Letting the World Burn

by Graham Dalton

A fair-skinned woman in all-white clothing glared up at me from her document-cluttered desk.

  “I need to speak to the principal,” I said.

  She folded her arms. “Yeah, and what's this concerning?”

  “Official business,” I said to her. I stepped up to her desk. I needed to be blunt and slightly aggressive when dealing with her. Like most Commoners, she was rough around the edges. I noted a few gang tattoos on her right wrist. “Get the principal.”

  “I've heard o' you,” she said, rising to her feet. “You're Quincy Abrams, eh? You never solved my brother's murder. I come into your office, and you tell me to leave. You tell me that I don't have the money. ”

  Her brother was just another dead Commoner. To solve every murder in this city, they would need a whole cavalry, and I was just one man. I couldn't lower myself to solve a bunch of Commoner crimes. Not to mention, my pay rate was too much for any of them to afford, but that wasn't my problem.

  “Just get the goddamn principal,” I said.

  She paused and turned away, escaping into a doorway behind her. I sighed and waited for a few moments. I turned around and stared out the hallway. A knot wrenched in my gut. This place reminded me too much of Anna. It burned. It hurt. I wished that I could be reunited with her again. Then we would run away together, to that old cabin by the lake. We could live out our days there as one happy family.

  I turned back around. I had to stay focused. I knew that I couldn't let my daydreams about Anna distract me from finding her. Over and over again, I told myself to focus. I couldn't let what happened last time destroy my chances of finding her. Becoming blind with rage was the last thing that I needed. I needed to be smart and think logically if I was ever going to find her again.

  The secretary walked in and groaned while gesturing me into the room. “Right this way,” she said.

  I stepped into the office of the principal.

  The man looked back at me with his pudgy face. His gleaming caramel eyes gazed back at me. He ran a hand through his thin strands of cotton-white hair. Scars and bruises were slashed along the right side of his face.

  “It's an honor to meet you, Quincy!” the principal proclaimed, with a grin as wide as his face. “I'm the principal of this fine establishment! Name's Erick Vernon. Oh, my, my, my. How can I be of service?”

  I hated the notoriety that I'd managed to achieve. It felt like everywhere I went, people knew who I was. It was annoying. Sometimes, I wished I was unknown.

  “I need your help with a job I'm working on,” I said.

  “Oh, no problem! No problem at all!”

  “It's about a missing person,” I said. “There was a girl who went to your school. Her name was Laura Brooks.” He nodded while scrubbing a pair of fingers against his jagged chin. “You know anything about her disappearance?”

  “She went to school here?” He scrunched his brows. “No, no, no. I do not know a girl by that name, and I don't know how she could've gone missing. My, my, my. This school here, it is-”

  “Don't play stupid,” I said, rolling my eyes. He cocked his wispy brows, still playing dumb. I wasn't in the mood to play games. “Laura Brooks. She was about seven.” I pulled the picture of her out of my jacket and shoved it in his face. He crinkled his face. I could tell that he knew more than he was letting on. This was all a matter of making him talk. “Tell me what you know about her disappearance, and I'll leave you alone.”

  He shuffled in his seat. I'd made him uncomfortable, which was always a good sign. The man froze, and he stared at the photo for several moments.

  I snarled my nose. “Are you going to talk or are you just going to ogle at the fucking picture?”

  “We...we have many students,” he said. “It's hard to keep them all straight.” The principal cleared his throat. “But she doesn't look familiar. Sir, she's just a Commoner kid. I'm sure she ran away, lots of these kids do. She'll turn back up again. I'm sure of it. You know, just the other day...”

  “Do you have any security footage?” I asked.

  “We don't have any security cameras in this school, Quincy,” the principal said. He winced and chuckled awkwardly to himself. “You should know that. We can't afford it.”

  “Can't afford it,” I repeated, snarling my nose. I had to be careful with him. He reported to the Elites, so I couldn't be too aggressive. I didn't need them getting suspicious of my behavior. “Have you seen any suspicious people around lately?”

