Stop the Clock

I heard the explosion, loud and painful, even through my partially deaf ears.

I had failed.

The guilt was emense, and all the screams echoed in my head, the cries of pain, agony and fear.

They were all my fault.

I didn’t find it.


“We call this meeting to order in the name of Sierra Perch, Agent. President Wick will see you shortly.” The voice says through the intercom. As it spoke, the President of country I entered the white courtroom.

His presence was overwhelmingly powerful, and his smooth voice could convince a human it was a mouse and should walk into a fire.

He had short, pitch black, dyed hair and obviously whitened teeth, along with a dark spray tan.

His native american guards were buff and intimidating; they made me look small and weak despite my slender strength.

They sat down in large, black chairs that stood out and matched their clothes.

I got the white chair.

He regarded me with a polite disrespect and yet a twinge of desperate measures.

He doesn’t think I can do it, but I can tell he knows I am his only chance.

His only choice.

He clears his throat and begins to speak. My heartbeat quickens with anticipation. I had only been told that the President may have a job for me.

“Ah, Sierra.” He begins professionally. He prepares himself to continue seriously, but blurts out his whole message to me in a second. “Please!! I need your help!! Z placed a nuclear bomb in our country, and the only button to disarm it is in A. I am not supposed to know, but I caught some on an intercom that they accidently changed to the wrong channel. You have to go to A and find the button!!” He was fighting not to cry. “Please. Save my country.” He whispered. There’s a long pause.

“I accept.” My voice replies, not letting my brain know what it was going to do. Thoughts flow through my brain slowly, like a partially plugged drain.
Sierra, this is dangerous. Not like the other stuff, those were risky. This is dangerous. This could be your last assignment.

That's cool story!!!

I heard the explosion, loud and painful, even through my partially deaf ears.
I had failed.
The guilt was emense, and all the screams echoed in my head, the cries of pain, agony and fear.
They were all my fault.
I didn’t find it.


“Higher!” A voice yells from below. I risk a glance up. Clara is just above me, balancing precariously on a large branch. I decide to join her.
“Song is up to her usual, I see.” I begin a conversation.
“Did you expect anything less from Jessica? People with the last name Song can’t be trusted.” She replies amusedly. Coincidentally, the President of A’s name is George Song.
“Now jump!!!!!” Jessica’s voice rings up.
“What!?” I yell back.
“You heard me, or does your ‘sensitive hearing’ need an aid?” she shoots at me. I just sigh.
“On the count of three?” I ask Clara.
“Why wait?” She asks, and we leap off the high branch together, landing without a sound on the ground below.
“Clara, that was beautiful. Great landing and positioning, but Sierra? Really. You need to do better next time. Your climb was as slow as a sloth, and your landing was as unbalanced as a one legged hippo.” Hawk, the trainer who got his name from his archery skills tells us. That’s his version of ‘Constructive Criticism’. I just sigh. He has always liked Clara more than me. It is nice, though, when he gives me the more dangerous tasks.
Training finishes up after a long, hard run. It would have been hard enough without Jessica yelling insults at us every step. She was out for an injured arm, so she got to ride on a golf cart and watch our every move. I think resisting the urge to strangle her was harder than the actual run.




Ring! Ring! Ring! Ring! The phone loudly exclaims. I tense before grabbing the phone. Caller ID says SA, or Spy agency. They must have another mission for me.
“Is Sierra Perch there?” They voice rasps.
“Present.” I respond lightly.

“We call this meeting to order in the name of Sierra Perch, Agent. President Wick will see you shortly.” The voice says through the intercom. As it spoke, the President of country I entered the white courtroom.
His presence was overwhelmingly powerful, and his smooth voice could convince a human it was a mouse and should dump gas on it’s head and walk into a fire.
He had short, pitch black, dyed hair and obviously whitened teeth, along with a dark spray tan.
His native american guards were buff and intimidating; they made me look small and weak despite my slender strength.
They sat down in large, black chairs that stood out and matched their clothes.
I got the white chair.
He regarded me with a polite disrespect and yet a twinge of desperate measures.
He doesn’t think I can do it, but I can tell he knows I am his only chance.
His only choice.
He clears his throat and begins to speak. My heartbeat quickens with anticipation. I had only been told that the President may have a job for me.
“Ah, Sierra.” He begins professionally. He prepares himself to continue seriously, but blurts out his whole message to me in a second. “Please!! I need your help!! Z placed a nuclear bomb in our country, and the only button to disarm it is in A. I am not supposed to know, but I caught some on an intercom that they accidently changed to the wrong channel. You have to go to A and find the button!!” He was fighting not to cry. “Please. Save my country.” He whispered. There’s a long pause.
“I accept.” My voice replies, not letting my brain know what it was going to do. Thoughts flow through my brain slowly, like a partially plugged drain.
Sierra, this is dangerous. Not like the other stuff, those were risky. This is dangerous. This could be your last assignment.

