Electricity, or something just as painful, flows through my body, and I grit my teeth to keep myself from screaming. Then the power is gone, and the restraints around my wrists and ankles loosen. I fall to the ground, recovering quickly, and now I'm only out of breath. Then a rough hand grabs my shoulder and gives me a shove.

"Alright, get moving, kid," says the guard. I obediently shuffle back to my cage. The guard unlocks the door, and shoves me in. Then he locks the door again, and turns to leave. But suddenly, a voice calls out, "Attention: there has been an issue in some of the containment units. Please report to your stations." There's a stir among the prisoners, but I'm not part of it. Announcements like this aren't uncommon. The guards leave for a bit, and then they're back, and life goes on.

I lean against the bars of my cage, and notice that a meal is in here. It's a cold sandwich, with a small bowl of water and some kind of vegetable. I settle to the floor to eat this meal, but I'm stopped by a whisper.

"Wive!" That's Shawn's voice. He doesn't say the "R" in my name because no one at U.T.L. cares enough to teach him to. I've tried correcting him, but he forgets in an hour.

"Wive!" Shawn whispers again. "There's some stuff up!"

"What?" I whisper back in confusion. Shawn points at the top of my cage.

"There's the unlock-a-ma-bobber, up!" Shawn continues pointing, and my heart beat begins accelerating. I abandon my sandwich to pursue this new development.

"Can you get them?" I ask, forgetting the lack of hope for a moment. Shawn nods excitedly.

"Yup!" The small boy closes his eyes and concentrates, and I hear a quiet noise as the keys slide across the top of my cage. Then the keys fall off the smooth surface and wobble in midair. They float shakily down to where I can snatch them out of the air. I grin, despite myself. Might this be the day? Could it possibly be? But my hopes are dashed by the sound of approaching footsteps. The guards are back! I hastily put the keys down the back of my shirt, ignoring the cold uncomfortableness of the lumpy item. But even if I hide them well, surely the guard will notice that his keys are gone? The solution presents itself in simple and pure dumb luck. The guards have rotated positions, and a new one now arrives in the Cell Room. He looks around dully, making sure we're all present. I quickly sit against the bars of my cage, keeping my back away from the guard. I chew on my sandwich and hope the guard doesn't notice the river of sweat pouring down my face. If I look half as nervous as I feel, then I'll be caught immediately!

But it appears my acting skills are up to par, because the guard shrugs and walks away. I breath a quiet sigh of relief and retrieve the keys from my shirt. Then, glancing around nervously and risking to hope, I turn the keys in the lock on my cage. The door creaks open, and for a moment, I just stand here. Freedom and escape are foreign ideas, and I almost can't fathom that I have a chance. But it looks like I do, and so I push the door open some more...

And immediately slam it shut as the guard returns. This time, he takes out keys identical to the stolen ones that I have once again pressing into my back awkwardly. Then, scanning the prisoners, he sees Shawn and goes to his cage.

No, I pray silently. No, please don't take him to the Torture Chamber, just please don't. But the guard stubbornly refuses to bend to my will, and unlocks Shawn's cage. I pretend not to care as he's led away. Then, as soon as the guard is gone, I rush to the front of my cage and push the door open. I step out into freedom - no, not freedom. Not yet.

I look around, wondering what my next move is. Large and pleading eyes stare at me from every direction, each a silent request.

"Attention, workers." The loudspeaker surprises me, and I pause monetarily to listen. "There is a potentially problematic development in Squadron 3A. Please be on alert." Now, this complicates things. Time is short and growing shorter by the second. I haven't even finished debating what to do next when three U.T.L. workers storm into the room.

"There he is!" one shouts. The other two don't say a word as they approach me rapidly. Looking around, I see no options of escape. So instead, I blast a shadowy wall at the approaching guards. They go flying, and I don't wait to see whether they get back up. My ability, unless I'm using as much power as I possibly can, isn't strong enough to break bones or anything.

