Glen Estate

The outside world was unknown to her, but she could see a glimpse of it through the window in his room. As foreign as it may have been, her mind became active with thoughts and dreams and wonderment.

Her father, Attucks Glen, forty-years-old with tar-black skin stood at six feet three inches tall. He just posted up with his arms folded and a smile on his face.

“Sara, you’re going to strain your eyes looking at those lights out there,” he noted. Saraswati appeared on her birth certificate. She was twenty-two-years-old. She had a lighter complexion and a face that looked like her mother’s: soft, smooth, angular.

His voice startled then soothed her. She turned to look back out the window.

“I just want to know. I want to know what is going on out there.”

“Why? You have everything you need here. You want for nothing in the largest house in Delaware. You have been schooled in the finest Internet learning institutions in the world. For what more could you want?”

“I want to know what’s going on out there, that’s what.”

The heavy gleam was a greenish white mist that pervaded the grounds just beyond the property.

“You needn’t worry about that, my child. You are protected here. if your mother could see you now, she’d be proud. She was always curious and seeking to find answers to problems. You have that part of her in your psyche,” Glen related.

“I’m feeling kind of sleepy now,” she said.

“If you go in your own room, I will ensure you will have a bath drawn and your bed prepared for a full night of rest thanks to Rosa and Rhonda.”

Sara got up from her place at the chair overlooking the exterior of the house in her father’s room. She walked out and went downstairs to the kitchen. Chef Justine prepared a midnight snack for her. She was fortyish and had hazelnut colored skin. The food consisted of a caviar, mushroom and truffles pizza slice. She bit into it.

“This is delicious,” Sara mentioned.

Justine smiled. “Thank you, Miss Glen.”

“I’m a full-fledged adult now. You can call me Sara,” she asserted.

“Never. I’m under your father’s employ. You will always be Miss Glen,” Justine retorted.

“Okay, okay,” Sara rolled her eyes. She didn’t finish the pizza.

“Here, please wrap this up and I’ll have it in the morning. Cold pizza’s always the best,” Sara said.

“I’ll do that,” Justine replied.

On her journey upstairs, Sara noticed a picture of her dad in his Marine uniform. He couldn’t have been more than eighteen years of age. The photo compelled her to walk like a warrior in whatever way she could.

Once she reached the landing, she could smell the cloves and lavender and hear the trickle of water for her bath. Once she washed, she prepared for sleep in her enormous bed.

“Good night, sweet child,” Glen said.

“Good night, Dad,” Sara replied.

She waited. She waited for the opportune time to rustle on some outerwear and venture past the guards and the security system. She had memorized it. The guards changed every thirty minutes and they recalibrated the alarm. That gave her a window of a few minutes to open the door and march out into the world beyond her grasp.

Sara experienced many lands, every continent and ocean. It was all virtual, however. She had journeyed out into space by way of cyberspace but not fifty feet beyond her front door. She slipped past the guards. The alarm clicked to start another shift as she scampered out into warmth.

The spring night’s temperature hovered around seventy degrees Fahrenheit. Since this was her first trek outside, she didn’t know exactly what to expect. She needed to crawl, as not to set off the lasers protecting the property.

As she came up to the fence, she made it to the gate and punched in a code on the digital screen. The gates opened. This alerted the guards, but Sara was an impala running through the jungle. She stomped ever closer to the greenish glow.

Glen awoke. He donned battlegear and instructed his staff to suit up as well, still not knowing Sara was the one who had caused the alarm.

“Honey are you al—” Glen said to an empty bed.

He spoke into a headpiece.

“Units. Focus all attention on rescuing my daughter,” he said.

“Copy,” cried the men and women in uniform tasked with finding the young adult.

Sara looked at the horses. She saw quadricycles and people barking like rabid dogs. Smoke nearly choked her. She dashed behind a tree. More shouts and screams came from riders waving flags of separatism.

Now, Sara wanted to retreat and remove herself from this scene. She was already immersed in the chaos. What she tried to establish could not be explained particularly well. Her senses became fully engaged as she tasted tear gas which made her choke even more than the exhaust from the quads.

As she attempted to make an escape from the uproar, she noticed that two of her guardsmen had rocketed past her into the most rawkus part of the entire setting. She caught shards of the words being spouted.

“Nationalism is freedom!” “We’re taking our country back!” “Take this gun and you take my life!”

With such a display of angst and aggression, Sara experienced a concoction of fear and excitement. She wondered how many times her father felt this way as an infantryman in the Marine Corps. She, though, was only armed with her wits. A bevy of weapons had been collected to distribute to the crowd. Semi-automatic rifles and pistols saw their way into at least one of the hands of the cyclists and horsemen.

Sara saw Glen Estate guardsmen in full force race towards the light. The popping of firearms going off and the carbon they produced mixed with the smoke and teargas. Sara pulled her jacket over her face and continued to advance to see what would happen next.

Then, an arm swooped her up and placed her on the back of the Glen Estate quad.

It was Percival Bennington. She’d known him all her life but never in this capacity. He worked on the fleet of vehicles that just received mostly oil changes and light modifications and maintenance. At this point, he wielded a handgun and shot on sight.

“What the hell is going on?!” Sara shouted.

“We’re going to get you back to your home, ma’am!” Bennington hollered back at her.

The struggle continued as Bennington and the host of Glen Estate guardsmen eliminated the rioters with severe prejudice. As the rat-at-at of the rifles in the night started to die down, Sara saw banners and flags litter the ground like slashed ribbons.

The rest of the rioters exited in retreat. The sound of galloping horses and four wheelers started to recede into the distance. The Glen Estate guardsmen cheered at their victory, knowing that the rioters would return another night, possibly more equipped with larger armaments. They would prepare for that as well.

Bennington delivered Sara to her father once they got back to the mansion.

She didn’t look ashamed or crestfallen. She just looked up at her father and said, “Thank you.”

“I’m glad my little warrior got a chance to experience what she had only envisioned.”

“I’m just glad to be with you, Dad,” Sara replied.