AMACon3 30-Day Drabble Challenge

Liberty

PROMPT #6: Maine or Alden wakes up with a key gripped in their hand. How did they get the key? What do they do with it?

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She wakes up in their bed, head throbbing, knees weak and wobbly. The last thing she remembers is she and Richard having a romantic candlelit dinner for two outside on the veranda of their home to celebrate their first wedding anniversary. They raised their wine glasses at each other in a toast, and he was looking at her joyfully, with so much love in his eyes...now she is alone in their bedroom, a small metal key in the palm of her hand, and he is nowhere to be found. A strange sense of foreboding washes over her.

She walks through their entire sprawling house, calling out his name, but there is no sign of him anywhere. Something akin to panic starts to rise up in her chest. She is standing in the kitchen, looking down in frustration at the key in her hand, wondering what it opens (it doesn't fit any of doors in the house,) when she glances out of the window and sees the small, rusty metal gate in the garden. It doesn't lead anywhere special, the caretaker had told them when they first looked at the house. The original owner was an old eccentric, a veteran of the Second World War, and paranoia had led him to have a bomb shelter built in the otherwise picturesque garden. It had never been used, and years of rain and wind had corroded the metal gate so that it was now permanently rusted shut.

"I wonder—?" Whispers Maine out loud, and a sudden chill runs up and down her spine. When she gets to the gate, she is surprised at how easily the key slides into the lock and clicks it open. She gingerly pushes at the gate, and it swings open with loud creak. As her eyes adjust to the darkness, she sees that she is standing at the end of a long, narrow tunnel. Run, her senses tell her. Run as fast as you can, run away. But she takes a deep breath and steps inside.

She seems to walk for hours, her heart pounding faster and louder with every step she takes. Finally, she comes to what appears to be a solid metal door with a numeric keypad in place of a doorknob. She hesitates—then something in her compels her to enter 0-7-1-6-2-0-1-5. Sure enough, the door slides open—

She blinks, suddenly bathed in white light. The brightness of the room almost blinds her. It seems to be an enormous control room of some sort, with a soaring ceiling and rows upon rows of mainframe computers. The whole length of one wall is completely covered with screens—showing every room in their house—every room in her parents' house in Bulacan—the Faulkerson home in Laguna—even the insides of her car and Richard's. She cups her mouth with both hands, willing herself not to scream. Standing in front of this massive wall of monitors is her husband.

"Richard?" She calls out, her voice breaking. "Ano to?"

He turns around, his face a deathly white, and there are tears shining in his eyes. "This is our life, Menggay," he tells her hoarsely. "Our whole lives, from the day we were both born. They've been watching us since the very beginning—they put chips in here when we were babies—" He taps his temple and starts to weep.

"What? What are you sayi—I don't understa—what?!"

"Lahat neto," he cries, gesturing wildly at the computers, "It's all just part of their plan. They planned everything, Meng. Our childhoods—our youth—how we would meet. It didn't work out the first time—at the Candy fair—so they came up with a new strategy. Everything—all of it—just for entertainment—"

"What?! That doesn't make any sense!! You're scaring me, Richard. Anong pinagsasasabi mo?? How could they plan it? It was all a coincidence—no, it was fate—"

"No, no, no, Menggay, no," he breaks in, his voice rising hysterically. "Walang fate—walang destiny—walang divine intervention. Only greed—terrible greed—and their sick, twisted games."

She sways, feeling faint. Richard rushes over to her and grips her firmly by the shoulders. "Listen to me, Mahal. There is a way out. We can escape from their control, but it will change things." He stares intensely into her eyes, and her heart seems to stop beating. Why is he staring at her like that? "If we do this, it will be like pushing the reset button. Our memories will be wiped clean—it will be like none of this ever happened. But we will finally be free."

No more July 16, no more Tamang Panahon, no more life together? Would it be better to just continue living their lives the way they've been doing, happy together, but as someone diabolical's mindless puppets? She stares back into her husband's eyes, searching its brown depths. "Paano mo nalaman lahat to?"

He hesitates for a beat, then confesses simply, "Reeza. Hindi niya na daw kaya. She—she's in love with me."

Maine pauses, letting this sink in. She isn't surprised. Somehow, a part of her has always known. She gazes long and hard at her husband, studying his handsome features, memorizing the lines and curves of his face, his infamous dimple, the tiny pockmark on his cheek. "Mahal na mahal kita, RJ," she finally says.

He understands. "Mahal na mahal din kita, Nicomaine. And whatever it takes—I will find you again."

Gently, he takes her hand and leads her to an intimidating looking control panel.

"Dala mo yung susi?" He asks. She nods wordlessly. He opens his other hand to reveal an identical-looking key, and shows her where to insert the one she's gripping so tightly, her knuckles are turning white.

"At the count of three, okay?" He whispers, never taking his eyes off her. She merely nods again. They both inhale deeply, hands poised above the keyholes. "One—two—three—"