood) draining from my face. "You want to put androids like me into important positions?"
	He nodded. "See, I still have high hopes for you." And with that, he turned to leave.
	It took me a moment to digest what all that meant.	
	"I want to see Margot and Oliver! Let me see them to be sure they're alright!" I shouted after him as I heard the automatic doors close behind me.

"Carrie, wake up." A woman's voice right next to my ear. I opened my eyes. 
	"Margot!" I sat up catching her by the arm. We embraced.
	She was leaning over me and someone had put me in a bed. No restraints this time, which I found very curious.
	"Are you really Margot?" I asked, suspicious now. What if this was one of Tom's other androids? But how did I even know ANYONE wasn't - or hadn't been? What if she had been working for him this whole time, told him where to find Oliver and me?
	"Yes. I can hardly prove that as we know even have the capability to implant someone else's memories into an android's brain." She shrugged.
	"Is this how I got my childhood memories? And those memories from my teacher training?"I asked.
	She nodded, "Yeah. Some of them are my memories."
	"Which ones?"
	"What's your very first memory?"
	I thought about her question. "I'm at the sea with my parents and I want to walk into the water. But they don't let me though we have that inflatable animal that could keep me afloat. Fred is its name I think. It's... a mix of a lifebuoy and a turtle."
	She smiled. "Yes, that's my very first memory. I was so disappointed then, maybe that's why this memory has stayed with me. Though the way I remember it now, it must be more like the memory of a memory of a memory."
	She touched my arm, "I know all this must be very hard for you." A pause and a weak smile on her face. "Apart from that one I only gave you pleasant memories though."
	I smiled back at her. I believed this was still Margot and I believed she was kind like that. But not all my memories are pleasant ones. Maybe that's not how you become a fully-fledged human being. But could I ever become such a thing anyway? Would I not always stay a thing?
	"Is Oliver alright?" I asked her.
	"Yes, he's fine."
	Relief flooded every corner of me. He had really grown on me these past weeks. And considering what I knew now - I probably would have done exactly the same in his shoes. I felt a distinct twinge at the thought of me doubting his motives so much. Right about where the human heart was.
	"And you? What will happen to you both?"
	She sighed. "We don't quite know yet. But Stenton still seems to need me as there is no one else who knows you that well. So we'll see. But Oliver..."

Some time later, I didn't know how many days had passed (shouldn't I have something like a perfect inner clock?), I was lying in the cell they had put me in, reading "The Wall", one of my favourite novels (which fit my mood quite well too) when I suddenly someone taking a barely audible breath. I looked up: Oliver was standing in front of my cell. I got up walking to the glass door separating us.
	"Oliver. How are you?"
	"Okay."
	But I saw the bruises on his face. "What did they do to you?" 
	"Well, your BOYFRIEND wasn't too excited about me kidnapping his most valued possession."
	"That asshole!"
	Oliver smiled, "I guess I had expected worse."
	I helplessly shook my head.
	"Seems getting reunited with your love didn't work out that well for you either." He looked around my room.
	"Yes, seems so. Look, I'm sorry I…"
	"What? Didn't trust your kidnapper right away?"
	I shrugged. My smile faint but genuine.
	"Hardly your fault. None of this is," Oliver said. "And I'm happy you're okay. And... still you," he added, sending a shiver over my spine. Who knows what they'd still do to me...
	"But I'm not even a real person," I said.
	"In any way that truly matters you are."
	I managed another weak smile. "Thanks."
	"Visiting time's over," a voice from behind Oliver said. 
	He sighed, "Okay, okay".
	"Why did they even let you visit me?" I asked him.
	"I guess they wanted to see your reaction. Study you a little further," he answered, the words sounding bitter. Then he nodded at at one of the computers behind him. Its camera was probably watching us.
	"I see. Well, it was still nice to see you," I said.
	"Right back at you." With that he left and I was on my own again. Well, except for my creepy audience.
	I went back to the bed and picked up my book again. Better to read about the end of the world then think about being trapped in a monster's laboratory, waiting to be dissembled or worse.

"How do you feel?" Margot asked, an empathic smile on her face. After what seemed like another two or three days they had finally let me out of my cell and walk about in a little park right behind the laboratory. That's probably where they had tested some of the skills they had implemented. I didn't really remember that, it was more a feeling, like déjà-vu. Walking outside in the sun, trees over our heads was such a relief. And I liked Margot, especially since she must have risked a lot by helping us. I still wondered why she had agreed taking part in these strange experiments anyhow. But with four guards watching us (and probably some hidden cameras too), I wasn't quite sure if I wanted to ask her about it. She might not be really open with me or say something that alienated her boss even further. So we simply walked in silence for a while, enjoying the sunshine. The sun didn't have the strength to really warm us anymore, but it still lifted our spirits. Mine at least.
	"I'm sorry, you know," she finally said. "When I found out what Tom's real plans were, it was already too late. I simply wanted to create something new, astounding, beautiful." She looked at me. "And I think we did."
	I smiled, a warmth spreading where my heart should have been.
	"But I never…" Her voice wavered.
	I took her hand and squeezed it, "I know."
	Margot nodded and I swear I saw some tears welling up in her eyes. 
	"Well, I gotta go," she said. "Be careful," she whispered into my ear as we embraced. 	Confused I looked at her waiting for an explanation, but she just smiled and turned to walk away. But as I stood there in that little park, I got the distinct feeling that something was up.

