Jack in the Box

by Shaw, Michael

  He kept his finger up. But he looked back down. He started breathing through his mouth.

  “My father is dead?” even sitting down, I felt like I'd lost my balance.

  “Yes, Jack.”

  “I. . .” I ducked my head down. Tried to make eye contact. “For how long?”

  “What year is it?”

  I put both hands on my head. “No. . .” tried to steady my breaths.

  “Who else would you see?”

  “My mother,” I answered immediately.

  “Strike two,” he exhaled. His voice shook. Another finger went up.

  “Brian, I. . .” I squeezed the sides of my forehead.

  “Who else?”

  “I don’t know, my classmates?”

  “Dead.” Three fingers.

  “My professor.”

  Four fingers.

  I wiped the front of my face. I held back tears. I felt the need to cry for the loss of loved ones, but I knew I would lose focus. Every time I focused on my emotions before, nothing went right. “Who, then? Who is there to see?”

  Brian curled his hand into a fist. "Exactly." He was shaking. I realized he wasn't making eye contact with me for a reason. He was trying not to show his emotion. Trying not to cry. Whoever Brian was, he was a person, and he had people he cared about, too.

  I bit my lip.

  “Who is there to see?” he said. And all this time, he wouldn’t bring his head back up.

  My eyes dropped to the table. A small puddle was on the surface just below Brian’s face.

  “Brian,” I craned my neck downward. Tried to catch his eyes. “Is everyone dead?”

  He backed his chair up a little. Raised his eyes to mine. "Gravity," he said.

  I made my lip numb from biting it. "How many?"

  He brought himself to his feet. "Seven billion people." He let out an overt breath one more time.

  I tried to focus on the conversation. Focus on the information, not that that the few people I knew were dead. "Percentage?" I said, trying to keep my voice from quivering.

  "Ninety-nine." He pulled out my gun and put it on the table. "Four more bullets."

  I grabbed it. Stood up. My body shook as I stood. "And what about the one percent?"

  He squinted his eyes. Rubbed them with his fingers. "Earth regrew, Jack." He said it the same way that someone would say an obvious fact. He said it in a forced positive tone.

  "How do you know that? You don't even know what year it is."

  "Well, he. . . The man who makes the rules. . ."

  "The devil." I cut in.

  ". . .he does know what year it is. And he says that earth has much more than that original 'one percent' now. About half has been populated. Half of the globe."

  The conversation just kept going. Back and forth. But I was getting a lot of answers. I wanted to think about my family, my father. I wanted him to be alive. And I definitely didn't want him to be experiencing the same type of thing I was. But I couldn't afford to focus on my family then. Brian was talking, and I knew that what I was learning had to matter. Nothing could be disregarded in my mind. Anything could be a potential aid in the test. Or, who knows? Maybe it could help me when I got out of the test. If I evercouldget out.

  Brian opened the door.

  I wiped my face again. Took a step forward. "Wait."

  He brought his feet together.

  "Tell me how I can get a compass."

  He reached in his pocket, pulled out a compass, and tossed it to me. Then he wiped his own face.

  I snatched it out of the air. Steel back. Nice quality. "Wait. . ." I said. "You already had one?" looked at him. "You knew I was going to ask for it?"

  He tapped the side of his head. Tried to look happy again. "Remember, Jack? Ask the right questions."

  I looked at his pockets. It didn't seem like he had anything else in them. Except one pocket looked like it had something in it. Something thin. I couldn't tell what it was, though. "What else can I ask for?"

  "That still has to do with. . ." He extended the pointed finger at me, ". . . Asking the right questions." He turned back around.

  "Bye, Brian."

  He started walking.

  "I can't stop gravity, but who am I to make you miss out on those last few moments of free-fall?"

  He paused. Took a breath. Walked out.

  I was by myself again. I said to the air, "I'll give you those moments," sat down, "whether you think they're worth it or not."

  Since he was gone, I retrieved the paper. The one with compass directions. I placed it on the table.You can't focus on your family right now,I tried to convince myself.You have to focus on the test. Next to the paper I placed the compass. The needle rotated back and forth a few times.

  Please, I thought, land on a door.

  The needle finally rested in one position.

  I traced a line forward in my mind, following the direction it pointed. It pointed directly toward a door.

