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Only the sirens block out any possibility of me forgetting where I am right now. I look around me and decide to stick with my gut. I need to keep going forward. I will keep moving and try to find this locker before the soldiers come to take me.
The moment I move and hear the creak beneath my feet, I know something is wrong. I shouldn’t be able to hear the creaking, the sirens should make hearing anything else impossible. An eerie blanket of silence falls on the corridor. I am too late.
They are here.
I hear multiple car doors opening and slamming shut. I hear the supposed policemen’s heavy footsteps on the concrete outside.
They are coming.
I know I won’t be able to beat them in a fight. They are soldiers. And they will have guns. The moment they find me is the moment that I send myself into Calveron, their prison for the mentally insane. The traitors. I can’t let them find me. But I also can’t just run away now. I need to find that locker.
I quicken my pace, scanning the lockers for the one from my nightmare. 142, 144, 146. I’m ages away. In front of me is another door and I sigh. There’s no way that I will get to the locker in time.
My hands close around the syringe in my pocket. I pull it out and look at it cautiously. It’s a miracle that Hayden was able to get his hands on it. It’s a shame to use it so recklessly.
If I use this serum now, it’ll make me forget everything that I need to. I’ll forget about the gang, the friends that have been more of a family than I’ve ever had. I’ll forget about this mission and the ring and everything that we’ve been trying to do to help the Uncivilised people survive. I’ll forget about the planning that the gang has been doing to raid Civilised supplies and give them to the Uncivilised. I’ll forget everything that the CSO wants to know.
The footsteps are right behind me. I don’t even think when I inject the serum into my exposed arm and drop the syringe to the floor.
Chapter 3 - Emerson Clarke
What was I thinking again? Or, more importantly…where am I?
I look around and notice that I’m in a dark hallway surrounded by lockers. A school maybe? I turn around to see if I can find any clues as to why I might be there but when I turn, I see a group of 6 or 7 angry looking men charging down the corridor.
They look like they need some cheering up, so I wave and smile at them. They don’t wave back. They stop in front of me, and a man approaches me. He has dark hair, and blue eyes. He seems too young to be looking so grumpy, he only looks 19 or so. He looks at me, and I smile. He looks down at a syringe that is lying shattered on the floor at my feet. How did that get there?
I hear him sigh, “Really, Emerson?” He complains. I look behind me, searching for an Emerson until I realise it’s me. I’m Emerson.
“Really what?” I giggle. Why does he look so serious? I just want to take his face and somehow make his frown turn into a smile. But who knows, maybe his face is just permanently stuck like that.
“Don’t play games with me, Emerson Clarke,” he slams his fist against a nearby locker and the metal bends with his first.
“Wow,” I exclaim. “How did you do that?” I fold my fist like he did, the gesture surprisingly natural, and I stumble towards the locker, ready to punch it.
“Would you like me to show you?” He holds his fists out almost like he’s going to punch me. Oh no, I realise, he is going to punch me.
I take a step back, suddenly feeling dizzy from being on my feet for too long. “What are you doing here?” I say, steadying myself against the locker.
“What are you doing here?” The man replies dryly.
“Well, I asked you first,” I reply jokingly. I like this little game that we’re playing.
“I don’t have time for this,” he says and takes out a gun quicker than I even have time to move. He points it at my head. “Cut the dumb act Emerson, what are you doing here?”
“Hugo,” a man behind him warns.
Hugo. The name strikes something inside me. But I’m not sure what. Images of running, and heavy breathing, dark blue eyes glaring viciously. The images disappear as quickly as they came; and I push them aside. I have more important things to do right now.
“There’s no point even trying with you, is there?” He lowers his gun, his deathly stare never leaving my face as he approaches me.
He grabs me by the shirt and lifts me off the ground, so my feet are dangling in the air and I can’t move. “Let’s go for a ride, shall we?” He hoists me over his shoulder and walks away from where I was standing a moment ago.
Something tells me that I need to be there, that there was something that I had to do back at that place. But I have no clue what it is, so I let him walk me to a dark car. He throws me into the boot without a single word, and I feel the car slowly take off and drive us away.
* * *
What have I just done?