And a little while later, back in my cell, I found proof. I had just taken off my jeans because I wanted to go to bed. But as I was folding them to put them over a chair, I noticed something weird in one of the back pockets. I took the small thing out and looked at it. Fortunately, I had my back turned to the computer outside whose camera was no doubt still filming me.
	I put my jeans onto the bed and sat in the chair right in front of the bed, careful to cover what I was looking at with my body. But what was I looking at? It was a tiny, silvery thing and its shape reminded me of a snake. I gasped as it suddenly started moving a little in my hand. It vibrated and before I could stop it, it had slithered up my left arm.
	"Ouch!" The thing had cut into my skin and within what seemed like half a second it had disappeared into one of my veins. Only very little blood was tickling down my arm proving the incision to be quite tiny. But I was still shocked of course, afraid what it might do. But I also didn't want to call out or anything as I didn't know if the terrifying little snake was really a bad thing. Maybe Margot had slipped it into my back pocket when we had met that afternoon?
	Nothing happened for half an hour or so and I already started wondering whether I had hallucinated the silvery creature. 
	I hadn't. Suddenly I got dizzy as lots of images started popping up inside my head. It took me a little while to understand what they were: memories. But they weren't mine. Someone had given me other people's memories. Their knowledge, their skills. 
	And one of those skills I know possessed was karate. That might come in quite handy. Somehow I also felt a lot stronger, as if some blockage had been removed. Maybe Margot had found a way to turn off my "safety button"?
	I did remember, and that WAS an actual memory of mine, that Oliver had been surprised that I wasn't faster and stronger. He'd mentioned something like this when we were fleeing from Tom and his men. I just hadn't understood it then. But despite having no proof for this yet, I felt that I now could outrun almost anyone. I had turned into Superwoman and I was itching to put all my new powers to the test.

As I didn't really need any food or water, one of Tom's minions had simply erased that part of my programming that kept suggesting I did. A small mercy. But that also meant that they just left me alone for days as they didn't need to feed me or anything. I wondered why Margot hat been allowed to see me, walk with me outside even. Maybe another little test to see how I was doing? To catch any errors in my programming?
	It took another couple of days however until I got another visitor. This time, it was Tom itself. That bastard.
	"Reading again?" he asked. I looked up and saw him standing right in front of the glass door. There was something vicious about his smile. Or maybe that was just my perception after everything I had come to know about him those last couple of weeks.
	"Well, there's hardly anything else for me to do in here."
	"You could read those faster, you know," he said.
	When I didn't reply, he shrugged. "Or we could just push your off-button and let you sleep. so that you don't get bored," he said. A veiled threat?
	"No, thank you."
	He chuckled at the anger in my voice.
	"Well, suit yourself..." He paused. "I guess your two kidnappers must have switched you off at least once? How did that feel? Like betrayal?" He seemed more like a shark hunting prey than a human being now. I so despised him.
	"Well, you must know all about betraying people," I said. "Nothing new to tell you there."
	"Okay, I kind of deserved that."
	"Kind of? You didn't even tell me WHAT I was!"
	"Well, we all thought..."
	"Margot didn't," I interrupted him.
	To my surprise, he nodded. Telling the truth for once, THAT was new...
	"Yes, but her colleagues thought it would only slow your progress."
	"And why make me believe we were a couple?"
	"Well, that had its perks too..."
	Disgusting, that guy. If I could only reach through the glass...
	The sheer shock on Tom's face was worth any repercussions this might have after. His bewildered and frightened look when I suddenly HAD broken the glass and was clutching his throat with both hands was pure balm for my bruised ego. He couldn't breathe. Couldn't call out either. With the glass door now broken, I quickly stepped out of my cell, dragging Tom along. A swift, precise kick brought the computer whose camera was probably recording everything crashing down on the floor. Tom's minions would probably still be here any second. Still felt great.
	I watched as Tom struggled, still unable to breathe, his face slowly turning purple. My grip was like iron though, he couldn't break it. He was still alive though unconscious when I dropped him.
	But now what? I didn't even know where I was exactly...
	Or did I? Suddenly all kinds of schematics were flashing before my eyes. Blueprints of the whole laboratory complex, which was huge. A labyrinth of interconnected rooms, halls and stairwells. I concentrated and managed to slow down the images dancing in my mind. There, someone had marked one of the rooms with an x. That had to be the smaller laboratory where my cell was. And I could see how to get outside from here. 
	Before I could get out of the door, two guards were entering the room though. But I had overwhelmed them before they (or I) had even understood what was happening. The karate "lessons" had paid off.
	I took one of the guns they were carrying and walked out into the hallway. No one in sight. Maybe whoever had sent the two guys now thought the were dealing with the problem? But surely there were other hidden cameras? I just had to be quick. And I run. Within seconds, I had made it to a big steel door leading outside, but it was locked. I kicked it. It didn't bulge. I kicked again, harder this time, and it flew open with a loud plopping noise. Wow. I really had become Superwoman.
	Fresh air on my face and a hopeful heart (even if that was just a figure of speech in my case), I ran out onto a big parking lot. But where to go from here? Suddenly another x blinked right in front of me. It was hovering just above a small blue car. I opened the car door and found the keys in the ignition. With a big, relieved "Thank you!" I started the engine. 
	The navigation system turned on automatically and I just followed its suggestions. Hopefully, they'd lead me to Oliver or Margot and to freedom. But how had they managed to escape? I wondered. Or was this just another test for Tom's favourite lab rat? But would he have risked getting killed in the process? Or was he so sure I wouldn't kill him? Hell, I hadn't been sure at all.
	All these thoughts circling in my head, I drove on for about four hours. Kept looking over my shoulder of course, but I didn't see anyone following me. So after a while, I relaxed a little, even turned on the radio.

