Sunday Afternoon
The sun blazed in a cloudless sky, heat rippling over rooftops. Birds chirped lazily as a faint breeze wandered through the quiet streets, carrying the scent of warm asphalt and freshly cut grass. To anyone untouched by the previous night's terror, the city felt almost peaceful—like yesterday's madness had been nothing more than a strange dream.
---
Sunny Mart
"Have a nice day, ma'am," Sam said with his usual crisp politeness, handing a receipt across the counter.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Fingers brushed the glowing touchscreen as he tallied up the next set of figures. The only other sounds were the faint buzz of the ceiling lights and the low hum of refrigeration units.
Thud. Thud.
Light footsteps approached from the storeroom.
"You done already with number one?" Sam teased without looking up.
A dry laugh followed. "Ha, ha. Laugh all you want, but I don't care how long you think I stay in the bathroom," Deborah shot back, a hint of sarcasm in her voice as she rounded the corner.
She looked oddly content, almost buoyant. A few minutes earlier a customer had nearly made her lose her temper with a fussy payment issue as she was pressed almost making her piss herself; now, with that irritation gone, she felt almost giddy and transformed.
"Last night was hell," she muttered.
"Huh? What happened?" Sam asked, frowning.
"You didn't hear? Six children were kidnapped last night. All between five to eight years old."
Sam froze. "Taken… how?"
"In their own houses. No one saw a thing. Most parents weren't home." Deborah's eyes narrowed. "Which means…"
"It was planned," they said together.
She studied his face. "Yeah… you okay, dude? You look like you've seen a ghost."
"Huh? Oh—just thinking about what their parents must be feeling and whatnot," Sam lied, forcing a casual shrug.
"Mm-hm." Deborah gave him a skeptical look but let it slide.
"Anyway, a citywide curfew starts tonight," she continued. "Nobody out after six p.m."
"Yeah, I heard," Sam said, restocking a shelf. "At least it means we'll close early."
"True. Still, I feel for those parents," Deborah said, chewing her gum more slowly.
"Me too," Sam replied quietly.
---
After his shift, Sam pushed through the shop's glass doors into the heavy afternoon heat.
After he left, behind the counter, Deborah tapped her nails against the register, eyes narrowing for a heartbeat before she went back to stocking gum." I
----
"Man, now I feel bad," he murmured to himself.
He had hidden it well around Deborah or so he thought, but the truth gnawed at him. If I'd told someone, would it be different? The thought cut deep. If those kids die… is it my fault? Helplessness and guilt settled over him like a weight he couldn't shrug off.
He headed toward the game shop, needing the distraction. The familiar buzz of electrical signage greeted him as he stepped inside. Here, at least, he could pretend life was normal while he thrived for his goal.
Sam's plan hadn't changed: hone his skills in Aurora Express, the VR battle arena, until he was ready to risk the underground fight club in a couple of months. The nightmares the device that Pete gave him triggered were brutal, but every time he entered the simulation his mind forgot it was only a dream. It felt real, and that was the point. Making him grow in the shortest time possible.
One day I'm going to find that Zorro guy in real life and when I do, I am going to kick his arse, he thought grimly. Nearly gave me a heart attack after last match.
The shop looked slightly different. Behind the counter stood a woman he didn't recognize, a face different from the one he was familiar with.
"Good day, sir. How can I help you?" she asked with professional brightness.
"Good afternoon. Uh… if you don't mind me asking, where's Roseline?" Sam leaned on the counter, trying to keep his voice casual. "I always see her here. You could say she's… a friend."
The clerk's smile dimmed looking sad. "She had something troubling happen last night and couldn't make it today. I'm sorry."
Sam's stomach tightened. "Something troubling? Is it… related to the kidnappings?"
The woman hesitated, then nodded. "Yes. Unfortunately, her child was one of those taken."
The words hit like a blow. Sam stood frozen rooted to the spot like a statue, guilt rising like a tide. Roseline—the friendly face who always greeted him with warm brown eyes and that easy smile—had her child taken away from her. And he had done nothing, even though he thought he couldn't do anything after he'd sensed danger the night before.
The clerk's voice drew him back. "Sir? Would you like a photo of her child, just in case? The police are distributing them for quick sharing to volunteers who wouldn't mind looking around."
"Uh… yes. Yes, please," Sam said at once.
Within seconds the image appeared on his phone, transferred with a speed that would have amazed people only a few decades ago.
"Thank you," he murmured, already backing toward the door a hurried manner.
"Sir, aren't you buying anything?" the woman called as he left, but he was gone.
---
Outside, Sam's thoughts churned. He needed to talk to Pete—but not at Pete's house, where his mother might overhear. Last time she'd nearly caught their whispered plans; this time he wouldn't risk it.
He pulled out his phone and quickly messaged: Meet me at my place. It's urgent.
As he slipped the phone back into his pocket, the late-afternoon sun dipped behind a cloud. A cool breeze swept the street, carrying with it the faint metallic scent of rain.
Sam didn't notice the figure across the road.
Someone was watching—silent, patient—matching his pace from a careful distance. Not too close to draw attention, but never letting him out of sight.
Who it was, and what they wanted, remained a mystery.
******