Reset

“I think I have something here,” John said. “All of these boxes are survivor materials. Food, water, rations, medical supplies. This box is heavy, bet me it has tools. It’s not marked. Although for the life of me I can’t figure out why they’d give us tools if they were keeping us prisoner.”

“I’m a preacher.”

John paused in opening the box. “I’m sorry, what?”

Jason spoke rapidly and with enthusiasm. “I went back to my room. I looked at the gel box I came from. My name. When I saw it I started to remember. I am a preacher. Or a pastor. Not sure. I have a family. I know that. I also know what you meant now. We need to get out of here.”

“Well, thank God.” John cleared his throat. “No pun intended to you being a preacher or pastor. Funny, one would think it would be embedded in your soul…” He pulled the tape seal from the box. “This is really heavy it’s…” He opened the flaps. “Guns.”

“Guns, as in like a weapon?”

John only glanced at him. “Um yeah, Preacher, guns. Bang.”

“Why would we need guns?”

John closed the flap slowly. “I read a book once. They locked eight people in this compound to see who would survive. A game of sorts.”

“You don’t think this is the case, do you?”

John shook his head. “I don’t know. The writer in me is really thinking outside…” He glanced down. “The box. But these weapons. Why do we need them in here?”

“You’re a writer?” Jason asked.

“Yeah,” He nodded. “That’s how I paid the bills.” He pushed the box aside and looked around. “So many boxes here. How long did they expect us to stay?”

“There are forty-eight rooms. I have an empty backpack in my room.  Maybe we’re in the wilderness somewhere and all this is to fill our backpacks.”

Again, John shook his head as he searched. “No, we’re in New York. Or at least that’s the last place I was when I saw Nora.”

“But how…”

“Oh. Wait. Stop.” John moved a box. “Bingo.” He pointed to the fire emergency sign on the wall, and the ax in the glass encasement.”

“We can use that.”

“And it tells me a lot,” John said and walked back to the gun box. He grabbed a pistol. “Guns, weapons. We aren’t prisoners. We were put in here for a reason. But what?”

“If this was your book, John, why would we be here? I mean, you’re a writer. How would you write this?”

“First thing that comes to mind is an experiment of sorts. The fluid caused some memory loss. But you remembering tells me it is short term, so they don’t really want us to forget. Let me think about this.” Shielding his eyes, John turned from the case and then using the handle of the pistol, after a short snapping hit, he broke the glass on the case.

After handing Jason the pistol, John retrieved the ax.

Clenched in his grip, John turned. “Let’s go break that door.”

“Which one.”

“Not the one with the broken Exit sign, that’s for sure.”

The two men had taken a few steps across the room, when Nora came barreling in.

“Guys, we need help. Number One just woke up and is choking.” She flew back out.

John set down the ax and raced out with Jason.

Room Number One was only a few doors down and when they arrived, Malcolm had performed a Heimlich maneuver hold on Number One.

All Jason could see was a dangling arm, lifeless. Malcolm’s back was to him, his feet slipping on the gel like substance all over the floor. Obviously, like with Jason, Number One’s encasement malfunctioned.

“Come on.” Malcolm urged. His back heaved as he clenched. He was bigger than the man he tried to help. “He may need CPR. Unless he starts breathing.”

“What if you lay him down?” John suggested. “Do it that way.”

“Good idea,” When Malcolm turned his body, the object flew from the man’s mouth and landed on the floor.

It merged with the other fluid there.

The man silently gasped. His eyes widened and hand reached out. He released noises that were vain attempts at talking.

“Shower. He needs to go into the shower,” Nora said and placed her face first to the man. “You need to shower to get this guck off. I know you can’t talk. Nod if you understand me.”

He did.

“I got him,” Malcolm said, helping him.

“Careful, don’t fall,” Nora said as she led the way.

Jason thought, About this point the video comes on and he turned to see it. He didn’t want to miss the message. Maybe it would have more to it.

He looked. There was no monitor.

No television.

Jason, puzzled looked at John. “Why doesn’t he have a monitor?”

“More than likely, he knows what’s going on. This is a big piece of the puzzle and tells us who is behind this all. He doesn’t need a video message.”

“Why would you say that?” Jason asked.

“You didn’t look at him. He’s Number One, all right,” John said. “That’s the president.”

EIGHT – Lights On

John worked the ax against the corner of the door with as much determination as frustration. “This has to open. It has to.” He banged against the silver bar.

“What do you suppose the other door is?” Jason asked.

“Jason,” John exhaled. “I’m not an expert. I know as much about all this as you do.”

“I’m just having you guess.”