Keep Running

Chapter 15

The dreams that were once real keep coming. Not all of them make sense. Sometimes it's more of an impression or an idea. Like I recognize a type of dog. Or I remember what food tastes like. Sometimes it's entire moments that I am now aware happened.
Like of waking up to the sound of footsteps near me. And a gun at my face. And moving faster than I thought possible, and cutting the throat of the boy with the gun. And holding his mouth while his blood drained over us. And I felt him die in my arms. And I took his gun. And until I found his food, I was trying to figure out if I could eat his body. Because I hadn't eaten for days. And he was a kid. He probably wasn't nineteen. And I didn't bury him.
Or walking through a quiet house. The little boy doesn't dare make much sound. I don't either. He plays with trucks on the worn, rug, and pets the dog. And sometimes he stares at me.
I stared back, not knowing what to do apparently.
"You hungry?" I asked him.
He nodded.
"Come on. Let's see what we have for lunch," I said, walking into the kitchen.
"Aren't you hungry daddy?"
"No, I'm fine. There's some cheese, I'll make you a sandwich, we'll go to grandma's for dinner," I said, getting out a distressingly small thing of cheese.
"Okay," he said, crawling into a chair.
"Go wash your hands," I said.
"Can't you at least give me a referral?" the woman, Caroline I guess, was on the phone. When she turns, it's obvious she's pregnant. Well along too. She looks tired. "No look---my husband nearly died he---he is a veteran. I know about his discharge he---he was missing for almost a year we didn't even know if he was dead or alive. No I know-----------can't I just please get a referral for him I don't---we don't have insurance right now. Please, he hasn't slept in a week; he's sick. You people are always calling him back in for interviews can't you at least-----"
"It's fine," I went and hung up the phone.
"You aren't sleeping," she said, looking ready to cry.
"I'll be all right. Go sit down and eat," I said, going back to making sandwiches with very thin slices of cheese.
"Please go see Dr. Mason again," she said, sadly.
"Those pills didn't help me sleep and we can't afford 'em anyway. I'll be fine once I find work," I said.
"What do they talk to you about? When they come around?" she asked.
"Nothing. Because I don't tell them anything. I tell them I don't remember what it is they want to know. Which is all you need to know," I brought them the sandwiches on plates.
"But you do remember," she said.
"This is nothing, at all, that you need to be worrying about. All right?" I asked, standing and watching them eat. The little boy started eating right away.
"Please just go back to Dr. Mason you don't—"
"I don't what?"
"I'm worried about you."
"We're fine. I'm home now. That's what you wanted isn't it?"
"Of course it is, why would you say it like that?"
"I don't know. I don't know why I say anything like anything. Ignore me. You two eat. I'm gonna go walk around outside," I said, going to get my shotgun off the wall, "If you're gonna use the phone call about jobs okay? I'll walk into town while you're at your mother's for dinner."
"I'm tired, let's stay here---please don't go outside again?"
"Why?" I asked, standing at the door gun in hand.
"Just---never mind, you're right. I'll call about jobs," she said, looking close to tears again.
"Okay. Eat that now," I said. Then I went outside.
I pull myself from the memories. They still don't make perfect sense. I was someone. I definitely was someone. That was comforting, but now I'm concerned. I had at least once child with Caroline, she was carrying at least one more. Even if the baby died, we had the little boy. What became of him? He didn't know what happened to me. I'm going to guess she didn't either. And things weren't going great. She was sad all the time. I was in the military and fought apparently, but got discharged? Why? Cowardice? That doesn't sound like me. Maybe I was framed for something that's why I'm so mad? And why do I think people are after us---walking around with guns all the time? Did I know this was going to happen to me that's why I was worried? And how long ago was this? Dano's what---I've been in charge of that shithead for thirty something years now and I'd existed for a while before him. I don't know exactly how long; they wiped me a lot back then. But it was a while. So the little boy from my memories is what, in his late forties? At least? Something like that. Not little boy, my son. Definitely my son. And what became of the other child? I've got a few memories of the boy, but he always looks about the same age, five or six, or younger. And I have no memory of the other child. Yet. They might come though other memories have surfaced.
And why me? Based off the memories, whoever I was was a fairly normal person. I was having some issues with Caroline certainly, we didn't have jobs and we had the kids to take care of. I was discharged from the military and we kept acting like it was a bad thing, but even so. I still really am not seeing anything that explains why I out of all the people in the world, was condemned to baby sit the homicidal vegan disaster. I really want to understand this and thus far I do not. But I'm getting closer.
And I'm not in a bad place. For the first time I open my eyes and am not filled with dread or just bored complacency. Thinking about getting up to go see who Dano decided to bite or what he decided to try to set on fire.
I'm sitting in a train car, the night going by outside, Gwen slumped against my shoulder, the little mute child curled up on the seat across from us. I didn't know how comforting it was to have something sleeping next to you, something that you weren't afraid of waking up, that didn't go to sleep crying its eyes out because 'cockroaches have feelings'.
