The Conspiracy Theory of June 17

by Alessia Holmes

  Instead of laughing out loud, like a normal English teacher would, Mrs Renee simply smiled in approval. "He used to escape-green method."

  Jessie continued, ignoring her strange remark. "Okay, that. I did that, but right before I flushed-"

  But she doesn't get to continue because a knock on the door interrupts her. The three of them look at each other in surprise and a 'what-do-we-do-now' face. Mrs Renee slowly gets up. Putting a finger to her lips, she treads over to the main door, Jessie and Damon watching her with the widest eyes.

  "Hello?"

  "I've got a parcel for you, Miss, um, miss..." a frail voice comes in through the other side of the door.

  Mrs Renee waits in silence for a second, then answers. "Just leave it at the door."

  "Okay." Ears pricked, they all listen for the footsteps to grow distant, and only then does Mrs Renee open the door and quickly shut it again. In her hands is a rectangular shaped box wrapped in brown paper. A white envelope is sticky taped on the top.

  They all sit down at the dining table as Mrs Renee places the box carefully onto the middle of the table. All eyes in the room are examining it suspiciously, as if it carried a bomb inside.

  "Should we open it?" Jessie is the first one to mouth everyone's thoughts. Mrs Renee slowly nods and mutters, "We'll have to."

  The letter is addressed to someone named Ms Krysten, as it says on the envelope. There's also an address written on it, 218 Murdoch Street, 1998, which they assume is the address of the house they're currently in. Inside the envelope, though, there is nothing.

  "There's nothing - nothing in here," says Mrs Renee, tipping the envelope upside down. Jessie and Damon both frown as they take turns examining the envelope, as if one of them could magically make a letter appear out of nowhere, which obviously they can't.

  But that doesn't concern them for too long. They know that what matters is what's inside the brown-paper cornered parcel.

  The sound of ripping paper resonates around the room. Immediately, the brown paper is thrown aside to reveal a dark navy-blue coloured box with embossed designs and patterns all over.

  Mrs Renee gently opens the box, lifting the lid up carefully to reveal the contents of the box. The three of them watch in awe, and slight confusion as out comes a dress, some leggings, a cardigan, a scarf, and a pair of brown glasses.

  Mrs Renee spreads the items out on the table and stares at them. For a moment they all stare at the items, no one knowing what to say.

  Damon finally clears his throat. "What," he breathes, breaking the silence gently. "What is this?"

  "It's someone's clothes. A lady's clothes." As the words leave Jessie's mouth, sudden fear starts to rise up inside of her as she realises what the situation could be.

  As if someone had flipped a switch, the atmosphere around them changed from confusion to shock and trepidation.

  "There's two ways you could take this," Damon and Jessie jump slightly as Mrs Renee starts talking with no warning. "One - they know we're here. Probably the bad guys, because I don't think the good guys would send us something like this. And that makes sense, because they're the ones who put us here in the first place. Why wait all this time to capture us, though? Maybe they're just trying to scare us. And it's kind of working, because option one is that these are Ms Krysten clothes."

  A chill runs up Jessie's spine. "She's..." She can't even finish her sentence, not wanting what she thought to be true.

  Mrs Renee nods without even looking up from the clothes. She takes a deep breath, and then continues. "Two - they don't know we're here, and they sent one of their members, (who lives here) this as a message."

  "Either way," Damon starts, "Someone died, or, is going to die."

  His voice echoes through the room. Of course, there was no way of telling exactly that someone died – she, whoever it was, could still be alive. But the feeling that ran through all three of their bones were enough to confirm their darkest suspicions.

  The three of them sit in a shaky, uninterrupted silence for the longest time, but finally Mrs Renee stands up. The two watch her as she walks over to the other side of the table and stands with more determination than she started with in this mission.

  "We need to go," she says. "I know where we are, but most importantly, I know how we can get out of here."

  ∞

  Alessia, Alessia, Alessia, Alessia, Alessia...

  "ALESSIA!"

  I wake up with a jolt, my mouth hanging open, my arms and legs aching.

  "Oh my god, Alessia!"

  Shayleigh grabs my arm while Flynn runs into the room. "Is she awake-OH LOOK IT'S ALESSIA!" He immediately drops to the floor so he's eye level with me. "How'd you sleep?" He jokes.

  Typical Flynn.

  I slowly stand up, not saying a word. "But for real though, what happened?" The jokiness in Flynn's voice starts to fade, and as I turn around to face them, I see both their faces looking at me...looking for answers.

  "I..." I start and pull my hand through my hair. "I think I went somewhere. I definitely wasn't knocked out cold."

  "But you were DEFINITELY lying on the floor, unconscious." Flynn says. I rack my brain for answers.

  "Ok, so I was physically here, but mentally I was somewhere else...?" I murmur. "I don't know how to explain it," I say, shaking my head.

  "Well, at least you're here, alive, conscious, now," says Shayleigh, nodding. I nod back at her, and I slump onto a seat, and put my hands on my head.

  I can't remember anything. But I do remember that I went somewhere, that I was supposed to remember something.

