Short Story: 'SEEK'

Here's a short story I wrote for a contest. I entered the Popular Fiction category with my story classified as a Suspense/Thriller, although it probably could also be classified in the Mystery/Crime genre as well. Anyway, here's the first part of it. Hope you enjoy!
God bless!

Geno

P.S. I don't in any way recommend that you read any stories you find on the Writer's Digest website, particularly in the Popular Fiction section. In glancing through a few I found harsh and crude language; I only link to their site to alert any other writers of a place that hosts competitions they may be interested in.



The sun slowly became visible above the city’s skyline. Robert Chapman made his way to work just as he usually did, sipping his coffee, trying to shake the sleepiness out of his eyes. With all the traffic, it seemed the entire city of Acirema had the same schedule as he did.

After an upsetting forty-five minute drive, he finally reached the edge of the city, where he was currently stationed. He pulled his car into the parking lot. To his left was The Wall; a looming, black fog that marked the end of the city. It seemed to stretch on forever. Robert’s job was to guard it so that no one would venture into the place of death. They had lost many to The Wall. Radicals with misguided views of peace and happiness insisted that The Wall was a portal to a new life; a life void of suffering; a life full of joy. None of these people were ever seen again. Every time a new person was lost to The Wall, Robert and his co-workers hoped desperately that the victim’s radical ideas would die with them, but that never seemed to happen. Just two weeks ago, another had fallen victim to The Wall. Robert and his team were determined not to let it happen again.
Robert gazed at the hideous monster. The pitch black fog was impossible to see through, looming high into the sky as far as the eye could see. He turned his eyes away; looking at The Wall only filled him with fear; a strange fear, one he never felt on any other occasion, but entered his heart every time he looked at The Wall.

Tearing his eyes away, he walked inside to get dressed and ready for guard duty.
The day passed quickly and without incident – until 5:45, just fifteen minutes before Robert got off. He was looking forward to being done: he had a date with Jenny, his girlfriend, and wanted to go home and freshen up before picking her up. It would have been a great end to a great day. But at 5:45, the frantic voice of Jeff, his co-worker and good friend, came through the walkie-talkie: “Rob, we’ve got a problem! There’s a guy trying to get into The Wall – he’s coming right to your street! I’m in pursuit!”

“I’m on it!” Robert answered as he took off toward the enormous gate that blocked the city from The Wall. He opened the door, got out, locked it again, and took off down the street, hoping to cut off the radical as he came around the corner.

Robert drew his taser as he came around the corner of the last building on the street and looked in the direction he thought the criminal would come. But there was no one there. He scanned the area, looked across the intersection, yet still saw no one. Everyone who had seen Robert running had rushed into nearby buildings to hide in case there was gunfire.

Suddenly, behind him, Robert heard the gate open. He turned to see a man, in his early thirties, disappearing behind the gate and heading for The Wall.

“Ah!” thought Robert, “How did he get through?” Somehow these radicals always found a way through the gate, even though it was always locked.

But Robert didn’t miss a beat. He took off after the man as fast as he could go. He yelled: “Stop, stop! I’m a police officer, stop now!” But the man only glanced behind and ran faster than ever.

The radical was getting closer and closer to The Wall. Robert saw something strange about him: he didn’t seem afraid. He actually looked happy and calm, despite being chased and in danger of losing his life. And he was wearing a pair of glasses – white glasses, even the lenses were white. “What is it with these glasses?” thought Robert. “Every victim’s had a pair.” But he didn’t have time to think about that now. The man was only ten yards from The Wall, and Robert was about five yards behind him, gaining little ground.

Too far away to use it, Robert threw down his taser and pulled his gun. As the man drew within steps of The Wall, Robert stopped running and took aim. He froze for a second, unable to fire. He had never had to use his gun before. Now, he was going to kill a man with it. Robert shook the doubts and fears out of his head and, just before the man reached The Wall, fired. But the man ducked just as Robert pulled the trigger! The man dove right into The Wall, disappearing into the fog, laying his glasses on the ground as he rolled inside.
Robert rushed forward and tried to spy the man, but couldn’t see a thing. He looked down. Lying on the ground at his feet were the glasses. He gazed at them, suddenly mesmerized, unable to look away. “Don’t touch those,” his mind told him. But another voice in his mind answered, “If you put those on, maybe you can see what drives these people to do what they do.” He was rationalizing. To be found with glasses like these would mean losing his job and spending years in prison. But there was something about them, some mystery he needed to know. Curiosity got the best of him. Seeing no one around, he quickly picked up the glasses and slid them into his pocket.

A couple hours later, Robert found himself rushing to pick up Jenny, already late for his date. He had had to give his chief a report regarding the latest victim of The Wall, and it took more time than he thought it would.

It wasn’t the best night for Robert. He was distracted, unable to take his mind off the glasses that were still tucked away in his pocket. Jenny knew something was wrong, but didn’t say anything until they were in the car that evening.

They drove in silence until Jenny spoke up, “Robert, what’s wrong with you?”

“What do you mean?” he asked, not wanting to answer.

“You know what I mean. You’ve been distracted all night and I can tell something’s bugging you. Now what is it?”

Robert sighed and contemplated telling her. Finally, he forced the whole story out. As he finished, he drew the glasses out of his pocket.
Jenny’s mouth dropped and for a second she was unable to speak. Then she said forcefully: “Robert, you’ve got to get rid of those. If someone finds you with them you’ll be thrown in jail. Why would you take them in the first place!?”

“They’re for research,” Robert insisted, trying to convince himself as much as he was trying to convince Jenny.

“Research?” she answered, not believing him.

“I just want to know what drives these people to do what they do. Maybe once we know that, we’ll be able to stop them.”

“Robert, listen to me: don’t put those on. What if they make you become one of those radicals? You can’t risk it,” she insisted worriedly.

“There’s just something about them,” Robert said, gazing at the glasses. “I have to find out what it is. Every victim has had a pair of these – I need to know why.”

“You know, I think I’m gonna just go home tonight,” said Jenny, getting out of the car.

“But I thought we were gonna watch some TV. And you don’t have a car, how will you get home?”

“I only live a few blocks away; I’ll just walk.”

“You won’t tell anyone, will you?” he questioned.

“No,” she assured him. “But you’d better get rid of those soon if you want me to keep it that way. “You’re gonna get hurt.” And with that, she walked off down the street.

Robert got out of the car and headed inside. He locked all of the doors and closed the blinds on every window. Slowly he slipped the glasses out of his pocket and set them on the coffee table in front of his couch and sat, staring at them. He tried to resist putting them on, but to no avail; Robert’s curiosity got the best of him and he slowly reached out and took the glasses. Shakily, he brought them up toward his face until they rested in place.

He looked around. Everything seemed the same. He could see clearly through the bright, white lenses, and nothing looked any different. Then he looked down at his hand. Inscribed on his right hand were the words: ‘Mark of Death’. He frantically rubbed the letters, but they didn’t disappear!

Looking up, he spotted something else. On the wall were more letters, written in red, just as the letters on his hand were. He walked over and read these new words. Their message sent horrible chills down his spine.