Cody gave Mr. Brown his math assignment and shuffled out of the classroom, where hundred of students were shoving their way out of the building to get to their cars or to pile on the busses leaving the high school. Cody searched the crowd and wound his way to his girlfrIend, Natalie, who was shorter than him, had reddish brown, wavy hair and caribbean blue eyes.

He leaned down and kissed her on the cheek, "How was your day?"

She shrugged, "As good as can be expected." She smiled, "But better now that you're with me." She pulled him downwards and pressed his lips to hers.

"Ready to go?" He asked a moment later.

"As soon as you are."

He put his hand around her waist and they left the busy building with the swarms of teenagers. Two girls outside the doors stopped and kissed goodbye, causing a large bubble around both of them.

"Homophobes," Cody smirked, opening the door to his white mustang for Natalie then walking around and sliding into the driver's seat.

Natalie leaned back and sighed, "You're place?"

"Sorry, babe, I told you I've got stuff going on. My buds wanted to do a guys night tonight."

She sighed, clearly frustrated, "Alright." Cody pulled out of his parking spot and followed the line of cars leaving the parking lot. He wound his way through the city streets, dropping her off at her house, then speeding to his apartment. No one was there as he had led Natalie to believe. He ate an early dinner then checked the time on his phone. Four thirty.

There was a text from Natalie saying, "What are you planning on doing tonight?"

"Movies, I think. Maybe some video games at my friend's place."

He took a mental note to send her pictures when he could, but rushed out the door, locking it behind him and shoving the phone into the pocket of his red jeans. Once he got in the car, he reached into the glove compartment and removed a thin wallet, then tossed it on his passenger seat. He reached into the back seat of the car and pulled on a blue jacket over his white tee, folding the sleeves up to his elbows, just far enough to show a tattoo of an eagle. Rolling down the window, he slid on a pair of aviators. He pulled out onto the busy streets of Washington D.C.  He wound his way through all the lights and roundabouts,  stopping finally, almost an hour later, at the gates of the Pentagon.

"Identification," the guard ordered, stepping towards Cody's vehicle. Cody reached into his back pocket with his left hand, finding his wallet and with his right, the badge on the passenger seat. Then put his right index finger on the fingerprint scanner the man was holding.

"Welcome to the Pentagon Agent Cody," he said handing back the three necessary identification cards.

"Yea, yea," he muttered, putting the car into drive and replacing his sunglasses.

He parked the car in the secure parking garage after going through two more layers of security, then finally entered the building after passing another layer of security.  As usual, it was too cold.

"Agent Cody," a man in a black suit greeted him.

"Do you ever turn off the air conditioning?"

"You're late."

"But I'm here."

"You made the president wait an extra hour."

"Then give me the right to speed."

"It is not permitted until you are at least twenty."

"Then don't count on me being on time constantly."

"Perhaps if you didn't have a girlfriend-"

"Not happening!" Cody shouted over his shoulder, heading for the conference room.

He pushed open the double glass doors, "Hello, I'm here! Don't stand on my account."

"Where have you been?"

"School, my girlfriend's, home and the road."

"Well you're going to be on the road again or a plane," the president stood up.

"Whatever pays my rent or extra fees is good," Cody sat in one off the chairs and put his feet up on the table, re-tying the laces on his converse.

"Do you know nothing about dress code?" One of the secretary's asked.

"Actually, I know all about the dress code, but since it's a stupid-ass dress code, I'm ignoring it," Cody smiled.

A black man entered the room, "President, you have a meeting in an hour."

"I know, Agent Barnes," I need to complete this meeting before even thinking about the next.

"Yes Sir."

"Now why am I here right now? You couldn't have picked a weekend? I have homework and a movie marathon to fake before tomorrow. And the movie would be better to do sooner than later. You got a green screen here?" He asked the council.

"Well, yes, but-"

“Fake marathon now, meeting after."

The president pursed his lips, "Agent Cody, can we please focus? You wouldn't want to lose your job, would you?"

"You couldn't pay someone to replace me."

"Unfortunately, no," Agent Susan, tall blonde, entered, giving a steaming cup of coffee to the president.

"Hey, Sue, how's your day?"

"If you would please focus!" President Marcus stood up angrily and Cody pulled his feet off the table as swiftly add he could, jerking his posture upwards, a military air suddenly about him. "Thank you." He sat back down, accepting the coffee. "Secure the room. I don't want anybody but myself, Agent Cody and Agent Johnson in here."

