Escaping Reality
Chapter 1.
I regain consciousness in the strangest way, opening my eyes to a smoky grey afternoon sky. My hands reach out to get my bearings, I feel cold concrete and gravel under my bruised tender fingers. As I sit up I notice my clothing, ripped denim jeans and a once white beater which is now covered in a smudge of after closer observation dirt, blood, and an unknown purple shadowing. I start to rub at the mysterious purple coloring only to wince in pain at my hands. My fingertips and palms seem to be covered in a mirage of bruises and tiny cuts. I blink at the sky trying to remember how I got here or who I am as I reach up to cup my head in my hands to collect my thoughts. Instead I get a sharp pain on my right temple and look as my fingers as I notice blood. Great a head wound I think to myself sighing, that would explain my case of CRS. "Can't remember shit," I said out loud as I attempted to rub my eyes to see more of my surroundings. I see more of the sky and the tops of buildings on the skyline. I must be on a building I assume as I crawl over to the nearest ledge. Looking over I wonder in total disbelief if this is a dream, no a nightmare.
Gazing over the ledge to the streets my jaw drops at the chaos unfolding before my eyes. I first note the overpopulation. Hundreds of people fill the streets resembling a release of different insects into an ant farm. I can distinctly see random fights breaking out but then interrupted and separated. Next I note the poverty of it all. It is not nearly as bad as a third world country but definitely right there bellow that of the worst and dirtiest city in the United States. I scan the ground world from left to right and pick up on everything I was able to see from my altitude. Garbage cans knocked over, shop windows broken, dirt and grime everywhere, and the trash from the cans literally lined the streets. As I sit there reflecting on what I saw I realize a shocking fact I never thought of before. I am so caught up on what I saw that I didn't even think of what was missing in this picture. Of all the things I saw I notice two things missing. The first, children, no one that I saw in the hundreds of people bellow me where younger than teenagers. No babies, no kids playing, no innocence. The second observation, animals, nothing on the ground was moving. No domestic pets being walked in the streets, wild birds flying around, or rats lurking near the sewers. I lie there with my head dipping over the railing staring in a shocked fashion as reality sets in, I might actually be in hell.
I sit up and take a deep breath and start talking….to myself. "Always the first step to insanity," I note out loud of course. "Okay first make sure this is real," I pinch myself…and feel it. "Fuck!" I curse and cross my legs in front of me as I realize my legs aren't terribly injured just bruised. "What do I look like?" I asked myself as I look down at myself. It is just at this moment I notice I have no concept of myself. I realize until now I had no clue I was even a female. "Okay I'm a woman," I state slowly as I note my bodily features. Starting at my feet all I see are boots, generic, black leather, combat style, and very unisex. Next, I noted my pants, or jeans rather, faded black, torn up at the left calf, both knees, and right hip. My once white top now resembles something a mechanic would use to clean an engine the way it's discolored and ripped up. Through my shirt I note how ridiculously and unnaturally pale I am and how my red and blue veins show under the clear milky surface of my hips, stomach, and arms. Touching my clear flesh I feel hard lean muscle and I realize I'm stronger than I thought. Moving up my body I notice my chest, no wonder I couldn't immediately tell, I have barely anything of substance up there. I grab them and cup them in my hands on each side, just a handful I note. I sigh and shake my head, something catches my eye. On my chest just inches under my collarbones I notice a silver necklace. I reach for the pendent and bring it to my face to observe, a silver half a heart. I flip the heart around and notice on the back there is a word engraved, Connor. I wonder if that's me, like a dog tag. I guess I will have to use what little knowledge I have, I'll take it, Connor it is. At least I have a brief clue as to who I am, insane, female, named Connor, and not terrible injured. Next question, where am I?
Standing up I realize I'm afraid of heights, great. Weaknesses are sure fun, especially in this case. I gulp and walk away from the ledge and start looking for an object of defense. "Weapon weapon, what can I use as a weapon?" I ask in a whisper to myself. Glancing around all I notice is an outdoor vent and metal piping near the entrance door to the building. "Bloody girl on the roof with a pipe," I announce to myself. I saunter over to the piping and give a weak looking connection a brief kick. "And nothing happens," I mumble to myself disappointed. I kick it again a little harder, still nothing. "Insanity has begun," I noted under my breath, "repeating the same action and expecting a different result." I kneel to observe the pipes closer and notice that they are connected by large metal washers. I grip it with my pathetically bruised hand and twist left with all my strength and surprisingly it twists and loosens. I keep turning until in looses to its extent and I stand up and again submit a quick and effortless kick and the pipe pops and breaks off. I pick up the pipe and examine it, about 14 inches long and bunt on the side once attached to the washer and ridged and sharp on the opposing side. I applaud myself and practice swinging it with the sharp end away from me. It seems I am now ready to walk through hell, at least ill fit in.