But now the third guard is prepared, and he grabs a dart gun off his belt.

"Don't move!" he shouts. "Don't move, or I'll-" I fling a ball of shadow at his head, hoping to catch him off-guard. But my aim turns out to be badly planned, and he ducks just in time to avoid the attack. Then there are darts flying at me, and I throw up a hasty wall of black to shield me. Since the move was rushed, my wall isn't strong, and the darts flying through it. But they're slowed enough that I can sidestep them easily. Now, behind my wall, I plot my next move. I decide on a plan, but luck is not - and never has been - on my side, and I hear more guards coming. Quickly, but concentrating on making a strong attack, I fire a beam of darkness at the guard with the dart gun. It hits, and he falls to the floor with a grunt. I sprint past him, and he doesn't chase me; I've knocked him unconscious.

It's obvious that the longer I stay in U.T.L., the more guards there will be and the harder escape will become. But if I'm leaving this horrid place, then I'm doing it with Shawn. I just can't leave him behind! So I sprint to the door to the "Torture Chamber" and peer in. There's a guard casually pushing buttons on a panel, and Shawn is held to a vertical slab by the restraints I was in not too long ago. I fling a blast of shadow at the guard, who crumples to the floor without any fight. Then I run to the control panel and scan it frantically, looking for a way to free Shawn.

"Wive!" he exclaims. "You did it! Are we gonna go on a best-friend-super-cool escape?"

"That's the plan," I reply, used to Shawn's random and happy attitude. Finally, I spot a button that says Release. I hit it, and Shawn is freed from the device. He jumps in joy, turns, kicks the torture device, and faces me again.

"What's the plan, uncle man?" I nearly laugh at this. Plan? I just jumped on the hope of escape! I don't have a plan!

The sound of footsteps grabs my attention back. I guess the Nerds have found their unconscious buddies.

"Uh, the plan is, go that way!" I exclaim, pointing in the opposite direction I came from. Shawn nods and follows me as we dash through the doorway. We're now in a large and empty room, with tables and chairs and counters, but no one to stop us. Going through another door, we arrive in the yard. But being out of the building doesn't mean success. In fact, the most resistance we'll find is outside. Looking around, my guess is proven right. Dozens of Nerds are running from every angle, some with swords and others with dart guns. Shawn picks one up, using his powers of levitation, and throws him at the fence surrounding U.T.L. And, looking around, it's obvious that we won't be defeating or escaping this many guards.

"We came close," I whisper to Shawn. He looks up at me, a worried question in his eyes. But we're not beaten yet, his eyes plead. But, in reality, we are. And that thought makes me angry. Life isn't fair, U.T.L. isn't fair. Why us? Why now? Why are our hopes crushed as soon as they appear?

And suddenly, I feel an odd sensation. It's like I'm falling asleep, almost, and falling at the same time. At first, I think I'd been hit with a dart from a dart gun. But wait! Suddenly, I come to a horrible realization as memories flood my blurry thoughts.

Did I mention that I'm possessed?

***

Possessed is the wrong word, I think. See, there have been a few moments in my life when hatred, anger and hopelessness bubble up inside of me. I mean, really strong feelings. And when these feelings explode out of me, I kind of, sort of... turn evil.

I lose control of my actions, and I mean literally. I don't decide what I'm doing or what I'm saying, and I feel like I'm watching my own life from far away, with a groggy, unreal feeling. This period of "possession" usually doesn't last longer than a minute or two. But my alter-ego self, in the short time he is in control, enjoys wreaking havoc. He attacks, and fights, using those feelings of hate. Is this strange occurrence due to my emotions? Is it related to my power? Or is it just some ghost or spirit living in me? I may never know.

But when I felt a eerie smile stretching across my own face, I knew I was in for trouble.

***

I don't really remember much. Shawn and I were escaping U.T.L., and then... I don't know. Did we escape? Did we get caught?

"Why can't I remember?" I mumble aloud.

