by J. Kowallis
Tears trickle down my face and I wipe them away.
What is wrong with me? I feel lost.
I miss something. I’m not sure what it is, but I miss it. I don’t think it’s the cotton candy. Maybe it’s something like watermelon, or something I was doing or seeing while eating it? With the tears comes the quickened beat of my pulse—of my heart in my chest. I miss it. But what is “it?” My heart’s there. Or maybe I think I can feel my heart beat.
I put my hand to my chest. Yes, it’s there.
All around me, the walls are white. The floor is white. The ceiling is white. White and bare and I don’t see a way out. Maybe I could play a game. What games can I play with no one? Cards. I need cards.
I walk around. There are no cards. There is nothing. Just white.
Was that music?
Oh no. I think I have to piss. Wait, no I don’t.
“Roy?”
Okay, I know I heard that. What was it? It sounds familiar. Was that the music I heard or something else?
“Roy . . .” The sound is right behind me now. A hand brushes the fabric on my shoulder and my body jerks. I turn around to look up to see a face. There’s another person here with me. I think I know that face. Yes! I want to yell it. I used to know her. I know I did!
The face sits on a body and the body is dressed in simple white linen clothing like me. Pants and shirt. No shoes. Well, I think I’m not wearing shoes. I look down at my feet. Nope, no shoes.
“Roy, it’s me. Ransley.”
“I knew it!” I exclaim.
Her eyes widen and she looks at me oddly. “You knew what?”
“I knew I knew you! Ransley.” I look away, processing the name. “Of course, you’re Ransley.”
She looks at me, not saying anything else. I want her to. I don’t know what I want her to say, but I want to hear her speak. To see her mouth move again. I smile as her lips part.
“Roy, I need you to come with me.”
“Where? How? I don’t even know where we are. Or why I’m here. There’s no way to get out. No matter where you go, it’s all the same. A lot of white floor and no walls.” I look into the white emptiness.
Then I get an idea. It disappears.
“Ransley, I’m forgetting something. What is it?”
She frowns at me.
“You’re probably forgetting a lot of things. With no mental connections to ground your thoughts, you’re . . .” she looks at me with so much sadness, “you’re probably feeling lost. Confused. Like Carmen.”
“Who’s Carmen?”
Ransley shakes her head. “Never mind. Roy, there’s a way to get out, but I need you to come with me. I need you to come back so we can put . . . make everything right again. We don’t have time to sit here and talk about it. I need you to come.”
I reel back. Is something wrong? Yes, of course it is. But why is it wrong? What’s missing?
Maybe nothing is missing. Ah! While she’s here, I could get her to play a game with me.
I look around. White, white, white. But, where did the walls go? A curse comes out of me. I still don’t have cards.
No, there’s definitely something wrong. I’m not right. I don’t feel right.
I fall to the ground and sit with crossed legs.
“Ransley, there’s something wrong with me. It’s thin. I mean, I am. I don’t know . . . why. I . . . no.” I shake my head. “There’s no way out. The walls are gone. It’s all white . . . ”
“Roy!” she yells, and her voice shakes.
I don’t like it. She’s not happy.
“We don't . . . have time,” she whispers. “You were taken, remember? We were sitting in camp, talking about what we do and if we have parents. Then The Public came. They changed you and removed parts of you to make you, what they think is, better.” She shakes her head at me. “Don’t you remember at all?”
I try to remember. The Public. Yes, I know that name too. And my chest goes cold. I know I don’t like that name. I was taken. It was hot. “Fire.”
Ransley smiles. “Sí. There was lots of fire. I did that, remember? I put up the wall of fire to protect . . . you.” She gets tears in her eyes and I want her to brush them away. I don’t like watching her cry. It hurts me.
“You stopped me.” She grabs my hand and my heart thuds. “You saved me and The Public took you into their transport.”
There are so many different things I think I remember. The fire, yes. There were two of me. I think one of the parts of me took her away or I was buried. No, buried isn’t right. I did . . . was anything buried? It, “. . . it went black.”
