Pirate Treasure Map
When was the last time you slept – really slept? The night before the Watcher put the envelope underneath your door? The night before you found that first envelope, on your way to Jazz Ensemble practice? At home, over the holidays?
You don’t feel safe in your own bed anymore. You toss and turn at night, awakened by the smallest sound. Last night, you heard the turn of the lock as your roommate came home late, and you sat bolt upright in bed, paralyzed by terror.
All you want is a few hours of reprieve from the fear that he is watching. That’s why you’re curled up on this cracked leather couch, so worn that when you sat on it you almost hit the ground. You’ve never been to this building before, so maybe he won’t think to look for you here.
You drift in and out of consciousness, the quiet occasionally punctuated by the murmur of conversation, the beep of the scanner as students buy snacks and cups of coffee.
Through the haze of your drowsing, you feel, rather than see, a presence near you. You bolt awake, just in time to see a tall figure in a long wool coat walking quickly away from you – and the corner of the red envelope he has tucked in your backpack, only inches from your hand.
With a strangled cry, you try to jump up from the couch, but its low angle, and your fatigue, get the better of you, and you stumble forward, tripping on your own backpack and landing on your hands and knees with a painful thud. “Wait!” you cry. “Stop!”
Scrambling to your feet, you pull on your backpack, grab your coat, and run after the rapidly retreating figure. It feels as if you are running in slow motion. How is he getting away?
You run down the stairs after him, but he’s gone. You pick a direction at random, run through the door, and stop short. Down the long corridor, thick lines of muddy yellow and orange twist around you, making you feel dizzy. The hallway seems to spin. Are you dreaming?
Ahead of you, you hear a door slam, and you start to run again, then pull open the first door you see. It’s just a quiet basement, with offices and a desk covered in files. No one seems to be around.
Defeated, you slump against the wall, and take the envelope out of your backpack.