  "Hey, Alessia, we're at Scotland now," Flynn says.

  I jump up from my seat. "Have we landed?"

  "Yeah, we have," says Shayleigh. "But I don't know why they haven't noticed us. I mean, it's kind of hard not to notice an extra plane. Right?" She smiles uncomfortably.

  I turn to Flynn. "How long has it been since you landed?"

  He smiles, looks to the ground, and says, "Two hours."

  "Two hours!" I exclaim.

  "And 6 minutes," he adds. My mind starts to spin. "How come they haven't noticed us? Did you guys hear anything?" I ask.

  "Nope, nothing," they both say.

  That's when we decide that maybe it's time for us to head off the plane, and maybe surrender? Flynn kept reassuring us, though, saying how they'll be so busy, they won't notice us. But we literally stole a PLANE – I don't see any reason why they would miss an entire PLANE. They hadn't noticed it so far, which gave me a little confidence. But I was still so scared when we finally left the plane and walked into the airport.

  So here we are, at the Edinburgh airport. It's just as crowded as the Singapore airport, but less...busy. People are everywhere, but they're not running, they're walking calmly, talking to each other, eating and drinking, laughing.

  What's weirder, though, is the fact that no one is noticing us, or questioning us about the empty plane that we just got off. I mean, that's pretty terrible security, if you ask me.

  "Is it just me, or is it like, a little weird that no one is chasing us down right now?" I say, walking a bit faster to get up to Flynn and Shayleigh.

  "Weird," says Flynn, "But great. It's almost like we're invisible."

  "Yeah," says Shayleigh, nodding.

  Invisible...?

  After much walking, and a couple of bathroom breaks, we finally exit the airport, and into Scotland.

  The first thing I notice is the cold.

  "Ah," I wrap my arms around my sides as goosebumps start to appear on my bare skin. "It's so cold!"

  "And it's summer," says Flynn.

  Shayleigh laughs. "Nothing like Australia, huh?"

  When we stand there for about 30 seconds, shivering in the cold, staring out at the taxis coming and going, that's when it really hits me.

  We are in the middle of another country, with no passport or anything, no way of getting home, with literally nothing but the clothes on our back and our phones.

&n
bsp; I breathe out a deep sigh. I wait for my feelings of panic, fear, and nervousness to rush over me, but they don't come.

  Surprisingly calm, I slowly turn to look over to Flynn. He's wearing a sly smirk on his face while he stares right back at me.

  "How come I'm so calm?" I blurt out. "Is this one of your 'secret powers'?"

  He chuckles, running a hand through his hair. "Heart rate control," he finally admits. "Pretty cool, huh?"

  I roll my eyes. "No, just plain weird."

  First, like we promised, we call everyone in the CSS. Like, everyone. But get this - we couldn't contact ANY of them. They either don’t pick up, or the signal just doesn’t go through. After 30 minutes of frustrated calling, we decide it's better to just try and move around, either try to find a better place for calling, with free wifi (preferable also warmth), and maybe then we could attempt to find headquarters. Although, and we all agreed on this, without Mrs Renee it'd all kind of be fruitless.

  The three of us start walking pretty aimlessly around the city of Edinburgh. The unfamiliar (but beautiful) surroundings get me strangely intrigued. Tall, old buildings stare back at us imposingly, as if they know we’re strangers in this city. The city isn't buzzing with life – but there are people, young and old, walking past us on the pavement, some in cars driving contently. The overall atmosphere of the city is live, but peaceful.

  At least, it's peaceful until a shrieking siren interrupts the atmosphere.

  "Thief! Thief!" A women yells, pointing at a man wearing shredded clothes, holding a large back sack and running frantically away from what looks like the crime scene.

  Flynn, Shayleigh and I all run up to the scene without thinking, now empty as everyone has directed their attention away from it and to the thief. A shattered glass window stares back at us, giant shards of sharp glass sticking out of the edges in dangerous, awkward angles.

  For some reason I feel a bit strange. Nowadays no one just shatters a window, in a city full of people, fills up their sack with goods and then runs while everyone chases them. It feels just like a scene out of an old movie – outdone, clichéd and predictable.

  Most of all, it just feels staged.

  I don't have to wait for a confirmation to my thoughts, because immediately Shayleigh and I watch as Flynn reaches down to pick an envelope off the pavement. On it, there's no title or name or anything, just an address.

  218 Murdoch Street.

  218 Murdoch Street. 218 Murdoch Street. 218 Murdo...

  The gasp of shock gets caught in my throat, as all the memories come flooding back. It's all too much, too much to handle or explain, so without saying a word I lean down and step inside the hole bordered by giant triangles of glass.

  I can hear Flynn and Shayleigh repeatedly asking me what's wrong, but I can't answer them. There's just too much to say. I just lead them inside this perfectly organised book- store.

  After roaming deep into the depths of the bookstore, past rows and rows of perfectly kept shelves, I stop. I hear Flynn and Shayleigh gasp from behind me.

