An Episode from The Prius Trials
“Come on Rosie, you can do it,” Sam begged Rosie to try, once more, to ride her new, two-wheeled bicycle.
“No, Sammy. No, I can’t”
“Just give it one more shot. I swear you’ll be fine. I’m here for you.”
“Fine,” the sassy six year old agreed exasperatedly.
Sam grabbed one handle bar and the seat of the small bike, and he began to push as Rosie peddled.
“I’m doing it,” Rosie said to herself, “I’m doing it,” she said again, this time, louder with an air of confidence.
“You are,” Sam whispered to himself, stunned, “Go Rosie!” he shouted, jumping and waving his hands, not what the neighbors thought of him. And then he heard the crash.
“Sammy! Sammy!”
…
“Sammy! Wake up! Sammy!” Sam awoke to his little sister shaking him, inside the familiar blue tent that they had been sleeping in for the past month.
“What is it, Rosie?” Sam said groggily.
“It’s a plane,” Rosie replied.
“A plane?” Sam said, extremely confused, considering he hadn't seen a plane in weeks. He crawled out of the tent to have a look himself. He was amazed to see it was some sort of aircraft, but it was definitely not a plane. It was made of silvery metal, almost blinding and it looked more like a blimp than anything. It was flying in the direction away from the refugee camp they just left. Also, it had the letters W.I.C.K.E.D. written on each side. "W.I.C.K.E.D.?" Sam thought to himself, “Where had he seen that before? Why did it sound so familiar? Well, whatever," he thought. He would be better suited figuring it out on a full stomach.
"Come on, Rosie, let's eat breakfast," Sam stated.
"Oh, good! What are we having?" Rosie asked eagerly.
"Beans." Sam replied blandly.
"Oh no, not again," groaned Rosie.
"Yes, again," Sam replied, "but today I have a treat." He continued as he pulled a bright yellow can out of his father's old, leather backpack.
"Peaches!" Rosie exclaimed, "How did you find these?"
"Well, Rosie, always remember, nothing's left in this world that isn't hidden." Sam said.
Then, they quietly finished their breakfast of beans and peaches, packed up camp, and headed north.
Sam and Rosie were heading north, to Washington D.C. where they hear it is safe. Safe from the dry, desolate wasteland that is left with the world. Safe from starvation, dehydration and, most importantly, from them. Them meaning the Cranks, of course. The Cranks are people infected with The Flare, a disease that was released from a military container that burst when the Sun Flares hit, about 6 months ago. Hence the name, The Flare. The Flare is a highly contagious virus, and has been documented an as airborne contagion. Symptoms include personality changes (irritability, anger, depression), memory loss, and issues with balance. Later stage effects include paranoia, aggression, hallucinations and dementia. The disease slowly eats away at your brain, causing you to lose your mind, eventually turning you into an insane, bloodthirsty monster.
...
"Sammy, I'm tired," Rosie complained.
"Alright, Rosie, how about I give you a piggyback ride to those buildings up there, and then we can take a break, yeah?"
"Okay!" she willingly agreed, hopping onto to Sam’s back.
“You've gained a little weight since we came here, huh, Rosie?” He asked jokingly, “Rosie?” Still no answer. “What is it, Rosie?” She lifted a tiny, shaking finger, pointing to one of the aging, wooden houses, where a man stood. He was tall, but skinny and frail looking, like he hadn't eaten. He wore a tattered, dirty suit, that was probably nice at some point. But Sam didn't focus on that for long, he really focused on the man's face. The sores covering his head, his hair half torn out, but most of all the dazed look in his eyes, almost maniacal. And he was coming toward them.
Sam stood utterly frozen in shock. "Sammy.." Rosie pleaded, "Sammy, he's getting closer." Released from his imprisoning trace, Sam started to slowly back away. He now realized what the man was, a Crank.
"Where you going, Sammy?" said the Crank, twiddling with the blade of his cruel knife. Without realizing, Sam had backed into another Crank, with the same maniacal look on her face.
