Vongai Musarandega

Essay Writing

a. A mysterious parcel.

The ding-dong of the doorbell could be heard from across the

foyer. After placing her mug on the counter, Genevieve made her
way across the hall. She opened the door and came face to face
with a small khaki box, about the size of a shoebox. She brought
the parcel back in and opened it. On reviewing the contents, she
gasped and dashed to the phone. She speed-dialed a number, and
the recipient soon picked up.
“Mary, we’ve been hacked.”

The front door burst open, and Mary marched in. her heels clanked
against the marble floor, and the sound echoed into the kitchen.
Wasting no time, she ran her nail along the length of the tape of
the khaki box, slicing it open. She ripped through the wrap, only
stopping when the little black box came into sight. She picked it
up and examined it with scrutiny. She placed the device on the
kitchen top and picked up a white card at the bottom of the box.
"Decode this," she said sharply. I took the piece of paper and
translated the simple lines of code inscribed on the white sheet.
Phantom Nirvana, it said. The name was very familiar.

“I remember him. Sold out half the community to the cops, all for
a couple of toys. Get started on restoring our website, before
the police identify suspicious activity. I’ll pay our little
friend a visit,” Mary said walking away. She slammed the door
shut, and I sighed. She was never good with doors. When I heard
the crunch of gravel and the roar of her truck, I locked the
door. I walked down the foyer and stopped at the painting. It was
a piece by Annie Glacken, one of Mary’s friends. Right next to it
was a door. I opened it, and the fluorescent lights lit up on
their own accord. I sat in the gaming chair right across the desk
and logged into the computer.

I had not kept track of time until Mary returned. She opened the
door with such force that I jumped in my seat. She flounced in
and shut down the system. Perplexed, I turned to her. She was in
a crazed frenzy of shutting down monitors. She turned to me
“Don’t just stare at me, shut down the system.” My blood ran cold
and fear gripped me. The end was near, and I could smell it in
the air. In at least fifteen minutes, we were done shutting it
all down, I heard the rumble of engines and the chuff of
helicopter blades. The crunch of war boots on the gravel drive
caused a chill to run down my spine. The door fell off its hinges
with a thud. Mary walked calmly towards them and I trailed behind
her. “There’s nothing in there,” she yelled at Agent Swecker. Two
FBI officers escorted us to safety a helicopter.

The crackle of a radio caught my attention. Mary’s back stiffened

and her hand went to the butt of her revolver. I watched Swecker
speak through his transceiver, his eyes trained on Mary. My hands
felt clammy, and my knees wobbled. A wave of nausea hit me; I
felt the bile rise to my mouth. The click of receivers created a
sick rhythm. Swecker put the gadget away, turned, and smiled at
us. "We best get going," he commanded, and everything seemed to
come back to life again. The officers went back into their vans
and drove off. We went into the helicopter and it took off,
headed for the city.

I could not help but smile to myself when the headquarters came
into view. In a week or two, I would be back home, the operation
would be running again and Swecker would have no clue. I looked
at every one of them. They were all oblivious that they let the
enemy dwell amongst them.