Missing Rachel - Entry VII: Norman

Missing Rachel
Entry VII: Norman
Location: The Store
Date: Friday, June 19th, 2015

I had been traveling down the paved road for about twenty minutes when I finally reached Norman’s store. The garbage bin next to his store was a disgusting mess of rotten food and slick, black bags. Why did Norman let it get so bad? I saw a thin, greenish corner poking out from one of the bags. As I examined it closely, I saw that it was my driver’s license and it looked damaged. What was it doing here? Was I here before? I cleaned the license off as best I could and tucked it into my wallet next to the credit card. As I entered the back of the store where Norman lived, a light rain began to fall. It was oddly quiet inside except for the faint sound of a television. I went to the front of the store, the entrance was locked from the inside and it looked like I wouldn’t be able to just pop it open; it needed a key. There was a bit of what appeared to be blood on the keyhole too.

I went upstairs to see if I could find Norman, but what I found was more shocking. In Norman’s bedroom, I found one of Rachel’s old autumn coats hanging from a rack. What the hell…? What the hell was going on here?! What was Rachel’s coat doing in Norman’s bedroom?! I couldn’t think, my mind was reeling, why was Rachel here? Why was she with Norman? And where are they now? I searched the room for clues, any sign of where they might be. I found a cabinet filled with a small but impressive collection of hunting rifles, shotguns, and other items I didn’t think were legal here. One of the slots on the rack was empty, the gun I had in my pocket seemed to match the space. Was this handgun Norman’s and what the hell was it doing in that man’s house? Nothing was making sense, nothing!

I moved into a different room where the TV still flickered some indecipherable channel. My eyes searched the room until… oh no… I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Norman, my coworker and one of the few friends I had in this town, lay dead in his armchair. His face and shirt were covered in blood; it looked like he’d been shot trying to get up. His eyes were wide with shock though they were already drying. Norman, what was Rachel doing here? Why did you have her coat?! I wanted to scream at him, grab him by the collar and shake him until he answered… but it was no use. Norman was gone. Maybe he deserved better, he probably did. I closed his eyelids down, shuddering as I did so. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to give him peace or if I just couldn’t stand the thought of his lifeless eyes staring at me. What the hell was going on? I just wanted to wake up from this nightmare and find myself at home with Rachel beside me.

I went into the kitchen, Norman kept it clean enough, but there were water rings from two cups still on the wooden table. The kitchen trash bin was starting to stink; I found a hairpin amongst the rotting food. I hoped that I may be able to pick the front door lock with it. I was about to leave the kitchen when I noticed a chain hanging from the ceiling. I gave it a slight tug and a simple folding ladder to the attic popped down. I slowly climbed up, making sure to shine the flashlight into the darkness until I could finally see. Inside the attic, there was a large cardboard box that hadn’t been sealed. I opened up the old box and wasn’t entirely surprised by what I saw. There were more of Rachel’s things… more of my wife’s clothes! Photos, shoes… and even that old radio I gave her for her birthday. Why, Rachel? What were you doing here with Norman? I climbed back down the ladder, not sure if I even wanted to find out the answer to the questions I was screaming in my head.

I went straight to the front door and used the hairpin to pick the lock. It was a skill I had learned as a teenager and thought I’d never have to use again. I was now inside Norman’s actual store, it was small and clean. It had the usual things; postcards, snacks, magazines, and canned goods. I never went there much; Rachel usually stopped by after work if we needed anything. The register was mostly empty and a fat stack of travel magazines sat beside it. Many of the destinations had been places Rachel talked of going to. Paris, Rome, Bali, the usual desirable destinations but we never seemed to have the money or the time to go. The icebox seemed to be unplugged, it must have been off for a while; most of its contents were already melted. There were various postcards from the area, especially from the tourist traps. One of the postcards showed an old black-and-white photo of the water tower; it was in much better shape back then.

The night continued to take horrible turn after horrible turn. It’d been weeks since I’d last seen Norman, but to find him like that… as I thought of him still lying in his armchair upstairs, the gun I carried seemed to be ever-present. Seeing that dusty box of those old clothes was a shock; how long had they been there? And what was Rachel doing at Norman’s place? Then there were the other dead bodies; the man in the house, the sewer worker, the two campers, and the security guard. Who killed them? Who had done such a terrible thing? I was exhausted and wanted this whole ordeal to end. I felt like I had only discovered more questions no answers but I was close to home. It was time to find out the truth… it was time to go home.

Worth Fighting For - Entry XII: Rallying Cry

Worth Fighting For
Entry XII: Rallying Cry
Location: Midtown Manhattan Rebel Base
Date: Friday, December 12th, 2003

After returning empty handed from the Manhattan High School, Chris knew that the only other location Isabella could be held at was Governor’s Island. He wanted to prepare for a full assault of the SAF’s headquarters but the Resistance had other things to content with. Now that we had lost our strongholds in Brooklyn and Manhattan, the Red army was moving unchecked across the city. The civilian camps we had helped were being destroyed and anyone caught out on the streets were either captured or killed. We were all concerned about the situation but it was Phil who pleaded with Chris to take action. After all, it was Phil and his team that spent the most time amongst the civilians who were trying to eke out a living in the city.