  But for some reason, I'm not the least bit surprised. Instead, relief floods through me and I feel my whole body and mind relax a little, no, a lot.

  11.

  "Glad you could make it, Jada," Mackenzie sneers. Jada narrows her eyes and pulls against her restraints, grunting, but with no avail. She leans back in her chair, which suddenly seems like it's drilled to the ground, and flicks her head so that her now messy hair would fall out of her face. She had put up a fight, but a simple girl, no matter how strong, was no match against a witch.

  Oh yeah. Mackenzie was not, in fact, after them just because she was jealous. No, she was after them all this time because she knew about it all this time, the things that hit Jada and her friends only days ago and had changed their lives completely. But she also knew things that Jada and her friends didn't know...

  "How does it feel to be betrayed?" she hisses, with each word her eyes glowing brighter with that fluorescent green. Jada tries to look away, but she's hooked on every single pulse.

  I need to learn magic...or at least...how to prevent it from affecting you...man, I should've read more Harry Potter when I was younger...

  Ignoring her thoughts for a moment, she gives Mackenzie the biggest death glare she could muster. She might've won, well, right now anyway, but Jada wasn't going to cower and submit to her powers even then.

  She looks down and tries to make sense of what Mackenzie had told her on the way here. She must've been right, the way her explanations fit in with every suspicious thing that Drew had been doing. She had stated the facts enough times now she had them memorised, the words floating around in her brain. Drew. Two teams at once. Insider. Double agent. Lied to all of you. Ultimate goal – to turn you in.

  But Jada still didn't understand something. Why? Why would he do something like that? It was him who wanted to protect her, or so she thought. Was that all part of the act too? What they had?

  At this point she looks up, and her eyes meet Drew's. He looks away at first, and the second time, but the third time he holds his gaze, staring into her eyes with what only seems like deep regret and sadness. Only, it was too late now.

  Mackenzie giggles, throwing her bright blonde hair back and slinking across the room towards Jada, the evil grin still plastered on her face. She pulls her face in until it's a few centimetres away from Jadas. "You owe me," she whispers. "You see, Jada," she spat her name out as if it was poison. "I saved you."

  Oh yeah. That's another thing she claims – by kidnapping her, and Drew, literally by putting him under a spell, she had saved Jada from Drew's dangerous plans. As if having an earlier death than planned was better than dying later.

  Well, she had to agree with her on that. Maybe it was easier to die once you know the truth, rather than seconds after you find out.

  Jada gulps, not because she's nervous (Jada, nervous? Pff. You've got to be kidding) but because she's swallowing all those words that were threatening to leap out of her throat. She carefully chooses her next words. "And what do you want now?" She says, her voice dangerously quiet but steady.

  Mackenzie smiles, flashing her sparkling white teeth. She moves away from Jada, and places her hands on Drew's shoulders, her fake ponytail flipping in the process. She says in a sing-song voice, "I just want something in return."

  As soon as she says that, Mackenzie's voice echoing off the walls of the warehouse, Jada's restraints rip out of the tight bond that they were in before. Not stopping to marvel at her sudden burst of energy, she wastes no time. She leaps up, grabs Drew's arm and runs to the entrance, dragging him behind her.

  Mackenzie's shock at this puts her seconds behind the two hostages. But before they can even take their third step, Jada trips and falls on her knees, along with Drew who's flung on his back next to her. She flips around and sees Mackenzie coming near them, hands up, a crazed look in her eyes.

  Then, she stops. Jada half expects her to put her under a spell too or braces herself for the fall in the possibility that she may be chucked across the room. She grabs Drew's arm in desperation, or maybe because she just wanted some comfort in what she thought would be her last moments.

  But she never would've expected what happened next.

  ∞

  All six of us now, watch Shayleigh as she presses her hands against her head, leaning forward, her face facing the floor. We watch in anticipation (and also fascination) as she presses her eyes closed, struggling to make out the figures, shapes and noises in her brain.

  Yeah. She can do that.

  "I...see them!" she gasps, before holding her breath again. Then, she lets out a little shriek, which makes us all jump. Her eyes fly open and the first person she lays eyes on is me. Her eyes hold nothing but absolute horror and fear.

  "What is it?" I say, but she just shakes her head in response.

  "We have to go there, right now. They're in trouble."

  ∞

  In front of Jada and Drew, was n
o longer the perfect, blonde figure of Mackenzie, clad in her school uniform. No, what lay in front of them...they weren't even sure if it was human.

  They had watched in complete horror as her hair extensions fell to the ground and her natural hair had started to lengthen, then crisp up from the bottom, blackening in the process, as if it was being lit on fire. Mackenzie had screamed as her uniform started to burn as well, curling up in the edges, blackening, smoke rising around her, leaving her wearing a what seemed like a greenish-black dress ripped in places. Her eyes first darkened from their natural piercing blue to completely black. But she looked up again, Jada had the urge to scream as she noticed that her eyes had been replaced by a dark black void of nothingness. In the final part of the transformation, her skin had turned a sick shade of light green with random black splotches appearing on her shoulders and legs.