Fiction Fragment Friday
I decided this week I wanted to do a story in second person present tense. This was partially to get outside of my comfort zone, but more because I had a scene and delivery in my mind to start with and it just demanded to be written. I don’t think I have to say that with this being outside of my usual tense and perspective this story will be different for me. I think the story has an extra punch to it not just because of content but because of the perspective choice.
It’s cold and dark with a faint humming sound all around you. The sound agitates the throbbing pain of a sinus headache. Damp air is difficult to breathe through stopped-up nostrils, so you gasp in deeply through your mouth. The movement causes your arms to hit walls one either side. You feel tugging on your forearms and realize that there are tubes running into them. This and the hard flat surface you are laying on are the only sensations on your skin. You are completely naked in a container that is barely large enough to hold you.
You have a moment to feel grateful that you are not claustrophobic. The moment the very concept of claustrophobia enters your mind you feel it take hold. Your heart starts to pound in your chest. Uncontrollable shaking overtakes your body, and your efforts to curl into the fetal position are thwarted by the lack of space. Already struggling to breathe you begin to hyperventilate gasping in panic. Every sense in your body tells you that you are going to die.
The panic has your complete attention, so you don’t notice the hissing sound that starts around you. The lid of the container imprisoning you slides down. Fluorescent light feels like knives made of fire stabbing into your eyes. Without making conscious choices you lurch to a sitting position wrapping your arms tightly around your chest as you rock back and forth. The sudden motion ripped the tubes from your arm and drops of blood smear across your chest as you shake. Your vision has dark splotches over it, but the room slowly starts to come into focus.
The walls are grey with textured surfaces and the floor has a rubberized mat over it. Computer monitors built into the walls are flickering, indicating that they have power, but nothing is being displayed. Your open rectangular pod is the center of a row of three. You can tell the other two are occupied, but the people in them are not moving. The opposite wall next to the only door is lined with cabinets.
Giving yourself only a few moments to slow your breathing and try to calm your heartbeat you climb out of the pod. An intense sense of modesty fills you knowing that you are standing there in the middle of the room naked. You cling to the small comfort that the others are still in their pods and there are no visible cameras watching you. It still gives you a sense of urgency as you approach the cabinets. Each step is difficult with your muscles aching. Your legs shake under you and your body feels weak.
Vertigo and nausea overcome you just steps away from the cabinets. Your arms wrap around your stomach as you bend over and vomit onto the floor. Pain wracks your body with every sore muscle protesting. There is no food in your stomach to come out so you heave until stomach acid works its way up your throat burning as it goes. Once again you are gasping for breath, but this time tears have filled your eyes. You just want to curl up in a corner, but you know that you can’t do that. You have to push forward.
Opening the cabinet, you find a selection of grey jumpsuits with white trim. They are organized by size, and it only takes you a moment to find one that will fit you. A sense of relief fills you when you zip the jumpsuit the front and are covered. A tingling sensation runs across your skin everywhere the cloth is touching it. Your fingers instinctively move to the zipper ready to rip it off but the sensation fades before you act. On one of the wall mounted screens, you now see your own vitals being displayed. Your mind tries to recall what normal is, but it is still so hard to think straight.
Having addressed modesty concerns you decide checking on the other two pods should be your next priority. Perhaps one of them will know where you are and what is going on. On still shaky legs you make your way to the first pod. You reach out and grip the rim to help stabilize yourself. It takes a moment to compose yourself before examining the pod’s inhabitant.
Laying in front of you is a middle-aged naked man. A scar runs across his upper chest with a perpendicular one going down to his groin. His left arm is missing above the elbow with a tube sitting loose in the pod below it. Another tube is running into his right forearm. You feel an aching where your own tubes had been ripped out now that you are consciously thinking about them. The man’s face has an expression of sheer terror on it that you suspect will haunt your nightmares for the foreseeable future. He is not breathing. The final detail you notice is that the top of his skull has been removed, and the brain cavity is empty. Once again you vomit on the rubberized floor.
The other chamber holds a naked woman you estimate to be in her twenties. Her body is intact and does not have any noticeable incision scars. For a moment you hope that she is still alive, but she does not appear to be breathing either. You notice that the lid of her pod has a screen on it with a flashing red light. Leaning closer you can make out words. “System Failure. Specimen Lost.” Glancing over your shoulder you make note that the other pods have a similar display, but they are blank.
You look closely at the girl’s face and feel her dead eyes bore into you. It feels like she is judging you for surviving while she did not. Not knowing who she is or even who you are doesn’t prevent the irrational sense of guilt that fills you. “I’m sorry.” Your voice is raspy and even these two words hurt to say.
There may be supplies or answers in this room, but you cannot bear to stay in it any longer. It is a tomb now and the dead judge you for not being one of them. You do not belong here and are not welcome. Staying longer will just bring more horror and nausea. The pain in your stomach muscles is already almost more than you can stand. Across the room the door stands as a beacon of hope.
Step after exhaustive step you move towards the door. It does not have a handle, but there is a control pad mounted on the wall to the right. With a hiss the door slides to the side at your approach. Beyond is a hallway with doors lining both sides. Behind each door could be salvation or more nightmares. You cannot bring yourself to find out which so instead you continue to walk forward wondering why you have not seen anyone else living.
Ahead the hall comes to an end. There are halls going to the left and right but it is the large window in front of you that has your complete attention. You lean against the wall for support, but your shaky legs finally give out under you. With your arms wrapped around your knees you just sit there against the wall rocking back and forth. Outside the window the Earth moves farther away from you. Even from space you can see the fires burning on the dying planet.
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