"Perhaps it would help if you opened your eyes," says a voice. I follow this advice and open my eyes to see where I am. Looking up, I see blue sky and Allen's ghosty face. Then I sit up, rubbing my eyes.

"What happened? Where are we? Where's Shawn? Why does-"

"Okay, do you want answers, or are you just going to rattle off questions?" Allen asks irritably. I shut my mouth, letting him explain. "To get to the answers, I'm not quite sure what happened. I believe that odd possession thing happened to you... you told me about that once. But anyway, you went nuts, blowing those Ultra Tech workers to smithereens."

"Metaphorically?" I ask hopefully. Allen's transparent shoulders shrug.

"Eh, mostly. But anyway, we are currently a short distance from U.T.L., hiding out until you can walk. I sent Shawn on a little errand, of which he is taking an annoyingly long time to accomplish."

"An errand?" I ask curiously. "Wait, how could Shawn see you? Or hear you?"

"Ghosts can reveal themselves to those without Sight," Allen replies. "It is difficult, but I managed to achieve basic communication for a bit. As for the errand, well, Shawn will be sure to tell you all about it when he gets back. That is, if we haven't all grown old and died..." At that moment, I see Shawn's brown mop of hair bouncing toward us from the distance. I let out a sigh of relief as my chubby little friend runs toward us.

"Hey, Wive! You're awake!" Shawn grins happily. "Hi to you, too, Mr. Floaty!"

"I'm not Mr. Floaty!" Allen wails, annoyed. "My name is Allen, you useless bag of flesh!"

"Be quiet, Mr. Floaty," I order Allen. He crosses his arms and floats a few yards away to pout. I turn my attention to Shawn. "Hey, little bud! How are you?"

"I'm okay," Shawn smiles. "And Wive, have you looked around? Everything's all boom-y and bam-y!" I realize that I haven't really taken a look around since I woke up, and quickly take the time to do so.

We're in a low, grassy area, with hills hiding us from three of four sides. The sun is above us, giving the world a bright and cheery look. The grass is healthy and green, much better from the old dead grass at U.T.L. And the blue sky stretches on forever, with no ugly buildings to block the view.

"Wow!" I exclaim. "This is awesome!" "Awesome" seems like an insufficient word for our surroundings, as marvelous as they are. So this is what freedom looks like! "This is just amazing! Grand! Beautiful!" None of the words can fully capture the awe of the landscape.

"Boom-y bam-y," Shawn agrees. "But Wive, I need your help!"

"With what?" I ask, puzzled.

"Mr. Floaty gave me a job," Shawn informs me proudly. "So I said, 'Yup, okay, doc! You can count on me!' But I need some help now." Shawn grabs my hand with no further explanation and pulls me onto one of the hills. On the other side is a mound of dirt, and the hole it came from. My curiosity is growing!

"Shawn," I ask as the boy leads me to the hole, "what exactly did Allen - er, Mr. Floaty - tell you to do?"

"Dig a hole," Shawn said with an innocent smile. "So we could find his course!" I frown down into the hole. It's only about two feet deep, and at the bottom is... is that a face? It is! It's a human face!

"Shawn!" I yell in panic. "Allen told you to find his corpse?"

"Yeah, that!" Shawn agrees happily as I try not to scream. "Look at the guy in the dirt, Wive! It's Mr. Floaty's course!" I don't bother to correct him again as I storm over Allen, who's finished pouting.

"Allen, why did you have Shawn dig up your grave?" Allen raises his eyebrows at me, surprised and amused.

"Because I'm IN my grave," he shrugs. "Now, if you don't mind-"

"I do mind!" I yell at him. "I do mind very much! Shawn is six years old! Six year-olds don't dig for dead people!"

"Why not?" Allen asks. I sputter in shock.

"Because... because dead people, Allen! People who are dead!"

"Understood," Allen nods. "I am a dead person. Got it. Now, what does this have to do with recovering my body?" With no other argument, I groan in defeat.