  Perfect,I took out another paper. It was the one with several squares, and an H in the center square. At the top of the paper I put an N, at the bottom an S, and on the left and right, a W and an E.So what do I do with this? There's no reference point besides home.I didn't know what to do with the map. But I did remember the same old paper experiment. When I had tried it the day before, I got distracted because of Brian.This time,I thought,I'll figure it out.

  The north door was first, I tossed a paper into the other room, closed the door, and reopened it. The paper was still there.Okay,I wasn't surprised,that happened yesterday.Next I tried the west door. Same result. East door. The same. And the south door? Yeah, it was the same, too.

  I bit the side of my lower lip.That's. . . different.What had happened to the door that made the papers vanish?It's not consistent,I thought.There's no rule.I shook my head.But there has to be. All Brian tells me about this place has to do with rules. It's all about the rules. Isn't there a rule for the rooms, too?I looked down at the grid of rooms I'd drawn.Brian can navigate them. There has to be a rule.

  I stood up. Put all the items in my pocket, except for the compass. I held it in my right hand and approached the north door. When I opened it I watched the needle. It stayed steady. I passed the paper ball on the floor, and walked into the next room and put a paper ball in it, too. The needle was still pointed correctly. Next I backtracked into the room behind me. Inside was no paper. I took a deep breath. Turned around and went into the other room again. No paper in it either. I tapped my foot.Okay, I thought.Okay. So two papers in adjacent rooms have just apparently vanished. Now. . .I turned around once again and opened the door. A paper was in there. I was used to the inconsistency, but I tried to find a pattern in it.It can't be how many times I open a door. When I followed Brian, I entered the same rooms he did even after the door closed.Even realizing this, I still thought that the rooms did change in some way.Wait,I said to myself,it's not necessarily the contents of the rooms that are changing.I picked up the paper.Things aren't vanishing,I realized.I'm just walking into a different room than before.I felt like my eyes had just been opened.If I'm entering different rooms, then, what determines which room I'm entering?I bent over and knocked on my head. I was close. I could feel it. But I was starting to get a little frustrated.I just can't figure out what tells me-

  Suddenly I felt a small vibration in the compass. I immediately held it in front of me. It wasn't pointing north anymore. It wasn't pointing toward a door at all, actually. And the needle, it wasn't wobbly pointed in a direction, as it was before. It was like a magnet were right in front of it. It was fixed fast in a specific direction. I didn't understand. "What-"

  I was knocked back by something in the direction of the needle. I braced myself from falling over. Held my hands up and clenched my fists. My right hand was still holding the compass. I saw nothing in front of me.

  It was the referee.

  It picked me up by the neck and slammed me against the wall.

  I grabbed at my neck wit
h my right hand.

  The referee slapped my right hand away and grabbed my left wrist. Its grip was tight. Excruciatingly tight.

  The compass slipped from my fingers. I grabbed the referee's hand and tried to pull it off of my neck. It started to choke me. "What'd I do wrong this time?" I gasped. My feet kicked.

  It threw me across the room. My back ram into the wall and I fell forward.What is this thing? It couldn't have been human. It was too strong.

  I heard footsteps. More like loud thumps, actually. It was coming toward me.

  I jumped to my feet and held my fists up.

  "What'd you do wrong?" it growled, surprised I would ask.

  I threw a punch in its direction.

  It grabbed my wrist and pulled me forward. A hand grabbed the top of my head. It punched me in the cheek. Hard.

  I staggered back. Started to fall.

  It grabbed the top of my head and brought me up to my feet. "You're passing," it said. It sounded furious. It let go of my head and punched me again. And again. Over and over, on both sides of my face. It paused, then gave me a final blow, harder than all the others. That one I felt in the nose.

  I cried out and grabbed my nose. Bloody.Please don't be broken.

  I heard it take a step back. It cracked its knuckles.

  "Why would you care that I'm passing?" I yelled.

  It breathed in deeply.

  "And why can't I see you?" I wiped my hand on my shirt.

  "It's all. . ." it grabbed my arms. ". . . Part of the test." I felt its breath right in front of me. "But you've heard that answer before, haven't you?" It pushed me up against the wall. I was pinned. Just like I had been more than once before. It kept my hands above my head.

