“I could hear the sound of a hospital monitor in the background, my eyes barely open. Everything was so…bright. I felt warm streams crawling down my face, slowly creeping into my ears blocking out the sound of my parents fighting in the hallway outside my hospital room. And to think all my mind could dredge up was about how much of a coward I was for being unable to finish the job.”
Why can’t I die
Why am I still here?
“I see. You seem to be attached to that day, or maybe the events that occurred at that time are attached to you. Like a leech; draining you slowly.” The therapist slowly explains.
“I guess.” -sigh- My pager buzzes in my jacket pocket. I should probably check it. The screen, dimmed, says five minutes left.
“Looks like we have about five minutes left of this session.”
I can't help but look up, she is looking right at me. Like I’m just another number. To her; To them. I can feel the imprint of a number on my neck just below my left ear. “Number three,” I whisper to myself.
“Yes, it does seem like this session has come to an end. You will find your assignment on the table next to the door.” She promptly says as she grabs her things collectively in her rather large, purple bag that has a strap so she can wear it over her shoulder.
“I hope to see you again number 3.” She says endearingly as I grab my brown leather jacket. The only thing I have left that reminds me of my family. Or at least my father. The jacket smells like sawdust and dirt. For some reason; I like the smells that come with the jacket. Oh right, the assignment.
I grab the small, white envelope from the wooden side table by the door and quickly leave.
Number 3.
My name is Lyra.
Just close the door behind you and continue to your room, Lyra.
These hallways are so white. Shiny. I wonder how many people were forced to strip these High school hallways clean of its lockers and any accessories of normalcy. Smells like cleaning supplies. My room is number 123. Really?
And here it is, the door to a fucked up job. In a very fucked world full of conceited assholes who think they have all the power. -creek- The door just had to be a loud one. Maybe they have a coffee pot somewhere to cool my nerves. Coffee is the only thing left to be addicted to anymore. Whoa…they did a lot with the room. There are four lockers on the left side of the room attached to the wall, plants hanging in the windows consisting of blue flowers and cacti. Cacti makes sense because they are hard to kill. The rest of the room is pretty much empty besides a full-sized bed on the floor, with no frame. A big blue circular rug in the middle of the room, and lastly a side table with-
“Oh my God, COFFEE!” I gasp with excitement I haven't felt in a long while.
“I can't believe I am saying this, but I’m glad they gave me a coffee pot. Oh! And a calendar.” Today is April 20th. I'll be 18. Ten years since the world got turned upside down.
I can’t help but feel the emotions roll down my cheek. When are things going to go back to normal? Is it going to get better? Or worse? Will someone overpower our trigger-happy leaders?
“I hate this dad. I miss you so much, and I just really need your advice right about now.”
-knock knock knock-
“Number three! You’re expected to be in uniform in 10 minutes and in front of headquarters!” Some soldier yells through my door.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
Jeez. Ok, I hope the uniform isn't an ugly color. -opens locker- Wow, It’s red camo. Not too bad, honestly.
Ok, I am at the front of headquarters, but I’m the only one here. Where is everyone, or anyone else? I can hear footsteps not too far away. There is a man, about six feet, maybe a little taller, with dark brown hair mixed with some blonde. Same red uniform, except he is carrying a handgun on his waist.
“Sup newbie, the name is Paxton, you can call me Pax when we’re alone. But let's keep that between you and me.” He whispers under his breath while pointing to the number 11 behind his ear. “Today, you will be issued a standard 9mm pistol that you need to carry with you on your
waist at all times other than when you are sleeping. Why? Because that is dangerous.” He shoots a wink.
“Well, don’t you seem calm, working for these people that is,” I say sarcastically.
“Sweetie, this world is too fucked to stay negative, so I just do my best to make sure ill be able to sleep at night after each day is over. Now, have you been given your assignment?” He asks.
“Yes I have, but I still haven't read it. I was in my head a lot today. Do you know what it is or should I read it now?” I say awkwardly.
