Updated 2/18/2024

In January of 2020, I accepted the NYC Midnight Short Story Challenge. I had 8 days and 2500 words to write a short story in the follow category:

Genre: Spy/ Espionage
Subject: A Long Distance Relationship
Character: A Pharmacist

While I didn’t win the competition, I was told that my story was a strong contender that the judges found intriguing. They thought I should turn it into a screenplay for a movie. I just reread it myself for the first time in four years…. and I did some edits. So this is a slight revision… please enjoy!

Highland Springs

The town of Highland Springs, Virginia wasn’t as ordinary as it appeared. From the outside, it was a normal southern neighborhood with churches, schools, and a grocery store. Like a scene from the 1960’s, this town was idyllic. For Portia Prince, however, it was where she and her team lived and operated as a part of a special force for the United States government. They were group of elite secret agents known as The Envoy.

The team consisted of five members: Quincy was the muscle and weapons expert; Mila, a bombshell who could make and deactivate them. Their director, Horatio received all the missions from headquarters. Portia was in charge of tactical operations, developing the plans and with the skills to execute them and Micheal. These days, the team barely saw Micheal. He was a top agent who The Envoy deployed most to handle undercover work and he mostly stayed in the field.

As per every Tuesday morning, Portia Prince walked into Franklin’s Family Pharmacy on Adams street. The store was a small family run business where the windows were covered in outdated medicine advertisements and an open/ closed sign that neighbors could mostly ignore. Inside the store was a giant plaster pill bottle. It had yellowed to almost brown over the years and was big enough passersby would take pictures with it or rub it for good luck. It was the stores only appeal. Much like everything else in Highland Springs, this store was forgotten and rarely got customers

Portia walked into the store. The same musty smell of old cardboard boxes and dirty mop water filled her nose. She’d come to expect and almost appreciate it. The bell positioned over the door frame rang slightly as she entered alerting Mr. Doucet that he had his first customer of the day. 

“Ms. Prince!. Ms. Prince,” Mr. Doucet smiled. He popped his head up from where he sat on a crate in the third row rearranging the greeting cards. 

“Good Morning, Mr. Doucet. Anything new come in this week?” Portia began to browse around the store as per their routine. She knew all of his inventory but Mr. Doucet would appease her anyway. 

“Oh, there’s a shipment of melatonin I’m waiting for. It’s about three days late. Three days late!” Mr. Doucet said while making his way to the counter. “It’s sad the amount of people who suffer from sleep in this town, don’t you think?”

Mr, Doucet wore the same blue jean overalls that he always wore and a Franklin’s Family Pharmacy shirt that managed to stay mostly clean even though he wore it every day too. He was a fumbling character of a man, almost like a young child. He looked to be his late 60’s with curly and sparse salt & pepper hair, wrinkles that expanded with his smile, and gentle glassy eyes. He spoke as if he was always searching for words and when he found ones he liked, he repeated them first with acknowledgment and then with excitement.

“I suppose so,” Portia responded while picking up a pack of gum that she wouldn’t dare chew before coming to the counter. 

“Is this all for you, Ms. Prince?” Mr. Doucet said while scanning her items. 

“Well, this plus my medicine,” Portia giggled.

Mr. Doucet was helpful but forgetful. He was well-intended but really, it was Micheal who kept everything in order at the store. He had purchased it shortly after The Envoy was stationed here and used it as both a delivery point for supplies to the team and a cover to maintain his relationship with Portia. Every Tuesday, she would visit Franklin’s and she’d either rendezvous with Micheal or Mr. Doucet would deliver her a letter in a pill bottle in which Micheal would explain where he was, why he wasn’t there, and when she could expect him. Portia and Micheal had been in love since they joined the agency in the early 70’s. He was strong and compassionate and after a few months of rejecting his advances, she found herself swept into a love affair of grand proportions. The agency forbade them from having relationships but Micheal and Portia couldn’t help themselves. They were in love and eventually got married in a non-legal ceremony in Dubai while on a mission to thwart an assassination attempt. But as their careers advanced, they saw each other less and less. She had become accustomed to maintaining their relationship from a distance. Always continents apart, but because of his current mission, they could only speak by letters once a week. So she arrived at the pharmacy every Tuesday. He had been gone a year today.

“Oh yes,” Mr. Doucet looked to the ceiling, disappointed in himself for forgetting, “This is usually Micheal’s part but he isn’t here. He isn’t here!”

“No?” Portia asked, unconcerned about Micheal’s delay but providing the empathy Mr. Doucet needed. “He’s probably just running late.” Portia knew Micheal wasn’t going to be there but Mr. Doucet was absent-minded and often said things that didn’t make sense.

“But it’s been three days.” Mr. Doucet added. “It’s not like Micheal to be gone that long. Gone that long. Gone that long.”

Portia could see the strain in Mr. Doucet’s face as if he was trying to remember the last time he had seen Micheal. His face remained tense while he shuffled through the medicines once carefully labeled on a rack behind the counter but now being thrown to the floor as he searched. Mr. Doucet went into a frenzy searching for the package, his arms wailing about and his feet shuffling at too fast a pace..