  "You," I exhaled. My eyes were squinted. "Are you. . ." I had to catch my breath after being knocked around so much. "Are you Satan?"

  It chuckled. It was a low, raspy, laugh. Then it laughed louder.

  I squirmed.

  It gripped me more tightly. Its hands. They felt like they had the shape of human hands. But they were cold.

  Reptilian.

  "No, Jack. I am not the devil. I do not make the rules." It lifted me higher. "But I do take them very seriously."

  I didn't have much of a plan. But I knew I had to get free from his grasp. First, though, I wanted answers. "What do you mean that I'm passing? I'm supposed to." My head was starting to throb.How am I going to get out of this?

  "We know that," it said. It drew out the wordthat. "We know that you're supposed to pass. But we. . ." its grip loosened just a bit, "are supposed to keep you from passing."

  "You said 'we,'" I noticed I could move my hands slightly. "Who else is trying to stop me?"

  It sniffed. "Brian, of course." It wasn't holding me that tightly anymore.

  "Oh," I jerked my hands downward and dropped down to my feet. Before the referee could do anything, I placed my hands on the wall behind me. Next I pushed myself up enough to get my legs curled in, knees against my stomach, and I kicked the referee in the gut, with both feet.

  I actually managed to knock the referee back. I heard it hit the ground. This was my opportunity to escape. I ran past it and picked up the compass. The monster grabbed for my leg, but I ended up stepping on its hand.

  It growled. Started moving. Trying to get up.

  I opened the door.

  "Go ahead and run, Jack!" it yelled sarcastically.

  I ran out.

  "Go ahead and run from the invisible."

  I closed the door.

  →

  I ran for a few rooms. Just to get away from the referee. Oddly enough, I actually ended up back in my room.

  Lightheaded. Exhausted. I wiped my nose with my right hand, getting blood all over my palm. My nose started running blood. I pinched it and stumbled to the table.

  Why did he attack me? Just because I'm passing? He's supposed to be a monitor. Nothing more.

  I fell into a chair. Numb. Losing blood made me feel odd. I felt half-there. My stomach didn't feel right either.

  You're okay; just stay awake.

  I squinted my eyes. Reopened them. The room started swaying. Or was it my head?

  Just stay awake.

  I let go of my nose. But the blood hadn't clotted yet.

  Stay awake.

  My head fell onto the table.

  →

  "Rough morning?"

  I squinted. My head really hurt. Not just my forehead, or my sinuses. It was my entire head. My jaw, my cheeks, nose. It all felt terrible.

  "Come on, wake up."

  I raised my head.

  "There he is!" Brian sat in front of me. Food was on the table. Not breakfast, though. Lunchtime.

  "I didn't dream?" I looked down at the table. Blood still there. Looked at my hand. Still had the red streaks I'd given it before. I opened my nostrils. But my nose started to run blood again. I couldn't have been out long.

  "No, you didn't dream." Brian pulled his chair forward. "So, rough morning?" he asked again.

  "Yeah. . ." I held my nose. "No thanks to you and your friend."

  He raised his lower lip. "What?"

  My jaw was really starting to hurt. "Don't. . .." I said lazily. "Don't play dumb, Brian."

  He shrugged, "Okay," and started cutting up his pork chop.

  I sat up straighter. "So I can ask for things?"

  "Yeah."

  "Any chance you can give me a first aid kit?"

  He pulled out a large box from underneath his chair and put it on the table, making athump.It was red, with a white cross on the face.

  My eyes narrowed. "You knew I was going to ask for it."

  "I thought you might."

  "So youwere in on it." I opened up the box. And I immediately knew what to do. Something else the Jack of my dreams had learned, I assumed. I made sure my nose wasn't broken. Next I put gauze in my nostrils and my mouth. I looked to Brian. "Do you have any-"

  He pulled out some bags of ice.

  ". . . Ice, thanks." I held a bag next to my face.

  "In response to that accusation," Brian wiped his mouth. "I had nothing to do with it."

  I didn't say anything. My face felt bad enough without moving it.

  "But I did know it would happen."

  I shook my head. "How's that supposed to make any sense?" I said in a low, muffled voice.

