Story written for "Gloves Up | A Multi-Genre Smackdown Contest", Round 3.1 (September 2022). Genre: Teen Fiction. Inspired by the quote: "Brave doesn't mean you're not scared. It means you go on even though you're scared." - from The Hate U Give by Angie Thomas.

Story word count = 2980

'Fear is the mind-killer,' I read somewhere once. True, I think. It took away my thoughts, paralyzing me, freezing me in place.

I have to fight it somehow.

They took me here inside the dam, locking me in an empty storage room, dark except for a faint moonbeam through a small window. The rumble of rushing water and the low generator hum vibrated the floor. They took Zach somewhere else, so I'm all alone here. Sitting in a corner, I drew in my knees and trembled, a sob escaping my lips.

Fight it!

Zach and I were out on an evening hike near the Crystal Reservoir when we noticed some strange activity at the concrete dam that spanned between two ridges above the city. As we investigated, people in black ski-masks took us at gunpoint. So here I am.

Built only two years ago, the dam had always been controversial, inviting contentious debate. One side claimed the benefits of clean hydropower and recreational opportunities, while the other objected to loss of the wild river habitat. The protests still occur, sometimes violent.

I flinched as the metal door creaked open and the light came on. Two entered. I gasped when the dark-haired female removed her ski mask. "Emma? What are you doing here?" She was my friend at school, or so I thought.

"Hello Jenna," she said with a blank expression. "I decided to make a difference."

"What kind of difference is this?"

Frowning, Emma answered, "For too long, mankind has raped the Earth. We plan to change that, starting now by destroying the dam."

I huffed in a breath. "What about the people downstream? And my mom! She's sick and won't be able to get away from the flood."

Emma shrugged. "There is collateral damage with every just war."

"Collateral damage!" I said, raising my voice as the implications twisted my gut. "What happened to you? I respected your environmental views, but since when did you get into eco-terrorism? Don't do this Emma."

As Emma opened her mouth to speak, the masked man interrupted with a growling voice, "We don't have time for this."

Following the man out the door, Emma turned to me. "You're as corrupt as Zach. Goodbye, Jenna." As the light went off, again I huddled in the dark.

The clunk of the deadbolt lock had a finality to it, as if the dam and I shared the same destructive fate. I saw the boxes of explosives when they brought me in.

And Zach. He was one of the few that really believed in me, cared for me. He helped keep me going in moments of despair, when I wanted to just give up. Sometimes, I hoped we would become more than best friends, but I didn't know how to make this happen. Random thoughts of being in his arms always made me tingle all over. Would I ever see him again?

The icy fear came back, spurred on by a wandering pessimistic mind. Coldness coursed through my veins, and I wrapped arms around myself. There must be something I can do. Think!

Running was all I've ever been good at. I took first place at the regional cross-country meet, earning a trip to the state championship. Running was also my escape from reality — from living in a rundown trailer by the river, from caring for my cancer-stricken mom, from the petty school dramas, from fear. When I run, I felt free and empowered, as if an Earth Spirit poured in through my feet.

My eyes traced the moonbeam to the window. The window! It was small, but so am I. Running made me skinny, and I just might fit through. Then, maybe I can find Zach.

After first checking that the way was clear, I cranked open the casement, pushing along the window when the gears failed. I jumped up and pushed my arms through, then my head. Shimmying back and forth, inch-by-inch, I squirmed my body through like a worm, finally falling down to a suspended metal grid walkway that ran along outside the hydropower enclosure to a parking lot. The railings transmitted vibrations from the generators to my fingertips.

Tiptoeing along, I peeked into the next window, and my heart lifted. Tapping on the glass, I caught Zach's attention. As he pulled the window open, his smile matched mine. "Thank God you're okay, Jenna," he whispered. "How did you get out?"

"I squeezed through the window."

Zach sighed as his eyes traced the window frame. "There's no way I could fit." He reached out to hold my hand. "Listen, you have to go get help. I heard them talking — they are going to blow this place up at dawn."

My lower lip trembled and my voice cracked. "I don't know if I can. I'm... I'm so scared."

"Hey," he said with a grin. "You are the cross-country champion. Just another race. You've got this!"

A half-smile crossed my teary face. "I wish I was as brave as you."

"Brave? Hell no. I'm scared shitless. But we're not going down without a fight." He pointed further down the walkway. "First, give me that toolbox. Maybe I can figure a way out of here and disrupt their plans."

After passing him the toolbox, I narrowed my eyes and said. "You better be okay!"

Zach grinned. "Run like the wind, girl who run fast!"

He says that same lame thing before every race. But, as I made my way across the walkway, confidence blossomed in me like spring flowers. "Damn right," I muttered to myself.

Evenly spaced caged lights provided dim illumination. I squeezed through the railing and dropped to the rocks below, rather than taking the walkway to the end, then slunk along a wall. After first peering around a corner, I silently passed into the night.