"Why do you even need it?" I ask, not arguing anymore. Just asking a question.

"Because," Allen replies, "since I chose to be a ghost, instead of going to wherever dead souls go, it is possible for me to re-enter my body. I simply need my soul, my body, and a living helper. As you can see, I am my soul. That's my body, and you're a living helper, if not a very helpful one."

"Okay, fine. Just come over here and make sure we don't decapitate you or something." That image seems to give Allen plenty of motivation, and we begin the slow and tedious process of digging up Allen's grave. This process involves me standing in a small pit, clawing at chunks of dirt, while Shawn stands off to the side and cheers. Allen, of course, is making remarks like, "Hey, I'm going to need that face! Quit stepping on it!" and "Could you perhaps dig it up before it shrivels and turns to dust, please?" I'm sort of glad that my friend will have his own body soon, since he'll be able to help me do any work in our future. And I'm sure there's plenty of it. After all, we'll need a shelter, and food, and water, and tools, and all that stuff. Shawn is too easily distracted to be of much help.

Finally, I get the soil off of most of Allen's dead body.

"Alright, there," I tell him. "What now?"

"This is the easy part," Allen assures me. "Just put your hand on my body somewhere... yes, that will do." I lay my hand on Allen's chest, and immediately get a weird feeling. I know the body is dead, but it feels... well, it feels alive! I guess I'm just used to having the people around me being alive.

Anyway, Allen floats up to his dead body and looks at it lovingly.

"See you in a moment," he says excitedly, and then glides into his body. The shirt under my hand suddenly gets very cold, and my eyelids start to feel heavy. Exhaustion hits out of nowhere, and I feel like I'm watching Allen's body through a long tube. Then the tube slowly crumbles, and my vision goes black.

***

When I wake up, I feel much better. The unnatural cold is gone, and the sudden burst of exhaustion is over. Now I just feel rested.

I sit up with a yawn and look around. The sun hasn't moved much, and is still poking out from behind one of the hills around us. Shawn is sitting close to me, but I can't see Allen's ghost or body anywhere.

"Wive!" Shawn exclaims. "You're okay!"

"Yeah, I'm fine," I shrug, rubbing my neck. "Where's Allen?" Shawn's face immediately becomes puzzled. "Mr. Floaty," I clarify. Realization dawns on my young friend.

"Oh, he rolled away," Shawn reports happily. I frown at him in confusion.

"He rolled away?" I ask. Shawn's wording is often inaccurate, and he sometimes rambles about nothing. I assume this is one of those times. But Shawn nods confidentially.

"Yup," he confirms. "He was all like, 'Oh, darn these ol' legs!' And then he rolled around for a while, and whenever he got too close to you, I rolled him away, and he couldn't stand up, so he just kept rolling around." I nodded slowly, taking in the situation.

"Okay, so he's forgotten how to use his legs. Perfect."

"I don't think it's perfect," Shawn disagrees, confused. "I think it's bad."

"I know, I was just... I was being sarcastic." I'm met with a blank stare, and I can only imagine what crazy things Shawn would do with the concept of sarcasm, so I drop the topic. "Never mind. Let's go find Mr. Floaty." We start walking, and I begin listening for the sound of an ex-ghost trying to stand. I have no idea what that sounds like, of course, but I listen for it anyway.

"You really should stop calling him Mr. Floaty," I comment as we search. "He doesn't float anymore."

"You're right, Wive," Shawn agrees. "He's Mr. Roll-y now."

"No, his name is Allen," I correct the young boy. Shawn giggles at this.

"Well, that just sounds weird."

As it happens, we find Allen in under a minute. He hadn't gone far, just over a hill. I first spotted his dirt-covered body laying motionlessly on the grass, and for a moment, I was worried that I hadn't revived him completely and he'd died again. Then I heard his voice call, "Oh, is that you, annoying child?"

