subconscious

one

Silence was in the air, nothing but the sound of a pin drop was present in the room. Lined up with the look of fear on each of their faces, parents held their children close while some hid behind their legs. Tears shed down the cheeks of the elderly while a few prayed, wishing this very moment would be over soon. The power was in the eyes of the beholder, at this moment, from what everyone was glaring at was a 2lb black pistol. Being able to take the soul out of one's body in an instant, there it was in my hand. I was the beholder- I had the power. While Scopolamine, known as the most dangerous drug for its hallucinogen effects, ran through the veins of my body, I struggled to fight off the urge to execute. I pointed at the target, a middle-aged white man with stubble on his face. His posture was not like the others, which made him stand out. He was confident as if he knew what was already coming for him. His business attire was crisp all the way from his perfectly slicked back hair down to his brown oxford shoes.

The doors of the bank were locked from the inside with chains. All the emergency exits were guarded with officers waiting for the signal to bust in and take me out. When suddenly a phone rang. Right on time. I looked at the round clock that was above the ATM machine by the front exit. It was 2:20 pm on the dot. All the windows in the building of the bank were covered with curtains so no loose light came in. It was dim - enough for us all to see what was happening around us. I point to the assertive middle-aged man with the pistol still in my right hand. "To the phone." I let out. Everyone's eyes were locked on the man to see what he would do next. With the phone still ringing a woman cries out "Just answer the damn phone, please." My eyes shift towards the woman in blue. She falls to the floor covering her face. "I'm sorry." She adds as she cradles her neck. The man walks to the phone that is 10 feet away from him. He slowly picks up the phone that is on the front counter of the receptionist's desk. He turns around to face me with the phone already to his ear.

For a second, he listens."She's standing right in front of me sir." With a grin on his face, he looks toward the families still lined up and back in my direction. Taking the phone from his ear, he hands it to me. "It's for you." The gun still in my hand loaded with only one bullet that is engraved with his name on it, I guide it towards his knee cap and pull the trigger. People lower to the floor while others scurry towards the exit screaming to be released. The echo of children crying fills the air as the sounds of doors in the back bust open. I drop the weapon to the floor while padded armed men gather around the room.
."Why didn't you kill me?" The man looks up from the floor, his smirk faded from his face. "I demanded you Zamora, this can't be possible." That name. It was my name. This casual man knew my name. But how? I jolt as my hands are snatched to the back of me. I am forced to the floor by two large men. "Wait." I cry out as my rights are being read to me. "Where am I? What's happening?"

As I am being lifted off the floor, I notice a familiar man who is dressed in a properly fitted suit get lifted off the floor as well. His left leg is covered in blood as the paramedics lift him onto the stretcher.

"Mr. Greenfield, don't worry everything is going to be okay, we're going to take you to the hospital." Greenfield, I thought, where have I heard that name before. Nothing was making any sense now. I was taken out of the building and I was trampled with questions and stares from afar. I look to my right, newsmen and women with their cameras, microphones, and tape recorders. To my left I see an audience glaring while they held their children close, hugging and kissing their foreheads. And ahead was where I was being taken, to the backseat of the police car. At this time everything around me faded and it was just me, the two policemen walking behind me, and their car. The realization of what happened in that building a few minutes ago has finally made its way in.

The car windows were tinted black so there was no way to see inside of it. As one of the officers began to open the door, a bright white light began to make its way out. It was enough to leave me blind as the other officer began to uncuff me. The pain from the metal being on my wrist dissolved. I instantly close and cover my eyes to block the harsh white light. The noise from the background softens as a blatant static vibration builds within. I uncover my eyes and close off my ears as I crouch down on the rough road now blocking out all sounds. I take a glimpse around me and the white light diminished. In front of me now was not a police car or the crowd of frightened families, it was bright green letters that spelled out, "COMPLETED". As if I knew what to do, I reach my hand out to tap on the letters ahead of me. They disappear leaving me with nothing but space around me. In a distance, a dark shadow begins to move closer in. The silhouette makes its formal shape as it stops right in front of me.

"Congratulations." A familiar voice came from the silhouette. "You interfered with the desire and compulsion to kill, even when you were under the influence of a mind-controlling prescription. You've passed and may join the others." The shadow's arm rises to its center chest and there appeared a man who goes by the name of Mr. Greenfield. The man I shot in the knee early at the bank. Instead of his business attire, he was dressed in an all soft white t-shirt and pants. Behind him stood tons of other beings, all different shapes, and sizes, dressed in the same apparel as him. "Welcome to the New World," he added. I look down at my body, something felt different, but I couldn't tell what. I walked towards the rest of the group and instantly all my worries had faded, all of my memories were gone. All I had left was my name, but I felt peace within and that is all that mattered to me at the moment.