“They drugged you, Roy.”
I shake my head in a measured way. I don’t remember any drugs. I do remember blackness. There was blackness and I woke up here. No . . . it wasn’t here. I was somewhere else before I was here. Something . . . something about a man. He was a dick. Such a dick. Everything was white there too. So, maybe this is the same place.
“I’m here now,” I say to her. “Here now. In the white. Ransley . . . you’re here to stay with me, right?”
She shakes her head and brushes her face with her hand. “No. We’re not staying. We’re leaving.”
She’s not happy, but I don’t know why. It may have been something I said. Does she not like the white space? Yes, it’s boring sometimes, but that’s why it would be better with her. Why is that? Why would she make it better? I want to hold her and make her feel better.
“Roy!” she yells my name. Why is she so angry? Angry isn’t the right word. She’s scared. “Roy, I know none of this makes sense, and . . . hell, you might even forget everything we’ve talked about the moment I turn my back. You’ll . . . ” she sniffs and sits down next to me. “You have to come back.” She shrugs. “I don’t know what else to say.”
“Why? Why do I have to go? Will the thinness go away? Why will it be better?”
Ransley looks at me. Her dark brown eyes remind me of dark caves. Pools of black water. Even more water comes out of them. I reach toward her face and she jerks. I pause, wondering why she’s scared. But she doesn't move again, so I brush the water from her face.
I don’t want her to be sad.
“Roy,” she whispers soft, “I miss you. The real you. I think—I think I’ve fallen in love with you, Roy. I know it’s stupid, but, I care about you. I know we’ve talked a lot about how we could be siblings, and how . . . great it would be if we were, and we’d have family, but I don’t want that. I don’t . . . feel that way about you, and I never have. I’ve never felt this way before, and part of it kills me and part of it makes me feel like smiling every time I think of the night we sat and talked in camp.”
She turns to me and grabs my hand. “I’ve done everything possible to find you because I need you. Please understand me. I need you to come back, Roy. If you don’t, I—I’m afraid I won’t be able to do this. I can’t finish this without you. It’s not the same with Reggie. I need you.” She grips my hand harder and my heart beats faster. I feel so much right now, I don’t understand what it is. I can’t . . . sort it out.
“There are so many things I want to say to you right now.” Ransley brushes her tears away. I remember . . . she wasn’t really a crier. Not before. At least, I don’t think so. “But you’ll probably forget everything. So, I don’t care.”
She lets go of my hand and wipes around her face. I don’t like seeing her like this. It hurts too much. I want to make her not cry. I want her to feel better.
“If . . . if I come. If I leave this, will you not cry anymore?”
Ransley smiles with more tears. “Yes, I promise. Please, Roy.”
What would I lose if I did? The watermelon? No, wait, there is none. There is nothing here. I don’t know how to act. I could stay in the white room, but then Ransley wouldn’t be here. I don’t want her to leave, but she won’t stay here. She keeps asking me to leave with her. I want to. I want to go with her.
“Yes,” I nod. “I’ll go.” I reach f
orward and touch the wetness on her face again. “Stop crying.”
Ransley’s lip shakes, but she smiles and pulls me to my feet. “Come on.”
She turns and the moment she takes a step, she disappears. I don’t know where she’s gone, and I can’t hear her anymore. “Ransley?” I ask, looking around in the whiteness. “Where did you go? I told you I’m coming! You have to wait!”
“I’m here, Roy. Keep following my voice. I’m still here.”
“Ransley?”
The clink of a chain behind me makes me turn my head. A man stands, wrapping a thick steel chain around his hand and it dangles to the floor. He’s so big. I know him. I’ve fought him before. Where did I fight him? Do I fight?
The chain clinks again and before I can move, he whips it at me. The hot sting of the chain’s heavy weight wraps around my torso and rips the skin from my body. It hurts so much, my scream tears my vocal cords.
“Come on, little boy,” he says to me. “Are you going to cower in the corner again? Like a girl?”
I remember. I was twelve. He broke my femur. He could have killed me, but didn’t.
