"Dare," I chose. Kira's eyes gleamed, "Knock on Crazy's door." "What?! No one has ever gotten that close to his house," I exclaimed, looking around at my other friends for support. All four of our other roommates looked shocked, but no one joined my protestation. The dare had been issued and there would be no turning back.
I knew where Crazy lived just as well as anyone else, even though I had just moved in a couple months ago for school. Everyone talked about him, but as far as I knew, no one had ever actually seen him. His reputation made it clear, however, that it was dangerous to step foot on his property, even for a second. Yet here I was, about to go all the way up to his door.
The six of us took Kira's old hovercar to the edge of town until we came to the formidable line of trees that marked the boundary of his property. Looking over my shoulder, I realized no one was going to follow me in, so I took a deep breath and slid between two giant oaks.
I had no idea exactly where his house was, everyone just said it was behind the trees. Quickly finding myself disoriented in all the foliage, I began to doubt a house even existed.
That's when I saw it: a simple, slightly old-fashioned-looking house peeked out from behind the greenery. I knew I could go back now and lie about knocking on the door, but I was too committed, and curious, to run.
The door had a deadbolt lock, like the ones I'd seen in old movies, instead of a fingerprint scanner like all normal houses. Odd. I raised my hand to knock and braced myself to run as fast as I could. One knock and the door swung open. Stunned, I jumped backward. The old wooden patio couldn't take the sudden pressure, and my left foot fell through a weak spot in the boards. I was stuck.
A voice came from inside the dark house, "Who are you? What do you want? If you're here to take it from me, you can't! You can't get rid of it! We need it, we all need it."
Pulling my leg upward scraped the jagged wood against my ankle, but I still couldn't move. Frantically, I tugged harder, but the pain brought no results.
"Who are you?" the voice repeated. "No one has come in years," he continued, the sound of his voice getting closer and closer. "I told them I had it, I figured it out, I had the answer, the key, the solution," he rambled on, "and what did they do? They told me they didn't need it, everyone would be ok."
I yanked my leg desperately to no avail, "He really is crazy," I thought to myself.
Suddenly, he was in the doorway, only a couple of feet away from me: Crazy. He looked about fifty with a shock of black hair standing in all directions, a pristine white lab coat hanging open over a plaid button-up, khakis, bare feet, and a hammer in his hand.
He came closer, raising the hammer as he walked. Lifting my arms to protect my head, I started screaming as loudly as I could, hoping my friends were still close enough to hear me. Air rushed past me as the hammer swung down. The expected pain did not arrive and I realized he had broken the boards encasing my foot. I was free!
Darting back inside his home, he called back shortly, "Follow me."
Poised to run, I debated for a second, but feeling grateful and deciding to give my savior the benefit of the doubt, I followed him inside. When he immediately locked the door behind us, the fleeting trust I had felt was gone and all I wanted to do was leave.
"I have to lock the door, you see. I always lock the door. I have to protect it; I can't let them destroy it." He almost seemed to be begging for my understanding and forgiveness.
Wiping my sweaty hands on my leggings, I mustered up the courage to say something back and blurted out, "Who is ‘they?'"
Suddenly, he looked agitated, "They said they didn't believe me. They told everyone I was crazy, but I can save them. I can save everyone." His voice intensified and his eyes widened to a point where he suddenly looked very unstable. "I'm sorry," I started slowly, "I didn't mean to bother you. I'll go now if that's alright."
His eyes relaxed a little and he said, "Come with me. You have to see. You have to know what they did, what I did, what I'm doing." Crazy whipped around a corner, lab coat flying out behind him.
Alone again, I attempted turning the doorknob, but it didn't move. I sighed, cautiously took a few steps, and turned the corner. What I saw amazed me: rows of stainless steel doors on either side of a long hallway, each one with a small white label reading "Cure." I could see Crazy up ahead of me, but he quickly disappeared around a bend at the end of the doors. Jogging to catch up, I found my hero-turned-captor inside what could only be described as a scientist's dream come true. At least a dozen tables overflowing with charts, pencils, burners, bottles, jars, and equipment I'd never seen before lay sprawled out in front of me with Crazy standing dead center, looking straight into my eyes.
