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Rated: 13+ · Outline · Sci-fi · #1139303
Erin and Jarod are 2 of the few fighing against the intoxicated society.
Year 2015
Due to previous years, society’s research has advanced even more making it easier for illegal drugs to be snuck into the hands of kids, teenagers, and adults. It’s impossible to be sure what you’re eating is safe now. But it is very much possible to tell who is under the influence of these hidden drugs.

Transgenic plants and edible vaccines; having vaccines built into genetically engineered plants, allowing a safe and inexpensive immunizations that would help to protect individuals from diseases such as hepatitis B, tetanus, diphtheria, and bacterial enteric diarrhea. An inexpensive protection that could be grown in growing countries and can be grown as easily as growing other foods. These grown foods are then made into the things we often consume but right on the labels it says “genetically modified”, meaning the product was tampered with or was made with these transgenic plants, but who checks?

That was the downfall of our society. There are still edible vaccines but others have found different uses for the transgenic plants. Drugs. Illegal drugs like crack, meth, or most common, hallucinogens. Some sick people got the idea into their heads after learning about this new for of vaccines to try it with these drugs.

In 2005 and five the movie Batman Begins was released in theaters and then on DVD. The plan that the evil masterminds had was to release the psychotropic hallucinogens into the city of Gotham. The lives they ended up with are the lives that we all live now, all over the world. Crack and meth were inserted into the foods that we eat too, but hallucinogens are the most common. All around school, in the streets, in homes. Disguised as simple things like juices, oranges, bananas, carrots, things that you find in your refrigerator, in reach of innocent children, all laced with hallucinogens. From the age of just past infancy when a child can consume things other than their mother’s milk, these children have access to drugs more dangerous than many people percept.

This is how my story begins; about two friends in their senior year. Just two people, saving as many people from the life time of wickedness that lay before them in the hands of these transgenic plant products.

3:00 A.M. My digital watched beeped, like it did every hour on the hour. I sat there falling asleep in front of the laptop in my room when my cell phone started to vibrate violently, sliding off of the table. I quickly grabbed it just as it started to fall.

“Hello?” I said as I answered it, my voice strained. I rubbed my eyes for a few seconds as I listened to what Jared was saying then quickly snapped it shut, suddenly wide awake I grabbed my sweatshirt off of the back of the chair and my car keys—slipping them inside of my pocket along with my cell phone. I checked my belt and counted my guns and knives; three guns and two knives, like always, tucked neatly into the sheaths on my belt.

I stepped quietly and stealthily through the house and shut the door as quietly as I could, locking the door behind me. As I got in the car and started to drive down the nearly deserted road my mind traveled back over the last few years.
I was 15 when I was handed my first gun. Not a real one that shot bullets of course. When we were fifteen we, Jared and I, were offered the chance to play a small role in trying to help with the crisis that had been going on for years. The gun fired a bullet, yes, but not a lethal one. This bullet would penetrate the skin and then release endorphins that track down the poison of the drug and stop its effect.

Now, both in our senior year of high school, we both saw more and more the effect of the drugs on nearly all of the students at the school. The few who were sober were tormented by those who could never think straight and didn’t understand—or see—what they were doing. Their visions were corrupted under the effects of these hallucinogens. They’d kill their best friends if they could somehow sneak those kinds of weapons onto school grounds.

Only through special supplies of drinks like juices and plant foods that have not been tampered with supplied by the same people who gave us our guns, we have been able to remain out of the clutches of the opposing threat we face every single day.

I slowed down just in time, almost missing the turn and pulled onto the street. Parking behind Jarrod’s awaiting car, farther down the street from their destination.

“What’s the drug here?” I asked calmly, getting out of the car and walking up beside Jarrod.

“Hallucinogen, neighbors complained, could barely understand them as it was. They complained about the loud music and shouts of what sounded like delusional teenagers.” Jarrod explained as we walked slowly up the street. He took out his anit-hallucinator and opened it, then he slipped a pocket of small pellets into its barrel, and finally snapped it shut and kept it in his right hand. He took out another pocket of pellets and tossed it to me so that I could do the same to my gun. It was then that we reached the gratified door of the bash. We both looked at each other and he asked, “Ready?” at my nod we both kicked open the door and looked in.

The room was empty but completely trashed. We slowly stepped into it, holding our guns ready by our ears. The music had stopped the second that we walked onto the lawn and the people in the house had scattered. This was nothing new to us, but nonetheless we were always ready for surprises.

All at once a dozen teenage boys appeared, running down the staircase, some jumping over the railing and landing right in front of them, others from behind curtains and other rooms. They surrounded us easily and Jarrod fired at one of them. As soon as he fired, one dropped down to the floor but everybody else pounced. With reflexes quick as lightning, I pulled out one of my knives and defended myself as best as I could, while avoiding throats with my knife. I didn’t want to kill them no matter how much they wanted to kill me—the second gun was only for life or death situations. One guy however, also brandishing a knife, somehow managed to get me into the position in which my back was to him and his knife was at my throat. Before he could do anything more, a pellet shot him in the shoulder, it’s three needles puncturing his shirt and his skin and he let go of me and collapsed to the floor, dazed.

In only a few more seconds the room was silent again and Jarrod and I stood back to back, surrounded by the confused and nearly unconscious bodies of the boys that had attacked us. I breathed deeply and tried to calm my adrenaline-fueled heart. I hadn’t felt much of a threat, other than having a knife at my throat, but the action had gotten to me as it usually did, pumping adrenaline through my veins.

We stood there for a few more minutes before moving to the kitchen and emptying the fridge, then with a few trips back out to Jarrod’s car, we refilled it with the safe drinks and foods from our suppliers. This wouldn’t last long however, once these supplies ran out for them, it was back into the clutches of the drugs for them.