Over half a dozen board members stood and left the room. There was a middle aged man, Cody and the president left.

"Agent, What we are about to tell you is confidential information and cannot be shared outside of this room."

"Nothing I do leaves this building. I don't even get anonymous credit on the news for the drug dealers I bust."

"Good. You should be used to it by now then."

"Yes Sir."

"You are probably very curious now as to what we are about to tell you."

"Yes Sir."

“It’s about Area 52.”

Brian hurried out of the building,  done being the third wheel in Trevor's life for the day.

"Hey, nerd! Getting your afternoon exercise?"

"Or maybe to get a haircut?"

"Nah, he doesn't have enough money to get a haircut!"

Brian put his head down and glanced at his phone, walking faster from the shouts of the other high schoolers.

He could ride the bus, but whenever it was he did, he would never hear the end of the snide comments. He had never fit in with no mother and his strange appearance. He was taller than his father, who was almost a head taller than most men. He had naturally black hair, pale complexion, round head, pointed chin, bright green eyes and looked thin enough to be blown over by a mere gust of wind. The thing that made his appearance so different was that he looked nothing like either of his parents, except his profile and his almond shaped eyes. He had never been good at making friends, and even the one he had made in all the years of high school wasn't that much of a friend.

"One day I'll show them. I'll do something none of them could dream of trying," he drifted through the trees towards home, the deer trail worn from his constant use.

He pushed open the door to his home and tossed his backpack on the dining room table. Unlike many of the kids at school thought, his father was not poor, just preferred to put any spare money into a savings account in case anything ever came up, although Brian could not think what. After grabbing a small snack, he sat down at the table and emptied his backpack. He worked for several hours, finishing as his father came in the door.

"Hey dad."

"Done?"

"Yea," Brian started to force the stack of textbooks into his bag.

"Good, because I brought dinner home," he dropped a box of Pizza Hut on the table next to Brian. As Brian finished packing the bag, his dad, Daniel, grabbed a couple glasses and a jug of milk.

They ate the pizza with lots of accompanying conversation, his dad talking about his day at the doctor's office and Brian about his psychology classes, which he found very intriguing.

They watched a movie, then they both went to bed, Brian a little later than Daniel as he was a bit of a night owl. The next morning, he heard his dad's alarm upstairs go off , but knew he still had a good half hour before he needed to get up, so he rolled over and feel back asleep. Waking up fifteen minutes before school started, so he skipped breakfast, and put on a pair of grey jeans and a blue hoodie, as the mornings were chilly.

When they finished, Brian's dad, folded his hands and placed them on the table in front of him.  He sprinted through the trees, arriving at school out of breath, but on time. He combed his news of hair down with his spare hand. He sat through his classes as usual, but in his second to last period, chemistry, they were doing a lab, and one of the seniors, a jerk named, Francis, decided to dump a container of salt on Brian's head, 'by accident.'  Brian immediately reacted with running his hands through his hair to get it out, but that only led to more problems. Add he was doing that, Francis tipped his head forcefully to the side and pushed his hair up.

"Well, well! Look at this. He's got pointy ears!"

Brian punched Francis on the gut, before the teacher could stop him, his face red with embarrassment and anger, he ran from the room, Mrs. Sky shouting for him to come back. He ran home, faster than he had run to school, and immediately ran into his dad.

"Why are you home so early? What's wrong?" He asked add Brian practically collapsed on the couch, breathless.

Both of the unusually tall men stood up suddenly at the unexpected entrance of the agent.

"Woah!" His dad shouted, "It's ok! We're not doing anything!"

"Put your hands up!" He slid the badge into the pocket of his red jeans. "Don't move!" He put his other hand on the pistol as a warning. He had dark eyes, brown hair, white t-shirt and blue jacket on. He couldn't have been a year older than Brian.

"Dad? What's going on?"

"It's okay, Brian," Daniel said. "We've done nothing wrong."

"Shut up! I'm Agent Cody of FBI and I demand you come with me immediately. Struggle and I will shoot."

"Dad?"

"I'll go, I won't struggle. Just leave my son. He has done no wrong, I swear on my life."

"No! Dad-"

"Don't move!" The agent shouted as Brian took a step forward.  

"Promise my son will be safe."

