The city blurs as I run-neon signs casting flickering colors onto wet pavement, the rhythmic pound of my feet swallowed by the distant wail of sirens.
I don't know where they're going. Only that I have to get away.
The pistol shot never came. The stranger let them go. Why?
My breath is ragged, lungs burning, but I don't stop until I reach a run-down diner on a quiet street. The red neon "OPEN 24 HOURS" hums above the door. A safe place-at least for now.
Inside, the warm scent of coffee and frying bacon greets me. A tired waitress barely glances up as I slide into a corner booth. The place is nearly empty, just a few truckers nursing late-night meals.
I press my hands to my temples. Think.
Who was I before waking up in that alley?
My fingers trace the tattoo on my wrist-the black serpent curling around an unfamiliar symbol. It means something.
My reflection in the window stares back-a stranger's face. Dark circles under wary eyes. The cut on my forehead is drying now, crusted with blood. A survivor's face.
A voice interrupts my thoughts.
"Rough night?"
I look up. The waitress, setting down a steaming cup of coffee. She studies me -curious, but not suspicious.
"You got a name, hon?"
A question so simple, yet it twists in my gut. I don't know.
Then, something flickers in my mind. A word, faint and distant, like a whisper from the past.
"Cade."
I don't know if it's their real name. But when I say it aloud, it feels...right.
"Cade."
The waitress nods, satisfied. "Well, Cade, you look like hell. First coffee's on the house."
She walks away. I grip the warm mug, staring at the dark liquid. The stranger in the alley knew me. Feared me.
I take a sip.
I have to find out why.
YOU ARE READING
The Fractured Code: System Crash
Teen FictionBOOK 1: In a world where every thought, action, and memory is controlled by the Program, true freedom is nothing more than a myth. Society operates under the illusion of choice, but behind the scenes, an omnipresent system dictates every outcome. Ro...
