Short Story: An Amoral Dilemma

By Max Masen

The lights came on and the thief opened his eyes. The last thing he remembered was sitting in his cell, waiting, waiting for something. He could not remember what for. But now he sat in a chair, his hands bound to the cold table in front of him. A man in a white suit sat across from him, eyeing him, waiting for him to make a move. The man tilted his head precariously and raised his eyebrows. The thief looked around the room. There was an open door with a beam of light coming through it, illuminating the corner of the room more than the rest of the area.

“What is this?” the thief asked. “Where am I?”

The man ignored his concerns and said: “You’ve been in prison for the last twenty years.”

The thief looked at him in a bout of confusion. “I know that.”

“You’ve spent many years withering away, learning, fighting, and scavenging for survival. But tell me, what have you learned?” The man leaned in toward the thief. “What has this place taught you?”

“It has taught me to be careful who I talk to; it has taught me to know when to say what. And right now, right now I am getting the feeling I should not be telling you anything at all,” the thief replied slyly. He sat back in his chair as far his imprisoned hands would allow him to go. He scooted the chair up further to the table to allow himself more freedom.

The man laughed at what the thief thought was a victory. “How many friends have you made in this place?”

“My friends… my friends are gone,” the thief replied. His head tilted low.

“All of the people you concerned yourself with, the people you relied on, the people that were with you when you were arrested. Where are they now?” the man asked.

The thief was quiet. He refused to look the man in the eyes.

The man perked his voice up and continued: “But what if I told you that through your life you have acquired skills that I desire? What if I told you that there was a job that existed that, if you accepted, I would release you from not only what binds your hands to the table in front of you but also from any legal obligations to stay in this prison. In short, I am offering you your freedom.”

The thief raised an eyebrow and shot the man an amused smile. “I would tell you that I am listening.”

“Don’t you want to know more about the job?” the man asked, confused as to the thief’s lack of inquiries. “Don’t you want to know what you would be stealing?”

“No.”

The man in the white suit stood up and fixed his tie. “That’s all I needed to hear.” He walked to the door and turned to face the thief.

“Wait. You’re not… you’re not a police officer,” the thief said. A sense of revelation came over him. “Yesterday…”

“Yesterday you died, thief.” The man in white finished the thief’s sentence. “And today you have proven that your time in prison, the time that was allotted to you to attone for your sins, has been wasted. Today you have proven that whatever morals you had have been compromised. And today you have allowed the title thief to define you. And today your gate is closed.” The man in white closed the door, cutting off the glowing light from outside. The lights inside of the room shut off one by one, leaving the thief alone.

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Short Story: Refuge

By Max Masen

“Where’s dad?” my sister asks, her breathing still intense. Her pupils grow wide, her stare billowing deep into me.

How do I tell her what happened? I still don’t believe it myself. I take off my hat and hold it against my heart.

She takes in a deep breath and a strand of tears beats down her face.  

I grab her shoulders and she raises her head. Her eyes glow. “What do we do?” she asks.

“Dad’s gone. But we can still follow through with the plan.” I raise my body slowly and I peer over the concrete ledges. A patrol goes by, light shining in my direction. I shove my body back down and press it hard against the concrete.

“What was it?” she whispers curiously.

“Patrol. We need to move. Can you run?” I ask, examining the bruises lining her left leg. Her eyes match mine and she looks at her own leg.

“I think so,” she says. She tries to raise her body, growing it to a crouch, but the pain is too much for her to bear. She falls back and her body hits the concrete. She shudders and just barely restrains herself from releasing a yelp.

I hear footsteps. They’re moving intently in our direction. “Shit. They’re coming this way. We need to move.”

“You need to,” she says. Her body is plastered unreluctantly against the concrete.

“What do you mean?” My eyes grow wide. My throat dries.

“You know what I mean. We aren’t both getting out of here.” A look of acceptance grows on her face, an aura of serenity overcoming her. “But you can.”

“We aren’t seriously discussing this right now,” I reply, disregarding the notion angrily. “I can throw your shoulder around my back and carry you. I can-”

“You can run.”

A voice is heard close by, yelling for us to come out. They’re close.

“Go! Now!” she screams to me.

