The large steel portal slid open shedding light on three figures that stood just before the now open doorway. The figure in the middle was tall and thin, his long black hair flowed into the black trench coat that seemed out of place in such warm weather. The two men flanking him were plainly soldiers, though their black uniforms and body armor bore no patches or mark of any kind. Their faces were obscured by the night vision gear they wore and both held their carbines pointed towards the figure between them. As one the three entered the lighted chamber. The entire room seemed to be a seamless box of steel, interrupted only by the thick steel portal. Standing at the ready within the room were a score more soldiers. Once the three entered, one of the soldiers spoke into a radio and the door slid shut once more. In the center of this ring of soldiers was a single table with two chairs, one on either side. A hard looking older man in a suit already occupied one of the chairs. When the man in the trench coat saw the look of displeasure on the man’s face he smiled, a bright smile that revealed the sharp points of his teeth, but was not reflected in his eyes. The older man sneered back at him and said in a disgusted voice, “I want your report scum.”

            The smile did not dim, if anything it became brighter, “Mission accomplished.” He paused a moment, “Sir.” He tacked on.

            “You were ordered to take keep him away from them, we said nothing about killing him.” The man fairly quivered in rage.

            “Of course,” said the man in the long coat, “And now he is no longer useful to them.” Shrugging apologetically he added, “I was hungry. This near starvation diet you keep me on was making me weak.”

            “That is the point!” the man snarled. “And behavior like this will make sure that you are weakened to the point where you will remember to obey.” Motioning to the guards he said, “Disarm him and take him away.”

            The two guards behind the man in the trench coat pressed their guns against his back and a third guard stepped up and said, “Remove your weapons and hand them to me handle first!”

            The man in the coat reached into his coat then paused. He began to laugh as if he had just reached the punch line of a joke. It was an awful laugh that sent chills through all present, and was enough that the soldiers all leveled their weapons at him. Then he seemed to master himself and slowly drew a pair of hand guns from his coat and extended them handle first toward the soldier in front of him. As the soldier reached for him, he flipped them, catching them right side up. “No.” he said simply, and shot the man with both guns in the head.

            “Fire!” screamed the older man at the table. But at that moment, the man in the coat blasted the lone light in the room, plunging the room into darkness. The soldier behind the man fired immediately and the bullets ripped through the man in the coat, but this didn’t seem to slow him at all. Twisting around he grabbed the barrels of both guns and swung their owners around in front of him, where their bodies and armor provided a shield for him. When the first wave of fire passed, he wrenched the guns from the soldier’s nerveless hands and raked the remaining soldiers with gun fire. The soldiers were well trained and adapted to the sudden changes almost instantaneously, however, the shots that managed to hit their attacker in the pitch dark were seemingly shrugged off, and his aim was uncanny as if he could see them better in the dark then they saw him in the light. Each shot he took hit the target between the eyes, and in a moment he was all alone with the older man, who seemed to be rooted to his seat. Striking a match, the man in the trench coat strode over and sat down.

            “You can’t get away with this.” The man managed to say. “We will destroy your resting place, and you will died in a matter of days!”

            “I no longer need you, and you can no longer blackmail me.” Said the man in the coat. The match burned near to the man’s fingers, but he didn’t seem to notice. “I’d explain, but I see no point since you won’t be alive long enough to remember the reasons.” The match flickered out in his grasp, and then all that was heard was a crashing of furniture and a long scream.

The College campus was beautiful; there was plenty of room for the students, a wide range of majors to choose from. It was nearly a perfect place to pack your sons and daughters off to, except for the occasional occurrence of sinister happenings in and around the college.

