Chapter 1

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When I finally wake, I realize that I’m in some kind of infirmary.  There are five or six people surrounding my bed, but they are all blurry.  I hear someone shout, “She’s awake!” and I snap to my senses. 

My left shoulder is bandaged up and constant pain pulses through my arm.  Other parts of my body are bandaged up, too, and cuts, scrapes, and bruises coat my dark skin.   Several cords lead from my neck to a machine to my right creating a tingling sensation under my chin.  My right hand is shiny as if an ointment was slathered on recently, and an alien symbol is burned onto my skin with the words ‘BRANDED’ underneath.

“Where am I?” I ask breathy.  I takes about all my strength just to ask a simple question and I am already drained.

“Shh, it’s okay,” soothes a male voice.  The familiar voice rings a bell but I can’t quite place it.

I try to sit up, but a pair of warm hands gently push me back down.  “You need to rest,” the man attached to the arms says calmly

“Well, let’s check you out,” says a man in a white lab coat rushing into the room.

I assume him to be a doctor because he starts examining the equipment next to me, mumbling to himself and occasionally shooting a curious glance at me.  After a while, he turns his attention to me.  He begins by doing all the typical doctor stuff like checking my heartbeat and taking my pulse and muttering things I can’t hear.  Finally, he starts inspecting my injuries.  The doctor inspects all my cuts and bruises as if they carry a disease.  He then moves to unraveling my bandages.  The injury on my shoulder has been faintly throbbing with pain but as he cautiously tears off the gauge, I grit my teeth as not to shout out and instinctively reach for something to hold as he dabs some anti-infection cream on it.  My hand finds the man to my right and I must have winced because he squeezed it reassuringly.  The doctor balls up the bandage and tosses it in the trash.  I look down at my shoulder and clasp my hand over to my mouth in fear, pain, or shock I am not sure.  Half of my shoulder is literally gone, and it is flawlessly stitched to the bone.

“Well, what happened here young lady?” questions the flabbergasted doctor.

“I-I,” I stammer too in stunned to say anything.  Now that I think about it, though, I can’t remember what happened at all except for a boat and noise and pain.

The man releases my hand and says, “Sir, I don’t think she remembers anything after she passed out.”

I try to concentrate hard to attempt to recall what happened.  I start to remember a man and a…a... Before I can finish the thought, my neck burns with pain and I roll over in agony.  I hear shouts of worry and people running around.  I am rolled back over with my eyesight still splotchy, but a pair of hazel eyes stare right at me and I faintly decipher what he is saying:

“Hang in there.”

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The pain, the pain.  The pounding sensation in and on my throat. I am about to slip back to unconscious when SLAP! My face stings from the physical blow, but slowly recedes and I’m awake.  Once again I am greeted by a few people--the doctor, the man, and wait.  There is a little robot happily rolling back and forth next to me.  Well, at least I think it’s happy but I’ve never had to read an android’s feelings before.  The doctor turns my cheek, gazes at my neck and unplugs the wires with a tug and it feels like I’m being poked with a needle

“Well, we did all our diagnosing while you were asleep, and you are now discharged,” states the doctor and he starts walking away, fidgeting with his pen.

“Wait, what kind of diagnoses?” he asks.

“That is between me and Boss.”

“But what about her? She doesn’t have a clue what’s going on!”

“If she has a question she can bring it up with Boss.  Good day.”

He seemed to take that as the end of the conversation because he says, “Come on,” and helps me up. 

I am still very weak and my knees wobble threatening to collapse, but he steadies me.

“Who are you?”

“Not here, we can go to my apartment and talk and get you some food,” he replies.

I don’t know why, but something about him made me trust him.  For the first time, I start noticing all the other people in the infirm.  They all stare at me confused, but I notice a glint of fear in their eyes and it makes me self-conscious. I struggle through the door with his help and hobble into a long, cement hallway with bright, but few lights.  He just guides me as we walk in silence up an elevator and through more hallways for about 10 minutes, when he stops in front of a door and the little robot unlocks it by swiping a card.

The room is littered with little knick-knacks here and there, but it is mostly clean.  A radio sits on an old table, clothes pile in a corner, and a pitcher of ice-tea is on the kitchen counter.  He nervously picks up stray pieces of trash and situates me on his unmade bed and disappears into the kitchen.  He returns with a bowl of grapes and two glasses of water.  He hands me a cup and sets the grapes on the bed and sits down next to me.