"I can assure you he will not be harmed unless he gives reason to be."

"Thank you," Daniel got down on his knees and put his hands on the back of his head.

"Dad-"

"Stay where you are Brian," his father ordered as the agent locked him in handcuffs.

"If you need anything,  there's money in the chest upstairs and you know where the key is."

Agent Cody led out Brian's father, still holding the pistol aimed at his back.

Brian collapsed on the floor, dissolving in unashamed tears.  

Why had his father been taken? What did he mean by money in the upstairs chest?

He sobbed harder, but before he could even ask himself any more questions, an explosion filled the air. The house was in flames and huge plumes of smoke drifted upwards. Brian, now too scared to do anything, sat in a spot that looked like it hadn't been touched by the flame, although he felt the heat and saw the house crumble in what seemed like silence around him. One thing besides himself looked like it hadn't been touched. The chest. He scrambled to his feet, now eager for answers. He climbed across the wreckage, searching for a specific kitchen cabinet that the key had been on top of. He heard the sounds of several emergency vehicles' sirens and decided to forget the key.

He ran to the chest, which was not very large, but extremely vibrant and scooped it up and ran for the trees. His chest ached, his side was throbbing with a sharp pain and his hands were trembling. No matter what he was doing, though, he refused to so much as loosen his grip on the mahogany chest. He stopped at the trunk of a thick tree and sank to the ground, tears leaking out once again. Why he had run, he wasn't sure, but, for some reason, he knew he could not go back. He tried for a long time to attempt to pry open the wooden box, but it would not give out to his many attempts. He resolved that he would need to go back find the key, and hopefully there would be no one there. He started to follow his path back and found the ruins of his home. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to stay calm and walked quietly around to the corner if the house that their kitchen had been in. He searched for several hours, moving larger planks of wood, sifting through broken glass and came to the realization that nothing survived. Photos? Gone. Furniture? Burnt to a crisp. Nothing that was part of his life was still there, nothing that was part of his old life. He had a new life. He had whatever is in the chest he held, and revenge. His anger pushed him on through the night, searching for the key. He used his phone's flashlight to see and, as dawn was approaching and the sky started to lighten, he found the key he had been searching for. it was as unharmed as he and the chest had been. A strange feeling deep in his gut told him it was not chance. He looked to the spot where he had been crouched when the house exploded and out looked like he was the source of the explosion.

"But that's impossible," he thought. "There's no way."

He looked down to the two objects he was holding. What he held could answer all his questions or only spark more. Without worrying another moment,  he opened the smooth lid. And inside was a random assortment of objects, pages, and random gems that he had never seen they like of.

He started to unfold every piece of paper he could find and read them as fast as he could, but nothing made any sense to him. It was all just random letters from someone that he had never heard of. It spoke of sieges, death, battles, but they weren't old. They had been sent on lined paper and written in a blue pen.

Brian folded up the ones that he read and put them back into the chest. On his fourth or fifth paper, there was a lineage of an ancient family. They oldest entries were hardly legible, but as he skimmed to the bottom, he saw his grandmother's name, then his father's, then his own. He leaned forward to get a better look and saw that the whole family lineage had pointed ears.

A short title was written at the top and it read: This is the lineage of the elven family, the Makke's.  

"Elven?"  Brian asked himself. “No. No. These are lies. It can't be." He told himself, but deep in his mind he knew that there had to be a shred of truth. I mean, what else could explain the unusual height of he and his dad? His pointed ears? He had always believed they were just different, but this explained all of it, as much as he didn't want to believe it. He searched through more of the pages, in an effort to find something countering the information that he just found. Unlike what he wanted, however, he only found out more. Magic. Spells. Enchantments. Curses. He scooped up a gem that was a deep imperial purple and, to his touch, it changed to a bright, vibrant, almost neon orange.