It was already getting dark when I drove onto the parking lot in front of what almost looked like a castle. I stopped the car in the farthest corner of the parking lot and looked around. I wasn't alone. Other cars were arriving, expensive ones. They only briefly halted close to the castle's entrance and some kind of servant opened the car doors for them. Very dignified, mostly older men got out, in full evening attire. A few women too, but they only seemed to accompany their partners. All of this had something eerie, as if taken from a film like "Eyes Wide Shut" or a "James Bond" movie. Something wasn't quite right about this gathering. There was either going to be a sex party or something else that was forbidden, possible dangerous, evil even.
	But why had the car led me here? What was I supposed to do?
	A sudden ringing startled me. It came from the glove compartment. And when I opened the compartment, I saw that someone had put a mobile phone in there. I grabbed it, unsure whether to answer. It didn't say who the caller was and even if it had... But what else could I do at that point? 	After it had rung for a fourth time, I finally answered. "Hello?" I asked tentatively.
	"Carrie!" It was Margot's voice.
	I sighed in relief. "Margot! Where are you? Did you get out? Did you sent me to this castle?"
	"I'm still in Tom's laboratory, but he made the mistake of giving me access to some of the tech here and I managed to trick him. That's what I hope at least."
	"So where did you sent me? What's going on? There are a lot of people arriving here."
	"Wait for them to walk inside. Hide. And then you need to do something really brave..."
	"What is it?" I asked.
	"Go inside and film their little convention. You'll soon know why. Use the mobile phone. And then post the footage on as many online platforms as you can."
	"But why..."
	"Sorry," Margot said, her voice now barely a whisper. "Got to go. Good luck!"
	And with that the connection was terminated. Well, at least she... we had a plan...