“You can’t stop me,” I groan.
He whips the chain at me again and I lift my hand, gripping it before it hits me. Instead of slicing through my palm, it wraps around my hand, my wrist, and I yank on it. The man falls forward and comes toward me. I jump and wrap the chain around his neck, squeezing it. His face . . . it turns the color of watermelon.
Red.
I squeeze harder. With a roar, I pull the chain further back and it cuts through his thick neck.
The body disappears.
“Ransley,” I breathe, “I’m coming.”
I stand up and move in the direction she left. Another body appears in front of me. Another fighter. He’s smaller. I’ve killed him before. I don’t . . . know where, or what I did, but I know he’s dead. Now he’s standing right in front of me. A screwdriver in his hand.
“Balls,” I whisper. I remember him too.
“Roy, keep coming.”
“They won’t go away, Ransley.”
The man charges at me and I wrap my arm around his neck and tuck my hand underneath his armpit while he drives his shoulder into my gut. Putting all my strength into my legs, I wrap my other arm around his waist and throw him over my body. He lands on his feet and stabs the screwdriver into my thigh.
I cry out and drop to my knees. The man drives an elbow into my neck and a knee into my ribcage.
“Come on, Tito,” I grunt. “You remember how this ended. I do.” I actually do. How do I remember?
The man reaches around too close to my throat and I yank the screwdriver out. Jabbing the end into his neck, I jerk the handle forward like a lever. I feel his body go limp and it disappears.
Three more men take his place. David, or “Dahveed.” Marcus. Jesus. I killed them in Mendoza two years ago. They can’t be real. They can’t be.
David’s broken glass bottle twirls in his hand. I still have the scar on my ribs. I reach to touch it . . . the raised tissue isn’t there. My ears burn. How is the scar gone? He sneers and lunges at me. The glass cuts into my ribs again. I spin and wrap his neck into the crook of my elbow. Crunch.
Jesus’ small body moves quickly. Marcus drives a foot into my kneecap. I remember it all.
They’re not going to let me go easily.
―REGGIE―
Thee gentle rhythmic beep of Ransley’s pulse on the monitor adds to the tension building in the room. Outside the door, the rhythmic pounding on the door, crackles of laser cutters, the guards coming through . . . each new sound makes me jump. She and Roy have been under for over fifteen minutes now. I knew it wouldn’t be a quick process. Under the circumstances, it feels like it’s been two hours.
I look around at the bare floor and take a deep breath. A few more seconds and she’ll be out.
“What’s taking . . .” Nate starts and I hold up a finger.
“Four, three, two . . .” I finish out loud. Ransley’s eyes shoot open within the fluid. The pod drops from its upright position and levels out. Immediately the fluid begins to drain. The moment it’s empty, her hands reach for the pod door. I reach in to calm her. Her hand grips my wrist. She reaches for the breathing piece in her mouth. After pulling it out, a long string of saliva dangles from it before she drops it into the pod.
“My head . . .” She grimaces and squeezes her eyes closed, pressing her palm to her forehead. “It hurts so bad. Where’s Roy? Is he out yet?”
I turn to look at Roy’s body floating in the pod. He shakes violently, his back arches in pain. I don’t have to say anything. Ransley releases her grip on me and begins to move before I even have a chance to disconnect the probe at the back of her skull.
“Wait, Ransley, hold still!” Behind her, I reach for the probe and tenderly cradle her head. Fluid from Ransley’s body and hair soak my uniform.
“Reggie, it must be removed carefully,” Carmen guides from the control room. “She can’t be jostled.”
I nod, to let her know I understand. “Are you ready, Ransley?”
“Please hurry,” she whispers.
Before disengaging the probe, I steady her head, and then reach for the probe once more. The pressure in the probe hisses in release and the long needle slowly pulls out. It catches on her short strands of hair on her head, leaving small traces of blood.
“Can you turn your head to the side, Ransley?” I ask.
She slowly twists it to the left, wincing. I apply the local medical injection to the open hole and watch the skin heal.