"Holy shit," Brian whispered to himself. He say down, suddenly feeling dizzy. Everything that he had just read,  searched for lies or for truth in,  was real. In the bottom of the box,  he saw one more piece of paper, that had clearly been folded and unfolded a lot. He opened it carefully, not wanting to tear the fragile page. In it was a map of the west side of the United States. He could see Albuquerque, New Mexico marked and the Redwood Forest in northern California. There was an explanation to the marking, but it was no longer legible due to age and use. "Damn it," he said, hearing several cars coming back down the dirt road. He forced everything back into the chest as quickly as he could without ripping any of the documents. Then disappeared into into the trees again, but this time towards town. He ran until the cops weren't be able to see him, then slowed to a walk. He locked the chest back up, because he knew he wouldn't need to get into it for a while. As he neared town, he wrapped the chest in his sweatshirt and left it in a small patch of bushes. He headed straight for the bank, determined to withdraw a substantial amount of money. He successfully did so and walked out with almost two thousand dollars cash. He fetched his sweatshirt and chest, then he rode a taxi to the airport on the opposite side of the city, then bought a ticket to California. He didn't know what everything meant, but since he was already in, he might as well finish it.

His plane left in six hours, so he found the nearest phone store and bought a charger for his Samsung. He purchased a suitcase just large enough for the chest then slid it in, unsure how the stones would show up on the scanner. To his relief, when he boarded the plane several hours later, the wood, which now had Brian convinced that it was imbued with magic, because only a wooden chest of no significance appeared on the screen. He boarded the plane and rode for a few hours until he was in northern California. When he arrived, he felt uncomfortable and lost. Her didn't know where he had to go and began thinking that he probably shouldn't have come up.

"I should have thought through this better,"  He thought, "I mean, the FBI was breaking in our front door, I blew the house up, disappeared, then ran away. They're probably searching for me now."  As if on queue, a security officer started walking towards him. Brian tensed, trying to figure out an escape route.

"Can I help you, sir?" He asked. "You look a bit lost."

Brian could have laughed with relief, but composed himself, "Actually, yea, um, where can I get a taxi?"

The guard gave him a hotline for a taxi and Brian thanked him, dialing in the number.

"Not a problem. Have a good day sir."

"You too."

Brian ordered a taxi, then waited for a little over a half hour before it arrived.

"Where to?"

"The nearest hotel that doesn't cost a fortune?"

The driver laughed, "Of course. Reasonably priced hotel coming right up."

Brian sat in the back seat of the taxi, staring out the window at all the scenery.

"First time to California, eh?"

"Yea," Brian responded.

"Where you coming from?"

"New Mexico."

"That's a beautiful place, been there a few times myself. What are you doing in California?"

"Visiting some friends," Brian slid the suitcase into the seat next to him, "after I have a job interview."

"With one suitcase?"

“Its got my suit in it and I sent my stuff through the mail so I wouldn't have to pay the airline."

"Good plan," he nodded. "What are you interviewing for?"

"A state position."

They rode in silence after that and the man dropped Brian off at a nice looking hotel, where he paid him the amount that was due.

As he walked in, a receptionist stared for a moment at his sheer height, before asking him if she could help him.

"I'm looking for a room to stay in for a week."

"One bedroom?"

"Yea."

"I'll need your I.D."

He supplied her with I.D. then the money that was needed to pay off the room.

Almost as soon as he entered the room, he could feel the exhaustion of not having slept the night before weighing on him and crushing any hopes of doing research. He slid the chest beneath the edge of the bed and kicked off his shoes. He pulled off his sweatshirt and climbed underneath the covers, but ended up dragging the mattress to the floor, as the bed was too short for his tall frame.

Blue eyes. Electric blue eyes. They stared at him, as if reading his every thought and memorizing every piece of his soul.

He sat up in a cold sweat, gasping and scrambling backwards, as if he could escape the stare of the penetrating eyes.

A knock on the door, “Is everything okay in there?” a lady’s voice was at the door.

He began to regain his breath as the key turned and the door opened. He was tangled in the blankets and was halfway off of the mattress.

“Are you alright?” a maid poked her head in, her eyes widening at the sight of the tall, gasping man and the mattress on the floor.

He waved her off with a trembling hand, “Yea, I’m- I’m fine. Just a, uh, dream, I guess.”

“Okay,” she said skeptically, “If you need anything, just let us know.”

“I will, thank you.”