Getting inside unseen wasn't as difficult as I had imagined it to be. There was a staff entrance in the back and no one even stopped me to ask what I was doing there. I had been clever enough to pick up a crate from the parking lot and now people seemed to assume I was supposed to carry these wine bottles inside. When no one paid attention to what I was doing, I ditched the box and opened the door to a staircase leading up. I didn't have a blueprint in my head as before so I just thought I'd see where the stairs were leading. And I got lucky. They lead right up to a gallery overlooking a lavishly decorated, large room. Lots of people were seated at golden, round tables facing a little stage. A speaker's podium had been put in front of the red-velvet curtains.  And as there was no one up here with me, I could just hide between a column and look down on what was about to happen.
	A few minutes later, a woman in a sparkly silver dress came on, welcoming everyone to the "Annual Meeting of the Brothers of Clemence". I had never heard of that organisation before. Then an older man came on, not that tall and with white hair that was thinning considerably. I had never seen him before, but a sense of foreboding made me open the camera app on the phone I'd found in the car and hit the record button. And Margot was right, I soon found out why I was recording this.
	"Dear fellow Clementers," the old man said, "we are gathered here today to celebrate. The day has finally come when we will take our rightful positions as leaders, first of this country, later of the world." 
	Lots of applause. I put the camera on the gallery railing. This speech would probably be longer. 
	"Let me introduce you to our latest model, courtesy of Tom Stenton." He looked around the room. Was Stenton here? But he could hardly have arrived here before me... Then I remembered the helicopters at his disposal.
	"Unfortunately, Mr Stenton can't be here this evening, but we invited a close friend of his to present the recent progress made at Stenton Industries."
	A few women giggled and most men looked confused as Lord Warrick, newly appointed member of the House of Lords, got up and walked towards the stage. I was confused as well.  	Warrick? Wasn't he one of those Lords always pressing for a stricter regulation of high tech companies like Tom's at the forefront of the development of new AI technology? Had this obscure club of wealthy white men somehow managed to buy Warrick?
	Slowly but confidently, the tall, dark-haired Lord walked up the steps to the stage, very little grey showing on his head though he must be in his late forties. Rather young for a member of the House of Lords though. Why were all these old men ruling the world?
	A big smile spreading on his handsome face, he stood next to the old man, who nodded politely and stepped away from the podium. Lord Warrick then stepped behind it addressing the crowd before him in a friendly but determined manner.
	"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. I'm very happy to be here today. As you might recall, I've been pretty distrustful of new AI technologies and always felt that they should be regulated much more strictly. So one might wonder why I was invited here today."
	"Well, I certainly am!" a bulky looking fellow with white curls and beard shouted. Again, some women giggled and then a few men started laughing too.
	Warrick just smiled at the interruption.
	"I can understand how you must feel. But let me assure you that my perspective on AI and especially Mr Stenton and his company has dramatically changed."
	"Indeed it has," the old man said, the almost sinister smile on his face clearly indicating that he knew something the rest of us didn't - yet. But he was about to blow the lid and he could hardly contain his excitement. Anything that made that weird little mad glow with happiness like this, wasn't anything I really wanted to find out about though. I was pretty sure of that. Still, I kept filming.
	Had I still held the phone in my hands and not put it onto the railing, I would have surely dropped it as I watched what happened next. The old man, now smiling even more widely, stepped behind Warrick. And all of a sudden, Warrick froze. The old man then waved a hand in front of him. No reaction. Of course, I had already grasped what was going on, the audience hadn't. But the old man then opened a tiny flap on Warrick's temple and then seemed to put something in there, a computer chip probably. Suddenly the frozen politician came back to live, singing "Hey Jude" on the top of his lungs.
	Many in the audience gasped. Then the old man touched Warrick's back and the singing stopped, Warrick's eyes becoming empty and lifeless again. Now most people seemed to get it. And table after table, the men and women got up clapping and cheering. Standing ovation. Standing ovation for what was supposed to be the end of our democracy and very probably the beginning of something much worse then a coupe d'etat. I was flabbergasted but kept on filming. I needed to record him saying what we all assumed. And he did.
	The applause lasted for many minutes until the old men finally gestured for them all to sit down again. "Thank you, thank you. I see you get it: You've just witnessed the beginning of a new world order. The beginning of a time when we slowly take hold of our government exchanging dumb left-wing idiots like Lord Warrick for our own creations. Androids that look, talk and move exactly like them but will slowly but steadily introduce more sensible politics."
	The crowd again erupted in applause. I just wanted to vomit.
	"In less than a year, androids like this one will make up the majority of our government. And this is just the beginning. Today we take London, tomorrow the world!" 
	The audience again exploded in cheers and everyone was getting up again to applaud the old man's brilliant plan.

They must have been still cheering and clapping when I was already back on the parking lot running towards the little blue car.	
	I was almost at the door when I heard a familiar voice about five meters to my left. "There she is!" Stenton shouted. "Stop her!"
	Seems he had decided to join the party after all. But a little too late. A few seconds later I was already sitting in the blue car, putting the gear in reverse. As I turned the wheel to drive away, I almost ran one of Stenton's men over. They were too slow. I managed to escape.
	But as I sped up, I noticed that another car was following me. Stenton's men probably. How could I escape them? And I didn't even know if those were regular human beings. What if they were androids like me? My heart jumped into my throat at the thought, but I managed to keep calm. Why give me all those stupid emotions anyway? 
	Fortunately, the car park and the castle were in the middle of nowhere, but quite close to a highway. I drove much too fast to get there, taking all kinds of crazy turns to shake them off. And I was still quite ahead of them when I drove onto the highway. So that was good. And before they knew what I was up to, I took the next exit. Only slowing down a few metres in front of it so that I almost crashed. But it proved to be a brilliant move. They couldn't just turn in the middle of the highway, so I had enough time to hide.
	A few minutes later, I was already out of the car that I had driven into some ditch next to the road, where no one would see it right away. I ran as fast as I could - and boy, that was really fast these days! 
	I ran right into a little forest. A few miles in, well hidden by the trees, I sat on a small rock and got out Margot's phone. With trembling hands I started uploading the video I had just recorded to several platforms. First Instagram, then YouTube, then X, then Bluesky - you name it. Every platform I could think of. With some it took longer because I had to put up a profile first. And I kept listening for footsteps, always afraid Tom's men would find me. What if they could track my phone? But somehow my luck held and after about an hour, I had uploaded the video to six social-media platforms and also put up links on some other websites and shared the video with friends and colleagues. Some must surely be in Tom's pocket, I thought. Maybe he had even hired them to befriend me. Surely not all of them though. That was what I hoped at least.
	When all that was done, I breathed a sigh of relief. Now the world would know. I watched for a while as the first likes and comments were popping up. Then I finally switched off Margot's phone. The rest was up to other people.
	But I still had some rescuing to do. Margot and Oliver were probably still at Tom's laboratory,  and I wouldn't let them fend for themselves. They had risked their lives to help me escape and stop Tom and that weird cult.
	Maybe Tom had created an android that was a little too human. He shouldn't have given me all those memories and emotions, he shouldn't have given me a conscience. Running back at a speed that made my head spin, I imagined Margot crossing her arms defiantly over her chest, telling Tom: "Well, I guess, we've all just done too good of a job." 