The chilled night air rose goosebumps on my bare legs and arms. I wore trail shoes and black running shorts. My bright yellow tank-top was not the best color for stealth, so I shed it, just leaving a dark sports bra on top. After readjusting my ponytail for running, I scrambled down the rocks to the water's edge below the dam in the darkness. The dam outflow roared because of recent heavy rains.

A door slam, pounding feet, and shouts reached my ears. "There she is!" someone shouted from above, pointing.

A gunshot rang out, and the bullet splashing in the river sprayed fine water droplets across my legs. Oh, crap. Brave or not, I had better get going.

I imagined it like a starting pistol and sprinted downstream for the race of my life. Another bullet whizzed above my head. When I reached the trees and found the trail, I smiled. I knew these woods. This was my home turf, and trail running was what I did.

It was about six miles to the edge of Crystal City, just like a 10k race. They'll probably come after me, but I can outrun them on foot, and if they drove, it's a long way around the ridge by road.

I settled into my long-practiced run rhythm — long strides coordinated with arm pumps and deep breathing. The full moon provided just enough light on the trail, but I would need to be careful in the shadows.

As I passed between two bushes, a gooey tingly sensation covered my face, causing me to spit and sputter while wiping my face. Cursed spiderweb!

Resuming my flight, I weaved between tall trees and leaped over granite rocks. As I came to the ridge rise, leaving the river behind where it tumbled into a steep walled canyon, I shortened my stride to power straight up the rocky hill. Cutting across the switchbacks was not good trail etiquette, but this was a special case.

So far, so good.

From the distance, the ringing grind of a small engine came to my ears and my heart raced beyond the normal run cadence. An off-road motorcycle came after me on the trail.

That was not good.

The trail turned, following the narrow ridge top. With no trees, I was exposed here, so I increased my pace, hoping to reach the forest again before the motorcycle caught up to me.

No such luck. The engine noise pulsed louder, and a headlight popped over the ridge, shining on me. As I sprinted into the trees, a shot fired, but it missed far right, punching through the underbrush.

The motorcycle followed me into the trees, but the twisted path slowed it enough that it did not gain on me. For now. Once past the trees, the trail became straight and open, and it would easily catch me. As I turned my head back to my pursuer, I ran straight into a pine bough that stretched across the trail. It smacked me upside the head, nearly knocking me over.

That gave me an idea. Time to go on the offensive. And I knew the perfect spot to pull it off.

Ahead, the trail veered right along a bushy ravine. I snatched up a twisted, fallen branch, wielded it like a club, and hid within droopy pine limbs at the turn. My heart pounded and my whole body quivered. This was so unlike me, but Zach, my mom, the city — everyone was counting on me. If this didn't work...

As the engine whine grew louder and the headlight filtered through the branches, I firmed my resolve.

When the motorcycle rounded my position, I let out a battle cry and swung, smashing the club against the rider's chin. Grunting, he fell back to the ground with a hollow thump. The motorcycle continued on, plummeting down the ravine, tumbling end over end.

I threw the branch at the bearded man and took off, zig-zagging around the trees and not looking back.

"Bitch!" the man shouted, then sprayed bullets wildly in my direction, one striking the ground near my feet. Soon, I left him and his string of obscenities behind.

I almost couldn't believe that worked.

Continuing the run, I regained my smooth, long-distance rhythm. Being now over halfway to the city, my spirit lifted. The finish line was Sheriff Baxter's house, located at the city edge. He was a kind man with a signature gray handlebar mustache who sometimes checked on my mom during his rounds. He would believe me.

A faint glow appeared on the eastern horizon. Zach said they would blow up the dam at dawn, so I didn't have much time. The thought induced a panic that crawled down my spine to my gut. Zach! I prayed he was still okay.

Distracted, my foot hit an exposed root and I face-planted in the muddy peat. Stinging pain radiated from a knee and elbow, while throbbing scrapes traced both palms where I tried to catch myself.

"Focus!" I blurted out, chastising myself. Rising, I resumed the run, limping at first until the stiffness worked itself out.

The trail descended toward the river, rounding massive boulders and granite outcroppings, eventually reaching a meadow. The rough-edged grass cut at my legs.

For the last two kilometers, the trail became a paved bike path between the main highway and the river within a widening rocky canyon. The swollen Crystal River was a roaring torrent. I extended my stride on the smooth pavement, allowing me to go faster. As I crested a small hill, the city lights sparkled in the distance. I smiled — the goal was within sight.

Tires churned rocks and gravel behind, then lights illuminated me, casting a long shadow ahead. I gasped. It was them. The car bore down on me, charging like a bull — the racing engine like a bellow and bluish headlights like mad eyes.

At the very last moment before it hit me, I jumped off the bike path down the steep embankment to the river. Tripping, I tumbled over the rocks and splashed into the swift water.

