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Fiction » Thriller » The Story Of Xero font: B s : A A A . width: full 3/4 1/2
Author: Virusware
Fiction Rated: T - English - Drama/Suspense - Reviews: 5 - Published: 09-12-04 - Updated: 09-20-04 - id:1718179
Chapter II: Two Down, Two To Go

Xero sat in the burgundy chair across from the door leading into Detective Moore's office

drinking a cup of cold coffee. He had taken up drinking coffee a year ago to help him stay awake

the long nights he spent programing in the small office his parents had made for him. His parents.

He missed them already. The police were treating him as if he were four, and were treating his

sister, Joanna, as if he were her child.

According to what the police had compiled, the terrorist group that had blown up the

mansion was "The Bumpkins": a group dedicated to ending the reign of big business

corporations. The Bumpkins took no claim to the attack, but an investigation was supposedly

started on who was thought to be the groups leader. So far no dice.

Joanna took the news worse than Xero did, though. She didn't go hysterical, or begin

bawling. She sat down and calmly asked how it had happened. That was bad. A severe change in

her normal, perky, cheerleader attitude. She had asked Xero if he would be ok spending the night

at the police station, because she wanted to spend the night at her friend Rebbeka's house. Xero

had no problem with that, as he wanted to be alone too. So now here he was, sitting across from

Detective Moore's office waiting to talk to Moore himself. And here he would stay until Moore

was done talking to the criminologist about some possible suspects.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Joanna Jaque knocked on the door of Alexandra Noth's home, which was also home to

Rebbeka Noth. The house a comfortable sized town house at the end of town. The stoop, where

Joanna spent a lot of her childhood hanging out with Rebbeka and the girls, had been vandalized

over the years and slowly diminished until it was down to only the multicolor steps which Joanna

now stood upon. Rebbeka answered and greeted Joanna in. For a few moments after Joanna had

taken her shoes off an awkward silence fell over the two, but after a minute or so Rebbeka broke

the silence.

"Joanna, I can't imagine how hard this must be for you and your brother. Your welcome

to stay here as long as you want." Rebbeka said. The words came uneasily and sounded

stereotype.

"Do you have your fake ID?" Joanna asked strongly.

"Yeah, it's in my room. Why?"

"Lets go to a bar, I know a good one on thirtieth street."

"Alright, but what will I tell my mom?"

"Tell her we're going over to like Hannah's to hang out."

"Alright." And at that word Rebbeka went into the kitchen to tell her mom. While

Rebbeka did that Joanna rummaged through her purse and found the fake ID. According to the

ID Joanna was born on March 5, 1992. She was really born on January 20, 1994. The added two

years made her legal to drink without having the burden of looking older.

A few moments later Joanna and Rebbeka were off in Joanna's car. There were at the bar,

Palm Beach, before eleven. Rebbeka was drinking her usual, beer, while Joanna had been

downing shots of whiskey.

"Now I am telling you- hiccup -you are thinking about this way too much. What you need

to do is come with my family on vacation, were going to Mars." Rebbeka said in a slur. The year

being 2016, inner-galactic space travel was now a common, even commercial thing, People can

go on vacations from Europe to Uranus. Thanks to a new type of fuel cell, created by Dennis

Laramie, ships could travel halfway across the galaxy in four hours, using little or no fuel, fuel

that can be reproduced and recycled.

"But what am I going to do about Xero? I can't just leave him out on his own." Joanna

replied, a bit of a swagger in her own voice.

"I believe I can help you ma'am." A stranger from the next table said politely. "You see I

specialize in long-term child care. Your little brother can spend the nights and days that you are

gone in one of our older children extended stay camps."

Well, he can stay home alone. What im worried about is him trying something stupid, and

what about the bills, huh? They aren't going to pay themselves. But thanks for the offer pally."

"Well we can check in on him periodically while you are gone on vacation. And besides,

I can offer the comfort of safety for your little brother and you. Here, I have an idea. Let me buy

you two a couple drinks and we'll talk about this." And they did just that. Joanna, Rebbeka, and

this mysterious man talked late into the night. They had their laughs as the conversation moved

away from Xero and onto numerous things. At about Two AM Rebbeka left for the bathroom.

While she was in the bathroom Joanna and Andrew, as they found out his name was, were in a

deep conversation.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Later that night Joanna and Rebbeka drove home in Joanna's sleek 2008 Lexus Arkane.

They had just passed the commerce center at the heart of town and were heading towards the

Eightball gas station, Joanna needed to charge her fuel cell. Normally fuel cells only needed to be

charged every month or they will rupture from internal pressure, and, as a sixteen year old,

Joanna had forgotten to charge her fuel cell. A day after the fuel cell went dry it began going

critical. Her brand new Lexus alerted her that her fuel cell was critical, but it was too late and the

fuel cell ruptured. The hole in the circuit was small, but it required Joanna to recharge her car

every two weeks.

A pair of lights followed behind them. Rebbeka and Joanna were laughing at a joke

Rebbeka had cracked about Superman being faster than a speeding bullet when Joanna felt a

deep low pain in her chest. She wrote it off as heartburn, as she had ate ten buffalo chicken wings

at the bar, but then it became a dull throb, then finally she passed out at the wheel. The car

swerved, hit a lamppost straightened as Rebbeka tried to correct the car manually because for

some reason the emergency button on the dash wasn't working. Going at seventy miles per hour

the Lexus fish-tailed into Eightball Fuel And Deposit Station. The glorified gas station blew and

roasted like a thanksgiving turkey. The car behind the Lexus turned the corner before the gas

station and stopped. The door opened and Andrew got out. He took out a small camera and

snapped some pictures of the gas station and the Lexus. The Fireball, not the Eightball anymore.



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