I take off running, adrenaline taking the place of thoughts of regret or sadness. I keep running until my chest hurts, followed by pains in my calves. Is that screaming?

A gunshot. Echoes chasing behind me violently. I keep running. The pain subsides. I feel nothing.

My feet slow down until they’re barely moving. I fall to my knees, the skin scraping hard against the ground. But I don’t feel it. I raise my head and scream into the dark of the night.

“You want me?! Take me!” I scream.

Quiet, curious footsteps turn into running. They’re growing louder, getting closer.

I need to run. They’re too close. I won’t escape now.

“There’s one there!” one of them screams. He raises a rifle, aiming it at me carefully. More close in from behind him, and three move from the other side. Then I hear more from behind me screaming to the others.

I close my eyes. This is it.

No pain overtakes my body. I feel nothing. I open my eyes and a light surrounds me. A man stands before me, holding his hand out for me to grip. I reach mine out to meet his and he pulls me to my feet.

He smiles and says, “You’re safe now. Your father and sister arrived shortly before you.”

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Revolution: A Hyena's Story (Part 8)

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By Max Masen

John grips the doorknob. He lets out a quick breath, random disturbing thoughts crossing his mind. He looks back up and sees Julie staring at him intensely, still hoping he will not open the door, regardless of how futile she knows the notion is. He looks to Tim and Tim clenches his lips together, upset with John’s decision but refusing to back down. He holds tightly to the concealed pistol.

“Julie,” John calls quietly with a stern appearance on his face. “Hold your gun steady. Get ready.” He hopes the people outside did not hear him. Julie nods and grips the rifle and holds it under the couch to keep it hidden.

John bobs his head and one last time releases an uneven breath. He turns the knob and pulls the wooden door open, revealing three people on the other side, one man and two women. The man has long black hair with a thick, scraggly beard. He wears a beige, baggy jacket with the hood up over his head. The women are both short but the same height as each other. They both wear bright ponchos despite a lack of rain pouring down.

“What can we do for you?” John asks, still holding the door but he is visibly starting to shake. Despite a lifetime of dealing with dangerous situations, the idle years of being off-duty have molded him into a more cautious, nervous man, like the one that stands before the strangers.

“We’re sorry,” one of the women announces, acting as if she and her companions are intruding. “We saw the sign welcoming strangers and assumed the building was vacant. Are you the owners?”

“Far from it,” Tim says, leaping from behind the couch and bearing his pistol. He aims it at the man and he puts his hands up in surrender and starts to beg for mercy from Tim. “But I’ll be damned if we let you take the place from us.”

John grabs Tim’s arm and yanks the pistol from his hand as he walks by. He presses the release on the side of the pistol and allows the clip to fall out of the pistol and land on the floor. “What do you think you’re doing, Tim? You can’t threaten these people like that!”

“John, we don’t know them. They’re going to interfere!” Tim yells, pleading with John to understand.

The three strangers stand aghast, shocked and surprised by Tim and John’s speech. The woman who has remained silent finally speaks up and says, “Interfere with what?”

The other woman turns to her and grabs her arm and says, “Barb, maybe we should just leave. These people are clearly doing something here and we completely interrupted.”

“After what we’ve seen out there, I don’t think so, Monica!” the man chimes in. He lifts his arms and spreads them out wide. His head shakes in disbelief at the notion that they leave the premises to return to the implied dangers lurking outside. He turns to John, thinking that he is the most rational one there, and says, “I don’t know what’s going on with you people, why you’re here, or how you got here. But we need to stay the night. We’ll leave in the morning.”

John turns to Julie, Julie’s jaw starting to drop and her eyes opened wide. She’s confused and doesn’t know what advice to give John.

Tim nudges John and urges again, “We can’t trust them, John.”

The man steps further in and pushes Tim against the wall, knocking over a painting upon Tim’s body hitting the wood. Tim grabs onto the man’s arm and tries to pry himself free.

“Let him go,” John says to the man, his face starting to darken and the man notices. He loosens his grip on Tim and lets him down slowly.

“So what’s it going to be?” the man asks. “We’re not spending another night out in those woods. Not after what we’ve been through. We’re willing to fight for this place if that’s what it comes down to.”

