A Lasting Memory

For some reason, the motorcycle wouldn't start again. She would rev the handles, but nothing would come but sputtering. She was scared. It was night time still, and she wouldn't be able to tell where she was if it weren't for the flashing lights. She was standing in the west wing. It was a bright white light. Day time would come soon, and the drones would be out.

It was blinding at first, she thought. But slowly her eyes adjusted to the light even though it hurt her eyes when she would blink too slow.
It would be light out soon, and the drones would come out. She was walking towards the light.

Instinct told her to go back, the voices did too. But it just seemed wrong to her, to look back now. She doesn't know where she is, and she fears that her death is hanging front of her.

It's just the voices, she says. But the more she continues her slow jog to nowhere, the more she wants to accept that nothing is waiting for her. The more she wants to put her hands over her ears and push away the now growing voices and whispers.

Nothing. You are looking for something that is nothing. You want something that isn't there, that wouldn't make a difference even if it was there. You need to stay, you can't leave. This is your home. This is where you lived for three years, this is where you belong. Where we belong. We won't leave.

Just turn us around. Please stay.
Though she kept running. She found herself running faster. Her face felt more cold. So did the rest of her dirt covered face. She pulled out the metal chunk from the loop in her pants when she heard something to her right. She continued to jog to the blinding lights, her legs aching. Her left side hurt from so much running, and she was short of breath. She needed water. The vined bag was still at her side, along with the water and the few food cans she had left.

There would be water where she was going, she said. There will be more food than here, no more voices. She kept telling herself all the things that she thought there'd be. She believed the voices would leave her once she was out of burned New York.

There was more debris on the streets in the west wing than what she was used to in the east wing. A lot more. There were more trees too, she noticed. More bushes, more
everything.

The rustling came back. A lot more movement, the voices added. A lot more movement indeed. What the voices added made her stop. She did hear more movement, and the sun was about to rise at any moment. It's the drones. Their here. The voices chimed in rhymes.

Roam the streets, in the night. Won't make it till morning light. Running fast, your legs are lead. By that time, you'll wish you're dead. All around the trees will grow. Will not be disturbed by the body that lay low. All the movement, out of life. I'll guess well just have to suffice.

Her curiosity dissipated from her quickly. Something, though, yanked at her arm and dragged her to the ground. She didn't know she was thrashing until the metal piece flew from her hand.

Something fell over her mouth, and her terrible screaming went silent, filled with the voices that repeated, we told you so, we told you so, we told you so...
***

When I opened my eyes, everything was blurry. I knew that I was no longer on the debris covered streets of New York. I was not laying in my ditch, and I was not outside of New York. There was something else around me. No, I corrected myself, looking down at me. Something else was looking down at me.

They've found you. It was only a matter of time. The search is over. You were too ancy. The Network has found you. Like they said they would.
My head throbbed and my legs ached. The pain from my side has receded. In my stomach lays a growing hunger. My mouth dry as the ground I lay on.

Everything becomes clearer now. Two people, one male and one female, stand over me. Watching me. I say nothing. It looks like one, the female, wants to talk. Something holds her back. He does.

I didn't expect to hear such a loud voice when he talked. I didn't expect a voice at all. But when he said,"What's your name," I didn't expect it to vibrate off the in closed room so much.

I haven't spoken in years. I didn't ever want too. Besides, I didn't have an answer. The woman could tell my discomfort, and helped me sit up. Not only did my legs and chest ache, but now I realized so did my back.

My hands were free, at least one was.
A metal, circular object laid on my left wrist. It's made of the same material that made up the motorcycle, that made up the metal bar. "It's called a handcuff. Ever seen one before?" The girl asked, crouching so her eyes are leveled with mine.
"Do you speak or not, because we have other things to do." The man from the corner snapped. It seems you're not the only one. Not the only person, besides the Network. The Network knows all, they will find you.
I cleared my throat and spoke. The words didn't form easily on my tongue. I ran them over in my mind, reciting them so I don't make any mistake. "I haven't spoken since I've been here for the first time." I was still flabbergasted. Others, I said again. Others...

"How? This isn't real is it? Did I die, I must have died. There's no one else in New York besides me, no one else, no one at all!" I asked. They stared at me, and the voices were growing louder. You're not the only one, you're not the only one.

Maybe it's a trick, maybe it's a trick they are playing. A trick to fool the mind, right before your eyes. "How!" I screamed. I started to slowly inch my hands near my ears again, and pressed hard when they finally reached my ears. I pressed them so hard against my ears that my palms started to sweat and ache.

I need out, I thought. I need to get out of New York. Was I really dead? I didn't have to fully open my eyes to see the worried expression that laid on both of the man and girls face. I got up quickly and took in the surroundings in a matter of a few seconds. Out now, out now, they whispered. I yanked on the hand...cuff that was around my still dirt covered wrist. The girl took hold of both my arms, trying to stop me. My face didn't feel as tight, indicating that some of the dirt came off my face.

I stopped and looked at both at them. I glanced at both of their left wrists, and there laid the same marking that I had. In the exact same place. I had stopped wrangling from the girls grasp on my arms. I instead spit on my wrist and rubbed away the dirt. The marking of the clairvoyant became more clear with each rub. When it was finally cleared of dirt, I held up my wrist and yelled, "What does this mean?"

The man that had the snappy comment before had a shift of mood in his eyes. Maybe they thought she worked for the Network. Explains why they had her chained. "What does it mean! Answer me!" I screamed. The noise echoed through the walls.
"Stop! The drones will be able to hear you if you scream louder, honey, and I think you know what happens to things if it crosses paths with the drones." The man said. My eyes spotted a square shaped mirror on the middle of the entire wall. I had a feeling that someone was watching from the other side.

Maybe I was in one of the big buildings like in the east wing. Youre a dead man. You will be left for dead. Left back on the streets after this. Not worth it. Not worth a second. Maybe a thought, but not their time. Only the fittest here, can survive. You survived with luck. They have enough to worry about, their not going to worry about managing you. They whispered too loud that I thought the others could hear them.

"You can unlock her, she's not with them. But we do need to know what she knows." The man said to the other, and with a nod of her head she took out a key the unlocked the handcuff. "Ready?" She asked me.