She left, the door locking automatically behind her. He  checked the time. Eleven in the morning. Brian stood up, his legs and hands still trembling from the inexplicably terrifying dream. He showered, then dressed, determining it would be a good idea to find another set or two of clothes, although he figured he wouldn’t because, at his height, all clothes would be custom made. Instead, he bought a pair of basketball shorts to wear while washing his clothes at a nearby laundromat. He shivered underneath his sweatshirt while waiting for his load to finish. The fall was becoming colder each day. As he found a nearby library, then hooked up to the internet to try and research elves. Nothing came up except for popular books, movies, blogs, facebook pages and fanfictions. He searched deeper and deeper, looking for anything, but almost fifty google pages in, there was still nothing about elves that wasn’t based on fictional stories. He found a few elven legends, but their origin had come from fictional novels. Frustrated, he closed the numerous pages and logged off the computer. He walked back to the laundromat and pulled out his clothes. Back at the hotel, he changed back into the clothes he found most comfortable, then pulled the wooden chest from the underside of the bed frame. He unlocked it and looked at the contents again, scanning them for anything more that he could use to find out more information. As his finger smudged a short  on one of the pages as he leaned in to read it, he drew back his hand quickly, afraid to ruin any more of the fragile calligraphy. He hung the ‘Do Not Disturb,’ onto the door handle of his room and headed to the nearest store that would supply a composition book and a package of pens. He returned a little over a half hour later with the two items in a plastic bag and some food with a large drink. He put his things on the floor, next to the old pages spread on the carpet, then grabbed the lamp next to the bed and sat down on the edge of the mattress. Brian opened up the bag of food from the restaurant and started eating as he copied the words on the pages into the composition book. He wrote sentences that looked and, if attempted to be spoken aloud, were rubbish, but what was seen is what ended up in the book that Brian was sketching in.

It was late evening when he left his room again, to stretch his legs and to find a place for dinner. He had completed all but a few pages so far, being careful to at write them out as precisely as he could. What he had finished was vague, but it still intrigued him and he flipped through the pages, reading carefully as he ate the pizza he had ordered from a far corner of the Pizza Hut. All he had left to do was make a copy of the map the next day at the library, then attempt to figure out what the the stones were.

When he returned to the hotel, however, there was a trembling maid in the hallway, “I’m- I’m sorry,” she said quietly as he approached. The door had been kicked in and Brian hurried into the room, feeling sick to his stomach. The papers that he had spread out on the floor were gone, along with the stones and the chest. He didn’t have the key on him, but he had tucked it into a drawer in the restroom. Avoiding the splinters of wood, he rushed into the room and into the restroom, opening the drawer that he had hid the key inside. He grabbed the cold metal thankfully,  his legs shaking from the adrenaline that had momentarily flooded through his veins.

He swore and the maid, although she was practically trembling in her shoes, offered him money to replace what was stolen. “No, this was irreplaceable.”

“Would you like to get the police?”

“No,” he said almost too quickly. “I mean, thank you, but no. I have an idea of who did this and where they are, so it’ll be ok. I should be able to manage.”

“Ok. I’ll find you another room.”

“Thank you.”

As soon as she left, he sat down on the edge of the bed, his head in his trembling hands. All that was left  of his dad was gone. All he could hope for now was that he could remember the map accurately enough to get to where he needed to be, but all he knew was that it was in the redwood forest, which would be near impossible anyways, even with an accurate enough map.

He bought a traveler’s map and marked out a couple spots that looked nearby to where the marking had been, both close enough to the center that me marked that spot too, to be on the safe side. He found some hiking gear, water, food, compass and a few other things, then began trying to plot out a trail to take.

Three days of exhausting confusion, writing and rewriting paths and he still didn't know what he was doing.

With the FBI in control of his chest,  he had given up hope of gaining it back. He hoped that they wouldn’t attempt to blow it open, even though he had a feeling that it probably wouldn’t work. Brian tossed the key back and forth between his hands, knowing he was the only one who could open it and had a faint sense of comfort from the thought.  It also gave him an uneasy sensation, because that would mean that the FBI would want to catch him more desperately than before. When he thought about it though, it wouldn’t be that hard, so why wasn’t he already in custody? He cut short his stay at the hotel and took towards the redwood forest.  As soon as it was in sight, he stared in awe. It was so huge and vast that he immediately began doubting his plan, but he thought of Agent Cody and his dad, boosting his courage.

“Pretty big, isn’t it?” the taxi driver said, laughing at Brian’s gaping mouth. Before he could answer, however, the man talked on, “Y’know a fun fact that a lot of people don’t know? No one who has ever attempted to make it to the center of the forest has ever come back!”

Brian tensed, nerves suddenly making his body tremble. “No one?”

“Well, actually, come to think of it, there was one man who returned, but he didn’t know who he was, nothing. Not even his own name.”