Jumper
Emma starts to find clues about who she was, even if they don't make sense.
Lost
I was lost in a whirlwind, appearing somewhere and being ripped away two seconds later. I'd been in a zoo, then a dark and lonely cobblestone road, then a desert; a crowded market-
With a popping noise, I was suddenly sprawled across stone and clothing, and, somehow, I didn't disappear again. It was slightly muggy, and the lights were low. The room I'd woken up in was long gone. As I bolted to my feet with a wince, the whole room spun. Hyperventilating, my knees buckled and I crashed into a washing machine, falling back to the floor, hitting my head with a dull thunk. I'd just gone from one place to a completely different one, instantly. That wasn't possible. Those people had been right- somehow. "Ok, stand up, bub, hands where I can see them." A voice said suddenly, filling me with even more fear. Chest heaving, I slowly rose, raising my hands like they do in the movies, looking into the face of a young dark haired man with lightly tanned skin. He was short, shorter than I was, but was carrying a large baseball bat. I must be in his house. "Emma?" The man asked, and for a second, I stopped hyperventilating. Why was it that everyone knew me except me? "Oh my god, Emma, how did you get in here? Where have you been?" The man asked, dropping the baseball bat and hugging me, even though I flinched and didn't hug him back. "Emma?" The man questioned, pulling back as he felt me start to hyperventilate again. He looked at me a moment, almost with understanding, before backing off a bit and saying, quietly, "Emma, have you forgotten who I am? Have you lost your memory again?"
"Again? What do you mean, again?" I panted, dropping my arms and holding onto myself. "This has happened before? Oh god, oh god-"
"Emma, calm down. It's ok. Sit." The man insisted, sinking to the floor of his own laundry room, patting a pile of clothes next to him. Glad to be off of my aching feet, I collapsed across from him, still holding myself together. "Do you remember who I am?" The man started out, and I shook my head quickly, looking at the floor. "Emma, I'm Carson. We used to date a long time ago. One time when you were over, you tripped and hit your head on my refrigerator and blacked out. When you woke up, you didn't remember me and ran away. I haven't heard from you since—until now." He summarized easily, and I locked my hands into my hair, panicking again.
"I must have amnesia or something, I d-don't remember any of that, or you, or where I woke up a f-few minutes ago—I don't know who you are, or who I am, or—or-" I jerkily got to my feet again, catching myself on the dryer when my whole body swayed. "—and, and, I just appeared here!" I dropped my hands from my hair after whirling on the spot, freaking out. Carson had raised his hands halfway in a silent 'calm down' gesture, but was watching me curiously, as if he might have known more about me than I did.
"Emma, do you know what happened to you? How you lost your memory?" He asked calmly, and I nearly screamed in frustration.
"NO! I don't, and everyone I'm meeting knows who I am and I don't know them and then they hurt me and I don't know what's going on and I don't know!" I cried, then leapt on the spot as the room above Carson began to disappear. "Oh, no, nononononono-" I ranted, hugging myself, squeezing my eyes shut. Even with them closed, I could sense that the room was vanishing, sounds were dying, and then, before Carson could say another word, I was gone.
oOoOoOo
Staring dumbly, I looked at the space between my washer and dryer. One second, here, the next, gone. Emma had appeared and disappeared into thin air in a matter of moments. That wasn't possible. Cautiously, I moved forward and stuck my hand into the air where she had been seconds before, hugging herself and mumbling, obviously scared about something I couldn't see. Moving more into her space, I waved my arms, feeling for anything solid. As I stepped forward again, I felt something hard under my foot. Kneeling, I pushed my laundry (which was strewn around the room) aside to find a rectangular cell phone, one that looked expensive. It definitely wasn't mine. Since Emma wasn't here anymore, I curiously flicked it open. After a quick breeze through, I found the contacts menu, and was surprised to see only two numbers on the list. One was for a guy named Aidan, which made me instantly bristle. The other was simply labeled 'home'. Slowly, I stood back up, staring at the contact's number. It was a long distance number, even off of my continent. Trying not to dwell on the supernatural aspect of it all, I went upstairs, turning the phone over and over in my hand. I had to call sooner or later; the phone would run out of batteries if I didn't. It was the only part of Emma that I could physically touch now- and she obviously needed help. I flipped the phone back open and after taking a deep breath, punched the call button, trying the home number first. The connection, surprisingly, wasn't patchy at all. The phone rang three times before someone picked up. "Hello?" The voice sounded like a robot; detached and dispassionate.
