In Event of Fire
Sally Skull
His skull was rattling.
With a groan, he dragged his eyes open. The floor beneath him shuddered and pulsated like a living thing. Where am I?
Sunlight shone through a window. Lying on the floor, he could see the sky rocketing away in a blue blur. Through the familiar sounds (although he wasn't sure why they were familiar), he figured he was on a train.
A train? What am I doing on a train?
He pushed himself up into a sitting position. His every bone screamed in protest. Okay, let's backtrack here. What's the last thing I remember doing?
He tried to think, to rack his memory, but was engulfed in a terrible sense of darkness. He immediately felt lost. He massaged his forehead, as if that could jog his memories.
A cold feeling of dread washed over him. Nothing. It was if his internal hard drive had been completely erased. He couldn't recall a single, specific memory. Like the sky outside, his mind was a total blur. If he closed his eyes and concentrated, he could see flashes of moments but they were disconnected and made no sense.
Playing soccer in the streets, kicking the black-and-white ball away and away and away from other feet.
Standing in front of a classroom, practically shaking from nerves. A kind, soft-spoken woman asking who wanted to be his friend.
Watching the proud faces of the audience as he stood on stage in a long, golden robe and holding a diploma. Someone's arm around his shoulder.
A warm mouth on his. An unyielding thigh between his legs, putting agonizing pressure on his groin.
FIRE.
His eyes snapped open. His body shook and shuddered outside of his will. His brain had automatically shut down when it encountered a memory too painful to be relived. Too scared to try and recapture the interrupted chain of memories, he curled into himself and slept, soothed into slumber by the motions of the train.
/
When he woke up again, the sky had deepened into orange twilight. Disoriented, he got up and peered at the landscape melting away into the train's speed. He saw quaint green hills and bridges. He pressed his fingers against the window, as if he could touch the pretty picture it all made.
The hills turned into small, stacked houses and chimney smoke. He stared into the distance, deliberately keeping his brain from dissolving into deep thoughts. He was afraid of what it kept contained in its cell bodies.
The station rose in the distance, a beautiful arrangement of glass and brick. The train shuddered into a cavernous hall and stopped with the sound of a dying beast.
His heart trembled when the door slid open. He stepped out into the station, looking around and yet not really seeing anything. This whole place set his nerves on edge. It held meaning, but he wasn't sure what it was.
Suddenly he laughed. It was like symbolism you came across in a high school English class.
Too bad he wasn't sure he'd ever attended a high school English class.
The train pulled out of the station and he watched it leave with a sense of resignation. The last link to his memories was gone.
"What am I supposed to do now?" he asked himself wearily. He had nothing but the smelly clothes on his back. The intense feeling of pure, uncut loss suffocated him again.
The sound of footsteps caught his attention. He jerked around, startled. A man in a black suit advanced upon him, expression carefully taut under a cross-shaped scar. He was followed by a woman in similar uniform; she smirked mysteriously at him.
"Took you long enough to get here," she said. Her voice held promise of danger.
"Quiet, Number Twelve," said the scar-faced man.
He eyed them both fearfully. If the train station had set his nerves on edge, these two made his heart feel like it was on cocaine. "Who are you?" he asked, taking a step back. Through innate knowledge he knew that if he bolted, he'd be cut down in a second.
He was afraid to think about why he knew that.
"That will come to light in due time," the man said coolly. "What matters now is that you come with us…"
The woman bared her teeth. "Number Thirteen."
End Prologue
Author's Note Well, this concept's been bothering me for a while, so I finally gave in and wrote down a prologue. The first chapter's coming along nicely, and so are my AkuRokuReno drabbles for LJ's 30dogpile. Review please! I've noticed that the hits I get on my stories don't always match the reviews... that drives me crazy. What am I doing wrong?! Please tell me. (shamelessly begging).