Signs

Half past three. Whaaa...? I try to sigh. Instead, a low, frustrated grunt escapes my throat. My head feels kind of mushy and I yawn. Why the fu... dge have I woken up in the middle of the night? Then I hear it: My printer has come to life. Like decided that on its own. What the hell's going on? Eyes half closed and only because I now desperately need to pee, I stumble out of my warm, very cosy bed. On the way to the bathroom, I check my printer. Lines and lines of strange symbols are pouring out of the thing. Weird. Chuckling at my own joke that these must be some kind of secret messages from another reality or something, I turn the dumb machine off and go about my business. I'm still smiling at that stupid idea as I'm crawling back into bed a few minutes later and fall right back into strange dreams about bus rides to nowhere.

Little do I know that as stupid as that thought might sound, it isn't far from the truth: Someone has indeed sent me a message, but it will take a long while till I'm able to make any sense of it.

Whoever it is, they really try to get themselves heard though. And despite reading a ton of tips on all kinds of online-forums and even reading the instruction manuals for my printer and then my laptop for the first time ever, I still don't have a clue how to stop my printer from suddenly throwing up those random symbols, even days later. Apart from cutting the juice that is. But whenever I print anything and forget to turn the stupid machine off completely, my printer from hell will soon start filling pages and pages with what almost looks like Egyptian hieroglyphs or something. Mostly at night. Of course.

A couple of nights later it gets even weirder. 

My printer, once again, wakes me. How can that be? I'm so sure I've switched it off. A couple nights after, same thing. Difference is, now I'm dead-sure I've switched it off the evening before. So I literally pull the plug. And the creepy midnight show finally stops.

But I still can't get those symbols out of my head and keep wondering what they could mean. As I'm studying at Princeton, where Professor Laren, who's written a lot of books about ancient symbols and their meaning, teaches, I finally decide to just ask him. I still think it's just a malfunction of my laptop or printer, maybe because of some bug, and that those symbols probably don't add up to anything. But I've exhausted every other avenue now, have asked all the computer geeks I know, read half the internet, even asked one of the librarians at Firestone, the main Princeton library, for help. But the strangest thing about those pages full of symbols isn't that my printer has suddenly started spitting them out, the strangest thing is that nobody I ask has ever seen symbols like these before; no book, no web page talks about them. How does my printer know about them then? Who has fed it those signs?

Professor Laren's office hours start right after my American Lit class on Wednesdays, so I walk over to the linguistics department right after. Two other girls are already waiting in front of Laren's office when I arrive. Fortunately, they go in together and it only takes a couple of minutes for them to come back out. 