            The campus was set in woodland surroundings. The main building was shaped like a giant plus sign with a wing pointing towards each compass point around a central towering building. These wings contained the math and science l classrooms, the administrative offices, and, in the north and south wings, the boy’s and girls dorms. Other scattered buildings for the English and History departments were set around this larger building. However, off about a half mile along a path through the woods sat a small cottage. It was small, squat, and made of concrete block forming a single large room. Well, it could have been called a small room if it hadn’t been home to three of the college’s students and all their clutter. A pair of bunk beds stood at one side of the room, against the opposite wall was shelves stretching from floor to ceiling, which held a large television, various gaming consoles, and several computers, their guts strewn across the length of one shelf, and dangling down to the floor. The far wall, facing the doorway was their small excuse for a kitchen, and a doorway to the small combination bathroom/laundry room. In the center of the room, acting as a table, was a large wooden chest, which Scott termed “The War Chest”. The two bunk beds were occupied. The top bunk held a tall young man with light brown hair; he was thin, almost perhaps gaunt if it wasn’t for the muscle that coiled around his thin body. His fine hair slumped over his face in a way that would have embarrassed him had he been awake to see. Below, was an even taller, young man with blond hair. Even in his sleep, this one’s arms bulged with muscle, as did the rest of his body. His body slumped half in/half out of bed, giving every indication of barely dragging himself over the night before. He had a handsome face, with heavy brows and a look of intense concentration on his face, as if remaining asleep was a matter that required his full attention. The third occupant of the cottage did not sleep on a bed. He was stretched out on a mat across the doorway of cottage. He was on the short side of average height, and had longish hair that was almost black in color. This young man lay on his back, stretched out at full length, with his hands folded across his chest, looking almost as if he had been laid out to be buried. His face wore an expression that was rarely seen on his awakened face, a look of peace and relaxation. Their names were David (the one in the top bunk), Matt (the one on bottom bunk), and Scott. As the sun rose, David opened a brown eye and looked around for a moment. His gaze fell across stacks of clothes, books, and edged weapons that seemed to cover any flat space in the cottage. Finally that eye alighted on a clock mounted on the far wall. Suppressing a groan David rolled into a sitting position and worked at convincing his other eye to open. Achieving this, he slide down to the floor. A discarded jacket that happened to be sitting at the foot of the bed muffled his landing. Yawning, he walked over to the door and observed his friend blocking his way. Reaching down to shake his friend, his hand barely touched Scott’s shoulder when a total change came over the slumbering friend’s face. Before an eye could blink, Scott’s left hand jumped up to clamp onto David’s throat. A snarl twisted across the before peaceful face, and he lunged off the ground, administering a powerful uppercut that caught David in the midsection and knocked him off his feet. He crashed into the chairs that surrounded the war chest. The snarl faded from Scott’s face as he looked around in confusion for his enemy. All he saw was clutter and his friend David, who had seemed to have fallen down. Blinking, he yawned and glanced around him, “Goodness David,” he said as realization dawned on him, “did I do that to you?”

            David picked himself up and eyed him sourly and sought to regain the breath that had been knocked out of him, finally finding wind for his lungs again he turned back to Scott, “Yes! I was trying to wake you so I could get out and get to class.”

            Scott grimaced, “Sorry man, back at home everyone wakes me by calling from the hallway so that doesn’t happen.”

            “Why do you do that anyway?” Asked David. “What? Are your scared you are going to be attacked in your sleep?”

            “Not scared.” Said Scott as he picked up the fallen chairs.

            That was a typical Scott answer for you, but David wasn’t in the mood. He had his last Exam for the semester that morning and didn’t have time to argue with his insane roommate.

            Scott glanced over at Matt, who was still sleeping soundly. “Well David, it looks like you are the only one it seems to bother.”

            Exams went well, but then again Scott always felt that way no matter how they actually went. He leaned against the wall of the hallway and tried to decided if he should head down to the gym one last time before it closed for the summer, or if he should go and find his girlfriend. It was an easy decision. The gym of course! He turned and started down the hall.

            “Scott!” Janelle’s voice called from behind.

            “Curses!” Scott thought, but his face remained the expressionless mask that he had become accustom to wearing. Outwardly he said, “Greetings Janelle.”

            The girl coming towards him turned the heads of most of the boys in the hall. She wore a white blouse, tight fitting jeans that clung to her slim form, and oddly high leather boots that seemed to more for armored protection of the leg then cosmetics. Naturally the boots were a gift from Scott. He had grown tired of her constant choice of footwear, it was always either open toed, high heeled, or a sandal, or some cross between the three, which Scott did not know the name of. She walked over to his side and brushed a strand of her long blond hair away from her face. Belatedly, Scott slid his arm around her shoulders.

            “How were exams?” he asked.

            “They were…” she began; then stopped and snapped in a pleased tone. “Don’t interrupt!”

            Scott showed no sign of saying anything.

            “Well,” she began again as the started walking slowly down the hall, “I did very well. How were yours?”

            “Good.” He said. “I never got my paper back in one class, but if I did well on that, I’m set.” Glancing at his watch he said, “Hey love, I need to run back to the cottage, Matt has an exam in like ten minutes and I want to make sure he got up.”

            “I’ll come with you.” She announced.

            Exasperation crossed Scott’s eyes for a moment. “Love, don’t you have a test in ten minutes too? And did you ever print out that paper that is due today?”

            “I…Not yet…I can just hand it in later.” She said.

            “Or even better, you can go and do it now and hand it in on time!” That came out harsher then he had meant, but he sometimes felt that if he didn’t get these kids through college none of them would.

