SD Gundam Fan Fiction ❯ High Beams ❯ Chapter 1

Yes, it's been some time since I actually wrote anything I realize, but school and life seem to just take up all my time. This story has mentions of some of our favorite characters (in my own designed human forms, of course) but is centered around the second generation I created. The setting is supposed to be just our world too, because this is actually my English homework. I figured it was worth posting to see what people other then my teacher think.

 

Anyway, I won't bore you with words. I hope you can find at least make it through the first few pages of this. It's not as exciting as all my other stories I've written.

 

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The beautiful, young girl driving the old, blue sedan was a senior at the local high school. She lived on a country road about eight miles away form the school and her parents allowed her to use the sedan to get back and forth to school and friend's houses.

 

She had driven into town that particular night to participate in practice for the graduation ceremony that would be held the following night. As she pulled away from the school building it was well after 9:30 and it was very dark outside. When she pulled to the traffic lights in the center of town, she noticed a candy apple red pick-up truck pull up behind her. When the light turned green she pulled away and headed out of town. A few minutes later, and some complicated turns, she noticed that the bright red pick-up truck was still following her.

 

“I guess we're going in the same direction,” she said nervously.

 

She began to watch the truck in her rearview mirror. As the truck followed her further and further out of town, she became more and more alarmed. When she increased her speed, the truck in increased its speed. When she passed a car that was moving slowly, the truck passed the car, too. The first time he turned on his high beams, flooding her old sedan with light, she almost came out of her skin with fear. He left the lights on for a minute, with the horn blaring noisily, and then turned them off again. “He probably wants to pass me,” she wondered out loud. But she was becoming more and more uneasy as each minute and mile passed.

 

Finally, the turn came to the deserted stretch of road that she lived on. When she turned onto the road, so did the truck. As she sped down the road, the driver was turning his high beams on and off, on and off, on and off. At this point the young girl was absolutely terrified and wanted to get home as fast as possible. The faster she drove, the faster the truck drove, they were flying down the old country road at nearly 90 m.p.h.

 

At last she pulled into her driveway, and the truck turned in right behind her. She jumped from her car and ran towards the door, screaming within her mind, `Please, just let it be a joke. Please!'

 

Turning around once she reached the porch to try and see if the person was following, the girl was blinded as the truck's high beams were put on again. She lifted an arm to cover her sensitive red irises as her long, equally crimson hair moved with the whipping motion of her head. She could see nothing through the blinding white light, however, so the girl quickly slipped inside her house, locking the door tightly. Not even bothering with removing her shoes, the girl raced around the house, locking the back door, windows and closing all the blinds. Joke or not, the girl was scared to death now.

 

If she'd thought the police would actually come help, the girl might've called them, but her parents had explained that cops would never help their family and why. Instead of the police, the girl grabbed a cordless phone to contact her brothers instead. Just as she started to dial, there was loud banging at the door and the voice of a man shouting something the redhead couldn't understand. Terrified further, the girl finished dialing, as she bolted up the stairs and to her room, locking her door as well. `Please pick up brother, please pick up!'

 

Heart rate increasing as the banging at the door continued, the girl listened anxiously as the phone rang. Three long rings later, the other end was finally answered and a voice came through. “Moshi moshi(1).”

 

“Yaimao!” the girl all but shouted. Just as she spoke, the banging and yelling downstairs stopped. Had the man left? Or was he going to find another way in? The girl didn't really care if he was gone or not, she was scared to death and needed her brothers.

 

“Sorincha? What's wrong, are you alright?” Yaimao had picked up instantly on his sister's distressed tone and was giving her his full attention. Sorincha tried to calm her voice down and explain to her brother what had happened and what was happening, but she was just too upset to get anything coherent out.

 

“Sorincha, deep breaths, then-”

 

But the line died. The girl's eyes dilated when she heard the beep beep beep telling her she'd been disconnected. Only a few moments later, there was a loud crash by the back door, alerting Sorincha her mystery attacker hadn't left, but just gone around back to the other door. He'd broken this one down, however. Now he was in the house. She could hear him running around downstairs, but it didn't sound like he was destroying anything. Odd.

 

Holding her breath, the girl carefully slipped off her bed and into her closet. Inside, there was a small hidden space her father had put there specifically for her to hide in, as if he'd known something like this was going to happen. Deep down, Sorincha had known something like this would happen eventually too. She was just wishing she didn't have to be there alone to deal with it.