I knock at the half-open door.
	"Come in," a husky voice says.
	Looking up from some student paper or something, the professor smiles at me, "Ah, a new face. What can I do for you, Miss...?"
	"Clayton, Samantha Clayton."
	"Miss Clayton." He motions for me to sit in one of the two chairs in front of his desk. 
	"I don't take a linguistics class this semester," I explain, getting out some of the pages from my possessed printer. "But I was wondering if you could look at these peculiar symbols. No one seems to ever have seen those before."
	He still smiles. "How intriguing." His water-blue eyes had light up, keen and awake, despite the professor's obvious age. How old is he? 70 perhaps? The wrinkles around his eyes give him a kind but also somewhat impish appearance. Maybe I'll take one of his classes next year.
	He takes the stack of paper I hand him and, putting on his reading glasses, he then looks through them, his brows rising higher and higher.
	"Do you know what they are?" I ask.
	"Possibly. Let me check." With that he gets up and walks to a bookshelf in the remotest corner of his office.
	I wait, trying not to fidget.
	"Here it is," he finally cries taking a book from the shelf that's bound in dark-brown leather, almost black, with silver letters printed on the spine and front. It looks ancient.
	Sitting back at his desk, the professor pulls the leather cover from the book and the used paperback that surfaces looks a lot less impressive and mysterious. Bummer. He flips through the pages until he seems to have found what he's been looking for. Then the professor turns the book around so that I can look at the two pages too. The photo right in the middle of the left page captures my interest at once. It shows a grey rock, into which someone has carved symbols that do not exactly look like what my printer has come up with, but the similarities are striking.
	"Wow," I say, pointing at the picture, "these symbols almost look like mine."
	Then I read the caption below the photo: "Sumatra, 1912."
	"There's a rock in some remote jungle depicting these?" I ask, dumbfounded.
	"Astonishing, isn't it? There are actually more inscriptions like these," the professor says, "but they were all found in the Sumatran jungle, yes. Some in caves, some out in the open like this one. But that civilisation has long since crumbled, leaving behind very little. This inscription here", he tips onto the photo of the rock, "has not been completely deciphered yet. We just know too little about the civilisation that carved it into the stone."
	Then he pauses, his eyes full of curiosity, "Where did you come across these symbols, Miss Clayton?"
	"Well, my printer just started printing them."
	The professor's raised brows clearly say he doesn't believe me. Loudly.
	"I know that this sounds very strange. But it's true. If I don't turn it off, the machine just starts printing these signs. I thought they were probably random and meaningless, but after what you've just shown me..."
	Pursing his lips, Professor Laren looks at me for a moment, thinking.
	Then he asks, "Was your printer new when you bought it?"
	"No, I actually bought it second hand."
	I think about this. "Do you mean that those symbols had already been programmed into the machine before I bought it?"
	"I can't say of course. Something like this could probably also be done remotely."
	"But who would hack my printer?"
	He shrugs. "That's a question I can't answer. A friend of mine might be able to help though." He picks up one of the pens on his desk. "He's one of the IT professors here," he says, scribbling down a short message. "Take this note to Professor MacBright, he might be able to help you figure out how someone is able to send you those strange symbols."
	"Thank you. I already asked a couple of IT students, but they didn't have an explanation either."
	"James might. He's also one to think out of the box, which might help you too."
	He puts the leather cover back around the book. "And you can borrow the book if you like."
	"Thanks."
	"Come by again if you can indeed get to the bottom of this - or if I may of any further assistance."
	Assuring him I will, I leave the professor's office, quite excited that I've finally made some progress. Feeling a little like a female Indiana Jones (and yes, the Indiana Jones theme does play in my head), I'm so lost in thought that I only notice where I am when my feet have carried me all the way from campus to the small flat I share with two other students. We're quite the international get-together: Josie's from Linz, Kieran from Cork and I'm from a London.
	Josie, who has the room next door, has been out of town for a while, since she's taken this semester off. To shadow two artists, one in Paris and one in Munich. Because she also speaks French, Spanish and Italian in addition to English and German, her first language, she gets along everywhere. And because her parents are filthy rich, they continue paying for her room in our flat. They would probably have paid for a separate, much nicer flat too, but Josie doesn't care about such privileges. She will much rather spend time with her two poor flat mates than live in one of those lonely, luxury apartments west of campus. Think what you may about rich, privileged kids, it's hard not to like her.
	Kieran, our third musketeer, sleeps at the other end of the hall; so deeply that my printer going crazy in the middle of the night hasn't bothered him at all. The funny tasting cookies he likes might also have something to do with that... He only found out that anything strange was going on when I told him. He is a philosophy major though, not much help with computers. And Josie, you might have guessed, is an art student, more involved with enormous oil paintings than digital art and IT. She'll be back in a few days and then I'll show her the strange prints anyway. Kieran has never seen anything alike, and she'll probably tell me the same. Well, it'll still be worth a shot.

I find out that Prof. MacBright will also be out of town for a couple more days. So I start my own research. The book the linguistics professor has lent me doesn't say much about the people who invented the symbols, but it mentions their name: Xenti.
	As Prof. Lareen already told me, there aren't many assured facts about the Xenti because most of their temples and obelisks were destroyed. Seems the Spanish took great care to wipe the Xenti's existence from the face of the earth as cleanly as possible. Not stopping at killing the people, the Spanish also destroyed their cities and went to a lot of trouble to make sure no one wrote about them. To this day, there are still some Maya temples around, but hardly anything left the Xenti built. What was it that made the Spanish hate - or fear - the Xenti that much?
	Not everyone thought they should be forgotten though. There was a Spanish captain who saved a handful of artefacts and ensured that not every stone tablet was destroyed as ordered. According to the few letters he sent back home to family and friends in Spain, the Xenti had been a people of brilliant architects as well as astronomers. He admired them immensely and saved a couple of artefacts, which he hid secret caves, one of which was only discovered by chance centuries later. According to his letters, there have to be two more of these caves, but the author of the book the professor gave me says the other caves have never been found. Not by archaeologists at least.
	My fingers thoughtfully trace the silver letters on the cover and I wonder why the professor has put a book inside that doesn't look like it's very valuable or fragile. Used maybe, yes. I pull the book out of its jacket: "Secrets of Forgotten Cultures Around the Globe", the title reads, and the author's someone named Augustus Lysander. If that is his real name. I very much doubt that. But he looks nice in the photo on the back of the book. Quite handsome with his dark eyes, the black, wavy, slightly tousled hair and his stubble. The text next to his picture says he's an archaeologist and an expert for Maya and other ancient languages.
	I try to find out more about the Xenti online but the information is sparse to put it mildly. I do find pictures of some of the artefacts the Spanish captain hid. On a stone tablet discovered in the late 90s, there again were symbols very similar to the ones my printer spit out. What does that inscription mean? Or the one on the stone in the professor's book? And has that Lysander guy written more books about ancient cultures? Maybe there's another passage in there about the Xenti?
	A quick online query doesn't come up with anything concrete. It reveals that the author is a Princeton alumni however. He still works as an archaeologist and has written a couple more books about ancient cultures. I can probably find most of them in our library.
	Then a different thought crosses my mind: What if I try to get hold of Mr Lysander Guy himself? Maybe I can pick his brain directly for what he knows about the Xenti? Maybe he even knows more than he put in any of his books?

