Chapter 1
My bare feet slapped on cold, wet pavement. Toes frozen, breath expelling white frost. Trauma bonded me to the building I left behind. I refuse to look back, eyes forward running madly, one foot in front of the other. I can't explain it if I tried. Hell, I can't remember squat.
Fuzzed out memories circled lazily, a film of fog obscuring them. Every once in a while, clarity came, disjointed, out of sequence. A jumbled jigsaw puzzle with no map. Incoherent. Faces distorted, voices muffled, a hyped up drug induced haze.
If asked, I can't say what transpired. There aren't enough words to describe the experience. I doubt my ability to speak in any case. I try, while running from my worst nightmare, and get a guttural "uh" for my trouble. That's it. Speech impaired. Unintelligible.
The "uh" has a unique ring to it. A back of the throat quality, felt, not heard. I make a second attempt, putting forth more force into speaking. "Huh." That's it. "Huh." An extra consonant added but little else. A slightly stronger vibration. The sound travels up my neck to my jaw. Tympani. Throaty. Like I have a cold underwater.
Sound in my throat but not my ears. They are clogged, sound waves beat on the cochlear but the nerves are dead. A dull thrum, not clear. My feet possessed a pounding beat on hard road, jarred steps vibrating calf muscles. But my ears? Silence. A dub, dub, dub feeling of movement, breath escaping, pulse beating, lungs expanding and contracting. I'm deaf. And mute. I have no memory. I don't know my name.
What do I know? I'm running in the dead of night from fright, from terror, from that place I left behind. That building with it's many floors, gray walls and locked doors. Snow is falling thickly, heavily in big flakes with gusts of wind coming in sideways. I'm freezing that's what I know.
I have no shoes, I'm wearing skimpy pajama bottoms and a tank top. Not cold weather gear by any means but it's all I have on. Why? I don't know why. I don't understand how I got here, running on this iced over road.
I come to consciousness running like this, my hair plastered to my head, iced over strands cutting into my cheeks. Awareness had come abruptly, from out of nowhere. I had blanked out, not knowing how I got from the building to the road. From blank point A to blank point B. The sensation of darkness to sudden quickening of awareness jolts fear through my body.
A quick glance behind me and I stumble. I maintain my footing but just barely. Darkness surrounds me. There is no light to guide my way, only my feet on rough road. If there are monsters they blend well in the darkness. Fear drives me like an animal on instinct. Get away. Don't stop running. Whoever or whatever I had left behind, means me harm. This much I know. This much I understand.
I know something else too. I'll die if I don't find some shelter. Hypothermia. That's the word. Funny how I know this word but I don't know my own name. I can't stop running or I'll freeze for sure. Keep going until I find shelter, preferably a place with cold weather gear. At least some shoes and a jacket. Better than what I have now.
Instinct drives me forward. Seek shelter. Find clothes. Get warm. These are the things I must focus on. Forget about what lies behind me. I can't do anything about the place I left behind. I don't want to do anything. I want to run. So I run. And I keep on running knowing if I stop, they'll find me. They'll take me back.
I shut off the thoughts though fear wants me to continue. It is fear that churns in the pit of my stomach. Fear that urges me on yet is tantalizing me to turn back. Warmth. Shelter. Food. No! my mind screams. I'm never going back there. Don't think about it.
Around the next curve is a metal gate. My heart drops to my feet then takes off like a race car, the pounding beat in my head. I slow to a walk, approaching cautiously. I scan the area for a place to hide but there is none. The road up ahead narrows, the guard station is made of glass. Whoever is on duty tonight will see me. Maybe they will help me. I squelch the thought. Don't trust anyone.
The closer I get, the more I want to turn around and run back the other way. I hold my ground, studying the tiny building searching for any sign of movement inside. I see no one. It will be so easy to slip under the gate which is nothing more than a metal horizontal pole across the road. I hesitate, walking softly. I'm shivering, teeth clattering. I'm about to get caught and I don't know what to do.
Run! Startled by the voice in my mind, different from my own thoughts, I bolt like a deer, crouching low under the gate then running at full speed. How do they not see me? I don't know and right now, I don't care. If they have spot me and I'm sure they have someone has been alerted. I can't hear so I don't know. I bet alarms are going off all over the place.
Before the gate, trees had lined the road, now I see the fence, guarding the place I had come from. Clarity comes for the briefest of seconds. Gray walls. Stairs. A back door. Is that how I got out? Could be. I can't trust my mind at the moment. The fence tells me something however. I'm a prisoner or I was. Why keep such a high fence out in the middle of nowhere unless they're trying to someone in? Someone like me.