“Prince. Prince. I know it’s here. Peters, Powell, where is Prince? Oh, Micheal is supposed to do this for me!”

Portia watched as Mr. Doucet’s hard drive began to overheat. Smoke streamed from his ears and his upper body began to swivel left to right in a non-human-like motion. Portia quickly jumped over the counter and pulled Mr. Doucet close to her as if hugging, he resisted. Swiftly, she pressed a button on the back of his neck that turned him off. His body fell limp. A rush of cold air released from a valve on his shoulder cooling him down and shutting him off. Portia lowered him to the floor gently knowing it would be an hour before he was back up and running. She started down at the shell of her friend. Even though this wasn’t his death, she felt sad at having to leave him there. She stared into his eyes that stared back at her before closing them for him. Before leaving the pharmacy and turning the sign to closed, Portia pulled out her phone and texted  Code 0318. 

Twenty minutes later, Portia stood before her team at The Envoy operational base. It was located underground beneath a library in the heart of the city. 

“An 318? Agent P, what’s going on?” Horatio demanded of Portia while banging his fist on the table. A 318 urgent message demanded that each agent report to base immediately. “And where is Micheal?” Horatio continued. “He should have checked in by now for a 318.”

“That’s why I called it, Sir,” Portia responded. “He’s missing I assume if he didn’t respond. I watched the Doucet 5000 overheat today because it hadn’t been serviced which means Micheal has probably been gone at least 5 days.” 

“That robot is old,” Quincy interrupted. “It could have overheated because you keep talking to it and expecting it to think like an adult human.”

“You’ve never taken pleasure in a Robot?” Mila jabbed at Quincy while winking and reminding him of how he entertained himself in Highland Springs. 

“Sir,” Portia turned her attention back to Horatio ignoring the conversation beside her, “Micheal takes every mission seriously and keeping that pharmacy running is part of his mission. So if the Doucet is down, something has gone wrong.” 

Horatio was inclined to believe Portia but had no evidence. “This isn’t unusual. What makes you think he’s missing opposed to on a mission.”

“I just know,” Portaia insisted, physically upset. Horatio stared her down. 

“How?” Horatio demanded.

 Portia continued knowing that by revealing this sensitive information, she was risking her spot in the agency. 

“I know because… Because Micheal and I communicate often… even when he’s on a mission. And I haven’t heard from him.”

“Why are you and Micheal secretly communicating,” Qunicy asked with more growl in his voice than before.

“Because… he’s my husband.”

The entire room fell silent. 

Horatio stood up from his seat. The heaviness of his despondency was like fog in the room. He never broke eye contact as he walked toward Portia, his hands behind his back clenching a tight fist. Horatio was a small man but not without intimidation. Portia stood firm but awaiting his judgment. 

“If this is an actual 318 Portia, you will have the full force of the Envoy at your disposal. But mark my words, after this is over, we will discuss your future in this agency.”

“Okay P, Let’s get started, “ Mila chimed in. She turned on the projector behind Portia’s head. A picture of Micheal and Portia’s wedding day was on the screen. Portia should have been surprised but she was a member of a United States secret agency. Of course, they already knew about her marriage.

The next day, Portia and her team were wheels up to Russia. They had discovered that the shipment of melatonin for Franklin’s pharmacy was coming from a small factory in Kadykchan. The delivery truck didn’t deliver the medicine to Franklin’s and Micheal went missing the same day. It was their only clue. 

The team had their assignments. Mila would handle I.T. infiltrations. From the outside, the factory looked like a dump but was actually a high-security facility for some of Russia’s best operatives. Quincy would take out all the guards and Portia would rescue Michael. 

It didn’t take Mila long to get Portia and Quincy inside the building. Through the earpiece, Mila guided them into the air-duct system and positioned them directly above the room they believed Micheal was being held in. 

“Listen. I need you to do something for me,” Portia whispered to Quincy who was beside her and to Mila and Horatio who were in a truck just up the street from the factory. 

“If anything goes wrong, you save Micheal okay. Not me.” Tears were swelling in Portia’s eyes. As an agent, she has always been tougher than nails but watching her cry for her husband made the entire team want to ensure they both came back alive. 

“No one is dying on my watch,” Horatio spoke to his team through the headpiece. “Now get in there and bring Micheal home.”

Within seconds, a bomb that Mila had manufactured from an old computer, created just enough diversion for Portia and Quincy to break through the ceiling. Quincy immediately went into action. He took down 4 of the 7 guards using aikido martial art skills he had picked up in Japan and then disarmed the other henchmen using a broom as a bokken. While Quincy fought, Portia searched through the smoke for Micheal. He was not there. She heard footsteps down the hall and was sure the Russians were trying to move him. She searched for him all over the building but he was gone. 

An hour later, the team met back up at a local inn. Each appeared to be sulking over their failure to rescue Micheal. 

