Disappearing Day

"Okay, okay. No need to be snippy. I know where you're from because of this." He reached over and grabbed my right wrist, lifting it. On it was a grey-ish, tube-like bracelet with a little white button. He pushed it and a mechanical woman's voice recited, "THIS BEING IS SUBJECT 101293OH."

"Being? Subject? Where am I?" Now I really started to panic. Was this guy an alien in disguise? A lost Atlantian? Did my mom even know I was gone yet? How long had I been out?

As if he read my mind, No-Name released my wrist and looked at the ground, smiling sadly. "We all have one." We? He held up his right wrist and pushed the button on his bracelet. He developed an annoyed expression and mouthed the words as if they had been repeated enough to be put as number one on his 'world's most annoying' list: "THIS BEING IS SUBJECT 0." Subject zero? Dang, I was asking too many unanswered questions...

"Okay, question two. I'm Zero. Well, that's my nickname. My full legal name is Shia Nicholas Gordon. But shh!" He put his finger to his lips and his slanted eyes sparkled like fireworks. "Everyone knows me only by Zero here, and that's the way it should be. I'm not called Zero for no reason, though. My best friend named me that after I got my tracker,"-he tapped the bracelet-"After a while, it caught on. But he left a while ago." His eyes became distant and his voice grew soft, his conscious being sucked into a memory. But, as fast as he got sucked in, he resurfaced.

"Anyway, I'm pretty much the head honcho around here when ol' man President's gone, which is almost all the time. Since this is your first day, I'm to show you around. Now, on to the final question: Where are you? I don't know how to exactly answer that, but from the insignia around here, we've gathered that we're all in some kind of research facility called the Juvenile Survival Testing Facility or JSTF. The majority of us, though, call it the hellhole." He paused, waiting for my reaction.

I bolted upright, suddenly furious. "What the fudge?! A research facility? Are you shitting me? I'm not a friggin' lab rat!" As you may have noticed, I tend to curse when I'm shocked, angry, depressed or confused.

"No, I'm not shitting"-his voice took on an indignant tone and he did air quotes around the cuss-"you. See for yourself." He got up and walked around the foot of the bed I was sitting in. My head followed him, watching walk to a balcony on my left that I hadn't seen before.

I huffed and pulled myself out of the cot. My anger and frustration at my unanswered questions soon dissolved completely as I looked out over the railing we were leaning on. This place was HUGE. It was at least the size of the Kodak Theatre. Heck, it might as well have been the Kodak. On the ground floor were hundreds upon thousands of theatre seats and, in the very front, a giant stage with the faded red velvet curtain rustling gently. My jaw dropped as I also took in the hundreds of teenagers milling around down there. Why were they all here? Some were laughing with friends, others just spending time with their boyfriend or girlfriend. I turned around, seeing what this upper level looked like. The ceiling was low, the florescent lights glowing harshly. There were row upon row of cots instead of seats, each with about three feet between the left and right sides of each. There was a six foot wide aisle between the feet the beds. The ones in the middle were pushed together, head-to-head. I looked up, too. There was a level above this, but I heard no footsteps.

"How many..." I trailed off in shock at the scale of everything.

"People are here? Last time we took role, six hundred-ish. All of us between the ages of 15 and 18."

"Just teenagers?"

"Yeah. President says that we're in the prime of our lives. We're as fit and as healthy as we're ever going to be." He sighed. "But some of us need our parents, not kids who are just 3 years older than us, at most, to teach us how to survive against one another."

Something about how he spat out the word 'survive' just didn't seem right to me. The sneer that had developed on his face and the increasingly prominent bitterness in his voice helped to increase my uneasiness about this place. I finally got up the courage to faintly ask, "What do you mean survive against one another?"

"I mean we--" His answer was interrupted by a large droning sound.

"Damn it! We took longer than I thought!" He grabbed my hand and started running to an unseen corridor. He pushed open a metallic door that clunked open to reveal a stairway that he proceeded to pull me down, all the while rapidly giving me instructions.

"Okay, this is what's going to happen. We have to hurry because no one wants to disappear on their first day. You are going to sit down in the exact middle of everyone so I know exactly where you are the entire time. Do not say a word to anyone. Understand so far?" I nodded. "Good. Just sit there like a good little newbie until we're done. I have to go on stage since I'm the announcer. I'll find you after and explain everything." We finally reached the bottom and pushed through the only door. He let go of my hand and shoved me in the direction of the large gathering that were scrambling around trying to get a seat. Shia was already running off in the opposite direction.

"Zero! What's--"

He cut me off. "Just go!" He then turned and slipped through a hidden door.

Questions still ran through my mind. However, I decided that if I knew what was good for me, I would follow his advice and not be late for whatever was happening. I ran and my butt touched the old crushed red velvet of a seat that had been left untouched in the smack dab middle of the congregation just as the droning stopped.

Silence fell ominously around me. I felt unnerved. Six hundred teenagers going completely quiet? Impossible. But there I was, surrounded by eerily quiet kids who all seemed to be staring expectantly at the curtain in front of us.

Suddenly, the curtain rose to show just three people and a raised metal platform with stairs leading to the stage floor. I recognized only one person: Shia. I was beginning to like his real name better than his nickname. Shia just had a certain ring to it, especially when he had said it with that curious lilt to his voice. He stood on stage, his body moving slightly every few seconds. It screamed uncomfortable while his face did well to mask any nervousness. He knew how hide his emotions, if only on his face.

His eyes drew me in, an odd mixture of Irish green irises and Asian shape. I watched as they darted randomly from face to face until finally settling on me. He smiled slightly, ripping me away from his haunting eyes. The rest of his face was a browner complexion, his nose straight and lips pulled into a crooked smile, one side slightly higher than the other. His hair needed to be cut but the longer look fit him well, his almost black hair reaching his brow. It shadowed his eyes slightly. My eyes zoomed out from the details and looked at him. He was lanky but muscular; the muscles long and lean, subtle under the short sleeves of his T-shirt.

I finally had to force myself to look away from Shia and take in the man standing in the middle. He was classic bodyguard: scarily muscular, had to be at least 6'8", standing in that I'm-badass-enough-to-be-a-bodyguard-but-not-enough-to-be-in-a-motorcycle-gang pose. He had a bald head, was clean-shaven, and was wearing sunglasses indoors. Yup, classic bodyguard. I mean, who else wears sunglasses indoors?! Seriously... Then I saw the third man. This had to be the man ol' bald head was protecting. He looked to be in his sixties, with salt-and-pepper hair. He wore an expensive looking suit, and had an air of importance around him. He leaned over and whispered something in Shia's ear. He stepped forward with a piece of paper I hadn't noticed.

He spoke loudly, though almost mechanically, trying to hide the lilt. "I need subjects 1022992CA and 022892OR to come up on the platform." We all watched as a boy and a girl made their way onto the platform in the middle of the stage. The girl was trembling slightly as they took their spots.

"102992CA and 022892OR, you have not met the President's or the JSTF's standards of physical, psychological, or spiritual advancement." -the trembling girl was crying now- "In fact, you have failed miserably." Shia's tone went from monotone to shocked. The boy had his head bowed and hands clasped, mumbling what I believed to be the Our Father.

"Today, you will be shown what is done to those who fail to survive." -the girl was sobbing loudly- "Today, you will receive what you deserve. Today is your Disappearing Day."

A soundless poof.

They were gone.