What To Do

A short piece that all started with the phrase "Where were you last night?"

    “So where were you last night?!” She asked emphatically. “I waited until the guards nearly stepped on me and nothing! Nothing!”
“There’s no need to get excited, if you had been in any real danger you wouldn’t be standing here now.” He replied coolly.
”No real danger?” She nearly screamed. “Well, I’m so very sorry that my escape from twelve armed soldiers of the republic just doesn’t do it for you. Nearly getting myself tortured and killed by those sadistic b******s sure as hell qualifies as dangerous to me!” At this he let out a weary sigh.
“When you think you can get a hold on yourself I will explain things. If you cannot hold a conversation like a civilized human being I see no reason to continue.” Then he waited. For a moment or two she could only stare, incredulous at his complete disinterest. How could he expect her to be rational after what she had been through? She didn’t want to know the kind of people who could live through the night she had and come to work the next day, casual as you please. What sort of alternate reality had she landed in? Her thoughts raced lightning fast as she began to pace. In an attempt to gain some sort of calm she forced herself to take a few deep breaths. After some time she began once again, in a somewhat steadier tone.
“Alright, so I’m better now. Mind telling me what happened?” She was in control again but still couldn’t excise the rage from her voice. He arched an eyebrow in her direction but that was the only sign he gave of having heard her.
“I suppose that will do. The explanation is relatively simple; They were testing you.” He stated simply.
“Testing me? Let me get this straight, it was all some sort of hoax? To what, to evaluate my ability to panic and run for my life?!”  It was difficult to keep the shrill notes out of her voice. With an effort she waited for anything else he might give away.
“As I said, you were in no real danger. They wished to see how you would react to extreme stress. Obviously to have accurate results you had to believe what was happening to you.” He finished blandly.
“A stress test? Being abducted from my home, thrown in a van, bound and gagged by armed soldiers, locked in a cell for two days, inquisitioned by an irate German, and making my escape by stabbing a guard with a broken stone and hiding in the trash chute only to find out my one hope of assistance never arrives is what they call a stress test?!” Even as she formed the question she was only just realizing how much she had been through. Whoever had taken her, they said they were going to torture her with the evil looking knives and rods the German had. They had said they were going to kill her if she didn’t tell them whom she worked for. When she had told them she was just a secretary they hadn’t seemed to believe her. They had demanded to know about her family; this she lied about. Whatever They wanted from her she didn’t want them finding her husband and kids; didn’t want them doing these things to them.
When someone had slipped the note under her door stating they could get her out if only she could make it to the trash dump, near the compound’s guard fence, she didn’t care
if it was a trap. She also didn’t care what she had to do to get to the rendezvous point. It had only taken a few hours to sharpen that stone shard that had been casually left on the floor. It had only taken a few minutes to lurch towards the guard as if she were sick and jam that stone between his ribs as hard as she could. After a few seconds he stopped the terrible gurgling noises and fell.
Up until now, she had allowed her mind to gloss over that whole memory, locking the emotions, other than shock and anger, in a tiny corner of her mind. Horrendous guilt washed over her; she wanted to collapse into the floor. Biting her lip to stop the tears, she willed herself to stand before the non-descript man, that had merely watched the thoughts and emotions play across her face until now.  When she could trust her voice not to break she croaked out
"I killed someone.” There was a pause and a slight ray of hope shone in her mind. If everything was all for show, maybe he’s safe somewhere. Maybe he's laughing with his friends backstage, wiping the ketchup blood off of his shirt. She had to be sure. ”Didn’t I? The man in my cell, the one I had to take out to escape, where is he?” She questioned urgently but his blank face remained unmoved. Then as if in delayed reaction his expression became just a bit wearier. She almost wouldn’t have noticed except that there were no distractions in their tiny, blank walled room.
“I am afraid you did. Any trained member of Their organization who could be so easily dispatched by an ordinary citizen such as you, They view as expendable.” At that he almost looked sad, but the expressionless nature of his demeanor wouldn’t allow for any solid emotion.