"What do you see?" he asked. "It looks like a chemistry lab at my university," I answered hesitantly. To my surprise, he nodded. Running a hand through his unruly hair, he sighed, "I'm a scientist. I used to be good," he laughed, "I even did research for the government," the laughter was gone. He sighed again, not breaking eye contact, "Listen, kid, the reason I'm here, the reason all of this," he gestured around himself, "is here . . ." Crazy stopped, panic flashing across his face, "You're here all alone, aren't you? You didn't bring them with you? You didn't tell them how to find me?" Suddenly inches in front of me, he grabbed my shoulders, "Are. You. Here. Alone." He enunciated very deliberately. Too afraid to speak, all I could do was nod my head.
A third sigh, "The government thinks it has eliminated every illness. They believe no one will, can, ever get sick again." I rolled my eyes, everyone knew that was true. Shaking his head, he said, "You have to believe me when I say they're wrong and I'm the only one who can save us when disease comes back and everyone starts to die."
"I'm sorry, but you're wrong," I started hesitantly. "Maybe diseases existed back when my grandparents' parents were kids, but no one I know has ever had even the slightest sign of sickness." His fingers were in his hair again, "I know, I know, it seems crazy, but I'm telling you that very soon a mass pandemic will break out and everyone WILL die if they don't get my cure. It will start out as a cough, a simple cold, but after a matter of days, it will turn deadly. The injections they give you at birth are meant to grant you immunity to all types of viruses, bacteria, etc., and they're effective. However, if you were to somehow contract an illness, your body wouldn't know how to fight it off, and you would die. Fast. Give this new sickness enough time unchecked and entire civilizations would collapse, one person at a time." By the time he finished, he was shouting and waving his arms about. Absolutely crazy.
"Sir, thank you for helping me on the porch, I really appreciate it, but I can't stay any longer, I need to go back now," I wanted to get away from Crazy as soon as possible and my fear was escalating into panic.
. . .
A few years later I had almost completely forgotten about my encounter with Crazy, until I started coughing.
I knew where Crazy lived just as well as anyone else, even though I had just moved in a couple months ago for school. Everyone talked about him, but as far as I knew, no one had ever actually seen him. His reputation made it clear, however, that it was dangerous to step foot on his property, even for a second. Yet here I was, about to go all the way up to his door.
The six of us took Kira's old hovercar to the edge of town until we came to the formidable line of trees that marked the boundary of his property. Looking over my shoulder, I realized no one was going to follow me in, so I took a deep breath and slid between two giant oaks.
I had no idea exactly where his house was, everyone just said it was behind the trees. Quickly finding myself disoriented in all the foliage, I began to doubt a house even existed.
That's when I saw it: a simple, slightly old-fashioned-looking house peeked out from behind the greenery. I knew I could go back now and lie about knocking on the door, but I was too committed, and curious, to run.
The door had a deadbolt lock, like the ones I'd seen in old movies, instead of a fingerprint scanner like all normal houses. Odd. I raised my hand to knock and braced myself to run as fast as I could. One knock and the door swung open. Stunned, I jumped backward. The old wooden patio couldn't take the sudden pressure, and my left foot fell through a weak spot in the boards. I was stuck.
A voice came from inside the dark house, "Who are you? What do you want? If you're here to take it from me, you can't! You can't get rid of it! We need it, we all need it."
Pulling my leg upward scraped the jagged wood against my ankle, but I still couldn't move. Frantically, I tugged harder, but the pain brought no results.
"Who are you?" the voice repeated. "No one has come in years," he continued, the sound of his voice getting closer and closer. "I told them I had it, I figured it out, I had the answer, the key, the solution," he rambled on, "and what did they do? They told me they didn't need it, everyone would be ok."
I yanked my leg desperately to no avail, "He really is crazy," I thought to myself.