There are 18 countries in the A-Z empire. A and Z, of course. They own the place, but also E, F, H, M, N, P, I, D, L, K, Q, R, U, O,C and V. The emperor countries insist that all countries in their empire, willingly or unwillingly, must change their name to a letter for ease of knowing if they belong to them.

A empire country is the most dangerous. There is a crazy amount of security, and even if I can get inside, the likeliness that I will remain anonymous and find the button is very slim. So, around 14% chance I’ll survive getting in, 10% of that for finding the button and 3% of that for finding it in time. Not to mention the 1% of that for making it out of A alive.
All that goes through my head in an instant. I am jerked back by President Wick bursting into tears saying ‘Bless you, bless you.’ over and over.
“Back to business.” I say briskly. “What all do you know?”
“All I know is there is a nuclear bomb that can’t be moved or deactivated without the button.” He replies.
“Any idea where the button is?” I ask.
“Uh......... District A?” He tells me unhelpfully.
“Thanks.” I say sarcasticly. “I don’t suppose you’ve got any useful information up your sleeve?”
“Well, they did say one thing I am a little confused about.”
“What was it?” I ask, my mind flying.
“???????????????????????????????????”
“Sierra, be careful. I think you can do it.”
“Great. I’ll try my best, President Wick.”
“Call me Chad.” He tells me with a half hopeful smile.
Call me dead. I think darkly, leaving the white room and mentally preparing myself for my goodbyes. As I am leaving the room, he yells after me.
“Sierra, you can’t tell anyone where you’re going.”
I respond with a nod. I can just picture saying goodbye to my friend, Clara. (Sarah lets slip to Z guards after they invade one day with ‘Where is she?! Tell me she’s not dead.’ They interrogated her.) ‘Hey, I am going on a mission and I probably won’t come back. See you..... uh.. never.’ She would be heartbroken.
I don’t want to picture it with my mom. I’d talk to my sister first, to prepare for my mother to stay at her house.
The walk back to my house wasn’t long, but it wasn’t short either. Our house was a dark colored, dreary place that never had flowers due to my mothers ‘black thumb’. We were a cheerful, positive, Christian family that is also very supportive, but it was obvious they didn’t want me to be an agent.
I have been in training since I was six, since a near death experience with an A officer, and my father decided to put me in spy training and taking me out at age 10.
I loved training. I was a natural and practiced in all my spare time, scarcely sleeping. When I was ten my father decided to let me continue, because I loved it so much.
I am 15 now, and have done missions since I turned twelve. No one expects a spy to be this young, so it’s safer for me to go.
“Hey, Madie.” I wonder how to start.
“Hey, Sierra. Let me guess. A mission. Big. You want me to take care of mom.” My sister inturrupts.
“That sums it up. How did you know?” I ask, shocked.
“You had that look on your face.” She responded, dead serious.
“Thanks, sis.” I tell her gratefully.

“Uh, Clara?” I say uncertainly. She looks up, her face falling.
“Another mission? Sierra! Please.” She begs.
“You know I have to.” I tell her. “But this one is different. I don’t think I’m coming back.” I say slowly. Before the last word is out of my mouth, she’s crying.
“Please, don’t go!!” She’s begging desperately.
“Goodbye, Clara.” I whisper before we both collapse in a heap of tears. I will see you again, either from heaven or on earth. I promise silently.

I don’t sleep well at night, but tonight is worse. One question sticks in my head all night long.
Where do I start?

I really like it!!