I’M IN A little room inside some kind of temporary building, like what they started doing with public school before the great collapse.
They stopped maintaining the buildings and just left these modular classrooms on the school property.
They did corner cutting instead of maintaining the status quo so they can pocket all that government money. It went unchecked.
We should have checked. We should have pulled them out of their buildings and given their jobs to better people; we didn't, and the world ended.
The room is grey with one mirror on the wall. The floor is cheap rolled tile. It is also grey. It is hard to not feel grey in this room.
A man comes walking in; he’s bald. He sits across from me at this tiny folding table. His face is stone; there is no emotion. He’s wearing a grey fatigue.
I have been aware of the two men behind the mirror next to me for a little bit now. I can see their circulatory systems through the wall.
NEAT!
This is new to me. I couldn’t see the works of people's insides through walls before. I could do so well for myself at ‘hide and seek’ now.
I’m tired of him ignoring me. The buzzing of the lights is a nuisance. I’m going to interrupt his train of thought.
“The first thing we should talk about is manners. When meeting new people, try not to let them know right away that you’re an asshole. This is the kind of thing that needs finesse; you need to ease someone into something like that.”
It came out of my mouth so naturally. I don’t know if he noticed; he didn’t even blink.
I adjusted myself in that hard, flat metal folding chair. Not comfortable at all. Look at that; he still hasn’t blinked.
“Hey, you need to blink; that’s not good for your eyes. Your eyes are getting dry; blinking wets them.”
He blinks his eyes. I’m so glad; I was starting to think he was some kind of robot.
“Who are you?” He asks.
I thought about his question. Who am I? I’m not who I was, that’s for sure. The Demon proved that to me.
“I’m nobody.” I reply.
He looks in the mirror.
So many years on his face, each wrinkle a dull tale I don’t care about. This guy can’t think for himself. He refuses to take responsibility for himself. He will use the same excuse every time he does anything wrong:
‘I'm just following orders.’
His commander will say: ‘Good lemming, now fall off the cliff.’
Not all soldiers are like this. Some are intelligent. Some are problem solvers. Nonetheless, certain individuals forget to think before they act. The biggest organization who moves people, places, and things.
This man is wearing the uniform, but he is not a soldier.
His voice surprises me. All this silence, and then he talks:
THE BIRTH OF BOOGEYMAN
“The guys in the back think you're some kind of Boogeyman.” He says.
I thought about it for a second.
“Guys in the back? You mean the two behind the mirror?” I ask, pointing them out.
He looks in the mirror and shrugs.
“Yeah, sure.”
“Those guys are scared of everything.” I stated.
He nods his head.
“You’re not afraid of anything?”
“No, not these days. I used to be afraid of everything.” I reply.
“What changed?” He asks.
That’s a good question. What did change? Maybe the fact the Demon couldn’t bite my head off. Maybe the fact that the world literally ended, and
I’m still here.
"Fear,” is all I could say.
“What are you afraid of?” He asks quietly.
He doesn’t sound like he wants the answer to that. I decide to remain silent. He sits there, staring at me for a moment.
The noisy lights humming above us in the quiet little grey room.
He stands, pushing his chair back, and leaves the room. The door closes and locks behind him, and I’m alone again. I am sure I can jump right through these thin walls, but I’m not going to.
Who are these guys? What are they doing here? Where is all this confidence coming from? Is my John Cena bigger? I’m not going to check in here; these voyeurs would love that.
I decide to put my mind to the task at hand. Why would they bring me here? They seem like the type of people who would have shot me and left me on the side of the road.
I crashed through their truck and destroyed it; that act would be enough.
I had enough of all this sitting. I stand and remember the chains.
The door opens, and all three men come in. One of these men is the peppered gentleman, the driver of the prison bus, and the bald man who was in here before.
What are these guys, some kind of boy band? They are not military; I know that as fact. I have spent enough time with soldiers to tell.
They leave the door open. Sunlight is spreading over the ground and climbing my legs; it bathes my chest and face. It doesn’t feel like it used to; my body adjusts to the warmth, and I cool down.
“Listen, guys, I wasn’t trying to crash through your truck. A demon out there threw me like a doll. I flew over the trees, came down, and boom! Met you.”
I might as well have not said a word; there is no reaction from any of them. They sit there on the other side of the table, still.
I take a deep, loud breath.
“I’m bored, can we get this over with? Either talk to me or kill me because I don’t want to be here anymore.”
The firecracker sound. Gunfire. Outside.