“Ransley, you’re fine,” Carmen’s voice comes across the control room.
Ransley shoots up, goose bumps covering her tan-lined skin. Without asking for her clothes, she falls over herself, skidding across to the pod where Roy’s knees keep bumping into the glass containment.
“Come on, Roy,” she whispers. She lifts her hand to the glass and rests it there. His knee thunks against it once more.
“Ransley, you’ve got about twenty seconds before that door blasts open,” I say behind her.
She spins around and I toss her the folded up uniform and underwear I’ve been holding aside for her. She flies to get her panties and bra back on. Just when she buckles the bra strap, my head jerks around. The door explodes open.
Shrapnel from the wall and metal in the door fly toward us and nick the glass, my skin and the walls around me. I’m knocked off my feet. I struggle to stand back up. Shots ricochet around us, echoing in my ears. I concentrate on the first group of guards. Power swirls in my mind, building like pressure. Squeezing my vision for a short moment.
The guards plummet to the ground in vicious spasms. Nate aims for individuals through the smoke and debris, taking them down in single shots. Another wave of guards crosses through the door, using their clear shields to protect themselves.
Once more, I focus, leveling them. Their voices cry out, their muscles writhe. They twist in grotesque shapes and claw at the marble tiles. Nate shoots at more of them while they’re down. I want to make them suffer more. Suffer for what they’ve done here.
Ransley curses behind me. I turn to look at her. She’s still got her eyes locked on Roydon, trying to get her pants on. Her eyes are wide, pleading with him to come out of it—to come back.
A burning rip travels through my side and I scream out, grabbing my ribs and hunching over in pain.
“Reggie!” Nate yells. I hear him swear and fire off a round of shots, taking out body after body.
I pull my hand back and smell the burned blood and skin. It doesn’t hurt at first. Then the pain begins to grow. It’s a surface wound, but the lancing pain scorches my insides. I steady myself and try to kneel, taking in deep breaths. Nate hurries over to me, firing off four more rounds with his right hand and then kneels next to me.
Ransley slides around both of us and drives the heel of her hand right up into the jaw of an oncoming guard.
Nate curses and gent
ly puts a hand to my ribs. “Thank God, it just grazed you.”
I nod, my body shaking. “Nate Naylor, talking about God?”
He grunts. “Don’t get used to it. It was a one-time thing.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I watch Ransley flip a grown man over, using her shoulder like a fulcrum, putting all her effort into his jaw and neck from behind.
I swallow hard and put a hand on Nate’s shoulder, pushing myself to my feet. Nate fires three times. Three guards fall to the ground. I focus carefully on the oncoming guards and cause them to convulse. Another round pierces the air. It comes right at us. Nate’s body jerks to the right.
“Nate!” I yell. I pick up the nearest gun and fire ten times on the guard that shot him. The charged bullets enter repeatedly, making bloody charred holes in the man’s body.
“No,” Nate winces at me, “don’t stop!”
I feel another bullet wiz by my head and I flip around and fire again. Ten guards filter by Ransley and head for me. I shoot the gun again six times. Four guards fall to the ground. The first reaches me and hits my face with his large fist. A female guard moves toward the pod and in the recesses of my mind I hear Carmen’s voice yell at Ransley from the control room above.
My arms are wrenched behind my back. The cold end of a power-gun barrel rests against my temple.
“Stay away from him!” I hear Ransley’s voice roar. Blazing walls of fire lift around the pod, catching the female guard on fire. She jerks back, flailing her arms and struggling to find a clear space on the ground to drop to. The intensity of the fire consumes her. The pyre grows around Roy’s pod, becoming taller and hotter. The pressure of the gun on my head releases while the guards stand in rapture. We all watch the inferno engulf the room, blocking Roy from their advances.
She’s doing it.
It’s like a blazing tidal wave.
―RANSLEY―
I pull my hands back, feeling the remaining fire tingle my fingertips, dancing like flames on candles.
“Santo mierda,” I whisper.
