Clandestiny [on hold]

Chapter 2

My vision is blurred when I come to. All I see is the blue sky spotted with leaves and tree branches, and all I hear is the peaceful sound of birds. I’m in such a daze I don’t even notice the loud person standing over me. As I become more conscious the figure above me comes more into focus, and his words start to make more sense. It’s Calix Pollister, my friend; he’s trying to wake me up.

“Casey, get up. Casey, get up. Casey, get up. Casey, get up. Casey, get up…” I open my eyes and glare at him, but he doesn’t stop. “Casey, get up. Casey, get up. Casey, get up. Casey, get…”

“I’m up goddammit!” I shout “Shut the hell up!” I tackle Calix to the ground; he laughs and pushes me off. Beside him is his rifle that he uses for target practice, out here in the woods somewhere is a neat area of grass with a hut, couches, more guns and a shooting range, a place resembling a scene from “Donnie Darko”. We go there every now and then for fun and to get away when we need to. I don’t know why he brought his gun here; we never take them away from the hut.

“I’ve been trying to wake you up for like, 10 minutes now, mate, what happened to you?” he asks with concern. Now that I think about it, I don’t know what happened, I was walking, and the next thing I know, I’m on the ground, knocked out.

“I don’t know,” I tell him. “Do you know what happened? Did I fall?”

“As possible as it is that you were clumsy enough to do that, I don’t think a simple ‘fall’ could give you a black eye, a cut cheek, and leave you unconscious, not unless you did a face first swan dive into the dirt.” I raise my hand and gently touch my face; I’ve got all the wounds Calix said.  How did this happen? How did I get so beat up? “So you don’t remember anything? You didn’t see anyone? No one attacked you?

“No, I mean, how many people would come out here? And why would they want to beat me up?”

“Yeah I know, it’s just that I heard something and…when you didn’t show I figured I’d come looking for you.”

“Oh crap! Sorry man I forgot that I was supposed to meet you.” I really was sorry, but my confession left an unimpressed look on Calix’s face.

"You'll remember soon Case. I mean you just woke up from a concussion! It'll come back to you," he reassures me. I hope he's right.

We start walking off home; I’m still rattling my brain as to what happened to me. Yes, I probably fell, but there’s still a thought tugging at me, something else happened that’s now missing. Well, whatever it is, hopefully it’ll come to me once I’m a little more conscious.

Calix walks casually beside me, his rifle sitting across the back of his neck, supported by two lazy arms. He seems to be admiring the forest, not something he usually does. To us it’s just a plain old forest, nothing is ever new or noticable. Calix is an Australian, his dad moved to America when his mother died from a mystery illness. Change of scenery I guess, start off new? That’s what I’d do. Calix was only eight when she died, not young enough to forget, not old enough to be strong, it must’ve been hard. After a year his dad made the call to fly across the world and live in America. That was the year I first met him. Since then I’d say Calix has been at my house more that his own, he has similar emotionally-unstable-dad problems.

Calix turns his head to me, “so what did happen to you, do you remember yet?”

“No, no I don’t.”

“Maybe you were abducted by aliens.”

“Maybe,” I’m too tired to bicker about the possibilities of that happening, however likely.

“Maybe it was Batman.”

“Hmmm.”

“Did, zee Germans come for you?” why does that click?