“Nobody’s fighting anybody!” Julie yells, angered by what the man implies. She stands up and aims the rifle at the man, pressing the stock firmly into her shoulder and her eyes peering down the sight. “You’re going to calm down if you not only want to stay the night but if you want to live.”

The man chokes out a laugh and peers down at the ground. “Well, are you going to shoot or can we all be done with the empty threats?”

“It’s far from empty,” Julie says calmly, still aiming down the sight of the rifle. “In fact there’s about thirty full threats in this magazine alone. It’d be a shame if I had to reload so stand still.”

“Enough!” John bellows, nervous that somebody will make a quick move to start a brawl. “We’re going to let our guests in, empty ourselves of any weapons, and sit down at the table and talk. Does that make sense?” He holds his arms up and stands in between Julie and the strangers. Tim stands still and looks at John and doesn’t make any moves or counterarguments. John looks around at everyone in the room, everyone standing tense and ready. They slowly start to give John a confirmation nod one by one.

“Thank you. Everyone in the kitchen now. I want all the guns on the table. Does that make sense?” John demands. He looks back and forth and waits for more nods. He gets one from every single person. Tim and Julie continue to glare at the strangers in anticipation. They all follow behind John into the kitchen and unload all weapons onto the tables, the strangers revealing a combination of combat knives and small pistols and one revolver. “Thank you. I think that was step one to getting on the right track.”

Everyone starts to relax and conversations begin between Julie and Barb, and Tim and Monica. During the mingling the man steps forward and bends in close to John’s ear. He says quietly enough that no one in the room can hear him, “You know why we’re here, John?”

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Revolution: A Hyena's Story (Part 7)

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By Max Masen

-The Next Day-

John, Julie, and Tim had traveled throughout the night and found refuge in an abandoned cabin, the door wide open with a sign next to it reading: Strangers Welcome. The Key is Under the Mat. Thinking it was too good to be true, they approached cautiously but realized the key really was there and it really did open the door to the cabin. They stepped inside and made themselves comfortable. They took different ways, each one with a bedroom at the end of the path. The living room was in the middle of the rooms and had a fake bearskin rug in the center of it, one rocking chair, and a large, decrepit couch facing a flat screen television hung on the wall.

“What have we stumbled upon?” John asks upon seeing that the bedroom he steps into is neatly decorated and the queen sized bed is made and ready to be slept in. It has a sign on the headrest and John pulls it off. It reads: Thanks for stopping in. Clean up when you leave for the next visitors. “This can’t be real.”

Tim rushes into the room with John and says uneasily, “John, I don’t know about you but I don’t like the look of this place. It’s too…”

“Quaint.” Julie finishes Tim’s sentence as she walks in from behind them and hangs in the doorway. “It was obviously set up by nice people that were just looking to give travelers a place to stay.”

“I have to agree with Tim on this one,” John replies, still holding the note and starting to crinkle it in his large hands. “This all is too much. It’s… unsettling.”

“You have to be kidding me,” Julie scoffs. She crosses her arms and raises her eyebrows in disbelief. “We’ve walked all day and night thanks to this jackass.” She points to Tim and continues saying, “We’re not leaving. There’s food in the kitchen even. I checked.”

“Look, the people that own this place could be plenty nice. I’m just saying I don’t know if I want to stick around to find out if that’s true. But we put it to a vote. That’s the only democratic way. Don’t you agree?” John says, attempting to make his voice sound stern and balanced at the same time.

“I think you already my vote,” Tim chimes in quickly, refusing to look Julie in the eyes.

“And mine.” Julie leans on the door and keeps her eyes focused on the ground. “So it’s just on you, John. I don’t know how you wouldn’t see this place as a sign.”

“A sign that this rescue mission was doomed from the start!” Tim screams, bringing his face close to Julie’s. John grabs his arm and thrusts him back to where he was.

“There’s not going to be an easy way to decide this,” John observes, bringing his hands together and opening his eyes wide. “I am tired. And hungry. And we do need a place to stay for the night. This place is- could be safe. And I guess that’s a risk I’m willing to take right now.”

“John, you’re killing us if we stay,” Tim says to John quietly, as if Julie isn’t present.

“You’re lucky you even got a vote!” John screams, pushing Tim into the wall. “You killed a man! You lost us a safe place to stay! Now we’re stuck here, wondering if it is safe!”