"Hi, um, I'm calling on the behalf of Emma McCann." I stumbled over the words, realizing that I had no way of explaining this. For a moment, there was complete silence.
"Continue," The person on the other end said cautiously, finally, after an agonizing ten seconds.
"We met awhile back and one day she disappeared. She just showed up in my house and dropped the cell phone I'm calling from."
"Just now?" The voice demanded, filling with hope.
"Just now," I confirmed. "She'd lost her memory again, she didn't even remember me."
"Wait, wait, again? Who is this?" The person on the other end was definitely male, and his tone picked up a new sense of urgency as he spoke.
"My name is Carson Weatherly. We used to date a long, long time ago. She's done this before, but it's never been this severe." I added, and listened curiously as two voices chimed in, sounding equally as urgent.
"Where are you?" Was the question I wrangled out of the mess of voices.
"I live in Knysna, South Africa." I answered, and another question was asked nearly on top of my answer.
"How did she get in your house? Did she say anything about where she came from?" A different male's voice, this one sounding younger and more scared impugned through the phone, as if it was my fault.
"Calm down, Josh," the other male advised, and before the other could answer, I cut in.
"She only mentioned that she didn't know where she was. Ok, this might sound weird, but Emma kind of…vanished. One second she was there, the next she was-"
"Gone." The younger male said bitterly on the other end. There was a moment of silence.
"Do you guys Skype?" I asked, walking into my kitchen, sitting down, and wiggling the mouse. The computer 'woke up' as the guy answered.
"Yes, we'll log on right now. Username?" He asked, and in the background I could hear someone furiously typing.
"It's easy, carsonweatherly. Yours?" There was a moment of silence, and then, he admitted, quietly, "ladykiller is the username." (There's some syfy for ya!) After finding each other and battling through a rough connection, our call finally went through. I hung up as a living room came into view. Clustered around a laptop were three people, a gorgeous redhead, a young man who looked really rough, and a tall, strong but silent type. "Well, hi." I said clearly yet awkwardly, rubbing my neck.
"Did Emma seem…ok? Despite the amnesia?" The woman asked, her voice thick with emotion.
"She was a bit shaky, and it looked like there was a circular burn on her neck." I recalled, and the woman's face twisted with sorrow. "And, um, there was the whole disappearing act that's got me worried." I stopped dancing around the main topic and got right to the point.
"She's done this to us before." The tall and dark one said after a moment of pained silence on their end. The young man looked absolutely destroyed as he directed his gaze into his lap, unable to look at the computer anymore.
"You're serious? But it's so….supernatural!" I protested weakly.
"Tell us about it," the man said humorlessly, passing a hand over his eyes, looking exhausted. They looked really rough; Emma must have really been friends with them.
"Well, um, I'll mail the phone back if you give me an address." I offered, and the woman reached forward and typed it in robotically. She was grieving as if Emma was dead, something I didn't understand.
"Did she mention anyone's name? Anyone at all?" The younger man asked, sounding bitter, not looking up to address me directly.
"I'm sorry, no," I said, then blinked when he lurched forward and ended the call; the only trace of the odd group was the address they'd given me at the bottom of the screen.
oOoOoOo
I fell down some shelving and landed with a huge bang on some nice hardwood floor, boxes tumbling down all around me. When my head cleared, I saw that I was in a pantry of all things, which made my heart leap into my throat. If someone was home and heard the loud ruckus I'd just made, I could be in a lot of trouble. After listening for several minutes and only hearing silence back, I took a better look around. The pantry was nice, swanky even, and stocked with lots of food. Suddenly starving, I cracked open the nearest jar of nutella and a loaf of bread and got to work. Eating helped, it cleared my head a bit more and I stopped shaking. I couldn't help but be a little curious about where I was, so I cracked open the door to the pantry and peeked. The house I was in looked really expensive and high class; there was a diamond chandelier and shag carpeting. Stepping over a box of Apple Jacks, I ventured into the mansion, going past a room full of nothing but a liquor cabinet and a pool table. Passing a hot tub, I took a left and warily explored another hallway, opening doors and not finding much until I stumbled upon a nice bathroom. The tub in it was huge, and looked deep too. Wasting no time, I stripped. As I was pulling off my sock, it made a thud noise as it hit the marble floor. I paused, half naked, wondering if I could just ignore it and take a nice bath. Curiosity won out, and I stole a giant fluffy robe to put on, picking up my sock again and reaching inside.