Suddenly, he was in the doorway, only a couple of feet away from me: Crazy. He looked about fifty with a shock of black hair standing in all directions, a pristine white lab coat hanging open over a plaid button-up, khakis, bare feet, and a hammer in his hand.
He came closer, raising the hammer as he walked. Lifting my arms to protect my head, I started screaming as loudly as I could, hoping my friends were still close enough to hear me. Air rushed past me as the hammer swung down. The expected pain did not arrive and I realized he had broken the boards encasing my foot. I was free!
Darting back inside his home, he called back shortly, "Follow me."
Poised to run, I debated for a second, but feeling grateful and deciding to give my savior the benefit of the doubt, I followed him inside. When he immediately locked the door behind us, the fleeting trust I had felt was gone and all I wanted to do was leave.
"I have to lock the door, you see. I always lock the door. I have to protect it; I can't let them destroy it." He almost seemed to be begging for my understanding and forgiveness.
Wiping my sweaty hands on my leggings, I mustered up the courage to say something back and blurted out, "Who is ‘they?'"
Suddenly, he looked agitated, "They said they didn't believe me. They told everyone I was crazy, but I can save them. I can save everyone." His voice intensified and his eyes widened to a point where he suddenly looked very unstable. "I'm sorry," I started slowly, "I didn't mean to bother you. I'll go now if that's alright."
His eyes relaxed a little and he said, "Come with me. You have to see. You have to know what they did, what I did, what I'm doing." Crazy whipped around a corner, lab coat flying out behind him.
Alone again, I attempted turning the doorknob, but it didn't move. I sighed, cautiously took a few steps, and turned the corner. What I saw amazed me: rows of stainless steel doors on either side of a long hallway, each one with a small white label reading "Cure." I could see Crazy up ahead of me, but he quickly disappeared around a bend at the end of the doors. Jogging to catch up, I found my hero-turned-captor inside what could only be described as a scientist's dream come true. At least a dozen tables overflowing with charts, pencils, burners, bottles, jars, and equipment I'd never seen before lay sprawled out in front of me with Crazy standing dead center, looking straight into my eyes.
"What do you see?" he asked. "It looks like a chemistry lab at my university," I answered hesitantly. To my surprise, he nodded. Running a hand through his unruly hair, he sighed, "I'm a scientist. I used to be good," he laughed, "I even did research for the government," the laughter was gone. He sighed again, not breaking eye contact, "Listen, kid, the reason I'm here, the reason all of this," he gestured around himself, "is here . . ." Crazy stopped, panic flashing across his face, "You're here all alone, aren't you? You didn't bring them with you? You didn't tell them how to find me?" Suddenly inches in front of me, he grabbed my shoulders, "Are. You. Here. Alone." He enunciated very deliberately. Too afraid to speak, all I could do was nod my head.
A third sigh, "The government thinks it has eliminated every illness. They believe no one will, can, ever get sick again." I rolled my eyes, everyone knew that was true. Shaking his head, he said, "You have to believe me when I say they're wrong and I'm the only one who can save us when disease comes back and everyone starts to die."
"I'm sorry, but you're wrong," I started hesitantly. "Maybe diseases existed back when my grandparents' parents were kids, but no one I know has ever had even the slightest sign of sickness." His fingers were in his hair again, "I know, I know, it seems crazy, but I'm telling you that very soon a mass pandemic will break out and everyone WILL die if they don't get my cure. It will start out as a cough, a simple cold, but after a matter of days, it will turn deadly. The injections they give you at birth are meant to grant you immunity to all types of viruses, bacteria, etc., and they're effective. However, if you were to somehow contract an illness, your body wouldn't know how to fight it off, and you would die. Fast. Give this new sickness enough time unchecked and entire civilizations would collapse, one person at a time." By the time he finished, he was shouting and waving his arms about. Absolutely crazy.
"Sir, thank you for helping me on the porch, I really appreciate it, but I can't stay any longer, I need to go back now," I wanted to get away from Crazy as soon as possible and my fear was escalating into panic.
. . .
A few years later I had almost completely forgotten about my encounter with Crazy, until I started coughing.