1970

Damion

Running around, playing with my siblings, I knew one of us would soon be collected for our next round of experiments at any time. All the children would run when it was time, even though we knew that the pain was worth it, to help the greater good, we were still scared because the pain was so intense. I spotted the guard coming.

“Who will it be today,” he grumbled. I could tell he hated his job, but for some reason, he did it anyway. There was a signal that we used to alert one another that the guard was coming… It was a bird call. It came from when Father was experimenting on "exotic birds", he had called them, he told me so when I asked him what they were.

Number 250 did the call this time around and we all started running. Each of us had numbers instead of names, which I now know isn’t normal. My number was 155.

Amidst the scramble, the guard managed to grab 105, who was obviously too slow. We heard his scream from down the hall. Although it was terrifying and we felt awful for him, we were glad that it wasn't one of us. Though we all knew that sooner or later...we all got a turn.

“Hey, Red,” said a scruffy-sounding Australian voice, it almost matched my own, though, it was a bit more rough. I looked up, letting my memories fade away. My hazel eyes met those of a man in a wife-beater singlet and a bit too much chub around his middle. “Is this what you were after?” He gestured towards a yellow 1974 Ford XA 351 GT.

“That'll do me fine,” I said, grabbing the keys that dangled from his hand.

“So you will have this back to me, when?” he asked.

“Oh, yeah, I would say in a few days at most, Monday latest” I replied.

“No worries, mate. Enjoy,” he grumbled as he plodded back to the workshop. I knew well and good that I wasn’t returning this vehicle, and since that old dickhead didn’t have my real name or any of my information, he wouldn’t be chasing me down for it either.

I drove down the dusty Alice Springs road, arm out the window, breeze in my auburn hair, no particular destination in mind. I felt the breeze on the fingertips, as I drove, the fingertips that had ended so many lives. I felt carefree and motivated to continue my sadistic journey in my home country. My life now was so different from the memories that kept flooding my mind. I didn’t know where they came from or if rather, they were just figments of my imagination.

My thoughts were interrupted once again as I spotted a woman, Simple with brunette hair, yet big beautiful blue eyes and nice lips. She wore sweatpants, an Arizona tourist T-shirt and seemed to be fatigued. Her feet looked as though they had run a marathon. Her shoes looked like they had seen better days. Her hair was sweaty and her perfect cheekbones were smeared with dirt.

Curiosity got the better of me as I pulled to the side of the road. She walked over to my car, looking desperate.

“Hi there. Can I help you get somewhere?” I asked casually.

“Yes,” she stated, not looking for conversation. Just the type of victim I liked, an easy target, no chit chat to get in the way. She got into the car, staring straight ahead.

“Where can I take you?” I looked at her quizzically. Her accent was not from here. It was American. “Anywhere but here,” she stated. “I just walked here from the airport. I couldn’t afford a cab.”

I breathed out of my slightly-parted lips and smiled toward the road, accelerating. I hadn’t imagined her in my plan, yet this could work. She was obviously on the run, so no one would miss her. At least not here. Maybe back home. A wicked grin worked its way across my face as I planned the next few hours. My day had suddenly gotten much brighter.