"Yes," Shawn replied happily. "And I brought Wive with me! And he woke up! But it didn't happen in that order."

"Stop talking and bring me Wrive," Allen moaned. We hurried over to him, and for the first time, I saw Allen's body entirely out of the ground. He was tall, a few inches short of six feet tall. His hair, thought filled with dirt, was blond, and he was thin, unnaturally so. I guess not eating for thirty years does that to a guy.

"Yes, yes, stare at the crippled zombie," Allen grumbled. "Take your time, at all costs. Perhaps we should share our thoughts on this topic? Yes, I'll start. I think you should quit staring and help me up!" His annoyed yelling broke through my bewilderment and I started helping Allen sit up. His arms were extremely stiff (again, probably from being buried), as well as his legs.

"It's a bad situation," Allen mused as I tried to break the thin crust of earth still encasing most of him. "Not only are all of my bones and muscles locked in place, but my brain has literally forgotten how to tell my legs to move. Weird things, these brains. And heavy. How do you people live with these things?" Finally, after chiselling Allen as well as I can, I'm ready to help him stand.

"Just, you know... bend your leg," I coach him. He stares at his leg intently, and nothing happens.

"How do I do that?" he asks.

"Just, uh, want it to happen," I attempt. Allen closes his eyes is concentration, and still, his legs are completely stiff.

"It's not working!" Allen snaps. "You're very bad at this!"

"Well, sorry," I grumble back at him. "I've never had to coach someone on how to bend their legs before!" Allen scowls and continues trying to move his two useless limbs. Finally, I have an idea.

"Maybe you don't have to do anything," I muse aloud. "Here, let me try something." I bend down to Allen's leg, take it in my hands, and manually bend his knee. I hear lots of crunching and snapping noises, which make me wince.

"Holy-" Allen remembers Shawn's presence at the last moment and finishes with "Wow!" He blinks a few times, then repeats it. "Holy wow! Holy holy holy wow!" With a tremendous effort, he manages to flatten his leg again, and then bend it.

"Alright," he says through clenched teeth. "Other one now."

"Are you sure you don't want a moment to rest?" I ask, sorry for causing him all this pain.

"I want to curl into a ball and die again," he informs me with a poisonous smile. "However, in order to do that, I need to be able to bend my leg. So if you wouldn't mind..." I once again kneel down and bend Allen's leg at the knee. Once again, he shouts "Holy wow!" with large amounts of spirit. Shawn, confused at all this commotion, bends his own leg a few times, then shrugs.

After several minutes of yelling "Holy wow!", snapping noises, and Allen collapsing, I finally manage to get him standing. He wobbles around like a toddler, moaning whenever a new part of his body bends. But he does manage to walk with relative ease, and after a few tries, his body seems to remember how to jump, crouch, and run.

"Right," Allen grunts while stretching. "Now that every joint in my body has snapped for the first time in thirty years, what's the plan?" He and Shawn look at me, and I realize with surprise that I've just been elected leader. I guess I'm the logical choice, since I'm used to being a human and I'm not... Shawn.

"Um," I start, thinking. "Well, we need water. And food. Shelter will be important, too, but we can find that almost anywhere." I look around the rolling hills, searching for a body of water.

"I believe I can be of assistance," Allen volunteers. I gesture for him to continue. "See, when I was alive, I recall a river that shouldn't be too far from here. That will have water taken care of, and there should be fish there."

"Great!" I exclaim. "That will be a -"

"Not only that," Allen interrupts, "but there's a forest near the river. That gives us wood, which is good for tools and shelter."

"Even better!" I declare, excited. "We should get going right away! Lead the way, Allen!" The ex-ghost starts in a direction, after glancing at the sun and clouds. Shawn and I are close behind him, on the beginning of the trek to freedom.

The future holds so much potential: water, food, shelter, and the ability to start making tools. We could have things to defend ourselves with, and bowls for water, and we could start building a permanent home... All these things run through my mind, and the world seems brighter than it's been for years.