”They underestimated you in certain ways but I don’t believe they will make that mistake again.” He finished wistfully. She didn’t want to hear any more, her mind already grieving for what she had done. At the time she felt there was no choice but now, now she was safe. Now she knew this had all been arranged to scare but not to harm her. Now she wasn’t sure if she could ever accept this new reality. Beginning to pace again, she wrapped her arms around herself in a futile gesture of comfort.
“What am I going to do?” She asked in a small voice. “Will they prosecute?
Will anyone seek revenge? Did he have a family? What will happen now?” She voiced the questions that sprang to her mind unbidden. The plain, implacable man took a seat now. Two plastic chairs were the only furniture in the room; seeing one filled triggered her to take the other. Up to that point, she had barely noticed their existence.
“Prosecute? No, I should think not. I don’t believe They are ready to acknowledge his presence here, let alone hold a trial for his death. No one knew he was here, or who he was past his code name. Only the mission heads know. His family will be told that he died in the line of duty, something suitably prosaic and untraceable.” He concluded. Relieved and yet ashamed that she had ended another’s life so easily with no consequences, she reverted back to anger. This never would have happened if not for Their “test”.
“Well,” She started snidely “are you going to tell me? What were the results of this test I took, other than death and misery I mean?” She sniggered at her own horrible joke. “Does committing mortal sin and surviving mean you pass?” She didn’t want to make light of it, she wanted anything but. Somehow this is the only way she could still speak of the horror that kept repeating in her head. He only sat, unmoving and unresponsive as ever. If not for his audible breaths you might wonder if he were still there at all. Finally, looking down at the fidgeting hands in her lap he responded.
“Actually no, you didn’t pass. They sent me word just before I picked you up in the woods.” He looked back up to her face and waited for this to sink in. This latest blow struck up a number of feelings within her, so numerous and confused that it seemed impossible to sort out. It all seemed even more pointless than it had only moments ago. She had always been the sort that truly believed that everything happened for a reason. The concept of God or no God was too complex to answer but purpose had always seemed reasonable. Once she had been cowering in the trash dump for hours that night, and realized whatever help had been offered her wasn’t coming; she kept telling herself that. Everything happens for a reason. This is what drove her to keep going as she hid from the seemingly very real threat of armed men and guard dogs. Running and hiding, she kept telling herself she would find out why this was happening to her.
Finally, when she had the opportunity, she made a break for the edge of the woods. Filthy and covered in tiny cuts incurred during crawl through the trash chute, she had continued to hide for some time. She could not quite accept that she had escaped. When the ATV’s and officer’s with flashlights beaming crashed through the underbrush, she had assumed her flight a failure. With resignation born of complete and utter exhaustion she hadn’t tried to flee when they had come upon her hiding place. Two days a captive and two days spent in fear, hiding in those woods had drained much of the fight out of her. When she realized her captors were now taking her away from the compound, and then to what looked like a small official building, her faith was renewed. Now, she thought she would finally understand, it was over and these people must have the answers. Then she had joined this forgettable man and he explained that he had sent the note. After all he could explain had been said, what could she do with the lack? There was no purpose to this; she hadn’t even succeeded at their morbid little game. Drained and dumbfounded she could only bring herself to ask:
“Why?”
“It was actually nothing you did, you would have made an excellent candidate, truth be told. When they researched your background beforehand, they missed the notation in your medical records about your heart murmur.” He said conversationally.
“That’s it?” she asked for lack of any idea how to respond. He nodded his slightly balding head and went on to explain.
“Yes, when put under undue stress it can make you very susceptible to heart attack or stroke. If They had caught it during research they would have never tested you.” He finished. She could only think to herself; people always say, it’s all in the details. “Now ma’am,” he began “if you have any other questions, I will do what I can to answer them. Otherwise it is time to return you to your life.”
“Don’t I need to be brainwashed first or lost somewhere so that I don’t compromise Them?” She asked derisively. At that he almost looked amused but only shook his head and answered plainly.