 

When the heavy footsteps of the intruder suddenly began pounding up the stairs, Sorincha felt tears sting her eyes. The man knew she was in the house. Her brothers would never be able to get back fast enough. She was as good as dead.

 

Trying to suppress her sobs so as not to give her position away sooner, the girl listened as the man walked down the hall towards her door. There was a pause in his footsteps. Sorincha heard him try the door knob. She could even pick up the quiet growl he let out when he found it locked. Flinching back, waiting for the inevitable BANG that would come with the man kicking her door in, Sorincha waited. And waited. And waited.

 

Thirty seconds later and still nothing. Not until the sound of the man's obviously heavy shoes hitting the floor reached her again. They were heading back down the hall, checking each of the other rooms before they retreated to the stairs. The front door was slammed open in such a violent manner that even Sorincha could feel the vibrations from it. The distant sound of a car door being slammed as well rang through the silence before tires squealed and, Sorincha guessed, the man and his red truck drove away.

 

Silence overtook the house once again. Sorincha remained frozen in place, still expecting a gun to appear in front of her face and end her life. It wasn't until fifteen minutes had passed that the girl felt safe enough to crawl from her hiding spot. The discarded, useless phone was still lying where she'd left it, but the girl didn't go for it to try and fix it. She knew there was no one left she could call anyway.

 

Creeping to her bedroom door, Sorincha unlocked it before pulling it open slowly, carefully. The loud creaking made her wince and wish she'd fixed the hinges so they didn't make that horridly loud sound. A quick look out in the empty hall told Sorincha that there was no one upstairs. `What…did he want then?'

 

Moving down the stairs, on high alert, Sorincha made a mental report of what the house had looked like before the break in and after. After surveying the whole house, the only thing she found different was the back door, which was now broken off its hinges. Everything else was exactly the same.

 

Outside, Sorincha suddenly heard the sound of a car approaching the house. Heart rate increasing, adrenaline pumping again, the girl grabbed a knife from a drawer in the kitchen and darted into the living room to look out the window and see it the red truck had returned. What she saw instead, made her cry out in relief. Her brother's large black truck was left on the side of the street as her two siblings raced up the front lawn, alarmed by the sight of the open front door.

 

Yaimao, his newly dyed Tokyo Purple(2) hair looking a little more messed up then usual, reached the door first and his red eyes held the instinct to kill anything that didn't belong. “Sorincha!” he shouted, looking around the immediate vicinity for both his sister and signs of danger. The second brother appeared at his side, blonde hair also looking unkempt and his light blue eyes full of worry. He too shouted his sister's name.

 

Dropping her weapon, the redheaded girl ran to her blonde brother, throwing herself into his arms. Yaimao remained on high alert, but his face showed relief when he saw his sister was okay. “Sorincha, what happened?”

 

“Man….h-he followed me home…broke in the back door…. searched a bit, then left.” Sorincha explained, sobbing. Now that she felt safe, she was coming down from her adrenaline rush and was bawling, along with feeling a little sick. “Yaimao, Zen… I thought…I thought he was…” She couldn't finish as she buried her head against Zen's chest, her crying getting worse.

 

Zen simply pet his sister's long red hair, murmuring comforting words to her as Yaimao stepped further into the house, surveying the place for himself. Everything his sister had said seemed true. There didn't appear to be anything missing around the house and only the back door was damaged, so this man couldn't have just been a common burglar scouting victims. If he'd been some kind of rapist, which Yaimao was relived he hadn't been, he didn't think he'd given up that quickly on finding Sorincha either. “Maybe…. We should call Mom and Dad. They'll want to know what happened, and since we can't expect the police to help they're our only hope for advice.”

 

“N-no!”

 

Both brothers looked at their sister skeptically. Sorincha's face was tear streaked, but she was starting to calm down. “Tonight is their anniversary. And… none of us were really hurt. We shouldn't tell them until they get home tomorrow.” The girl finally pulled away from Zen and turned her gaze to the open door to stare out into the darkness. “You know how Mom always gets so upset over stuff like this. And I don't want Dad to have to deal with that right now.” Sorincha looked back at the two boys with begging eyes, “Please don't call them! Not until tomorrow, at least.”

 

Yaimao looked rather skeptical at the idea, but he couldn't argue with his sister. Their mother did tend to take things pretty harsh and had quite a temper when fired up. “Alright… Zen, lets go fix the door then. Sorincha, go lie down and rest. I'll bring you some water and something to eat.” The violet haired boy pat his sister's head, smiling reassuringly at her. “We're not going anywhere either, so you don't have to worry yourself sick.”