"Listen," Sam put Rosie down, reached into his backpack and pulled out two cans. "Here, we have food. Take it and just leave us alone, we don't want trouble."
"Oh we don't want the food," one Crank replied.
"It looks like we got ourselves a couple of Munies here huh, Ben?" said the other.
"Mm hmm," the suit-wearing Ben mumbled, eyeing Rosie. Rosie held tightly onto Sam's leg, whimpering. Just then, something inside Sam snapped. In the split second it took for Sam to pull his knife out, Ben had his own knife to Rosie's throat, and Sam was sprawled onto the dusty ground.
"It's over, Sammy." Ben said, "You can't win, you can't protect her, you never could. Take a look around, who has the upper hand here?" The woman cackled.
"You're insane, you know that?" Sam muttered through gritted teeth, seething.
"We all go a little mad sometimes, hermano," Ben replied. "You know what, Sam-"
Sam never found out 'what', because Ben collapsed to the ground. A girl, maybe a year older than Sam, had knocked Ben unconscious, with an old, metal baseball bat. Then, Sam bolted up, unsheathed his knife, ready for revenge, but she already had the other Crank on the ground.
"Um, thanks," was all Sam could manage.
"We have to go," the girl said, looking worriedly at the Cranks, “Now.”
…
Once they were out of the run-down neighborhood, they sat down by what was left of a tiny stream, and filled their bottles with water.
"I'm Angela," she said, through gulps, "And I'm guessing you're Sammy." she said, smirking.
"Well, it's just Sam," he cut in.
"Okay, just Sam," Angela replied. At that, he managed a smile. Rosie peeked her head out from behind Sam to have a look at the kind stranger.
"And who's this?" Angela asked.
“This is Rosie, my sister,” Sam answered. “And I don’t really think she’s in the mood to talk right now,” he continued.
“Yeah, sorry about that,” Angela apologized, “I didn't really mean to scare you guys back there.”
“Well, you did save our lives,” Sam stated.
“Yeah,” Angela said, “About that. I need your help. A few months ago those buildings housed dozens of people. But that was before the planes came. One day, black planes came by dropping darts onto our town, targeting my family and my people. Almost everyone who was hit became sick with the Flare.
“Wait, wait, wait,” Sam said, “I thought the Flare was an accident released from a military container when the Sun Flares hit?”
“An accident?” Angela laughed. “Oh no, no way. It’s a man-made disease released by our government to control the population. Pretty helpful right?” Sam was awed. “Only a couple of people actually survived, like Ben and Jessica. But who would want to live like that?” she shuddered. “Anyways, after the fact, those of us who weren't insane, grouped up, trying to figure out what to do next, when those blimps came by and took all of us immune to that cruel disease with ‘em.”
“Blimps?” Sam thought out loud. “Do you remember seeing anything on them? Words, letters?”
“I do actually,” Angela said, “I remember the letters W.I.C.K.E.D. on it.”
“That’s it!” Sam dug through his dad’s backpack to find a small journal, written on the front were the letters, W.I.C.K.E.D. Inside were plans of finding a cure for the Flare in the most horrific ways. Dozens of children ages 12-18 would be put through Trials, physical and emotional to study their brain, otherwise known as the Killzone. Many would die in the process. And in the end, the best candidate, would have to sacrifice their brain, for the cure. He also learned that the 'blimps' were actually called Bergs. They are sent all over the world picking up children that are immune, and even some that aren't.
“Sam…What did your dad do for a living?” Angela asked.
“He worked for the CDC. That’s probably why he planned this. He knew the disease was going to be released.”
“We have to stop them, Sammy, from taking these children.” Rosie said, stepping into the conversation.
“You’re right, Rosie,” Sam said, “It says their headquarters is in D.C.”
“Well what are we waiting for,” Angela replied, “Let’s go.”
“No, Sammy. No, I can’t”
“Just give it one more shot. I swear you’ll be fine. I’m here for you.”
“Fine,” the sassy six year old agreed exasperatedly.