It's good. I'm safe. I'm somewhere I can rest, and remember what there is to remember. Maybe find some answers. I'd like to be able to tell them what happened to me. I'm going to assume they don't know. Or at the very least, I'd like to finally die knowing my own name. That would be nice too. Just being here is---nice. I'm enjoying myself. I don't remember doing that. I want to though. Maybe I'll have a happy memory. When I met Caroline, something like that. But for now I'm content just knowing I was someone.
"Oh sorry," Gwen says, waking up a little.
"You're fine, he passed out too," I say, as she sits up, "I'm just here thinking."
"What about?" she asks, politely.
"Just----my life," I say, shaking my head, "Nothing really. I'm glad we're safe." It's been over an hour since the last stop. Since nothing has happened, I assume nobody boarded looking for us. It's not that big of a train you'd have to be a complete idiot to take over an hour to search for us.
"Hi," that is the voice of a complete idiot.
"You'd better be on a goddamn leash," I say, rubbing my face tiredly. Dano grabs me by the shoulders and picks me up, tugging me out of my seat onto the floor of the train car. I trip him neatly and he falls almost directly on top of me. He's in ankle cuffs but not wrist.
"What are you expecting to accomplish?" I ask, as he rolls to punch me in the face. He's wearing a green t-shirt and a black jean jacket, as well as jeans, and running shoes. The ankle cuffs are clasped through the jeans, and I see his blood on the fabric as though he's been running in them.
He doesn't respond, just singing one of his demented songs, eyes glazed over.
"Okay, stop," stand up, dragging him up by the collar. His handler, that little scrap, Eric, is standing behind him, apologizing to people and holding a taser in each hand.
"Let me talk to him," I say, tossing Dano the length of the train car.
"I hate you!" Dano says, very creatively, as he falls and just manages to not crack into the edge of the rows of booths.
"I'm very sorry--- I'm with him---I'm here to arrest him, don't panic," Eric is not helping.
"I'll be back," I tell Gwen and Jonah, walking down the aisle to meet Dano who tries to run directly into me with a shoulder and knock me down. It does not work, nor has it ever. That has yet to stop him from trying it. I grab him around the head in headlock and drag him outside, the balcony between the train cars. There's a rail and access to the roof.
"Calm the fuck down," I say, pinning him against the railing, head hanging out into the wind. "I'd ask what was wrong with you, but we've already covered that neither of us know. I am the one who gets to be mad here, not you, because as hard as it is for your infantile brain to understand not everything is about you."
He screams in rage, managing to twist his legs around mine to trip me and get free, he flies upon me, punching in the face as many times as he can before I manage to throw him off, then I climb up to the top of the train car. He can't stand heights. Maybe he'll talk.
Or maybe his idiotic selfish rage will prevent him from making good decisions and he'll follow me.
"What is honestly the matter with you? You lied to me what do you have to be mad about?" I ask, backing up along the roof of the car, the wind whipping my sweater and threatening to pull off his jacket. We both hunch to try to keep our balance as the train whips through the dark night.
"You left me!" he cries, tears running down his face, "I told you the truth and you LEFT ME THERE!!"
"Dano," I sigh.
"You left me alone! You promised you wouldn't leave me. Dad, why would you leave me like that? Why can't you believe me? Just once," He says, tears streaming down his face.
"Because you were probably lying. Because you lie to get attention and get your way. And because you have done numerous things that mean you need to be locked up," I say, tiredly, "They took me, but I think you know that."
"I don't care! You asked why I get to be mad; that's why. You're my dad and you left me alone in that place after you promised you wouldn't," he says, tears and snot running down his ruined face. Ruined from the shit he's done. Damn, he's just going to self destruct one day.
"I'm not your dad," I say, not at all expecting that to be the thing that breaks him. He charges at me, trying to hit me again. I automatically move to throw him down then stop at the last moment when I realize I could very easily throw him off the car. Instead I toss him down rooftop and fall to the roof myself.
He crawls forward, angrily, and I kick him away.
"I am somebody's dad I think. But not yours. I never wanted you. I looked out for you because they made me and if you quit being the way you are maybe somebody will want you someday, but I doubt it," I say, as he coughs blood, trying to get up to crawl and get me again.
"Just stop okay? Climb down; we both know you're scared of heights," I say, standing up, only to be jostled back down again, as the train goes around a curve.
Dano does not fair so well. As the bump hits us he, not anchored by anything at all and try to stand, rolls completely off the edge.
I crawl quickly to the side, to find him hanging onto the roof by one hand, clutching the rail. The other hand dangles in space.
"Take my hand," I say, reaching over, and using the other to balance myself. I don't put it past him to pull us both down.