“As a matter of fact, I already know your assignment! And that is-” He pauses. Now he is laughing. “Oh man, I got you! No, I don’t know your assignment so you should probably read it before the rest get here.” His eyes water from his laugh outburst. I haven’t rolled my eyes this hard in a while.
Taking the envelope out of my back pocket, and taking the contents out, it reads, ‘Today's assignment is to find a group of people, 3 adults, about around the ages of 15, 27, and 40, and bring them in for questioning and detainment.’ What could these people have done to be detained?
“What did they do?” I ask.
“Shh, They're almost here.” He says with concern in his voice. “Now stand up straight.”
Three soldiers are approaching us. One looks to be about in his 40s, with a short pepper beard, and is wearing a beret as an accessory. The other two, a man and a woman, seem to also be new recruits.
“Attention!!” The beret man shouts.
“I am number 25, and I am your commanding officer! This tall number 11 here, is my second in command! When he tells you something, you do it! Am I Heard!?
“YES COMMANDER!!!” We all say collectively.
“When I tell you something, you also do it! AM I HEARD!?”
“YES COMMANDER!!!”
This reminds me of the movies I used to watch with my dad.
“Alright! You all have one assignment. And that assignment is to find and detain the group explained in your letters. I will not be with you on this mission, so I expect you all to listen to 11.” He leaves through the school's front doors without any other context. What a weird one.
“Hi…my name is-” The female recruit stutters. “I’m number 54. And this is my brother. We were brought in together.” She says while twirling the end of her braid anxiously. She has red hair and freckles covering her face. Which makes me want to connect them like connect the dots. I can't help but laugh a little.
“And I’m number 55, her brother, as she already said.” He says while looking to the side, eyes full of rage.
“Alrighty, this is a little bit awkward.” pax says with a weird crack in his voice. “Well, there is no one here at the moment besides us, so how about you tell me your real names? Of course, this has to be kept within this group. What about you, number 3?” He says grinning like a cat.
“My name is Lyra..” I haven't said my name out loud in a long time.
“I’m Olive,” Olive says with a shy smile.
“And I’m Callum, What about you? Mr. Second in command.” Callum Snorts.
“I am Paxton, Pax for short. And now that we got that over with, we should be going to our hideout.”
The giant doors of the old high school creak loudly while they open. I haven’t been outside in months. Of course, I am hoping for green leaves and a sunny sky, instead, I’m stuck with dead trees, no birds in sight, and it’s really dry. There is a path in front and Pax suggests taking a left with a simple nod.
“So, is it fair to ask why we are doing this?” I ask.
Pax sighs. Then says under his breath, ‘I have no idea.’
“Well isn’t this a bummer,” Callum says jokingly.
“Come on Callum, stop being a shithead.” Olive rolls her eyes.
What a group we are. How did we all get mingled together? There is an almost ruined brick building just ahead that Pax seems to be walking towards. I guess that's where the hideout is. Not a very good one if you ask me.
“Is this where we are really staying?” Olive snorts.
“Now who’s being a shithead?” Callum laughs.
“You guys are siblings,” I say plainly. Olive and Callum look at me blankly for a few seconds then they break out into laughter.
“Guys! Come on, we can’t be messing around right now. Let's go to the top.” Pax says while running up the stairs on the right and then taking a left into the room at the top.
I guess I’ll follow.
As I and the rest of the team reach the room, I can’t help but see Pax just crouched frozen staring out the shattered window. He has such a serious face. Yet mysteriously handsome. His dark blue eyes filled with so much concern.
“Don’t worry, I’m sure he’s fine,” Olive says while coming up the stairs behind me. Her long, sandy blonde pigtails dancing around her.
“Are you sure you should have your hair like that? I mean don’t get me wrong, it looks good. Just looks like something that can be easily grabbed.” I say whilst staring into her olive-green eyes. I guess that's the reason her name is Olive.