Just as quickly as clarity had come, it vanishes in an instant. What little memory I have goes back behind the wall of fog that exists in my mind. Other images replace them, faces laughing, fingers pointing. Just as swiftly, they're gone, leaving me breathless.
Then, the darkness is no longer so dark. Despite the winter storm, the bright searchlights from above illuminate everything. Almost as bright as day. I'm frantic. I have to hide. I dive into the woods across the road. The lights dim under cover of the tall trees. Snow is not so heavy, just little trickles of flakes.
I dodge tree trunks, swerve around the smaller trees, jump over exposed roots. They must know I'm in the woods. They must be coming after me. If they had seen me on the road then they will surely come. I bang my knee on a tree trunk which jolts me backward. I stumble forward, pain radiating up into my thigh.
My big toe catches on a root and I fall. The ground is hard, there are no clear paths and I can't see where I'm going. Belatedly, an idea comes. Climb you idiot. No choice left but to climb. They will catch up. They have lights, guns and dogs. Getting caught is not an option.
I scan the forest quickly, panicking, and losing precious time. Some trees have branches that are too high, others are too low. I can't make it easy for them. Further into the woods, I find it. I jump and my hands catch hold of the branch. Finding strength from deep within, I climb. The knots of the aged tree provide footholds and handholds. I scramble up, feet slipping on rough bark.
A piece of bark gives way, my foot slips and I bang my already sore knee on the hard trunk. I grunt low, moaning in pain then tighten my lips. They'll hear me. I dig my fingers into the grooves of the bark. My fingers are skinny enough to dig deep. I climb midway up then freeze. I'm out of time. I can only hope the dogs don't scent me.
I cling to the trunk, face mashed against it. Please don't find me. I'm begging silently, hoping the combination of snow and the hazmat suits the people wear are enough to deter the dogs. I see them now, teeth bared, mouths curled into snarls, nose working overtime, sniffing every tree. I'm halfway up but it seems too close to the ground.
The men and women in the hazmat suits swing their flashlights first on the ground then on the trees. With effort I draw my arms and legs in so that not a single part of me is visible. One false move on my part and I'll fall. I dig my overgrown toenails into the bark, perching precariously on the branch. Muscles scream from the effort to stay on. I dare n ot move, nor breathe.
I draw in a deep breath and hold it, head bent toward my chest. I exhale slowly, my body obscuring the telltale fog breath. Please go away. Move on. I'm not here. They won't. They'll search the entire woods for me. I'm too valuable for them to give up so easily. How do I know that? It's so obvious by the seriousness of the search. They're taking their time, checking every tree. They want me back badly. I wish I knew why I am so important to them.
No. I don't. I don't want to know. I'm terrified of knowing. Life had to be very bad in that place for me to run. I won't go back there. I won't. With renewed determination, I cling to the tree, my posture in a perpetual crouch. I'll stay there forever if I have to. Even if it means dying up here. Death is preferable than existing one more day inside that building.
Instinct tells me this so I hang on. I wait them out. Pain sparked in my limbs, ached in my head. Burned. I feel it in the pit of my stomach, my navel. My legs cramp, my arms tremble. I wobble far too much. I want to settle into a more comfortable position but the dogs will hear.
They are swinging the lights up in the trees now. One gets too close and I tuck in tighter. I close my eyes and bow my head. I had seen my arms, the needle tracks, the bruises. The sight of them sets a series of images, out of sequence, tumbling into the forefront of my mind. Memory hints. Tickles. Teases. Flashes of light an image then more flashes. No. Not flashes. Snapshots. Tubes. Bags of liquid. A gown. Straps. A thin blanket. Too much. It's all too much. I can't deal with it. A moan escapes before I can stop it. I freeze in place.
The flashlights center on my tree. I peek out from under my arm. The dogs are sitting on their haunches, howling. They know I'm in this tree. I climb higher. Dizziness overtakes me. I cling desperately going up. Soon I run out of branches to climb on. A couple of people come after me. Then it's all over. They reach for me, their hands on my arms and legs.
From deep within, a scream erupts birthed from panic, fear and desperation. I feel it rising from the depths of my being, rising up from my chest, into my throat and out. A prolonged scream that I can't hear, only feel. The release is cathartic. Hands release my body, the two nearest me clutch their ears. They fall, bouncing off of branches, landing with a sickening crunch on the ground.
Spent, I survey the scene below, the spinning flashlight illuminating the bodies. Even the dogs are dead. Realization sweeps through me.
I am the monster.