Turns out, it isn't as hard to find him as I'd thought: One of the Princeton librarians knows him as they were both students at Princeton around the same time. They haven't stayed in touch, but she still has his e-mail.
	So I write to him and ask him if he can tell me more about the Xenti.

When Prof. MacBright's back from his trip, Lysander still hasn't replied. Unfortunately, MacBright can't help me either. Another dead-end. 

"Come on. Just buy a new printer." My flat mate Kieran is a fan of simple solutions.
	I look at Josie. "don't know," she says. "I think I'd stay on it. That whole story with your printer is so weird... I understand if you want to get to the bottom of it."
	It's an evening a few days after my visit to MacBright's office and we're all sitting in the kitchen playing Siedler von Catan, Josie's new favourite board game. She's just brought it with her from Austria. And we love having her back, even if it's only for about a week before she has to travel to Paris to assume her second trainee position. Josie's winning, Kieran a mix of drunk, stoned and annoyed about Josie winning, and I... I can't stop thinking about ancient stone tablets and haunted office supplies. And very possibly there isn't even a connection between the two.

A couple days later, Josie's already on her way to Paris, I finally get a reply to my e-mail to Mr Lysander, which I have almost forgotten about at that point. He says he's been very busy with a big project. Now he'll probably have a few minutes to talk to me though if I came by his office.

Two days later we meet at the new Princeton University Art Museum. He's already waiting for me in the foyer as I'm entering the building through the huge glass door.
	"So you'd like to know more about the Xenti?" Lysander asks me on the way to his office. We are climbing a flight of stairs overlooking the Neanderthal exhibition on the first floor. Wow. The bird's-eye view enhances the feeling you're travelling right back in time. 
	"Yes," I manage to reply.
	He follows my gaze and smiles. "Quite a sight, isn't it?"
	I nod.
	As we step into his office, he asks, "But why the interest in a long forgotten culture like the Xenti's? You've told me you're an English major, not an archaeologist?"
	He closes the door and we sit down at a coffee table, he on the dark-blue sofa, I on an armchair opposite. 
	I take out some examples of my printer's artwork. Pages and pages covered in those strange symbols that look like Xenti hieroglyphs.
	"How did you get these?" he asks as he flips through them.
	"My printer just spat them out."
	"Yeah, okay..."
	"No, it's true."
	Squinting at me, he considers the remote possibility of me telling the truth. I can't blame him. He then starts reading the first page. Does he really know how to do that?
	"Can you tell me what they say?" I ask, surprised how excited I sound. "Prof. Laren told me these glyphs had not really been deciphered yet."
	"Professor Laren, eh? How is the old rascal?"
	"You know him?"
	"Yeah. He was one of my professors actually. But we... didn't part on the best of terms." He pauses. "Long story."
	"Well, I've only met him once. To ask him about these signs. And he said I could borrow your book, the one about ancient cultures in South America."
	"Ah, so he kept that."
	I look at him questioningly but he just shakes his head, something like a rueful smile on his lips, and goes back to reading the Xenti hieroglyphs. If that is what they are.
	"I understand part of what these pages say. I think I can translate maybe two thirds of what they say. But it will take some time because with many of the glyphs," he points to a specific snake-like symbol on the first page, "there are a couple of very different options of what they might mean. In general as well as in the specific context."
	He rubs his chin. "But we could meet here again next week? Then I can probably tell you more."
	"Great!"
	He smiles at my excitement, "Don't get your hopes up too much. As Prof. Laren might tell you, I tend to overestimate myself."
	"You really didn't part on the best of terms, huh?"
	He shrugs. 
	"But he seemed so nice," I say.
	"No, we didn't." A sigh. "And yes, he is nice. We just have a very different view on what archaeology is supposed to be and do for the world."
	"Very cryptic."
	He shrugs and smiles once more. I like that smile.