The icy coldness hit like an electric bolt, shocking me to the core. Violent turbulent water rolled me, pushing and pummeling as if a schoolyard bully. Dizzying panic set in as I crashed and scraped against submerged boulders. My mind spun and I couldn't tell which way was up or down, and my lungs screamed for oxygen. At last, by some fortune, my head popped above the rushing water and I pulled a desperate wheezy breath.

As the river swept me further along, I grasped at the rocks and boulders to gain control, but the powerful current snatched my grasp away. Eventually, the river deposited me into a gentle pool and I crawled out to the bank, collapsing face down on the smoothed pebbles.

Despair welled up, spilling out in bitter sobs. My body ached from countless scrapes and contusions. Crimson stained rivulets leaked down my face from a head bash.

Had I failed everyone?

I glanced farther upstream. The car that tried to ram me stood still on the bike path with two doors open, headlights shining across the water. Two dark figures paced along the river bank, searching for me.

Perhaps the river showed mercy by carrying me so far away from them?

Somewhere deep within my soul, I found a hidden reserve of energy and optimism. Reaching in, I scooped out a measure.

With a painful groan, I rose. It wasn't far now. I half-limped and half-jogged along the river, holding a throbbing injured arm against my chest. Counting each step helped distract me from the pain.

By now, the sky brightened and dawn was almost here. With all I had been through, was it now too late?

After dragging myself up the front steps of a modest brick home, I pounded on the wooden door. "Sheriff Baxter!" I yelled over and over.

The front light came on and the door opened. Sheriff Baxter stood in his uniform, apparently ready for his day. His eyes widened at the wet and bloodied girl before him. "Jenna, what happened?"

"Please!" I pleaded, half-sobbing. "They're going to breach the dam and flood the city. I saw the explosives. And they have Zach. You have to--"

A flash of headlights interrupted my words as tires skidded to a stop on the gravel driveway, and I swung my head around. A car door swung open and Emma jumped out. She snapped up a handgun and took aim. I shoved Sheriff Baxter back inside the house, following him.

A gunshot rang out. An explosive pain in my back. Falling. My head hit something hard. Then darkness.

*****

Light filtered through my eyelids. A gentle beeping sound in time with my heartbeat reached my ears and an antiseptic smell my nose. Where am I? What happened?

My mind swirled with random vague images. The moon. Trees. Water. Running. Zach...

The memories surged back. "Zach!" I called out as my blurry eyes flashed open. I jerked up, but pain limited the motion.

"Easy, Jenna." A familiar voice said. "You were really banged up." Gentle hands guided my head back down to a pillow.

As my eyes focused, my heart soared. It was Zach with his usual bushy brown hair and goofy grin. "Hey," I said with a widening smile.

"Hey yourself," he replied.

My eyes scanned the surroundings, obviously a hospital room. Bright sunlight streamed between the window blind slats, casting lines on the floor. Flowers and get-well balloons filled every flat elevated surface and the windowsill.

My mom snoozed in a recliner. She wore the brightly colored cap I made for her over a bald head. A clear plastic tube connected her green oxygen tank to a nose cannula. I had a cannula under my nose too, along with various tubes and wires joining me to several instruments and liquid pouches. A brace immobilized my left forearm and bandages wrapped my head and the backside of my left shoulder. I laid on a narrow hospital bed, covered with a thin white blanket and wearing an unfashionable pink hospital gown.

"Is... Is everyone okay?" I asked tentatively.

"Yeah. Thanks to you. Not the bad guys. They're in jail. Except Emma, Sheriff Baxter shot her, so she's in the hospital like you, but with handcuffs. He said you saved his life."

"So the dam didn't blow up?" I asked, lifting my eyebrows. "I thought I was too late."

A sly grin came over Zach's face. "Well, I helped with that. With most of them chasing after you, I snuck out and cut a bunch of wires. Boy, were they hoppin' mad." His eyebrows lifted. "So, how are you feeling?"

I took stock of my body, which ached all over. "Definitely banged up."

He shook his head. "More than banged up. Emma shot you in the back. You broke your arm and the docs think you might have a concussion. And then there are like a thousand scrapes and bruises." As my eyes widened, he held up his hands. "Don't worry. They said you'll be okay."

Pointing at the flowers and balloons, I asked, "Where did all these come from?"

"From the whole town. You're like their hero — the girl who run fast. There's even a bunch of reporters wanting to interview you." Zach took up my hand and his expression turned solemn. "You're my hero, too."

Shaking my head, I said, "I don't feel like a hero. I was really scared."

"But you saved everyone anyway. That's hero stuff." Zach bowed his head and stammered. "I almost lost you, Jenna. Umm, there's somethin' I been meaning to ask, and with you gettin' famous and everything..."

"What?" I asked, holding a breath.

"Umm, when you get better, would you like to go out with me, I mean, like on a real date?" One eyebrow quivered, as if prompting me to say yes.

"Yeah," I replied as warmth flushed through me. "But let's not go anywhere near that dam."

*****

Reference: The initial literature quote ('Fear is the mind-killer') taken from "Dune", by Frank Herbert (1965).