Sam grabbed one handle bar and the seat of the small bike, and he began to push as Rosie peddled.
“I’m doing it,” Rosie said to herself, “I’m doing it,” she said again, this time, louder with an air of confidence.
“You are,” Sam whispered to himself, stunned, “Go Rosie!” he shouted, jumping and waving his hands, not what the neighbors thought of him. And then he heard the crash.
“Sammy! Sammy!”
…
“Sammy! Wake up! Sammy!” Sam awoke to his little sister shaking him, inside the familiar blue tent that they had been sleeping in for the past month.
“What is it, Rosie?” Sam said groggily.
“It’s a plane,” Rosie replied.
“A plane?” Sam said, extremely confused, considering he hadn't seen a plane in weeks. He crawled out of the tent to have a look himself. He was amazed to see it was some sort of aircraft, but it was definitely not a plane. It was made of silvery metal, almost blinding and it looked more like a blimp than anything. It was flying in the direction away from the refugee camp they just left. Also, it had the letters W.I.C.K.E.D. written on each side. "W.I.C.K.E.D.?" Sam thought to himself, “Where had he seen that before? Why did it sound so familiar? Well, whatever," he thought. He would be better suited figuring it out on a full stomach.
"Come on, Rosie, let's eat breakfast," Sam stated.
"Oh, good! What are we having?" Rosie asked eagerly.
"Beans." Sam replied blandly.
"Oh no, not again," groaned Rosie.
"Yes, again," Sam replied, "but today I have a treat." He continued as he pulled a bright yellow can out of his father's old, leather backpack.
"Peaches!" Rosie exclaimed, "How did you find these?"
"Well, Rosie, always remember, nothing's left in this world that isn't hidden." Sam said.
Then, they quietly finished their breakfast of beans and peaches, packed up camp, and headed north.
Sam and Rosie were heading north, to Washington D.C. where they hear it is safe. Safe from the dry, desolate wasteland that is left with the world. Safe from starvation, dehydration and, most importantly, from them. Them meaning the Cranks, of course. The Cranks are people infected with The Flare, a disease that was released from a military container that burst when the Sun Flares hit, about 6 months ago. Hence the name, The Flare. The Flare is a highly contagious virus, and has been documented an as airborne contagion. Symptoms include personality changes (irritability, anger, depression), memory loss, and issues with balance. Later stage effects include paranoia, aggression, hallucinations and dementia. The disease slowly eats away at your brain, causing you to lose your mind, eventually turning you into an insane, bloodthirsty monster.
...
"Sammy, I'm tired," Rosie complained.
"Alright, Rosie, how about I give you a piggyback ride to those buildings up there, and then we can take a break, yeah?"
"Okay!" she willingly agreed, hopping onto to Sam’s back.
“You've gained a little weight since we came here, huh, Rosie?” He asked jokingly, “Rosie?” Still no answer. “What is it, Rosie?” She lifted a tiny, shaking finger, pointing to one of the aging, wooden houses, where a man stood. He was tall, but skinny and frail looking, like he hadn't eaten. He wore a tattered, dirty suit, that was probably nice at some point. But Sam didn't focus on that for long, he really focused on the man's face. The sores covering his head, his hair half torn out, but most of all the dazed look in his eyes, almost maniacal. And he was coming toward them.
Sam stood utterly frozen in shock. "Sammy.." Rosie pleaded, "Sammy, he's getting closer." Released from his imprisoning trace, Sam started to slowly back away. He now realized what the man was, a Crank.
"Where you going, Sammy?" said the Crank, twiddling with the blade of his cruel knife. Without realizing, Sam had backed into another Crank, with the same maniacal look on her face.
"Listen," Sam put Rosie down, reached into his backpack and pulled out two cans. "Here, we have food. Take it and just leave us alone, we don't want trouble."
"Oh we don't want the food," one Crank replied.
"It looks like we got ourselves a couple of Munies here huh, Ben?" said the other.