  “Not that I can recall,” he said.

  “That's not good enough,” I said, folding the picture and sliding it back into a pocket. “Give me whatever records you have on her. You're a school. I'm sure you keep tabs on your students.”

  “We don't keep any specific records on our students,”

  said the principal. He winced again. I knew he was lying, but if I kept prodding, he'd only clam up further. I needed to approach him from a different angle.

  “Again, Quincy,” said the principal. “I've told you all I know.”

  “You're not half as good a liar as you think,” I said.

  I stepped back out into the lobby and walked past his secretary. She stared me down every step of the way. As I stepped into the hallway, I pivoted around and glared at that miserable woman.

  “Can I help you with something?” I grunted.

  “Just stay away from here,” she said. “It'd be for the best. Whatever you're looking into, drop it.”

  “I don't abandon a job,” I said.

  “Don't blame me when you get yourself killed.”

  I wouldn't have any of this. “Are you threatening me?” “No, I'm warning you.”

  I groaned and walked off. The dingy lights flickered above, as I stepped down the school hallway. I walked by the classrooms and listened to the teachers speaking. A few little girls laughed nearby, and it made me think back to Anna. I walked toward the end of the hall and burst through the set of double doors.

  I stepped out onto a playground. A few teachers in armored suits stood beside me. They each sucked on a smoldering cigarette as they idly gossiped. Each teacher had a pistol holstered to their hip. Out in the lower districts, you never knew when you needed to defend yourself. I'd gotten jumped a few times after picking up Anna. I shot those teens dead. It wasn't my finest moment, but I was just defending myself.

  I watched a few dozen Commoner children play on a broken play set. They all laughed, running around in their ragged clothing. It was nice, for a moment, to watch them play so innocently. Soon, the world would swallow their naivety and spit them out as cynical adults. For now, they were still so full of life.

  “Can I help you?” a teacher asked.

  I turned to her and shook my head. “No. I'm just moving along.”

  I walked back to my sedan and hopped into the driver's seat. For a few moments, I just sat there, thinking.

  Principal Vernon was lying to me, but I knew that I couldn't force information out of him. My next option was to break into the school and find the information that way. I knew that they must have some information on the students or some form of records.

  I returned to my apartment some time later I had some time to prepare, so I took a moment to ease my mind. I smoked a cigar while sipping a bottle of rum. I'd hear sirens ring by my apartment from time to time, but aside from that, it was mostly quiet. That's just how I liked it.

  I took out the photo of Laura and gazed at it. Looking at the picture made me think of Anna again. A knot tightened in my stomach, and I felt so alone. I glanced around my quiet apartment, contemplating the world. My head suddenly began to ache as I lay the picture on a counter in front of me. I stared at the photo. She reminded me of Anna. Those girls at the school reminded me of Anna.

  Everything reminded me of Anna.

  Anna was out there somewhere, and maybe she was connected to this other girl's disappearance. Either way, I was certain that I was close to finding her. There wasn't a doubt in my mind that I would find my little girl. I was going to get
my daughter back. Maybe then I could finally be happy again.

  I had to stop thinking about her. If I was ever going to get my daughter back, I had to act rationally. I couldn't afford to act like the drunken imbecile that I was last time. I could still remember those night-long, alcohol-fueled binges. I recalled going to school the next day, still drunk, and screaming at them. I begged them to bring Anna back. They told me the same lies that Vernon told me today. Although back then, I reacted to their lies with violence. I bashed the principal's face until his head was a bloody pulp. I wouldn't mind bashing in Vernon's face.

  What happened to Anna didn't matter. What mattered was that I was going to find her.

  The sun sank below the high-rises, and the moon bathed the city in a soft, pale glow. Then, I was off. The roads were always quiet at night around my apartment. But as I drove closer toward the slums, the streets became cluttered with ragged clusters of Commoners. Most of them were inked from head-to-toe in gang symbols.