Tim looks up to John, trembling and his lips shaking but no words coming from them. “I- I didn’t mean to…”

“You keep saying that!” John pulls Tim away from the wall and thrusts him back into it, this time harder. “Stop! Just stop!” He pushes Tim to the door and Tim keeps his head down, walking out into the living room, quiet and defeated. John breathes heavy and gnashes his teeth together uncontrollably.

“John…” Julie grabs his shoulder and leans in. “Thank you.” John takes notice of her, his breathing suddenly calming down and he nods.

-That Night-

John, Julie, and Tim, after a meal consisting of cod, cornbread, and refrigerated green beans, join around the television and turn it on. They watch a show about travel around Europe, none of them really focusing on the television. They’re all still on guard, anxious about both each other's’ intentions and the possibility of the owners showing up. They watch the show quietly for an hour, night settling in and darkness consuming the outside. A few lights remain on inside from various lamps and candles.

The three of them become lost in thought but a knock at the door suddenly draws their attention from the television. They look to each other, a gasp escaping Julie’s mouth. John holds a finger to his lips to signal for their silence. John gets up off of the couch and walks over to the door. No knocking. John looks to Tim and Julie, a concerned expression appearing on his face.

Was it our imaginations?

They hear another round of knocking. Tim hides behind the couch, holding tightly to a pistol concealed in his boot, one he had been hiding from John and Julie.

“John, get away from the door,” Julie urges, her voice barely going above a whisper. John looks back and forth between Tim and Julie, hoping one of them has some kind of solution that doesn’t involve the opening of the door.

A few more moments pass and they hear the knocking again. A voice from outside can be heard saying, “It says the key is under the mat. I don’t see it. There’s lights on inside. There has to be people in there.”

Another voice joins in, “There is. I saw movement. They can hear us. Knock again.” Another knock at the door.

A third voice adds, “I’ll kick in the door if I have to.”

John suddenly stands up and shouts, “That’s not necessary!” Julie and Tim hide behind the couch, fearing for what John has said will imply. “I’m opening the door.”

“What are you doing?!” Tim shouts.

Julie’s jaw drops, her body starting to shake. “John, no!”

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A knock at the door?! Who could it be?! The government?! More resistance fighters?! Norman Bates and Freddy Kreuger?! Stay tuned, folks!

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Revolution: A Hyena's Story (Part 6)

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I was on a roll for a few days but I broke my streak. So here’s Part 6. Sorry it’s a little late. Better late than never, though, right? I hope you guys are gonna like this one. Anyways, feeling a little leery about Chuck and Bill? Just wait...

By Max Masen

-20 Minutes Later-

“Over there. Take a seat.” Bill points to a seat for John to sit down in. John still appears tense and keeps his head cocked cautiously and his eyes trained on Bill but he complies and sits in the stained loveseat.

The group walked inside of the barnhouse after Bill convinced John that it was safe and that they really were friends with Jess. The three of them were still cautious, but they decided it was best if they complied with Bill and Chuck.

Julie walks around the room and scans the paintings on the wall. Most of them are of ships in stormy weather. She looks at them closely and comments to Chuck, “Interesting piece here.” She brings her face in closer and examines the fine lines on it, the spots where the paint seems to jump off of the canvas. “What do you think this one is trying to say?”

“That my wife has terrible taste in art,” Chuck says and immediately starts laughing. Bill turns to Chuck and join in the laughter. Chuck slaps his knee and looks back up to Julie. “Sorry, dear. I’m just joking. I have no idea.” He turns to look at John and immediately changes the subject. “Anyone want any coffee? I can put some on.”

“We’re not planning on being here that long,” Tim replies. “We should actually be on our way.” Tim looks to John and he tilts his head to the door, indicating that they should be leaving.

“Hold on,” John says back. “Maybe we should have something to eat before we hit the road again. We didn’t exactly get a breakfast this morning. Or a dinner last night for that matter.”

Julie nods in agreement. “Can’t argue with that.”

“Well, it’s settled. Join me in the kitchen in a minute. I’ll have the hotcakes out shortly. You’ll love them. Special ingredient in these ones.” Chuck turns to the three of them and winks. He turns his back on them and enters the kitchen wearing his oven mitts.

