The Constricting Present

Chapter 2

He went after another punch. I grabbed his hand right next to my face. We had eye contact for a second. A kick in his side. He ducked. I lost balance. Shit! His fist hit my face. I hit the floor. The coach whistled.

The guy helped me up. His hand was big and strong.It squished mine a bit. His smile was kind. "Sorry about that," he mumbled. Ihalf-smiled, but it was probably not that pretty with a newly beat up face. Hewas laughing, while he was helping me over to the bench. R#21, it said on hisshoulder. He is strong, and he apologized, does that mean hewas questioning if it's right? I mean he did say sorry. "Having deep thoughts?" He asked as he took up an ice bag from the mini-freezer. I nodded.

The metallic taste continued in my mouth. The bench was hard and cold to sit on. The guy who had been my opponent a few minutes ago was sitting next to me. "You fight well," He said. His voice was more a mumble. "Thanks," unsure how to continue the conversation I said, "By the way my name is eh..." None of us had a real name. "It's fine. I won't be able to remember it tomorrow anyway," He said. He was right; I wasn't going to be able to remember him either. I think that's the longest conversation I have had with anyone this week. I looked at my shoes. Both of them were still tied. "Why are we here?" I asked. He didn't answer. Maybe we were supposed to be here. I was probably the crazy one. That wouldn't surprise me at all. "I don't have an answer, but I plan to figure it out," He slid up his sleeve. O#801, it said. It was written in pen. He looked at me like it was some sort of secret.

A little girl slammed a slender girl against thefloor. Why can't we remember anything? Is that just how the world works? I looked around. None of the others asked any questions. Maybe I wasn't going to tomorrow either. "Your name is written on your shoulder," the guy said. I stole a glance at my name. It wasn't interesting. It was nothing more than a letterand a number. Are names supposed to be like that? They didn't seem interesting at all. At least it's practical that nobody has the same name.

A woman requested that we went back to the line. I stood up and did that. The guy kept sitting on the bench. I wonder why. Did he hurt his legs? I looked at his legs, they didn't seem hurt. Maybe it's invisible. "No, I said," he repeated. He kept saying it. The woman lightly pushed me towards the queue. She took up a walkie-talkie from her back pocket. "Code 9-13 in the training area," she said. What did she mean? "Evacuate the area immediately," she commanded. Someone shouted over the speakers, "Please run, run away," I looked around. Nobody really knew what to do. Someone went calmly towards the exit, others did in fact run as quickly as their bodies possibly could.

Some men ran in front of the door, but since we were a good bunch of people running, they couldn't keep the door shut. The guy looked at me. "What are you waiting for?" He asked. I had no idea; an answer perhaps, maybe a commando, information. Do I really wish to know what's out there? Before I could make a decision, someone grabbed my arms and held me back. I stayed calm, though they tightened their grip. A nurse came closer. A few others where held back as well; 3 girls, 3 guys and one I couldn't identify.

She had a syringe in her hand. Something's wrong. Things weren't as they were supposed to. I closed my eyes. I wish I had kept them open, but I didn't have the guts to. I felt the substance of the syringe entering my veins. My eyes jumped open. Everything was blurry. Remember, remember. I don't want to forget. I don't want to.

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I hope you are still enjoying the story. Do you meet people who you share name with?

Please, comment your thoughts.

-BirdLysdahl