Cold. The biting chill seeps into my bones, causing an involuntary retreat of body parts I’d rather keep outside my torso. Attempts to move my fingers are met with resistance; they won’t budge. Where am I? That’s when it struck me; I should probably open my eyes. A flash of white, so bright it has me closing them again. I tried again, this time slowly blinking the intensity away. Okay. So I am inside a metal container and I am stripped naked. Not good news for me. Above my head, a stripe of light is creeping in, and I know I should be doing something to come out of this, but my brain hasn’t made a proper greeting to my body yet.
Bringing my arms to the top of the container, I made a feeble attempt to knock, but my mouth refused to cooperate and screamed for help. Who is going to help? Where am I? And who am I? No idea, but a distinct voice in my brain tells me to focus on escaping from this coffin. Oh, coffin, I know what it is. It’s where you place dead bodies. A vivid image of me tossing people into them as they scream came into my mind, and I closed it off.
But coffins are usually not made of metal. Maybe I can break this thing off. But usually, you have a coffin six feet under the ground. As I could see that stripe of light, that might not be the case for me. I push my body up and slide up and down, even though my body is protesting with every motion. After repeating it a few times, I successfully moved the container out of its place, and my eyes took in the ceiling above me and the fluorescent bulb blinking brightly at the top. As my eyes moved, I saw that I was actually at the last row of some similar black metal lockers. Morgue.
My brain is my only friend currently, as it decided to give me some much-needed information. If only it could be a darling and tell me who I am and how I ended up in a morgue, it would top the non-existent list of my favorites.
A smell of copper and decay flared in the air, and I clambered out of the locker. It’s really freaking cold. Damn, what the hell are they doing shoving a totally alive person in a morgue? Did they want my brain to freeze up and die? And how the hell did I survive?
Later. My new best friend prompted me, and I got out of the door, only to stop as on the ground I found two guards lying dead. Their throats were sliced. Nice. Free clothes. I strip them off, as unlike me, they are actually dead and have no use for modesty. Modesty? We don’t care about that. But it would certainly make us invisible. My best friend, whom I am going to call Jericho now, tells me in a non-argumentative manner.
After taking the clothes from the dead guards, I made my way to the exit. We were in a wide corridor with a lot of doors, and all of them were morgues. Jeez, why care so much for the dead? There were two staircases leading to both up and down. Deciding to go with the one going upstairs, I tip-toed. At this point, I am blindly trusting Jericho to guide us through the mess.
Jericho said we aren’t exactly in a hospital, which is the place where people go for the sake of curing themselves from diseases and get trapped in a system of bills and medicines. We hate hospitals. To be honest, Jericho, I am not a fan of this place either. I reach an open corridor; the sun has set down for the day, and it’s warm. My body relishes the warmth after being cold for so long. But it’s all empty. There were rooms upon rooms with benches and scribbled walls with colored pencils. It’s a school.
What the hell! Why is there a morgue inside the basement of a school? Something is not right about this place. Am I right, Jericho? I am right. I know it. I didn’t wait for Jericho to validate me. A pair of footsteps sliced through the silence like a knife, and my feet suddenly sprang into action, and I hid myself inside one of the classrooms. I see from my hidden spot; there were some more guards jostling with each other as they passed the corridor, and I see them disappear to the same staircase from which I have come out. Fast. Move. I came out of the classroom and got down to another side of the floor and down a new pair of staircases which led me directly to the field.
I hear a scream behind me, probably from one of the guys on finding their friends all sliced up. I hope they don’t think I am the one who killed them and have become a zombie; not good for my reputation.
A certain flash of me gliding across a dance room with a beautiful woman in my arms came to my mind, but I slid it right off. Not the right time at all to reminisce. The main gate of the school didn’t have any heavy locks, so I opened it right away and sprinted into the wilds.
FallenPhoenixFlight 