“So, this is where you live?” I say trying to break the ice.  As soon as the words leave my mouth, I realize how stupid the question is.

“Yes,” he replies awkwardly, but I sense he is grateful for my conversation starter.

“Thank you,” I mention gratefully and eagerly sip my drink while studying him.

He is very tall--but stands up straight--and built to be a fighter.  His hair is dark brown and matches his dark, tan skin; it is longer and not quite spiky, but gelled up in the front and shorter and cleanly shaven in the back.  The hair on his chin is scruffy and scratchy, but not too long.  His expression looks serious, and curious and I assume that he scrutinizes me also.  While that thought turns on some gears in my brain, it doesn’t distract me.  My eyes examine his face more closely.  I notice little dimples in his chin that show when he purses his lips.  His nose is cut short right below his eyes.  His eye color is a sincere, forest green and even though they are still kind of dark, I see a gleam of mischief sparking in the corner.  He catches me staring in his eyes, and I turn away slightly blushing.

After a minute or so, he breaks the silence.  “So, I realized I haven’t really introduced myself yet. I’m Luke,” and he sticks out a hand for me to shake.

I take it and reply, “I’m-“ I stop, realizing I don’t know my name or anything about myself for that matter.  My brain goes into overdrive trying think of anything to say.

Luke seems to be reading my troubled thoughts because he says, “It’s okay, your memory was taken from you so you probably don’t remember anything.”

I let that sink in and try to fit the puzzle pieces together, but it’s like one piece is jagged and the other is smooth--they just don’t connect.

“Hey, why don’t you sleep here for now and I’ll take the floor.”

I just nod and he stands up and takes the empty bowl to the sink.  I watch Luke as he opens a closet and pulls out a croquet blanket and red sleeping bag.  He comes back over and sets his make-shift bed on the ground and lays down. 

I turn and face the ceiling and think.  The room is dark and gray like the corridors, but eh white ceiling seems to be giving off a light. I think about the day and try to make sense of everything.  I lift my arm up and take a closer look at the burn on my hand.  It looks like a wheels with eight hooked spindles going clock-wise.  I sigh and turn over and start drifting towards sleep…

I start to have a dream about a war.  I am holding a gun and shooting unarmed people.  I try to stop, but my body just won’t listen.  The screams of terror fill my ears as I watch the kids and families suffer.  Lightning rips through the eerie night sky cracking the heavens in two.  A booming voice echoes, creating the thunder to the lightning, “You shall watch them suffer and die and don’t try to stop because it will only be worse! Be warned, Aria!”

“Wake up! Hey!”

Luke is violently shaking me, trying to wake me up when I jolt upright.

“Are you okay?” he asks, terrified.

 I don’t see how my nightmare could have been that bad until I realize I am drenched in sweat and my neck feels like it’s on fire. 

“What?” I say to myself, however, Luke heard me.

“You started tossing and turning and then you started screaming.  And you were muttering something like ‘No, don’t hurt them’ and ‘please stop’.”

I don’t know what made me tell him, but after describing my dream, he just sits there thinking. The silence kills me, and I make a weak attempt to say something. 

“I-I figured out my name.”

The severe expression fades if only for a moment and is replaced by a little laugh and a smile.  “Really, that’s what you have to say?”

That remark leaves me a little dumbfounded and I struggle to make words.

He just smiles even more and the dimples show, “Well, what is it?”

“Aria.  Some-somebody said it in my head.”

“Well, nice to meet you, Aria,” Luke says and shakes my hand. 

He doesn’t quite let go right away, but neither do I.  His hand fits almost perfectly with mine and my tan skin reflects his even darker complexion.  After a moment, I pull my hand away to check the time--6:00.  Well, there’s no way I’m going to fall back asleep now.

“Luke, you said I lost my memory? Well, I think whenever I try to remember something, my neck starts hurting.  What were all those wires hooked up to me for?”

“I don’t know, I think we should talk to Boss,” Luke responds, but not before hesitating. 

“Who’s that?” I inquire.

“He’s our leader here.”

“Where exactly is here?”

“You’ll see.  Come on, let’s get ready, I can show you around before breakfast.”

“Okay,” I say.

Author's Note

Thank you to everyone that reviewed the prologue! I really hope you enjoy this chapter. When roughly editing this, I added some of your guy's advice. I specifically added detail, and I would love your feedback. Enjoy ☺