We had spent the past couple of weeks attempting to fight off SAF patrols, protect the civilian camps, and to restore the black market trade routes but to no avail. Chris knew something had to be done but we were unsure of how to proceed, our numbers had dropped significantly and we no longer had the firepower we used to. The Kid had a great idea in mind; the Red computer he had “procured” contained the blueprints to the SAFN headquarters. If we took over the station and broadcasted our own message to the people, maybe we could rally the civilians into joining the fight. Taking over the Manhattan TV Station was not going to be easy but we all knew that we couldn’t sit by and watch the Reds destroy what we had fought so hard to achieve.

Location: Manhattan TV Station
Date: Saturday, December 13th, 2003

We decided to infiltrate the Manhattan TV Station via rooftop, it had been an effective strategy in the past and we hoped it would be again. The elevated monorail tracks had collapsed onto a nearby building which allowed us easy access to the rooftops. We scampered along the tracks, first Chris and then myself followed by Logan, Steven, Kat, Chelly, Ryo, with Daniil bringing up the rear. We moved silently along the rooftops until I heard Chelly gasp. I quickly readied my gun and followed her gaze to find what had elicited the sound. All the electronic billboards on the surrounding buildings were lit up with the image of Tatiana Kempinski. SAFN was broadcasting their news show to every screen they had access to.

After the initial surprise of seeing the street lit up with the face of our enemy, the team moved forward towards our destination. We arrived at the Manhattan TV Station without meeting any resistance. Chris climbed down a ladder and onto the street below us. He scanned the area and then motioned for us to follow after he had given the all clear. We knew that the garage where the station used to park their vehicles would be the best point of entry. As we cautiously passed under the large bay door and into the garage, we expected to meet some kind of resistance but found none. We were alone; there wasn’t a single patrolling Red in the garage. I gave Chris a quizzical look and Steven muttered that something didn’t feel right about this.

Then, we heard the loud screeching of metal crawling across concrete. A Soviet tank appeared at the end of the garage and began inching its way towards us. As the tank aimed its long barrel, we scattered in every direction trying to find cover behind cars and concrete support pillars. The tank fired a shell towards the entrance, sending the heavy metal bay door crashing to the ground and trapping us inside the garage. Ryo returned fire only to find that his bullets ricocheted off of the tank’s heavy armor, giving us more obstacles to try and dodge. Now Red soldiers were coming down the stairwell to join the fight.

Chris acted without hesitation; he called for Logan, Chelly, and Kat to focus suppressing fire on the stairwell. The rest of us coordinated with Chris to try and get someone on top of the tank in hopes of prying it open like someone would a clam. After two failed attempts we realized our plan was futile. We were trying to catch our breath and come up with another plan when Kat screamed “RPG!” We scrambled behind a white pickup truck just in time to see the projectile fly right by us. As it exploded and sent debris scattering in the air, I took a quick glance at Chris to see a smile had appeared on his face. He had a plan. We returned fire as we moved away from the tank and towards the stairwell. Bodies clogged the steps, pinning the remaining Reds in position. Chris charged up, climbing over bodies and firing a well-aimed bullet into the head of the RPG shooter. Chris then grabbed the weapon himself, turned, and shot the explosive right at the center of the tank. A loud explosion ruptured the armor of the tank, halting its advance.

We all took a moment to collect ourselves; I was not a fan of tanks and was glad that this encounter went much better than the last. We collected what gear we could, cleared the stairwell of bodies, and marched up the stairs to the upper floor. We entered the lobby and continued moving towards the back of the building, searching for the broadcast room. There were signs that the SAF soldiers stationed here had left in a hurry. Guns, gear, and a few wounded Reds that had been executed were all that was left of the force that held the TV Station. As we swept the floor for any signs of life, we even discovered that the Reds had left two helicopters on the roof during their escape.

After our brief stint on the roof, we headed back down and located the broadcast room. All the equipment was still on and humming for the Reds didn’t realize that our ultimate goal was not in taking over the station but in making a broadcast of our own. Chris collected his thoughts while Logan and I figured out how to get a signal out. Once we did, Chris got into position and began his statement. He introduced himself to all the citizens watching and vowed that he would continue to fight the Soviet Armed Forces and that he would die a free man one way or the other. Chris still dreamt of a future where the American dream meant something. He still believed that we could achieve a great future if we all worked together to defeat our oppressors. Chris told the people that the Manhattan Resistance was not decimated but a sleeping army ready to be awakened and to reclaim our country. He called on every able bodied citizen to rise, take up arms, and join us in the greatest cause we would ever know; to prove to the SAF that they could never take away our freedom.