Triple A and Marie J. -Chapter 6

Marie Joanna Adams:

I’m on the verge of freaking out. The last few, uh, days? Hours? Whatever. The last few times I’ve been awake, it was so quiet I almost thought I went deaf. But now every five seconds there’s some new sound that might be a random person, the reason I’m where-ever-here-is, or help. And apparently  either everybody else lost their ears, or turned into a robot or something, or I’m just not yelling loud enough, ‘cuz there’s no response. I think I’m going insane. There’s nothing to do, nobody to talk to, and nothing new to see. Plus, if I keep pacing, I think I might make a hole in the floor. Maybe I should, though. . . Then I could climb down. . . Gah! No, that’s not possible unless I was, like, three hundred pounds. I sit on the bed and play thumb war against myself. Boring. I know my every move. Maybe I can cartwheel. “All right,” I say aloud, “One foot in front of the other, hand extended. . .”

Thump! Knock, knock!

Ow. Not trying that again. Wait. . . Did somebody knock on a door?

Knock, knock!

That was definitely someone knocking on a door. It sounds really close, though. “Hello, anybody there?” I’m wasting my time. They can’t hear me. Now I’m thirstier than I was before. I kick the bed post. “OW,” I groan. Ugh, I need to stop talking.

“Are you okay?” Wait. That wasn’t me. It came from the far corner, which I’m now running towards. I look all around, for some sort of hole, or magic talking thing. “We’re here to help,” the voice adds, “can you let us in?” Yes, I want to say, but there isn’t a door, otherwise I would have left already.

“You can hear me?” I find myself asking. Of course they can’t, though. I must be hallucinating. This is impossible- and so real. I can at least play along.

“Yes, we can hear you! We may have found a weak spot, so stand back!” A weak spot? Did that mean. . . Oh boy. I back up and turn my face as the wall in front of me exploded. It’s not Alex and Zack, which made sense because the voice was older. Instead, standing in front of me, are two men dressed in black police outfits. One of them holds some sort of axe thing, so he must’ve broke the wall down. He looks at me, his expression dour, but gives a weak smile when he sees me looking at him. The other guy has a scar next to his eyebrow that curved down to the top of his ear. Scar has his lips pressed tightly together, as he plodded over to me.

“I’m Officer Richards, and this is Officer Cooper. Are you alright?” I nod. He’s asking softly, but I can tell he’s tired by the stiff way he stands. “Good. You’re Maria Adams, right?” My name’s Marie, not Maria, but I mumble a yes anyway. I suddenly feel very shy, especially since I’m in my pajamas. We leave the room behind, and I look around the building. Officer Cooper tells me how they found me, my parents called them, but I’m not really listening much. Apparently, I was in a store in a plaza that somebody with a fake name bought. I hope I never meet that somebody.

When we reach the front doors, I have to ride piggy-back because I’m not wearing any shoes. Then we ride in a police car. I look out the windows and try to see where we’re going, but I have no idea where we are. I yawn, and soon I have to concentrate just to keep my eyes open; but I’m not concentrating very well. . .