I try the door knob to the building; it opens to a stairwell going down. "Down to hell," I mumble. The stairwell is dark but I notice a yellowish light in the distance, it is now I notice I'm afraid of the dark. I take a deep breath and grip my pipe as I start my decent. The temperature gets cooler in the dark, that is relieving, I always assumed hell would be hotter. I reach the end of the stairwell and realize it isn't the end, just a midway concrete platform leading to the rest of the steps and yet another door. At least the door is opened a little, that would explain the dim light. Walking further and to the door I push it open and it creeks a high rusty sounding moan. I cringe and peak out around the door and see no one, just a surprisingly well lighted large office. I take a deep breath and slip past the door.
I of course observe the entirety of this office, from the off white tiled ceiling to the brown carpet of the floor. Mental note, I am very observant, good to know. In the office are cubicles in each corner except for one which holds an elevator and a door, I assume to yet another dark staircase. In the center is a few sofas and a large conference table surrounded by chairs that have been knocked over and scattered. I walk over to the table and immediately notice on the other side of the table out of my initial site, a pool of blood. I laugh to myself as a chill shoots up my spine and I realize I am either a psychopath or I am seriously loosing it. On the table is a trapper keeper with the pages ripped out and strewn across the table. I grab one and read it, 2666 end of year audit, dated October 1st 2666. I wonder if I even remembered what date I thought it was. I had no clue and shook off the thought. I pick up another paper and that is when I realize yet another self fact, I'm nosey as hell. This audit paperwork most likely has no relevance to the current situation. Nevertheless, I look down to read the paper. Before I get past the first word I hear footsteps and my heart jumps into my throat and I duck under the conference table. I crouch there waiting as I begin hearing voices, voices of a male and female. "I don't know what you want me to do about it," snaps the female, "we keep sending out adds in the paper for reporting elevated infection and we have teams in the area looking." "it isn't enough," the male states calmly, "it is only a matter of time before all mutation levels elevate and our numbers of cannibalism skyrocket." The door next to the elevator opens and from under the desk I see a set of long dark legs wearing red stilettos and set of well dressed male legs in nice black dress shoes walking towards the table. "What would you have me do than marc?" asks the female. "I don't know," admits the male, "recruit the resistant and train them to endure their weaknesses and hope that's enough to keep them...human….whatever that means anymore." The female is silent and slams her fist onto the table and it makes me jump, her breathing becomes deep and animalistic. The man steps towards her, I can only assume to grab her. "Kristin," the male calmly murmurs in the most gentle voice I think I've ever heard, I can't really be certain since I can only remember the last hour or so of my life, "We will figure it out and proceed with that plan, just breath and work through the pain." She grabs his hand and swallows hard and her breathing shallows. "Show me your eyes Kristin," demands the male known as marc. I'm assuming she did and they began walking back in the direction they came from. "We will get you some tea and relax," marc whispers, "You were great, I was worried I would have to terminate." Marc opens the door for her and she walks through as he follows closely. I look down at my hands and try to calm down; I glance at the paper and start to read yet again. The headline reads, "Levels of infection range from mild stress induced cannibalism to insane homicidal walking dead." Oh for the love of all hell, so much for calming down. I skip to the bottom of what seems to be an article and read, "Kristin kayos from the daily newspaper." It hit me; I must be in a newspaper publishing building. At least now I know where I am and that I am certainly not safe. Fantastic, I now just need to hop on that elevator and get somewhere safe….er. I slid out from bellow the table and hid my pipe behind me just in case I saw anyone that it might…er stress out. People around here tend to panic around stress; I guess that's what it is. I quietly ran towards the elevator and poke the down arrow and back up a bit just in case I find someone in the elevator. The elevator door pings softly and the doors open and blood literally pours out. I wait for it to stop and peak in, nothing, no one is inside. All I see is flesh bits, blood, and what I'll assume is bone fragments. No better time than the present I say in my head as I step into the elevator and press the close then the ground level button. I look down at the flesh bits, I can't tell if it was real or if I am really losing my mind, but I swear it twitched. I step away from it as the door ping once again and I grip my pipe behind my back. Here goes nothing.
