“Don’t you worry, I’ll be back in a flash!”

With that, I hear her steps running back up the corridor, fading quickly. The other, I don’t hear moving off, and I think I can make out his breathing on the other side. Maybe you can get more information out of him.

“So… you really don’t know how I got here?”

“We shouldn’t speak.” he says.
“Sorry I just… I don’t understand what happened. You all seem friendly. All I know is I woke up in this… what I guess is a closet? And I don’t know where I am. Or how I got here.”

“Seems unlikely.” He grunts.

“You’re telling me.”

Time passes in mostly silence, the a few words I manage to pry the gravelly voiced stranger make it much easier to tolerate the confined space. It’s maybe twenty minutes before I hear more two pairs of footsteps returning.

“Rego, you can open the door.” The voice sounds like it is coming from an older man.

“You sure?”

“Sure enough. Just keep your guard up.”

I hear some metal panels being ripped away from the door, and I brace myself. Finally, the door swings open and I practically fall out of the dark space.

I’m in a metal hallway. It reminds me of a corridor on a starship in a movie, or maybe a military vessel, or secret base. At least it would, if it were clean and had real lighting.

As it is, the main lighting seems to be smeared and stamped on the walls like paint, giving off an orange glow. I would say it was bright, but that is probably just because I’ve been in pitch blackness since I woke up in that closet, and not as bright as the torch carried by the bigger of the two strangers.

As for the corridor, it is one step up from derelict. The walls are streaked with rust, and there are mounds of rubble swept into the corners. Loose or missing panels in the walls and ceiling reveal pipes and wires. Whatever this place is it is old, unmaintained, and looks to have been scavenged for parts.

I stand up and brush myself off. My clothes are dirty, stained with rust and grime. I look up to take a close look at these strangers as they are no doubt taking a look at me. I freeze…

1- What… what am I looking at?

rc 1/19 The content of this page is the intellectual property and copyright material of Charles McLean Redding. Any resemblance to real events, locations, or people are entirely coincidental, and probably a serious cause for concern. No content may be copied and/or distributed without Charles McLean Redding’s express consent and authorization.