His eyes are glazed in fear and I can see him shaking as his knuckles go white. He has maybe thirty seconds before his hold breaks. He could warp up if he were concentrating but I know for a fact he's too scared to be able to do that.
"Dano, don't be a damn fool take my fucking hand," I say, reaching out. He doesn't, maybe paralyzed with fear. And as his grip loosens, I grab his wrist, getting only the jacket. His hand flexes for one moment, wrapping around my wrist. Then I see the light in his eyes fade. And he lets go. My grip on the jacket isn't enough to hold him and he falls.
I stand up, as quickly as I dare, waiting to feel if he was sucked into the wheels of the train. More than likely, but I can't tell.
I climb back down to the balcony where Gwen, Jonah, and Eric are.
"He---here, you have to come with me back to the lab and let me deactivate you," Eric, helpfully like I'm gonna comply, "Where's Dano?"
"He fell, here give me that," I take the master taser thing from him, "It's gonna start shocking him if you get more than a mile away from him," I throw it off the train, backward, as hard as I can, "And now you."
"What?" Eric asks.
"I am not going with you. And if the psychopath is still alive, you need to go shock it into coherence, I'm gonna throw you over so you don't get pulled into the tracks," I say, grabbing him by his scrawny waist.
"What---no---please—" that's the last thing he gets out before I throw him off into the dead night.
"What the hell?" Gwen is staring at me.
"I told you people were after me."
"You didn't tell me you're a murder robot!!"
"It's against my programming," I sigh.
"If you had said literally anything about 'your programming' I would have figured it out."
"Well now that's something I know—you, quit nodding," I say, to Jonah, who was agreeing with her, "Come on, let's get back inside."
"So they built you and you---escaped?"
"Basically, come on," I say as we walk back to our seats.
"Who was the guy? Why was he singing a Lady Gaga song?" Gwen asks.
"The crazy person I keep telling you about. Apparently, because he's gay, that's the only reason he gives me when I ask him why he does that shit. Stop poking me!" I push Jonah away because he's poking my side.
"You could have told us---so what that's why you ran away?" Gwen asks, sliding into the booth next to me. Jonah is awake and eating again. He eats all the time. maybe they weren't feeding him or something.
"Basically," I sigh.
"Stop saying basically! First you're an escaped murdered then you're on the run with amnesia---what is actually going on?" Gwen asks, hurt. I sigh again. I didn't mean to hurt her. Or anyone. It's all right if I hurt Dano considering he's the one who lied to me.
"When they built me---they used part---of my brain. They didn't build me they rebuilt me. And they think they got rid of all my memories except they didn't. I still remember a few—some things. Like I told you. Of course they made me incapable of telling anyone exactly what I am it's---controversial," I explain.
WON'T THEY FIND US NOW THAT THEY KNOW WE'RE HERE? Jonah scribbled on a piece of paper.
"If both of them are alive it'll take them a while to catch up to us again, I don't know. And it doesn't much matter. In a few days I'll die anyway--,"
"Like die?" Gwen asks, upset.
"They can bring me back again if they find me. I don't really care to be found," I explain.
SO YOU'RE LEAVING TO DIE? Jonah writes.
I nod, "Yeah. because I can't get any logical memories-----I remember vaguely that I had a life before but I don't even know my name or my wife's name---nothing."
"Well, maybe we can help you find out who you were," Gwen says.
"How? Like I said I don't even know my name---I don't know if this is what I looked like," I say.
"Plenty of ways---I doubt you were picked randomly. They used you for a reason. And anything you could remember could help us narrow it down. You already said you thought your wife's name was Caroline?" she asks.
"Yes—but I don't know if that's her or another woman I dated—I know we had a kid, a little boy, but I don't know what his name was," I say, frustrated, "I've thought through this, it's hopeless."
"Do you think whatever happened to you—happened at a young age?" Gwen offers.
"No, I mean I don't know," I say.
WHAT MEMORIES DO YOU HAVE? Jonah writes.
"Useless things---I think I was in the military but got thrown out for something. I didn't have job, just random meaningless conversations or moments with my wife and son, in our house nothing identifying at all," I say, "I assume it's my son; it's a five year old boy wandering around."
"But the memories are all around the same time?" Gwen asks.
"Yes, I suppose," I say.
"You probably remember closer to when you—sorry—died or whatever happened. You're remembering probably the most recent things that happened, which can help us date when you disappeared because your legal identity disappeared," she points out.
"I think it's hopeless," I say.
"I think it's worth a try. And you said we have what---three days anyway until you power off or whatever?" Gwen asks.
I HAVE NO PLANS, Jonah writes.
"Of course you don't, we kidnapped you," I say, dryly.
"Come on. Let us try to help. Jonah and I wouldn't have gotten out of the cannibal house without you," Gwen says.
"Fine. But next time those guys show up you need to stop acting like you're associated with me I don't want you in any trouble," I say, against my better judgement. But I do want to know.
"Sure. Three days. We'll see what we can do."