The first thing I pulled out was a switchblade knife, which I dropped instantly in shock. Leaving it on the floor, I reached in again and pulled out two plastic cards wrapped in a tiny wad of cash. Bemused, I sank onto the toilet, setting the knife on the vanity. I peeled off the wad of cash, counting out two hundred dollars. The first card was a credit card; the second, a Driver's License. After staring at the picture for a minute, I got up and looked in the mirror, then held up the license next to my face.
It was me.
Scrutinizing the card, I discovered that I was 5'5'', weighed one hundred and seven pounds, and used to hail from Boston, Massachusetts. Transfixed, I mechanically started to fill the giant tub, still staring at my own face. When that picture had been taken, what had I been doing? Where did I live in Boston? Who were my friends, my family? What did I do for a living? When the bath was full, I unashamedly used all of the fancy products along the edge, trying to relax myself to answers. It felt really good, but I remembered nothing. So I got out of the tub, drained the water, and donned the fluffy bathrobe again; searching around the giant house, carrying my grubby clothes with me until I found the bedroom. Fortunately, it was a woman's closet, not a man's. I 'borrowed' her duffel bag and most of her clothes, which felt and looked as high end as the house itself. Trying to reassure myself that if she had this much money, she didn't need as many clothes anyway, I picked up the duffel bag packed with clothes and wandered back to the kitchen and pantry. Just in case, I shoved as much non-perishable food as possible into the duffel bag and then returned to the bedroom. I was exhausted, but if I disappeared in again, I wanted to be prepared for wherever I went next time. Looping my arm into the strap on the duffel bag, I climbed into the bed, shoes on and everything, and gratefully fell asleep.
The next morning, I had no idea where I was for a second, almost making me hyperventilate and disappear again. After everything that had happened to me yesterday, it'd been weird to wake up in a normal setting. It was even stranger that the homeowner hadn't even shown up yet, nor had the cops. For breakfast, I ate a crap ton of food, but my feast didn't even put a dent into all the food in the house. It was like someone had planned on feeding an army of fancy business people; there was shrimp, champagne, caviar, you name it. As I cleaned up my dishes (I was a neat version of a home invasion), I tried another fruitless attempt of racking my brains heavily, going over the painfully short list of memories in my head with perfect detail, trying to remember anything.
It was scary that I came up with nothing. I went over every name I'd heard; Rebecca, Aidan, Josh, Carson, Ray and Bishop, but nothing was coming up. I even considered booting up the extremely high-tech looking computer in the bedroom, but what would I search? Amnesia? All of the names above without a single last name or other contributing factor? I only had one place and six names, and none of them did me a shred of good. I wasn't stupid enough to search for 'I spontaneously vanish and I can't control it', because it wasn't as if Google could give me answers on that one that weren't from a movie. Frustrated, I flopped onto a couch and stared at the opposite wall, trying to think of my next move. After an hour or two, I could only come up with one thing, and it was so scary to think about that I didn't think I'd have the courage to even try to actually do it.
I had to learn how to control this 'jumping' thing, and I needed to learn fast. The question was, how?
oOoOoOo
Chagrined, I stared at the packing box. It was a tiny little thing; I was only sending a cell phone after all. I'd considered trying to skype them back, but Emma's friends seemed really upset about more things than I knew, and since they accepted Emma's freakiness as normal, I just decided to let it go. For all I knew, Emma was a completely different person now with different tastes and interests. "Well, here goes nothing," I muttered, and opened the UPS flap and shoved the little box inside, hearing it fall to the bottom with a clunk. Pondering the mystery of Emma, I walked back to where I'd chained up my bike and spun the combination lock, thinking hard.
It was humanly and scientifically impossible for someone to evaporate into thin air and leave no trace, and, yet, Emma had done it right in front of me. She'd gone from confused to scared right before it happened, which mystified me further. If I was to go with the supernatural theory, wouldn't she know how to vanish and be able to control it?
Even more important: did I want to get involved with something so creepy and weird? What Emma had done seemed…alien. I usually wasn't a superstitious or gullible person, but what I'd seen was straight out of a science fiction movie. I couldn't deny it; it was a bit scary to ponder what had happened to the poor girl, and if she'd ever get the help she needed.