“Damnit,” Horatio shouted while pounding his fist hard enough to rock the table.

“That was our only lead Portia,” Quincy snapped. 

“No, it isn’t,” Mila interrupted. “While you were giving your speech, Portia… it was lovely by the way… I recorded the audio from the factory.” 

Mila removed her earpiece and plugged it into her laptop. The team listened.

“Micheal, Sir, You have got to make a choice.”

“I know but what am I supposed to do. I can’t just leave her. She won’t survive without me.” 

Portia gasped as she heard Micheal’s voice. He didn’t sound detained or captured. He spoke to the man as if he were his commanding officer. 

“Yes, I know sir. But you’re jeopardizing the whole operation for a dream.”

The audio gets foggy as the recorder picked up the sounds of Portia and Quincy breaking into the room. The recording continues with the sound of Quincy taking out the guards.

“Wait,” Portia stopped Mila, “Right there. Rewind the tape and sharpen the audio.”

Mila did as told and rewound the tape to the moment Quincy falls from the ceiling. With the sound sharpened, Micheal’s voice is clear.

“How did The Envoy find us?”

At that moment, it became painfully obvious. Micheal hadn’t been kidnapped. He had gone rogue. Where Portia was attempting to rescue her husband, he was selling them out to the Russian government. 

“We have to get home,” Horatio lamented to a visibly heartbroken Portia, “Micheal knows we know. He’ll come looking for us. We need to report this to headquarters and eradicate Highland Springs. The Envoy will have to dismantle.”

Portia knew Horatio was right but something about the entire situation wasn’t adding up for her. She had to get home.

Back in Highland Springs, the operational base was uprooted within minutes. Every inch of their existence was gone except for one. Portia knew the team had left that responsibility to her. 

“Ms. Prince?” Mr. Doucet exclaimed surprisingly. “It’s not Tuesday and it’s not 8:05 AM. What are you doing here?”

Portia felt silly sticking engaging in pleasantries even though she was here to deactivate the robot she had come to consider family. Then she was required to disappear.

“And look,” Mr. Doucet grinned as Portia approached him, “Micheal’s back.”

Portia froze for only a second before drawing her weapon, spinning around, and aiming it at her husband.

“Portia, don’t!” Micheal began. “I can explain.”

“What are you doing here? How could you do this to us?” Portia asked without lowering her gun. The pain in her heart cracking her voice between each word.

“I didn’t think you’d find me this time but you always do,” Micheal started ignoring Portia’s questions. 

“What are you talking about, Michael?” Portia demanded as took another step toward him. She noticed he was unarmed and not threatened by her aim.

“We do this every once in a while” Micheal continued with a sigh. “You get anxious and nervous if I’m gone too long. And then you find any excuse to come looking for me. You were too good of a spy, Portia. You always find me.”

Portia was even more confused by Micheal’s words. She attempted to understand but he spoke so matter-of-factly. She begged him to explain. 

“Portia,” He said her name painfully. “Do you even remember how you got to Highland Springs?”

Portia searched her mind for answers. She couldn’t find any memory of the day she arrived. She remembered Horatio giving her an assignment and then she remembered being asked by Micheal to wait for him in Highland Springs. 

Micheal walked closer to Portia allowing her gun to push into his chest. “You were searching for a Russan syndicate operation we believed to be located here. But when you arrived, you reported to HQ that there was nothing. You called for your team as backup. The operation went sour. You and your entire team were killed.” 

With his words, Portia’s mind began to flood with memories of the operation to infiltrate the syndicate over twenty years ago. She had called Horatio, Mila, and Quincy to meet her. But Micheal left out an important detail. When they arrived, it was revealed that she was a double agent selling intelligence from America to the Russians. Her entire team was assassinated. Then the Russians turned on her and shot her through the heart. 

“No, I couldn’t have! What did I do?” Portia screamed while dropping the gun and falling to her knees. Her heart pounded like metal in her chest. “Why would I do that to you? This doesn’t make sense. How am I here?”

Micheal knew the answer. Portia had tried to run to save their son. They had threatened his life so she agreed to betray the American government and her husband to save their son. When Micheal figured it out, he was too late. The Russians had kidnapped Portia and their son. Arriving on the scene, they were all gone. Micheal was above to recover and restore enough of their brains to recreate their existence here, in Highland Springs. But he wasn’t able to recover everyone; not their son, Franklin Doucet Prince. 

“I should have never left you that long Portia. Your mainframe gets a little messy when I’m gone too long.” 

With tears in his eyes, Micheal reached behind Portia’s neck and clicked a code that initiated a restart sequence. He watched as his wife, the pharmacist, and all of Highland Springs, Virginia melted into a vortex and swallowed itself into the plaster pill bottle. 

 A few hours later, the bottle was back in front of the store and all was as it once was. 

At 8:05 AM, the bell positioned over the door frame of Franklin Family Pharmacy rang slightly alerting Mr. Doucet that he had his first customer of the day. “Ms. Prince,” he smiled, “Good Morning!”