  I drove up to the school and wrapped a black ski mask around my face. Despite what Principal Vernon told me, I knew there might be security cameras, and I wasn't going to take any chances with having my identity revealed.

  I stepped up to the padlock that was wrapped around the doors. I reached into my right-hand pocket and slipped out a couple wires for lock-picking. I jammed the set of wires into the locks, glancing behind me to ensure that no one was watching.

  A click sounded, and the lock collapsed onto the ground. I pulled the door forward and stepped inside. First, I slowly made my way to the principal's office. It seemed like a good place to start. One could only imagine what secrets he hid within his desk.

  The halls were so silent and vacuous at night. With every step, my feet clanked onto the hard marble flooring. I shined my flashlight around, looking at the crumpled, bent lockers that lined the hallways.

  I stepped down another hallway and froze. A set of feet pattered near me. I reached for my gun. I probably wouldn't have to use it, but it comforted me slightly. The footsteps stopped. I knew that I wasn't imagining it that someone was here. In any case, this person wouldn't slow me down. I had to go to the principal's office. I had a job to do.

  I walked down another couple hallways until I approached the principal's office. The oak door was slightly ajar. So, I pulled out my gun and stepped up to the door. I pushed it open and aimed my weapon. There was nobody here. Maybe, I had imagined it. No, I knew that I didn't imagine it. I never had the most vivid imagination.

  I crept into the office and stepped past the secretary's desk. Then, I walked into his office. First, I walked over and opened a drawer to his cabinet that was beneath his desk. There, I saw several documents and files, all neatly organized in alphabetical order. They were all student names. I saw the names: Eric Abercrombie, Jennie Barrett, and then Laura Brooks. I opened the file and placed it on his desk.

  Apparently, these were the files that he claimed to not have.

  Several documents and reports lay within the folder, and I looked through each one.

  The first document detailed her success on the standardized tests, with a written note saying that “she shows promise.” I flipped to the next document, which was clipped with dozens of pictures of this girl. These pictures were taken at the school and around the city. One picture showed her smiling as she stepped into an apartment complex. Someone had been stalking her, taking these pictures. I doubted it was the principal. He just gave people orders from behind his desk, but the principal wasn't much for taking action. I'd met many men like him in my time. Vernon had hired someone to stalk this girl.

  A tingle snaked up my spine. I wondered if they had been spying on Anna in the same way. Vernon was a creep, and whoever he was working with was a creep. I furrowed my brows and grunted beneath my breath. A lot of things just didn't make sense.

  Why would anyone care enough to stalk a Commoner girl? I scratched my head and wondered. I could see someone spying on an Elite child. This just didn't make sense. I glanced over to the other files. There were only twenty- six other files, with the student names and pictures alongside them. If he kept such specific records on some students, why didn't he keep records on all the students?

  I glanced through the files, looking desperately for a folder labeled “Anna Abrams.” But, I didn't see such a file. I looked through the files two, then three more times. Still, I found nothing. I slid open another folder titled “Eric Abercrombie,” and flipped it open.

  I saw similar information, as was found in Laura’s file. There were pictures of this boy at various places around the city, including several taken while he was on the play set.

  At least, I'd had my suspicions confirmed. Vernon was lying to me.

  I approached his desk. I wrapped a hand around the wireless mouse for his computer and clicked. The computer screen flashed a green- tinted box, demanding a password.

  I thought back to Principal Vernon and my dealings with him. There was no way that he was on top of whatever was going on here.

  The Elites were the ones who controlled the Commoner schools, and they would often appoint some Commoners for the administration positions. The administration was often showered with ritzy gifts from the Elites, and they would tell the Commoner kids that if you worked really hard, you could be just like them someday. It was all bullshit. School administration was nothing more than a bunch of puppets meant to trick the children into thinking they could be successful someday. The kids didn't yet realize that their non-altered genes made social mobility impossible, aside from the exceedingly rare exception.

