[untitled]

One
He knew something was wrong, even as he restlessly tried relaxing under the azure blue sky. The sheet of blue was dabbed here and there with twinkling spots of gold, stars that seemed to be reminding him of his trouble. Almost like flashing lights on top of an ambulance, warning him of what could be happening at the moment.
Nothing, he told himself blandly. Everything’s fine. You need a vacation, God knows that.
But he still felt worried. Maybe he should call Donald at the office, check in and make sure everything is still okay.
If one thing had gone wrong...well, he didn’t need to think about that. Not right now. Relaxation is tougher than you’d think, he thought to himself.
Almost unintentionally, he reached into the pockets of his worn Levi’s jacket and pulled out his cell phone. A check up couldn’t hurt. He dialed Donald’s number quickly, not hesitating a moment. The number was saved into his memory for life. After two rings, a perky voice picked up.
“Hello, Mr. Weston's office, Patti speaking. How may I help you?”
“Hey Pat,” he started, ignoring his dislike for the gossipy young woman. “It’s Luke, Luke Paris. Can you get Don for me?”
“Sorry, he was called out Luke. Something wrong?”
He nodded, which was pointless, considering he was still on the cell. “No, no, of course not.” He said it a little too fast, sounding like he was lying. Four years as a detective had taught him to lie quite convincingly, usually. Patti rambled on about something. He thought it was about a party that she had been to. Patti had a little schoolgirl crush on him and always had. He rolled his eyes. “Kay, tell ‘im I called. I’ll be checking in.” He hung up without a goodbye. Now he had a new worry; what had drawn Don out? He was the Captain of their unit, the “boss-man”, as he was so often called.
“Excuse me,” came a hesitant voice. Luke lifted himself to a sitting position and found himself staring at a young girl. She had to only be thirteen or fourteen; he couldn’t help wondering what she was doing in a deserted field at midnight. She brushed a lock of auburn hair away from her dirt-smudged face. “I’m sorry to bug you, but have you seen a little boy anywhere? He’s about seven...he ran off to play in the field hours ago and now I can’t find him.” She sounded very calm. If he had lost a seven-year-old in this forest-y terrain, he’d have been a bit more worried.
“Uh, no, I don’t think so. Need some help looking for him?”
The girl looked very startled. But why? Because he had offered to help her? “Oh, no. No, I’m...we’re fine. Don’t worry,” she said, backing away from him. He noticed what she was wearing then; a green smock, almost like the ones children use to keep paint of their clothes while playing crafts. What the hell? She was barefoot, and he could see she had a cut on her upper right arm. The blood was seeping through her smock, which was already very dirty.
She noticed his odd stares at once. Giving him a reproachful look, she started into an extraordinarily fast
sprint.
“Wait!” he called in horror. What did this girl know? Oh my god, he thought. God, God, God. He started running after her, but quickly saw how hopeless it was. He also knew something - call it a gut feeling, a guess, a stab in the dark...but he knew - knew - that this girl was going to be of importance in the future. The near future, at that. He needed to find her, but he knew it would be a pointless chase. She was abnormal. Unearthly.

But where - where - had she come from?

Two
Fin could feel someone watching her, the hair on her skin prickled up and she felt very insecure. The house was empty. Dad was at work and Mom had gone shopping. It was delirium, Fin convinced herself. She was just delirious about being left alone.
Ever since she was young she had the insane idea that being left alone made her open bait fro murderers, robbers, etc. It was just one of her major insecurities. But it was hard to ignore, hard as she tried to push it to the back of her head. She needed to find something to preoccupy her.
She signed online to go explore the Internet. Her dialup connection took a few minutes to get hooked up, but soon the world of America Online spread out on her computer screen. She checked a few websites, then started decided she might as well check her email. She had one unread message, which could be of at least some importance.
She clicked on the message and waited for it to load. When it finally did a moment later, it read,
“Well, well, well, Fin... or should we say Deighin Finley? Yes, we know you, “Fin”, we know quite a bit about you. The street you live on [74 Willow Ct], the state you reside in [California], your town [Delmar]...even your little Labrador's name [Kindy]. We know that you are thirteen years old, 5’6, with medium length auburn hair. We know everything about you, Deighin. We know more things about you than you do yourself!
I am breaking the Rules by writing this email. But I feel me colleagues and I are in debt. We’ve kept you in the dark all your life...you are our creation, yet we abandoned you. Tsk, tsk. We hope you stay in contact with us. When your - er - “mother” moved and changed all your information [phone number, address, state, etc], we found it hard to find you again. But we have and never want to lose touch with such a brilliant creation again. We’ve been watching you all your life, disregarding the four months after your “mother” moved you. But we found you after that, and continued with our observations. We’re going to come and retrieve you soon, dear, bring you back to where you were made. Back to where you belong.
Write back, girl.
-COSM”