 

Smiling back weakly, Sorincha wrapped her arms around her brother's neck and hugged him tightly to show her thanks. After everything that had happened, she was feeling rather exhausted and sick. So, after giving Zen a hug too, the girl climbed back up the stairs and returned to her room. It wasn't long after she'd laid down that Yaimao appeared by her bedside with a glass of water and a cup of soup. “Just leave them on the night stand,” he instructed. “I'll take them downstairs when I come to check on you again.” He kissed the girl's cheek, ruffling her hair slightly as he smiled. “G'night sis.”

 

“Good night,” Sorincha whispered back as her brother left. Once she drained the soup in a couple of gulps and took a couple sips of water, the girl was finally able to settle down in her bed and put her mind to rest. Well, mostly to rest. There was still one thing bugging her.

 

`If that man went to the trouble of coming to the house and breaking in, why didn't he take anything or even make half an effort to do something to me?'

 

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The next morning, Sorincha was sitting on the couch in her black sweats and a black tank top as she ate her breakfast and watched the morning news. She'd pretty much recovered quickly from the scare the night before and was left with a rather hearty apatite. Yaimao and Zen had called the school and told them Sorincha wouldn't be there before the girl had even gotten up and were even happy to cook for her. As Zen did the dishes, Yaimao was making sure the back door was back in order and he'd check on his sister now and again.

 

Their parents had yet to return from their mini-vacation and the boys had decided that calling them was really not worth it. The event would be easier to tell in person, so they could all deal with it as a family. That, and they didn't want to make their dad try to drive home from wherever they were with their mother upset.

 

Moving the tray table set up in front of her a little closer, Sorincha sat cross-legged as she munched on some bacon, savoring the taste. Yaimao always made the best breakfasts and Zen had even gone to the trouble of getting her fresh squeezed juice. Sorincha felt privileged to have such caring family.

 

“…and in more recent news, two more bodies are added to this weeks rising death count. As the police took their time responding to the crime that happened late last night, three other unlikely heroes helped to capture the fleeing suspect. We'll go to the scene for more details now.”

 

Sorincha blinked and paused in eating, very interested in this story. Over the past week or so, a serial killer had been going around murdering seemingly random people. Only the cops called them random crimes though. It was obvious when you looked at who the people being killed were that the killer had a motive. The killer was a homophobe.

 

Every person that had been killed so far were out of the closet gay couple. Both gays and lesbians out for a night or in their own homes were brutally beaten then shot. Gay and lesbian activists were up in arms about the killings, as was a lot of the community, but what really got people's blood boiling was the police's reaction to the crimes. They weren't putting hardly any effort into catching the killer and getting him in jail. If anything, they were practically asking the murderer to continue his work.

 

Whatever was going through the authority's minds, Sorincha and many others still knew who's side they were on. It was unfortunate when the news women said there had been two more deaths, but the fact that a suspect had been captured perked her interest. If the police had a suspect to go along with all the evidence that was present at each murder scene, they'd have no choice but to convict the person and get them in jail.

 

At some point or another, Yaimao and Zen had come into the living room and were now moving Sorincha's breakfast tray to the side so they could watch the story too. Yaimao seemed especially anxious to hear an update on the story concerning the serial killer.

 

The scene on the screen shifted from the news room to an area outside. The cameraman was slowly moving the camera around to show views the scene of the crime and what was actually happening. There were a few police and investigators here and there bent over as they looked at clues and took photographs, but what caught Sorincha's eye was a red truck parked alongside the road that two investigators appeared to be processing.

 

“This red pick-up truck is the car the suspected killer was driving around in,” explained a news woman off camera. “The three witnesses claim they pulled the killer out of it as he tried to flee the scene and restrained him until police came to arrest him.”

 

The cameraman focused on a group of three police confronting the three witnesses. Sorincha gasped and Yaimao's and Zen's eyes widened. A taller, dark skinned man with short, dreadlocked hair was holding onto a smaller pale, blonde male that appeared to be crying. Standing between the two and the officers was a tanner male with slicked back shoulder length black hair and his stature suggested irritation. The three siblings knew who the witnesses were. They were friends of their parents. “Oh no….”

 

Yaimao reached for his sister's hand and squeezed it gently, reassuringly. “Sorincha, it's okay.”