“Special ingredient?” Tim whispers to John and Julie suspiciously. He turns to make sure Chuck and Bill can’t hear him talk. He looks back and continues, “I don’t like this. We really should be leaving. We’ve worn out our welcome and to be honest, I don’t know how much I trust this place.”

“You’re too paranoid. It’s just two old men… that somehow know Jess and the whereabouts of the Hyenas. Alright, it’s weird. But I’m sticking by what I said about it being best that we actually get a breakfast and something to eat.” John steps back, appearing cocky and hoping what he says sinks in without question.

“I have to agree with John,” Julie says definitively. Her stomach starts to rumble and she looks down at it and holds it. “We’ll watch your back while you eat, Tim.” She snickers and turns away from them.

“Very funny,” Tim shoots back, annoyed and realizing that he is paranoid, but possibly for good reason. He continues to look around the room, nothing out of the ordinary or appearing weird. Bill and Chuck are still in the kitchen, allowing Tim enough time to search the room unperturbed. He walks up to a few of the seats scattered throughout the room and slowly and quietly lifts the cushions on them to see if anything is hidden under them. He sees nothing and quickly gives up, but still holding onto doubt that the place is secure and safe.

“Tim!” Julie says both angrily and quietly. She scrunches her face tightly to show disgust at his transgressions. “What are you doing?! We’re guests here!”

“I’m not buying it!” Tim says louder than Julie had spoken, allowing Bill and Chuck to hear him from the kitchen.

Bill walks out slowly and sees Tim standing in the middle of the room, angry and with couch cushion in hand. “What’s going on in here? Are you folks not hungry anymore?”

Tim beams a rabid look at Bill, foam nearly boiling from his mouth. “Stay back!”

“Tim. think about what you’re doing. These people are on our side.” John speaks calmly and lifts his hand to signal that Tim needs to relax and think rationally.

“They’re going to kill us, John! We need to leave. They’ve probably already alerted the government! Let’s go before they get here. They’re going to capture us and torture us, just like they’re doing to Peter. Let’s go!” Tim starts screaming, hoping it is reinforcing his belief that they’re about to be betrayed.

“You’ve been out in the heat too long, son,” Bill says uneasily. “Just come in here and get something to eat.” He stretches out his hand as a peace offering.

“Stay back!” Tim lifts his assault rifle and aims it at Bill. “You might have tricked those two but not me! You won’t kill me!” He takes his eyes off of Bill for a moment and looks to John and Julie, his eyes pleading with them desperately. “Please, we need to leave now. The government is on their way.”

“How do you know, Tim?” John asks nervously, realizing he’s starting to become more suspicious of Tim’s motivations if he is in the right state of mind.

“I guarantee it!” Tim keeps the gun trained on Bill, his finger ready to press down on the trigger.

Bill intervenes and says, “Lower the gun. We can talk about-” He is quickly cut off by Tim pulling the trigger and shooting him, leaving him bleeding out on the ground, unconscious.

“No!” John screams. He runs up and starts to wrestle the gun away from Tim while Julie leaps to the side of Bill’s body.

“What the hell is going on out here?!” Chuck yells, walking out into the living room. He jumps back in shock upon seeing Bill’s body. “Bill, no! What have you people done?!” He falls to the floor and checks his friend’s body. He puts his ear to his chest and hears nothing. He looks up to Tim and John, a perverse look appearing on his face. His skin drains of blood and he starts to look pale. “Get… out… now.”

John pushes Tim to the door, John now holding the assault rifle and keeping it from Tim. Julie follows closely behind. They walk out the door slowly, Tim starting to realize what he’s done.

“I- I’m sorry. I didn’t think I would…” Tim begins but quickly runs out of things to say. He starts to come to his senses.

“Stop. It’s over now. We’re on foot for a while.”

Next>

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Revolution: A Hyena's Story (Part 5)

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-The Next Morning-

John’s eyes start to open, slowly and with his body feeling relaxed from a good night’s sleep. A noise starts to ring in his ear and the more he regains consciousness, the more he realizes the intruding noise is what is making him up. He feels himself yawn and then his eyes open the rest of the way suddenly. Voices. He can hear them encroaching on the three of them. He nudges Julie next to him. He looks over and sees Tim by a window watching carefully outside. Tim has a rifle in his hands and his finger hovers carefully over the trigger. John looks up at him and Tim sees that John is up and moves his finger to his lips and makes a motion telling John to keep quiet. Julie springs awake suddenly and John cups his hand over her mouth before she can speak. Her eyes widen but she quickly catches onto what is happening. She can hear the voices too.