As the elevator door opens a properly dressed young lady stands at the greeter desk about 20 feet away and proceeds to answer phones. I notice she is between me and the front door that leads to the outside world. I step out and decide to talk to her, since she can't be any worse then what I will find on the street. As I look around I notice that for the most part the ground level is by far less bloody and a tad bit cleaner then the roof and what I could see of the streets. She smiles at me as I walk towards her desk; I look down at my obscene appearance and wonder how that fails to cause her alarm. She raises her hand for me to stop, so I quickly halt. "I have to check your eyes," she says politely. I attempt to open them as widely as possible. She squints to examine them from six feet away then waves me to walk closer. "green, way better then red," she states sweetly. I shrug and she continues, "Nobody ever uses elevators since the day, I bet it was messy." I nod, "yes very bloody." She hands me a wash cloth and a first aid kit and points to a door behind her desk, "I noticed the head wound, might want to clean it up a bit so the higher levels don't get any ideas." I have no clue what she means but she seems nice enough so I gratefully take the rag and first aid kit from her and approach the door with a stick figure girl on it.
In the bathroom I am pleasantly greeted with a lemon fresh aroma. Along the left wall are 6 sinks with mirrors above them, the farthest mirror from the door cracked but still intact. Along the right wall are three stalls and a trashcan, upright and freshly changed. None of the stalls have doors except the farthest and largest one with a word on it, I squint to read it, Hand. "Whatever that's supposed to mean," I mutter. I pause before I step in front of the mirror, preparing myself for just about anything, this will be the first time I see my face. I take a deep breath and step in front of the first mirror. I gasp in shock I am not hideously deformed or have fangs. Just seriously jacked up, my face is just as pale as my body and oval with boney cheek bones and a narrow small nose that looks like has been punched a couple of times due to the bruising and dried blood. My eyes are clear and green with smudges of eyeliner around them. Then the hair, this was the worst. I can't tell if my hair was a red or a brown, I'm assuming due to the blood. The hair cut was strange. On the left side my hair fell messily down past my breast, on the right side however it was cut short up near my jaw line and caked back with dried and fresh blood. Unable to clean up with the pipe still tight in my hand I loop it thru a rip in the back of my top and into the back pocket of my jeans. I turn on the water and It is like ice, I wince and acclimate to it. I run the rag under the water and wipe at the wound. I growl as the cold water burns at my gash. After cleaning the wound the best I could I open the first aid kit. I notice that there is do it yourself liquid stitches, which is definitely what I need. I follow the directions and squeeze the glue type liquid into my gash and hold it together for 60 seconds. Once I stop the bleeding and seal the cut I reach for the bandages and tape and secure a makeshift band aid. I then try to cover the bandage the best I can with my hair and get to work whipping the blood off my face and neck along with the eyeliner and dirt. Surprised I smile at myself in the mirror, I look half way decent. I realize while I'm here I should use the bathroom, so I walk over to the hand stall. Upon reaching it I slowing open the door and peak in, it was very clean apart from a metal object in the toilet bowl. I look closer and realize its lettering that says cap. Things keep getting stranger and stranger it seems. After using the bathroom stall I walk over to the closest sink, the one with the broken mirror. I turn on the water and look down seeing yet another metal object. This time it was just a letter, a vowel in particular, I. Not knowing why these random words and letters kept popping up I finished washing my hands and closed up the first aid kit. Nearing the exit door to the lobby I pause checking to make sure my pipe is still securely at my back, preparing myself for the future of this nightmare.
Opening the door to the lobby I smile back at the lady at the desk. She once again has me stop five or six feet before her and check my eyes, she then waves me forward. "You look better," she says as she takes the first aid kit back from me. "I think I am lost and was wondering where you would recommend I stay for the night that is safe?" I ask. She frowns not understanding the word, "safe?" "Yes where I won't be attacked," I add. "You mean attacked as much, lower infection level?" she asks. I nod, "sure." She smiles all of a sudden trying to calm herself at the thought and her eyebrows pinch together as if in deep thought. "The low infection zone I believe is full at the moment," she says finally, "however I do know a place that is almost as good." I smile just a little at the idea. Almost as good I say to myself, which sounds super promising. "As soon as you walk outside walk left up the city two blocks till you get to blue," she explains, "Inside ask for Gabe." "What is blue?" I interrupt. "The sanctuary," she says, "man you really are lost. Once you find him tell him you need a place to stay for a little while and that fox sent you." I nod and thank her as I turn on my heel towards the door. "Before you go," she asks, "what's your name?" I pause then finally answer, "Connor." She smiles and sits back down at her desk. "At least I think so," I whisper to myself. Its official I thought I have a name, got cleaned up, have a plan, and am now about to test the waters in hell.