 

“The witnesses were eager to tell us how appalled they were with the way the police were handling the situation. They claimed that if they hadn't captured the suspect and wouldn't let him go until the police had a secure warrant for him, officers were going to let him go and charge them with assault.” The cameraman finally focused on the newswoman now. “Really, what has our police force become to even consider not taking a suspect of such a heavy crime in for questioning? It's been obvious to us all that by their inability to state the man's motive is obviously his hatred, but these people being murdered are still people!”

 

Two pictures were suddenly shown up on the screen and Sorincha had to bury her face into Yaimao's chest. The boy held her fast and tight, muttering comforting words to her and stroking her hair. Next to them, Zen's pupils were dilated and he was shaking badly as tears threatened at the corners of his eyes.

 

“These are the two people murdered. As with the other victims of this serial killer, both were an out of the closet gay couple who were even joined in a certified marriage that they'd won the right to only one year ago yesterday. They were established members of the community and had many friends and even a family at home.” The women had a sympathetic look on her face when the screen blinked back to her. “Unfortunately, no family members were actually contacted about the accident, so, if they're watching now, my crew and I would like to express our sorrow for your lose and we hope you will all be alright.”

 

The siblings couldn't believe everything they were hearing. “Yaimao…” Sorincha whispered, her voice an octave higher as she tried to hold back tears. “That's…the same truck… he-he killed them…Mom and Dad… that man, he killed them…” The severity of the situation was starting to really sink in, but Sorincha and Zen only cried in silence, shaking. Yaimao was staring gravely ahead, appearing dazed. Inside though, the other two knew their brother was suffering as much as they were.

 

As more information was given on how the three's parents were suspected to be killed, the phone rang. Yaimao got up reluctantly to go to the kitchen and answer it. Not but five seconds after he picked up the receiver, Yaimao slammed it back down, cursing loudly about how the police were all incompetent and that if it hadn't been for the news broadcast, they would've have called to tell them their parents were dead.

 

Zen quickly rushed to the kitchen to comfort his brother and the other finally started to break down and lose his cool, leaving Sorincha alone. The girl was busy running `what if' questions through her head as she watched the news.

 

`What if I I'd just let him find me…. What if we'd called Mom and Dad and told them about what had happened…what if-!'

 

Her thoughts went on and each one made her even more depressed. She tried desperately not to blame herself for what had happened, but she found a million reasons that it was. And there were also those regrets. She'd never get to see her parents again. The government would try to split their family, even though Yaimao was old enough to keep custody of his two siblings because they were all adopted by a gay couple. They would be totally exposed to the public as freaks too, because of who their parents were.

 

“Sorincha, stop,” two arms wrapped around the girls shoulders and Zen hugged her tightly from behind. “It's not your fault…that man obviously came here looking for Mom and Dad. He's a psycho path and there was nothing you could've done to prevent what has happened.” He kissed her cheek reassuringly, wishing she'd stop crying. “We mustn't let this destroy our family though. If we lose faith now, we all know we'll get separated. All we can really do is keep them in our hearts and move on.” Zen was, of course, referring to their parents.

 

He was right. “They're….they're gone though.” Sorincha whispered, covering her mouth. She'd never thought her parents could be taken away so quickly and easily. They'd survived though the military and it's cruel policies and harsh wars, they simply shrugged off society's disproving stares whenever they went out in public, proudly proclaiming they were gay and they were proud, they'd fought all the way to the Supreme Court and won their right to be married, they'd worked all over the world, giving speeches and leading parades to get their opinions heard, and, they'd fought courts once again and won the right to adopt three children to create a family. Yet, every great thing they'd done and, perhaps, could've done, seemed to lose their true glory when told of their deaths. They were both murdered by a man only because he had an extreme hate for `their kind.'

 

It wasn't right, for two such great people to be killed so violently and only because they chose each other and not woman. Placing a hand lightly over her brother's arm, Sorincha nodded slowly as she came out of her daze. She was confused as to why Zen hadn't let her go, because some time must've passed since she got caught up in her own thoughts, but she was thankful for the comfort. In the kitchen, the girl could hear Yaimao talking on the phone in a quiet and depressed tone.

 

“Everyone is going to band together this time Sorincha. Mom and Dad were the last straw. We're fighting back now,” Zen explained, smiling slightly. His words meant that a majority of the public was now on their side. “He's talking to Uncle G right now. He's in charge of Mom and Dad's case, so no evidence is going to slip away and the man is going to be prosecuted this time. Uncle G promised he'd come through for us.”