  "It's within the rules," he said, ignoring my question. "The ref and I can do almost anything we want to keep you from passing."

  I put another bag on the opposite side of my face. "So you can't kill me. That's your only limit."

  "Well, that," Brian doodled on the condensation of his styrofoam cup, "and we can't attack you when you are in your bed. Whether you're sleeping or not. Basically anything that'd be unfair, we can't do."

  "Unfair?" I put my head down. "This is talking about an invisible beast. Not exactly fair."

  He rotated his cup.

  "And why hasn't he attacked me until now? And. . . why haven'tyou attacked me?"

  "There are rules for us too, Jack." He lifted the cup and moved it to the side slightly. "Rules you're not aware of. There is. . . authority that we answer to. One thing Icantell you is this: right now we are allowed to attack you. I choose not to."

  I was tired. Not in a drowsy sense; I was physically beat. The fight. It exhausted me, and I needed to lie down. "Why do you choose not to?" I asked. My voice was almost silenced through the gauze.

  "All things are lawful for me, but all things are not expedient."1

  I lifted my head.

  "You'll fail on your own. I don’t need to stop you."

  I stared at him.

  He kept his gaze on the cup. still moving it around with his right hand.

  "I'll fail on my own. . ."

  He tapped his foot. His eyes stayed down.

  Five seconds passed.

  I waited for him to look back at me.

  He didn't.

  Ten seconds passed.

  I t
ilted my head.

  He continued to look down, rotating the cup.

  "I don't think you believe that, Brian."

  He stopped moving the cup. But he didn't look at me.

  "You know I'm figuring it out."

  His breaths got deeper.

  "It knows I'm figuring it out."

  He gripped the cup again.

  "I'm going to crack the code, and for some reason. . . that bothers you."

  He wouldn't say anything.

  "But right now," I stood up. "I'm going to be in my bed, not getting attacked. I'll try to get some shut-eye, and I'll save that pork chop for a little later."

  Brian still wouldn't even look at me. He traced the rim of the cup with two fingers.

  I picked up a knife on the table. Threw it. It stuck straight through the styrofoam cup and sent it to the floor.

  Brian lightly lifted his hand from the spot where the cup was.

  "I'm sorry." I shook my head. Sat down. "You just. . . It's a cup, Brian."

  He breathed out.

  "I'm right here," I said. "You can look at me, you know." I turned my back to him. Walked toward the bed.

  Those few seconds were completely silent. When I reached the bed, I turned around, and sat.

  Brian stared at my feet.

  I stared at him.

  After a few more seconds, he finally made eye contact with me. Opened his mouth. Breathed in slowly. "A few moments of free fall," he said quietly.

  I raised my eyebrows.

  "A few. Seconds. Of free fall." he repeated, like he was listening to his words as much as I was.

  I gripped the side of the bed.

  "Are they anything more than wind in your face?" He looked back down.

  I folded my lips. I didn't react. I didn't say anything. I just lay down. Lay down, and closed my eyes.

  A few more seconds of complete silence.

  Eventually, my ears picked up Brian slowly standing and leaving the room.

  I exhaled.It doesn't make sense. Why is Brian pushing that on me? If his job is to keep me from passing, why would he allow me, actually, tell me, to kill him? Is that what I'm supposed to do?I stretched my fingers. For one second, I just thought about that possibility. Was that what I was supposed to do? If I were to kill a man holding me hostage, is it justified? He had no right to keep me there. And besides, we were in hell. Hadn't we already died? I thought about my past. I was an intellectual prodigy. A prodigy creating an invention. But I thought about myself here. My hands felt like a cradle for a gun. The pistol was so familiar, I had to have held one before. I knew that the Jack of my past had at leastlearnedsome fighting in the past. But a gun? When would I have used one? I shook my head. My throbbing, gauze-filled head.I guess I'll find out.But killing them? I decided,no. I won't do it. I know I won't. After all I've done, killing him wouldn't prove any strength in me. It would only prove weakness. It would prove that I couldn't do it. That I couldn't pass. Couldn't figure out the combination. Even if it were the only way. . .I said in my head.Even if it were the only way. It's just. . . Not right. There's another way to the end of this thing. There's a smarter way.I rubbed my fingers together.There's. . . There's a stronger way.