Fin stared at the screen in wholesome confusion. What the hell? This had to be one of her friends...had to be someone playing a joke on her. For all the information was correct. She had no close friends, yet quite a few acquaintances. But only two knew her address, and she didn’t think any knew her dog’s name.
So what the heck? Who was this? She clicked the reply button, rounding off a whole list of questions and demands. But when the screen popped up her mind went blank. What could she say? She kept trying to convince herself that this was someone’s sick idea of a joke. Maybe Mom or Dad sent it. But no. Her parents were already overprotective freaks. They would never play any type of prank on her. She had no cousins or other relatives, so that option was definitely out. All she could come up with was that a friend had sent it. Maybe Kayleigh, or Heather. They were her two “close” friends, though they never got together outside of school.
Fin just sat and stared at the screen. The clock hanging on the wall ticked away, seeming to get louder with each time around. The tiny ticks echoed into the silence of Fin’s living room, reminding her of the ‘somebody is watching you’ feeling she kept experiencing.
She heard something in the kitchen and felt a chill erupt inside her. She didn’t think either parent would be home yet. She got up from the computer desk silently; her sock fitted feet padding almost tonelessly on the brown carpet. As she neared the kitchen, she took a deep breath. Then she stepped in.
A scream escaped her mouth before she comprehended the sight. Then she couldn’t help it; she let out a calmed giggle.
“Kindy!” she exclaimed, her heart still pounding. What had she expected to be lurking in the kitchen? she asked herself, shaking the question away. Her little chocolate lab was sliding her metal bowl across the floor, making an eerie scrapping noise, the noise Fin had heard. Sighing with pure relief, she kneeled down on the cold floor for a moment, stroking Kindy’s soft head. “Oh, baby girl,” she cooed, still feeling very chilled. “I thought...well, I’m not sure what I thought,” she tried to explain. The puppy looked up at her with bright amber eyes, making Fin feel a bit better. “Kin, I need to quit being so freaking paranoid. I mean, I was convinced someone was lurking in the kitchen, baby!”
A velvety smooth voice gave her an instant reply, coming from behind her. “Well Deighin, you were half-right. I wasn’t lurking in your kitchen...you should of checked your bedroom, instead.”
Fin looked up, shock dominating her slender face. She found herself looking into the face of a young man, perhaps in his mid-twenties. His features were handsome and dashing, yet held a mysterious air to them. His shaggy black hair fell gracefully, almost reaching his shoulders. Fin glanced into his eyes, which were a dark, conniving black. As Fin tried to form her terrified reply, he stopped her; he had walked over to her and slammed her head against one of the kitchen counters, knocking her out in the process.
He grinned, hoping D. would be happy with his work. He had gotten the girl. Even though he had been told to wait...but waiting was for fools! He acted upon his own command, anyway. So what if H. thought it better not to rush into this. In his thoughts, getting the girl quick and back to Camp was the main priority. And if he could do that this easily, why not? It was especially nice that the Finley family lived out in the country; with no houses near, no one had seen him come to the house, nor would they see him leave it.
He glanced around the kitchen, wondering why he felt the need to convince himself that he had done the right thing. He shrugged it off, settling his gaze onto the dog. Kindy, she was called, if he remembered correctly. He stooped down for a moment and stroked the pup’s fine fur. It was nice she was still young...surely a full-grown dog would have given him more trouble. Shrugging once more, he picked Fin up, heaving her over his shoulders. He left the house without anyone ever knowing he had been there, all except Kindy.

Just an hour later, Joyce Finley returned to her house. She called for her daughter, though received no answer. At first she thought nothing of this; Deighin was an energetic girl who was often absentminded, simply not hearing people a lot of the time. But as Joyce searched the house, her calmness turned to paranoia. Deigh was gone. She knew if her daughter had gone anywhere, she would have left a note. Deighin was a responsible girl, however young she might be. Taking another quick look around the house, Joyce stopped at the computer screen. Fin’s email was still posted there and Joyce read it with a throbbing heart.
“COSM,” she whispered, sitting herself into the computer chair. Tears welled into her blue eyes. “Oh my god. Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.” She reached for the phone that sat on the weathered desk and dialed her husband's work number. “Mark,” she murmured, her voice still a whisper. “They...they got her.”
After a quick moment of silence, Mark replied, “Joyce? Joyce, are you...are you sure?”
Joyce gave a pointless nod. “You need to come home. We need to figure out what to do. Now.” Without another word, the woman hung up, missing the phone cradle, then listening to the thud the phone made on the ground. “Kindy?” Joyce called, wondering if the dog was okay. When the little puppy bounded into the room, Joyce sighed, almost half relieved. She had expected to find the helpless animal hung in a closet, or some other horrible deed committed to it.
Sighing again, Joyce got up and walked over to the brown-striped couch. She collapsed upon it, and then cried until the tears would no longer come.