"It's a riddle," he tells me when I visit him again a week later. I've hardly closed the door of his office behind me when he blurts out the news, his smile wide and eyes beaming with excitement.
	"Wow!" I manage.
	As we're sitting down, he on the couch again and I opposite, I can see he's been busy. On the coffee table between us, there are are my print-outs as well as stacks and stacks of handwritten notes. Some of the text is crossed out, some of it has a lot of question marks in the margins, the middle section of the topmost page even shows a big, red exclamation mark. 
	"Well, later there's a riddle," he adds. "But this part," he grabs the top page and points at the exclamation mark, "seems more like a warning." 
	He hands me the page. "I haven't quite figured out the context yet, but this bit seems to warn people not to try to find something."
	"And what happens if...?"
	"Well, you see the glyph looking a little like a snake?"
	I nod.
	"This is usually the symbol for danger. And that one over there," he points to something like a spiral, "that one usually stands for death."
	I purse my lips and can't suppress a slight shudder.
	"I can't know for sure of course," he says. "As you know there's still quite a bit of disagreement about the actual meaning of those signs. This one," he points to the spiral again, "could also mean breakfast as some scientists suggest."
	I laugh, "You're kidding."
	"Oh, you wouldn't believe some of the theories out there."
	"But you don't believe it's a warning not too boil your eggs for too long?"
	He laughs, but his smile quickly fades, making way for a pretty concerned look. "No, I don't think this is about boiling eggs." He pauses. "I think it's connected to the riddle. A warning not to try and solve it."
	"But why write it down anyway, that riddle?" I ask.
	He shrugs, "I don't know. Maybe the riddle is only meant to be read and solved by a certain group of people, like priests or so?"
	"Okay, but you think this actually is an ancient text? Not just some elaborate hoax or a prank? All of this", I gesture to imply all the pages I brought him, "does make sense?"
	He nods, "I think so, yes."
	I take a moment to let that sink in.
	"So what's the riddle about?"
	"I hoped you'd ask that."

Okay, this is the gist of what Lysander then tells me (or the gist of what I understand): The riddle provides some kind of directions to an underground hiding place. It almost seems like clues to a treasure hunt, which again has me question if this is not just someone's idea of a joke. For the life of me I cannot figure out why anyone would attempt such an elaborate hoax though. Apart from luring people into a dark, off-the-grid place where they could do unspeakable things to them... So nothing to worry about actually. But the riddle isn't easy to solve, even if you are one of the few people who can decipher the meaning of all of those ancient symbols. So who would be able to pull off something like this?
	But even if this is all real, perfectly legit, a message from a people long lost in time, it doesn't mean it's safe to follow those clues. Not to the very end at least. So Prof. Lysander and I agree we just want to find our more, see where the very first clues lead us and then decide what to do about the rest of the clues. Maybe get some government agency or museum involved?
	A translation of the first clue reads something like this: "The journey begins in a place we've called home for a long time. It begins at the source." According to Prof. Lysander, "home" denotes the first Xenti settlement deep in the Sumatran jungle. He also remembers that close to the dig he worked at about ten years ago, there was indeed a small river. They assumed then that they were right in the heart of what were the first Xenti kingdom. So if they were right, following the river back to its spring might provide us with the correct starting point. Maybe the "source" was the source of the river? The river was probably the reason why the Xenti settled there in the first place. The Xenti's ingenuity surprised everyone because the archaeologists found out that the Xenti had managed to build something like a water distributing system and were able to use the river water on their fields up steep hills and quite far away. The stone tablet I saw in Prof. Lysander's book also isn't too far from that village, he's told me. And it even says something about a source. Still a lot of ifs and maybes.
	So what now? Even if I had the money, would I really want to travel half across the globe and into the Sumatran jungle? We don't even know if we understand this first clue correctly. 

Three weeks later my bags are almost packed and our plane to Doha will leave in the morning. We're really doing this. 
	The last weeks have been a blur with Gus, Prof. Lysander, translating the rest of what still seems like a proper set of clues, even reaching out to his old mentor, Prof. Laren; me trying to make up my mind if I would like to accompany him and then, once I'd decided, trying to make the time and get the funds to do so. I also had to convince my parents of course. Fortunately, Josie was right on board, even let me borrow some money, a lot actually, to afford this trip. We originally thought we could get some funding from Princeton, but what money Gus could direct our way, was meagre at best. It only covered part of his expenses. And I'm not an archaeology student, which is why it took a lot of effort to convince the university that it was still me who should be the one accompanying him.
	But to my sheer astonishment it all worked out in the end. So tomorrow we'll fly into the heart of the Sumatran jungle. Well, there isn't a direct flight there of course, so the journey will take us a while. About two days actually. But still... 
	Do I really know what I'm getting myself into though? I've had to get a lot of vaccination shots, borrow a lot of money and convince a lot of people, including Gus, that I was the right girl for this adventure. What if I buckle under the jungle heat and humidity, what if I get bit by some ugly crawly thing, what if we get lost or discover that that riddle was some elaborate trap?
	"Oh, it will all be fine. The biggest adventure of your life!" Josie shouts. I get up, my knees hurting from kneeling in front of my carry-on for too long. As I turn around, she's already spread her arms wide, her smile even wider, and I fall into her arms and let myself be swept up in her excitement.
	She's just come back from Paris, which, according to her, is the most beautiful city of all. From what she's been telling Kieran and me, she loved the last weeks there and even plans on going back in a couple of semesters. She says she's missed us though. And if I'd ask her, she'd probably come with us. But I don't want to put her in danger. And who knows, we might need someone who can pick us up in her parents' helicopter...
	"There are so many ways this trip could go horribly wrong," I sigh, the words muffled by her silky curls. She smells good too. 
	"Just call when you need the cavalry come and save you," she says. 
	I smile, "Will do."

...


--- TO BE CONTINUED. ---

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