  On his desk, there lay a picture. The picture was of the principal and a beautiful woman with a date imprinted below, 8-13-28. I tried using that date a few different ways as a possible password and suddenly was taken into the desktop.

  Vernon sure wasn't the smartest man in the world. I scrolled through several files. One file was filled with cartoon porn, one was filled with unimportant reports, and the next one I saw was filled with video recordings. I clicked on the video folder.

  There were several video documents, all labeled with different student names. I saw the name “Eric Abercrombie” next to one file. Then I scrolled down the list of names. There must have been hundreds of different files here. So I looked, hoping that I could find a file named after my daughter. I kept scrolling and scrolling but didn't find her name.

  Then I scrolled down to a video file reading “Laura – LAST DAY.” The video showed a little girl playing with a few boys in school. They all laughed and played with one another, without a care in the world. After they were done, the boys walked off, and the girl, Laura, stayed by herself. The time in the bottom corner skipped fifty seconds, and she was gone. I stared at the screen, going back another few seconds, hoping that I could find some clue, some hint as to her disappearance. All relevant information had been removed. This girl's disappearance had to be connected to Anna.

  I looked through more documents, hoping that I could find Anna's name. Then I saw it. There was a file listed as “ANNA ABRAMS.” For a moment, my heart stopped. I hesitated for a second to click on the file. After all, I didn't know if I wanted to see it. I feared what might be on it. What if the video was of people taking Anna by force? I winced at the thought. I swallowed hard as I mustered the courage to click on the file.

  The video popped up. Anna stood by the school, surrounded by a few other children. I placed a hand on the screen as I watched my daughter. She was talking and laughing with a few of the kids, and I wept, just staring at her. My eyes turned to a black sedan that appeared in the corner of the video. A few men in black suits stepped out of the vehicle and walked over to Anna. I wanted to look away, but I couldn't. I kept staring at the video with my gut twisting and knotting. Suddenly, she was gone. The video had skipped again. My girl was gone. They took her.

  I wiped off a few tears and turned away. I took a few breaths, reminding myself that I had to stay focused. I could not afford to let my emotions get t
he better of me.

  I knew what I had to do. I had to confront the principal. I then looked through a series of files on his computer until I found a database for the school administration. I scrolled through the list until I found the name “Erick Vernon” with an address listed. He resided at 5768 West 8th Avenue, not far from my own residence.

  With that, I turned off the computer and shuffled the files back into the cabinet. A pair of footsteps sounded outside the office. I reached for the gun, and wrapped a hand around my revolver. With a calming breath, I stepped to the doorway and pulled out the gun. A few more steps echoed from the adjacent room. Sweaty beads dripped off my forehead while I gripped my gun even tighter.

  “He should be around here somewhere,” said a gruff, masculine voice.

  I pushed myself up against the wall, holding my gun. There were two sets of footsteps. They shuffled around the other room. Then there was silence. I wasn't scared, though. I just had to wait it out. If they stepped foot into the office, I'd have to kill them. Then there were a couple more footsteps. They were coming closer.

  A man walked into the office. Without pausing, I pointed my revolver and shot him right in the head. He collapsed onto the ground. The other man cursed as he rushed into the office.

  He turned toward me and pointed his gun, but I grabbed his wrists and pushed him back.

  He shot the ceiling twice, as I threw him against the wall. I slammed my knee in his abdomen, and he cried out. The man lost his grip on the gun. The pistol crashed onto the floor. I thrust my weight against him and smacked his body onto the ground. I knelt on top of him, and I grabbed his gun and tossed it across the room. I held my revolver to his shaking head.

  “Who do you work for?” I asked.

  “I...I...I,” he said, shaking.

  I ripped the ski mask off his face and dropped it onto the floor. His head was egg-shaped with a couple gang teardrops tattooed beneath his right eye. I felt a sudden warmth on my right knee. Quickly, I glanced to the warming sensation and saw that the man had wet himself. A Commoner hired these two. If an Elite hired someone to kill me, I'd probably already be dead. These two were incompetent amateurs.