 

“And when he makes promises, he keeps them,” Sorincha said dryly, chuckling slightly. The news was uplifting. As long as they didn't have to go through this tragedy alone, perhaps they could make it out okay after all. The future, as of now, was already looking brighter then before.

 

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The three siblings had known there were a lot of people who cared about their parents, but they were still shocked at just how many that meant. Hundreds of people from all over the world came to the funeral to pay their respects to the two men murdered before their time. Soincha, Yaimao and Zen did mourn for their parents that day, but they tried not to cry too much. They knew their parents wouldn't have wanted them to let such a tragedy hold them back. As a result, they were able to talk to many people about their experience, about how they'd known their parents and they heard things from inspiring, amazing stories to humorous ones.

 

After the proceedings at the temple, which was broadcasted on TV since not all those people could fit into the building, Sorincha led the two groups of men who'd been chosen to carry the caskets to waiting cars so they could be transported to the burial site. Yaimao was stationed at the front right of their father's casket and Zen on the front right of their mother's. Because of their military status, even though they were out of the closet gays, the two were given an honorable military goodbye as well. Despite some outraged people, however, a rainbow flag was also placed with the national one that rested on each casket.

 

At the cemetery, the two were placed in the same grave, side by side. When the final words had been said and the military had preformed their customs, the three siblings stepped forward to perform their final duty. Each took up a handful of dirt from the pile that would soon cover their parents forever and stood at the edge of the grave. They each muttered a quick prayer before simultaneously tossing the blessed ground into the grave. Silence followed the action; even the wind seemed to die and the bugs stopped speaking.

 

Then, slowly, Yaimao led his two siblings to stand beside the headstone so that their closest friends could repeat what they'd just done. One of the men who'd help catch the killer, the dark skinned man, though he looked big and tough, actually collapsed to his knees at the edge of the grave, his shoulders shaking with his suppressed sobs. Other then the kids, he'd been closest to the two deceased. They'd been partners in the war and actually helped his friends to first realize their feelings for one another.

 

When the man stood to leave, Sorincha motioned for him to join her and her brothers, wrapping her arms around him comfortingly as he put a large hand on her shoulder; they comforted each other. Once the line of close friends had gone though, Yaimao, Zen and the dark skinned man each grabbed a shovel set out and slowly finished moving the dirt back into the grave. Another silence followed the patting down of the dirt as people prayed, respecting and honoring the memory of the two heroes lost.

 

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`Almost done,' Sorincha thought, watching the last of the people lay down their offerings and slowly leave the cemetery. Yaimao had an arm around her shoulders now and she was holding into his hand. “Just one more,” she whispered, watching the last man approach. His expression didn't really show any emotion, but he still bowed respectfully to Sorincha. The girl nodded her head back before she and Yaimao slowly moved to leave as well, their brother waiting by the truck so they could go home. They were all exhausted.

 

“Sorry, that you had to suffer.”

 

Sorincha turned around at the voice that called to her, and Yaimao let her go to keep going. The man wasn't standing anywhere near the grave, but was looking intently at her.

 

“Well…. A lot of people suffered… we all just have to move on.” The redhead replied quietly, before turning away again.

 

“It's such a shame you look so much like him. Even I had you mistaken for that man, at first. Your life could've been so much better if only you'd been chosen by someone else.”

 

Sorincha froze at these words. Yaimao was out of hearing range by now, so only she heard them. She knew what the man was talking about though. Her `mother' and her were actually related by blood and they both looked very similar. Same long hair, same red eyes; the only difference really was their gender. Why had the man said this though? “N-Nani(3)?” the girl whispered, turning back around slowly. The man was already walking away though. Returning to his car parked just outside the opposite cemetery gate. A candy apple red pick-up truck.

 

END

 

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“Moshi moshi” a Japanese phrase used when greeting over the phone.

Tokyo purple is the color of the flag of the prefecture of Tokyo in the KantÅ region of Japan. The color purple has been associated with Tokyo (formerly called Edo) since ancient times.

“Nani?” basically just means “What?”

 

I'm sure you all know those notes already, but they were included in the draft I handed in and I was too lazy to delete them. Again, this was just some English homework. Write a story based on the beginning of the horror story “High Beams.” Supposedly, I've edited this (kind of…. Okay, only the first two pages or so) but anything you guys see that you find annoying and have to point out is fine. I had about two days to write this though, so I think I did pretty good despite it being kinda dull. Not much horror either, mostly tragedy, but what you've read is what I was in the mood to write.