A week later I was driving around town, not caring where I was going; just thinking about things that didn’t matter too much in the new sense of the world. Things like what I remember about the sober world. I had been only nine then but the memories were still implanted in her mind, and I prayed that I could hold onto them forever.

Then something on my belt suddenly started to beep very loudly. I just barely stopped myself from slamming on the brakes, but instead pulled over to the side of the road. I quickly took the device out and stopped it from beeping and looked down at its digital screen. This was not good; that device was never supposed to beep. It was a handheld tracker—Jarrod and I both had one for each other and it buzzed when the other one was in danger. And it beeped if…

I looked down at the screen and saw the blue dot on the map that symbolized Jarrod. Above the dot was the description of his current state. I stared in disbelief as it read “contaminated” as its caption.

“Crap, Jarrod! What have you done?” I said to myself as I put the tracker onto the dashboard and pulled away from the curb, driving as fast as was legalized. One handed, I connected the wires and plugged the tracker into the car’s computer. “Print,” I said aloud as I hit the button for print. It printed out the map and the directions for me and I did an unsafe, u-turn but nobody would care—they were all intoxicated anyway.

I pulled straight up to the house, not caring about our routine, I was going in alonewhich I never do, but this time the situation was different; this time I knew the person that I was saving.

I ran into the house, not pulling out my gun because I knew that the house was empty, but Icalled out to make sure anyway. I bounded up the stairs and checked the clock on the way up, 7:28 P.M. The sun had set outside as she drove over here but that didn’t matter: light or dark she had to do this.

“Hey, and look who it is!” Jarrod’s light tone sounded unnatural as she charged into the room. “It’s Erin! Yes it is! You look different though.”

“You’re the one who looks different, what have you done in here?” I asked exasperated, looking around the cluttered room. What worried her more was the way he was talking, he sounded drunk, only worse. He wasn’t just intoxicated, he was delirious and rugged. I leaned over the many glass bottles of Snapple and a carton of Tropicana orange juice, picking up one of the bottles I read the front label. “Genetically modified, Jarrod!” I said, my voice shaking as I brought it over to him and held it in front of his face. “Genetically modified! Right here on the label! Didn’t you check! How could you be so careless? You’re never careless! What the hell happened!?”

Jarrod wasn’t listening to me though, he started to reach for the glass bottle to take another swig, but I chucked it across the room, it shattered against the wall, the remaining liquid in it ran down the wall. I was losing my nerve, my body shaking all over. Jarrod just glared at the liquid running down the opposite wall, and then slowly, he turned his head up at me.

“Why are you even here, Erin?” his intoxicated self asked, angry now. “I didn’t call for you! I didn’t ask for your help! Nor do I want or need it!”

He stood up, pulled out his gun and aimed it at me. I slowly pulled out my de-hallucinator and aimed it at him.

“Use your real gun, Erin!” He growled, a line of saliva running from the corner of his mouth.

“I’m not going to kill you,” I said, trying very hard to keep my voice even, though every other part of me shook. “I won’t do that to you, you need help, that’s what I’m going to give you,” I started to take a step forward but he raised his gun more and aimed it at my chest, his finger on the trigger. I halted, staring hard at him, trying to find the real Jarrod.

“I don’t need help! If you won’t pull out your real gun, then have mine!” he said, shifting the gun in his hand, offering it to me. “I’ll give you the first shot, and then it’s my turn.”

“I’m not going to do that, there’s no way that I’m going to pull the trigger on you. There’s no way.” I said calmly, still staring into his darting eyes.

He moved quickly, putting the gun into his other hand and surging forward. He slugged me hard in the stomach and I doubled over in pain, sputtering and trying to hold back on my reflex to fight back. He was behind me before I straightened up again. He pulled my real gun out of my belt as well as a knife. He forced the gun into my right hand and the knife into my left as I stood up straight again.

Again he was in front of me, holding up his gun waiting for me to take the first move. But I slowly turned and started to walk away. I heard the gun fire and expected pain—but none came. Instead I saw a hole in the wall in front of me. Without thinking, I automatically hurled my knife at him as I turned around. Luckily he dodged and it went right over his shoulder. He chucked his own knife but I dodged and it went flying by my left arm. He aimed his gun again, but I was quicker, forgetting that it was a real gun I fired it at his chest. Realizing my mistake too late, I stood there, horrified, as I saw pain on Jarrod’s face. His face retorted and changed back into the real Jarrod, but a second later he crumpled to the ground and lay there for several minutes. I couldn’t believe what I had done and I turned slowly, covering my mouth with my hand, trying to hold back a sob. Then I turned back around and walked over to his crumpled form. But instead of picking up the body, I walked past him and grabbed one of the unopened bottles of Snapple. Then I turned back and walked out of the room.

Driving back down the road, I couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. They blurred my vision and my hands shook violently as I gripped the wheel. On the freeway I reached over and picked up the glass bottle. Not caring anymore, I took off the cap and took a swig. No longer was I defending the world, I simply became another member of the intoxicated society.

Nothing mattered anymore, I had lost my partner and my best friend because of a stupid mistake...the fate of the world was no longer in our hands, I simply left it up to the few others that there were. Instead of fighting, I'd from then on be one of those that they were trying to save. It wasn't like me to give up, but Jarrod was always the one that kept me on my feet. And now that I had killed him my support frayed and my knees gave way and I went beneath the crashing waves of what was becoming our world. I went under, never to see the lights of the sober world again. My memories of the sober world melted away as my own soberness disappeared.
© Copyright 2006 german sword play (wolf_princess2 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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