Olive Juice

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Awake! Awake! Awake! Awake!

The word echoes into the air as my brain reactivates. But it's not me announcing my awakening, it's the machine beside me.

I look down to find a needle attached to a string buried into my arm, connected to the box on the table to my right. Seeing something embedded in my skin makes my heart rate go up. Then machine switches from announcing my awakening to screeching out my vital signs.

Elevated heart rate! Needs attention!

I stare at it for a moment, wondering how a plastic piece of yarn in my arm could possibly reveal so much information. But, my curiosity soon moves to the side and makes room for strategy.

The plan worked so far. I'm in the hospital. The problem is finding the others. Wyatt, Landon, Mia, their companions. All of them should be in here, somewhere.

My room is small. I'm situated next to the window. Beside the machine, there are three chairs set up for visiting Companions that will never come. There's a worn leather backpack on of them. To my left, there's another bed with a boy staring at the ceiling.

I sit up and lean over as far as I can without falling out the bed to get a good look at him. His face is plump with the blubber of boyhood, certainly too young to be Carlos, Landon's sick companion.

Suddenly, he whips his head to the side and looks at me, scowling.

I nearly ask him what's wrong, then realizing where I am, avert my eyes instead. In the short period of time I've spent outside of Companionships, it's like I've already forgotten what's acceptable and what isn't. Of course he's upset I'm staring at him. I shouldn't even acknowledge him.

My mind goes into overdrive. I'm surprised the machine doesn't announce it. She's planning her escape! She's planning her escape! Arrest her! But everything I think of seems destined to fail.

I can't just walk out. That will never work. I can't just stay. Now that I'm awake, I'm going to have to answer a lot of questions that knowing myself, I can't convincingly lie my way out of.

Unsure what to do, I turn back to the window for inspiration, but I'm greeted by a gray sky and rain. My eyes fall on the backpack in the middle chair. It's definitely not mine, but it's on my side of the room. When I look closely, I notice scratches roughly etched into the leather.

They appear deliberate and when I squint my eyes, I can make out the word Olive.

Olive? But, that's me and I've never seen this bag before.