"Mm hmm," the suit-wearing Ben mumbled, eyeing Rosie. Rosie held tightly onto Sam's leg, whimpering. Just then, something inside Sam snapped. In the split second it took for Sam to pull his knife out, Ben had his own knife to Rosie's throat, and Sam was sprawled onto the dusty ground.
"It's over, Sammy." Ben said, "You can't win, you can't protect her, you never could. Take a look around, who has the upper hand here?" The woman cackled.
"You're insane, you know that?" Sam muttered through gritted teeth, seething.
"We all go a little mad sometimes, hermano," Ben replied. "You know what, Sam-"
Sam never found out 'what', because Ben collapsed to the ground. A girl, maybe a year older than Sam, had knocked Ben unconscious, with an old, metal baseball bat. Then, Sam bolted up, unsheathed his knife, ready for revenge, but she already had the other Crank on the ground.
"Um, thanks," was all Sam could manage.
"We have to go," the girl said, looking worriedly at the Cranks, “Now.”
…
Once they were out of the run-down neighborhood, they sat down by what was left of a tiny stream, and filled their bottles with water.
"I'm Angela," she said, through gulps, "And I'm guessing you're Sammy." she said, smirking.
"Well, it's just Sam," he cut in.
"Okay, just Sam," Angela replied. At that, he managed a smile. Rosie peeked her head out from behind Sam to have a look at the kind stranger.
"And who's this?" Angela asked.
“This is Rosie, my sister,” Sam answered. “And I don’t really think she’s in the mood to talk right now,” he continued.
“Yeah, sorry about that,” Angela apologized, “I didn't really mean to scare you guys back there.”
“Well, you did save our lives,” Sam stated.
“Yeah,” Angela said, “About that. I need your help. A few months ago those buildings housed dozens of people. But that was before the planes came. One day, black planes came by dropping darts onto our town, targeting my family and my people. Almost everyone who was hit became sick with the Flare.
“Wait, wait, wait,” Sam said, “I thought the Flare was an accident released from a military container when the Sun Flares hit?”
“An accident?” Angela laughed. “Oh no, no way. It’s a man-made disease released by our government to control the population. Pretty helpful right?” Sam was awed. “Only a couple of people actually survived, like Ben and Jessica. But who would want to live like that?” she shuddered. “Anyways, after the fact, those of us who weren't insane, grouped up, trying to figure out what to do next, when those blimps came by and took all of us immune to that cruel disease with ‘em.”
“Blimps?” Sam thought out loud. “Do you remember seeing anything on them? Words, letters?”
“I do actually,” Angela said, “I remember the letters W.I.C.K.E.D. on it.”
“That’s it!” Sam dug through his dad’s backpack to find a small journal, written on the front were the letters, W.I.C.K.E.D. Inside were plans of finding a cure for the Flare in the most horrific ways. Dozens of children ages 12-18 would be put through Trials, physical and emotional to study their brain, otherwise known as the Killzone. Many would die in the process. And in the end, the best candidate, would have to sacrifice their brain, for the cure. He also learned that the 'blimps' were actually called Bergs. They are sent all over the world picking up children that are immune, and even some that aren't.
“Sam…What did your dad do for a living?” Angela asked.
“He worked for the CDC. That’s probably why he planned this. He knew the disease was going to be released.”
“We have to stop them, Sammy, from taking these children.” Rosie said, stepping into the conversation.
“You’re right, Rosie,” Sam said, “It says their headquarters is in D.C.”
“Well what are we waiting for,” Angela replied, “Let’s go.”
For those of you who are James Dashner fans, my episode is set in a similar setting to The Kill Order. For those of you who are not, it is set in the far future, in a post-apocalyptic realm. The world has been ravaged by sun flares and is now riddled with a disease called the Flare. Sam and Rosie have lost their parents and are left with their own devices to survive in the new hot, dry, desolate wasteland. My character, Sam, is based off of Newt from The Maze Runner. Sam would be his name before it was changed by WICKED, after the famous scientist, Isaac Newton.