            “I could just get Jenni to do it.” She looked up and started waving. “Jenni! Jenni!”

            A girl near the end of the hall blinked and then walked towards them. Jenni was Janelle’s identical twin sister, and now Matt’s girlfriend. The differences in appearance were almost none existent, though to Scott’s eyes they looked different. Perhaps it was the difference in carriage or attitude, but Jenni’s features to him had always seemed sharper, and perhaps more alert.

            “Yeah? What is it Janelle?” She asked sounding slightly impatient.

            “Did you get that thing off of that place?” Asked Janelle.

            “What?” Jenni asked in confusion.

            Janelle huffed in annoyance and glared at her sister, as if to summon the memory in her twin by force of will. “The thing! The thing I was using!”

            Scott glanced at a clock hung at the end of the hall. The hands read five minutes till ten o’clock. “I don’t have time for this.” He said, and ran past them and out a side door. Scott charged across the campus raising eyebrows and frowns as he did so. Putting even more speed into his headlong dash, he hit a trail at the edge of the woods bordering the college. Still charging, he tore along the path that wound its way through the woods and across a bridge, finally opening into the yard surrounding the cottage. Beside the cottage was an old barn, which was also normally the resting place of his motorcycle. As he ran past, he was puzzled to see it missing. Reaching the door, he flew inside panting hard. Matt wasn’t in his bed.

            “Well either he wondered off and my motorcycle was stolen, or he managed to wake up, and borrowed it to get to class.” Scott wandered around the central room, and decided with school all but done for the semester he should finally pick up a few things. As he attacked the mess that covered the room he came across a notebook, his journal. He hadn’t written in it in months. The reason for that was he had decided that he sounded like all he did was complain, and wasn’t going to write anymore until he had something else to write about…and thus, it had been several months since the last entry. Stumbling over to a chair, he opened it to the last entry. ‘Of course I don’t say anything, but frustration seems to be the only constant in this relationship. For example, when we go out, I spend most of the night trying to get her to talk, then to make things more comfortable, I end up filling the air whether I want to or not. I end up feeling like I monopolized the conversation, but when I have tried to simply keep silent; we just spend the evening in silence.”

            “Yeah.” Though Scott as he tossed the book onto the table, “Nothing but whining.”

            Scott raised his eyes as he heard the sound of his motorcycle coming nearer. His shirt was open and wet with sweat. His hands and forearms dripped with his own blood from the numerous gashes and scraps. Seeing Matt riding into the yard, he stepped over to a barrel of water standing next to the barn and began to wash. He stood there with his back to Matt, and as he heard the crunch of Matt’s feet behind him he asked, “How did your test go?”

            “Fine.” Said Matt drawing along side, “What did you do to yourself?”

            “Training.” Scott said simply, but didn’t look up. “Did you study for this one.”

            “Yeah, what do you think I was doing last night?”
            “When I looked over, it looked like video games.” Said Scott wiping his hands dry and turning to look at Matt.”

            “I did after I finished.” Said Matt looking bored. He turned and wandered into the cabin, leaving Scott standing in the yard. As Scott turned to follow him inside, the phone rang, and Matt leaned out the door, “Hey! It’s George.” And disappeared.

            George was Scott’s older brother, and was sort of big brother, leader, and in some ways, teacher to all of them. He was three years older than Scott, and of course had graduated some time back. Scott ran into the house and took the phone from Matt.

            “Greetings my brother!” said Scott. He always greeted George this way.

            “Hey man, how’s it going?” George asked.

            “Well.” Said Scott, “I’ve finished my last test this morning. How are you?”

            “I’m not really hating my job at the moment.” Said George, and this was high praise for him. “I’ve finally gotten back to the gym this week. I have gotten so weak!”

            George always said something like that. As long as Scott could remember George always claimed to be out of shape in one way or another, but oddly George was the most powerful fighter he had ever met. “Then I would hate to fight you when you are at your peak.” Scott commented. George laughed.

            “Really man,” George said, “How are you doing?” George placed an emphasis on the word ‘you’.

            “I’m fine.” Said Scott, which of course was his normal reply.

            “You really need to relax sometime, you know, let down your guard and not be so grim all the time.” Said George, the concern was evident in his voice. “Are you guys going to be there over the weekend?”

            “Yeah, there are a few mandatory events we have to be at, so we aren’t leaving until middle of next week.” Scott answered.

            “Awesome.” Said George, “Moriah and Rob said they are coming down for a while, and we’ll meet over there. It’ll be fun.”

            “That would be great.” Said Scott, for the first time brighting.

