Ultimate Crime

• Nikita Kostaschuk, Grade 8
• Short Story
• 2007

I ran. I ran as hard as I could, because I knew I had to get out of there. One of the men chased me, so I couldn’t stop running. Mum and dad were captured and they had probably even manhandled a sleepy Josh out of bed. I hated everyone’s reaction when I told them that some black uniformed men came to school today and were asking questions about me. The black men tracked me down in industrial tech and the teacher told me to hide. When I told my parents what the men told the class, my parent’s faces turned grave.
“Harrison’s family has committed two cases of the ultimate crime by trying to resist the ACA’s code of rule, section C, sub-section J, rule no. 5786 which says that all school students need to complete 50 hours of compulsory slave labour for the supreme leader,” said the first uniformed officer.
“The punishments, according to ACA’s code of punishments” said the other man “should be supreme torture and death.”
At this the class raged against my predicament. One of the two men silenced them by getting out his gun and aiming a shot at the most angry of them all. The sound of the trigger echoed around the room and the men left, taking with them the last of my hope.
I crawled out of the oven and rushed to the fallen person. It was my best mate Cam. He’d stick up for me anytime but I never wanted him to get hurt. The ACA is really strict now. Back in 2030 they were just a small agency but then they went on a mass domination massacre and the world leaders bowed down to their power.
Cam coughed and sputtered. I screamed! I thought he was dead. I was thinking of all the good times we had together and how much I was going to miss him. The class helped take him to the health room and then they called the ambulance and he was taken to hospital. I wanted to go with him but the teacher said that I had to finish my trick box. He probably thinks its going to be the last project I’m going to do. I think so too, I’m scared.
But now I’m running for my life. I see a door. I open it and hurry inside the building, then slam the door behind me. I look around in panic. It’s empty, except for a few workers who are all staring at me. The door opens behind me, and the uniformed officer stepped into the room and surveyed the scene. I reckon the workers could see the whites in my eyes as I ran. I knocked over a tower of barrels and the oil came spilling everywhere. I whipped up a flight of stairs and out the nearest door. Uniformed officers surround me on the stairs. We are very high up. After consideration, I throw myself of the landing. Does death hurt?