The Man with a Loco Motive

Chapter 4

 “Wake up!” an aggressive voice shouted from the other side of the bars, fiercely hitting them as he screamed.

Pierce fell out of the bed, limbs and blankets being tossed about in a shock. “What the hell was that?” he yelled, sitting up on the floor as he stared with a cranky look, a messed up blanket sprawled across his legs.

The woman from before sneaked out from behind the shouting rock-like man - who was dressed in a police uniform - and stood next to him. “Pierce, we have some questions to ask you.”

Pierce cocked his head to one side. “Qu... questions?” he muttered, too tired to speak. “What time is it?” He rubbed his eye.

She glanced at her watch. “6:02 a.m. Now please, stand up and get the rest of your clothes on.”

He did so as the police man opened the jail cell. Pierce put his under and over-shirt on and all the rest of his clothes, including his rings, bracelets, and other unnecessary accessories. Just as he finished strapping on his boots, the policeman entered the cell. “Turn around,” he spoke sternly.

Pierce, unable to think, followed his orders. Handcuffs were placed on his wrists, the sound of them closing sprouting too many memories. He moved his fingers a bit, getting used to the familiar feel.

The man stood behind Pierce and pushed him outside of his cell. He squinted a bit, not used to the bright lights that were nonexistent in his man cave. The short woman stood in front of them, turning around just as she fixed the glasses on her face. “Follow me,” she said as she started for a door, Pierce behind her and the man directly behind him. Just before they left, Pierce got one last look at his cell right before the policeman pushed him to look forward.

They walked through the same hallways as before, though they turned a few different corners and ended up in a very similar hallway that looked like everything else. It was so quiet, and especially awkward for Pierce. The only sound that could be heard were the clacking sounds of the woman's heels and the jingling of chains and clattering of Pierce's boots. No one spoke.

Finally, the footstep sound ended, and they were at a door. The woman turned the nob and they were quickly in. The man led Pierce to a table, which was the only thing brightly lit. The rest of the room was empty and depressingly dark. He sat in a chair and waited for someone to speak. Turning his head to the door, he noticed that both of them had already left and he was now all alone.

He tapped his fingers on the table, spacing out as he looked around the room, bored. Everything happened so quickly, from attempting suicide, to visiting his father, to waking up in jail. He tried to remember what happened right before he blacked out, but nothing came to mind. It was as if someone had stolen all of his memories of his last train visit and threw them all away. There was something on his father's face... but what was it? He couldn't remember anything.

The door he had walked through opened, and Pierce jumped with fear, turning around quickly. He saw a man in a gray collared shirt and black tie. He had a nice looking face and was holding a clipboard, not looking at Pierce once. Gradually, he headed toward the brightly lit table, still locking his eyes on the papers of his board. “Hello, Mr. Robins.”

“Hello...” Pierce said slowly, cautious of the man.

The man sat down across from him and placed his clipboard in front of him, his hands folded over it. “You can call me Officer Roberts.” He smiled, the grin making Pierce feel a bit uneasy.

Pierce leaned forward a bit, looking at his tapping fingers on the table. “So...” he started, looking up at him with just his eyes, which shone in the hovering light. “Why am I here?”