“Unnecessary. Firstly, their people set up your entire experience; so nothing you may have learned is actually relevant to real operations. Secondly, They have already obliterated all traces of your presence and that of the compound. Lastly, who would honestly believe this sort of thing happened to a middle class secretary?” She had to admit; the situation was cleaned up nice and tidy. Who would believe this kind of story?
“Am I to keep my mouth shut upon pain of death or anything like that?” She pressed.
“No, like I said, they’ve taken care of everything. You could tell all your friends or write about it in your online journal for all they care. There’s only one thing, you will be censored. It’s policy to delete any reference to names made in any public media, even when they are false.” He responded.
“I see.”  Was all she could answer. Then a final question popped into her numbed mind. It was the kind of thing that astounded her that she hadn’t thought to ask before. Perhaps all the fear, pain, sorrow and adrenalin from her experience had struck her dumb on this point, but she would not let this man leave without asking. “Okay, Final Question.” She began.
“Yes?” He acknowledged.
“Who are They, and what started this nightmare?” She asked excitedly. He only paused for a moment and then responded.
“Oh, I thought you knew what this was about. They are the C.I.A., ma’am, and one year ago you filled out their on-line application for employment. Consider this the interview process.” He stated matter-of-factly.
In anyone else you would have thought it was meant to be a joke, but one could just tell this man didn’t kid, anyone, ever. A year ago she had been working as a temp for yet another corporate slave pit, when they started running a commercial on TV. The commercial offered a web-address for anyone looking for employment “Unlike any other profession” it stated that the C.I.A. was hiring. At the time, she couldn’t believe that it was authentic. What kind of secret intelligence organization would advertise let alone between an ad for Double Mint and another for trash bags? Even the website didn’t look complex enough to be real; it looked just like the kind of application she had filled out for her temp jobs. The only difference was the box that asked: “If hired, would you be willing to re-locate out of the country?” To which she had answered, “yes” At the time a trip anywhere away from her current life, sounded good. Then under the heading: “Types of positions you are interested in” there were the usual headings for “Management”, “Administrative”, “Clerical” but then they listed “Clandestine” For the hell of it she checked them all. When she never received any type of response to her application, it only confirmed to her that it must have been a joke.
“I will never be nervous for an interview ever again…” she said slowly, a bit dazed by the realization. If she hadn’t known better, she would have thought her companion let out a tiny chuckle but when she looked he appeared as unreadable as ever.
Later that day, after a long ride in a van with blacked out windows she would arrive home. People always assume that the black van with black windows is to keep others from knowing what is inside. In actuality, it is much more useful as a way to keep what is inside from seeing out. The partition between the driver and her kept her from knowing any detail of their travel. When the van stopped, and the door finally opened to frame her miraculously green lawn, they let her go to spill out into the sunshine of the day. Just before departing, the remarkably unremarkable man that had been her guide through all of this warned:
“Take care of yourself, it’s a dangerous world.” And with that the un-plated van sped off. For a second she didn’t even register the thought. She only turned her head and saw her daughter and husband through the kitchen window, eating breakfast but looking uneasy. Then it hit and this time she let herself collapse on the grass beneath her. There was no controlling anything anymore, she may have been laughing, she may have been crying, it may have been both. She didn’t care.

Author's Note

Suggestions appreciated, encouraged and hoped for.

Reviews

[QuantumPlateShone]

Even though you may have intended your beginning to be powerful, it seems extremely abrupt. You can use "Where were you last night?" but then immediately try adding description such as their physical characteristics, or what she was thinking/how angry she was at the man etc. before continuing. Towards the middle, your imagery and description got much better! Also, I prefer not to see punctuation like this?! Generally the reader can tell from either one individually the emotion you're getting at. It probably isn't wrong though. I enjoyed the story as a whole. I think there is potential for it to become a longer story. Maybe she decides that they shouldn't determine her fate and she tries to get involved with the agency despite their intentions to have nothing to do with her. Maybe she wants more adventure from her life. I don't know, I'm just trying to give you ideas ;)
I would also really appreciate it if you could review some of my writing as well.