            David looked up. He couldn’t see what had made the sound, but it was the second time he had heard it. He glanced around again, still nothing. He sat in one of the art rooms on campus working on a picture he of a dark orb sitting in the center of a spider’s web. He did the entire thing in white charcoal on a black background. The effect was eerie. Of course to the artist, it was even more chilling. After all, that thing had almost killed him twice.

            Click

            David looked up again. Still there was nothing to account for the noise. Shrugging inwardly, he turned back to his work. Suddenly, hands fastened on his head, one along his jaw, and the other on the back of his head. His head was given a short jerk. At the same time, behind him the attack said, “Snap.”

            David yanked the hands off his face and spun in his chair. Glaring at Scott and Matt he said, “When was it decided that my body was everyone’s training dummy, and why does it always have to be me? Can’t you see I’m drawing?”

            “Of course we saw that.” Said Matt, “That’s why we made some noise so you wouldn’t get startled.”

            “Yeah,” Scott agreed, “Your senses aren’t very sharp, I could have really broken your neck if I had wanted to do so.”

            David gave a sigh of long suffering, “Please explain why someone would want to break my neck right now, while in school? Just because my back was turned.”

            “No no,” Scott corrected him, “This is about building senses and reactions for when someone would try such a thing.”

            “I’ve never had anyone anywhere try to kill me,” David paused, “Oh wait, except for you two, and I live with you. Perhaps I just need to move, it would certainly make me safer.”

            “Well a year and a half ago, you have had zombies try to chew on your neck, and that was in school.” Matt reminded him.

            “Yeah, I remember.” David looked down at his drawing, then picked it up and crumpled it up and tossed it in the trash.

            “You shouldn’t throw that away, it was good.” Scott remarked, as he bent over and pulled it back out of the trash. “I’ll keep it if you don’t want it.”

            “Yeah, whatever. What did you guys want, other then to simulate killing me again?” David asked.

            “George is coming over with Rob and Mo tomorrow.” Said Matt, “And to tell you the twins are coming over to cook tonight, so not to stop by the cafeteria tonight.”

            “Oh, that’s cool.” Said David. The cafeteria at the school wasn’t all that hot when it came to food. “Which was the only reason to have a cafeteria in the first place.” David mused silently.

            Later back at the cottage a familiar scene took place. The twins had come over, but had forgotten a few things needed for dinner and had to go back to their dorm. This of course took quite a while because they ran into some people they knew along the way. Upon returning they figured out they had left what they had gone out for in the first place. Each thought the other one had picked it up as they left.

            “Hey guys do you guys have some eggs and…” Jenni began.

            “Ha!” David laughed, “You’re lucky we have a stove.”

            “Ok, I’ll run back over. Can you put these in a pot to boil?”

            “We don’t have a pot.” Scott said from where he sat in the corner.

            “Yeah we do.” Protested Matt.

            “No, we used to have a pot.” Scott pointed to the crushed remains sitting atop one of the piles. “Remember when you threw me a few days ago?”

            Thus, at least from Scott’s view it was a totally normal meal, which was served around nine.

            “What took you so long last time you went out?” asked Matt as they ate.

            “Oh we ran into some people we knew.” Replied Jenni.

            “Who?” asked Scott.

            “Have you met that young history teacher they just hired?” Janelle asked.

            “No.”

            “Well he’s supposed to teach night courses. I talk to him all the time in the library.” Said Janelle.

            “What does he look like?” asked Scott, “I’m in the library all the time.”

            “He’s a little taller then you,” started Janelle.

            “Which isn’t hard.” Scott interjected.

            “And he has black hair, really pale skin, and it sounds like a little of an accent.” Said Janelle.

            “Sorry, never met him.” Said Scott turning his attention back to his food.

            By the time the meal was finished and cleared away it was very late indeed.

            “Guys we need to sleep some. We have the “closing convo” tomorrow at eight.” Announced Scott.

            “Can’t we just stay here tonight?” asked Janelle as she plopped down on his lap and put her arms around his neck.

            “I think not.” Said Scott. He unwrapped her from around himself and stood up.

            “But why?” said Janelle getting a hurt expression.

            “It’s not proper for girls to spend the night with their boyfriends, at least not without a good reason.” He said in a tired voice.

            “Oh come on.” Said Matt, “ Everyone knows we wouldn’t do anything, and no one would care.”

            “Alright.” Said Scott as he reached for his jacket, “I’ll sleep in the barn.”

            “No!” said Janelle taking his jacket off of him.

            “Yeah, we’ll go back to the dorms.” Said Jenni.

            Scott felt like he should say he was sorry, but he wasn’t. This was more or less his house, and it was they who should feel sorry for causing circumstances that would make him have to quit it and sleep else where.