John moves his hand away from Julie’s mouth slowly and she whispers to him, “What are we going to do?”

John and Tim look to each other and both of them, with confused expressions, shrug.

“Is there a back way out of here?” John asks quietly. He feels his heart start to pound faster when the people from outside get even closer. They’re right outside of the barn, standing very close to it. They’re talking about some kind of revolutionaries in the area. John can barely make out what they’re saying but what he hears confirms his suspicions that these people are out looking for them.

“Come, follow me,” Tim says. He throws his head a few times in the direction he wants them to go and crouches lower to the ground to avoid the people outside the barn from being able to see him. “We can check over here.”

“There it is,” Julie remarks upon seeing a small wooden door in the back of the barn. It’s covered in straw and the latch appears to be too rusty to open. “Can we open it?”

“I don’t know.” Tim tries his luck and pulls on it but the latch is too stubborn to move. His heart pounds faster and faster. They can hear the people getting even closer, possibly even leaning up against the side of the barn. He becomes angry and in a show of force, he lifts his rifle to latch and contemplates shooting it. He shakes slightly but John grabs him before he can pull the trigger. They wrestle with the gun for a moment before Tim elbows John in the face and the rifle falls out of their hands and is flung across the room. It lands in a pile of hay to muffle any noise it makes.

“We can’t do that,” John says uneasily. A red line drips down from his nose and a serious expression is plastered on his face. “You can’t act so recklessly. I picked you because I thought you were a professional.”

“I’m doing whatever I can to get us out of here, John. I panicked. If those people come in here, we’re through. One wrong step and this entire operation goes belly up. There’s a lot of stress to be had right now and I don’t think you’re fully feeling it.”

“I’m acting as a leader should and keeping calm. I’m hoping that if I’m calm then both of you will be too. But I can’t have mistakes like that.” John pushes Tim out of the way and inspects the latch. He fiddles with it for a moment and pulls out a nail file. He plugs away at it but they suddenly hear the front door of the barn being lifted.

They all start to fear the worst and Julie starts to shake. “John, you’d better hurry up with that file,” she says nervously. “We have visitors.”

“Almost… there,” John mutters through gritted teeth. He’s almost sawed off the lock on the latch but the front door of the barn opens too quickly. Two husky, middle-aged men step through the door carrying shotguns and dressed in camouflage outfits. Julie and Tim clamor quietly when the door opens, a worry they didn’t feel would actually happen before John had opened the door. The men step in carefully and look in piles of hay.

“You sure you heard them in here, Bill?” one of the men asks.

“Positive,” the other responds. “Jus’ keep looking. They have to be in here. Boss said this is where they landed at.”

One of them comes close by John and walks past as John holds tightly to the side. He steps out quickly and grabs the shotgun of the man and lifts it in the air. The man gasps as a quick reaction but John punches him hard in the face before he can do anything else. He holds the shotgun at the man the other one called Bill and holds the man in his arms.

“Bill! He’s gonna shoot!” the man screams quickly to his friend.

Bill turns suddenly, a small yelp escaping his mouth. He aims the shotgun at John and John holds the gun steady, peering down the sight and Bill’s head is in the sight.

“Don’t shoot!” the man that John holds yells to him. “We’re with you.”

“What are you talking about?” John says quietly and with a hard suspicion audible in his voice. “Marley didn’t send anyone else out for us.”

“It wasn’t Marley. It was Jess. She sent us for you,” Bill pleads, feeling helpless and hoping that John doesn’t pull the trigger. “After your plane went down, we thought you was all goners. But we saw you jumped from the plane and landed in the area. This farm belongs to Chuck, the man that you’re holding, and Jess contacted us to help you out. She said you’d do something like this but we thought she was just kidding. But we listened to her warning and brought shotguns just in case.” Bill chuckles to lighten the mood but John’s stern expressions doesn’t break. “Just in case.”

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