"Boston is an oasis in the desert, a place where the larger proportion of people are loving, rational and happy."

—Julia Ward How

I felt myself slowly gain consciousness as my head pounded and thumped with pain that I’d never felt before in my life, while my eyes refused to open like they had 100lb weights attached to them and my mouth was dry. I groaned from the overwhelming pain and discomfort I was in, what the hell happened last night? As I let myself come to and began to slowly adjust, I came to the realisation that I wasn’t in my apartment; in fact, I didn’t know where I had woken up in. Wherever I was, I’d been sat upright against something and far from comfortable.

“God… where the hell am I?” I said to myself as I shuffled on my backside, hoping to relieve some of the discomfort I was in.

“I was worried that were never going to wake up.” Uttered a strange, nervous voice that felt like it came from right in front of me.

I slowly opened my eyes to see a brown-haired man crouched in front of me. He didn’t look that much older than me, probably five or six years older if I had to guess off his face alone. He had dark blue eyes and a well-maintained beard that looked blacker than his hair. He was wearing an expensive-looking brown Abercrombie and Fitch sweater with blue jeans and a pair of white Adidas running shoes, however, his sweater looked to be dirty with some stains on it as did his jeans while his shoes looked scuffed, it was like he’d been dragged through dirt. Whoever this guy was, his job paid him well, but I couldn’t help but think in the moment about what he had done to make such a mess of his clothes.

“Are you okay?” He spoke again although I didn’t entirely register his question.

After getting a look at his face through my half-open eyes, I redirected my attention to the room the two of us were in. It looked to be some kind of takeout restaurant with the walls being adorned with menus featuring photos of pizzas, burgers and sandwiches with price labels next to each item on the list. The man repeated his question, this time with a little more urgency while placing himself in my direct line of vision so that I would stay focused on him.

“My head’s pounding like a bastard.” I whispered out. “Hangovers, eh?”.

“Can you tell me your name?” I guess he didn’t appreciate my joke.

“Craig.” I groaned. “Craig Lawson.”

“How many fingers am I holding up?” He held up three fingers in front of me.

“Three.”

“What’s your date of birth?” I was already starting to grow tired of his questions; they were making my head pound even more.

“February 30^th, 1915.” The man frowned slightly with his eyebrows.

“Who’s the president of the United States of America?”

“Ronald McDonald.” I closed my eyes.

“Keep your eyes open.” He replied sternly, clearly frustrated with my sarcastic responses to his questions.

I opened my eyes again and saw him dig into what looked like a medical bag and pull out a small flashlight. He took off my glasses and gently placed them on the ground next to him before he held my right eyelid open and shined the light straight into my eye.

“I’m checking if you’re concussed.” He moved the torch to my left eye. “It looks like you are, mildly. Your pupils aren’t fully constricting in response to the light.”

The flashlight turned off and I blinked a few times, trying to rid myself of the colourful spots that now occupied most of my vision.

“Who are you?”

“I’m Dr. Lucas Marshall. You’re welcome, by the way.” He said rather dryly as he picked my glasses back up and handed them back to me.

“How long was I out, Doc?” I asked as I gently placed them back onto my face.

He looked down at the floor as he looked to be calculating in his head.

“About six hours. You woke up a few times, but I couldn’t keep you awake.”

I rubbed my eyes and mulled over what he had just said, six hours? I couldn’t remember what had happened.

“Jesus.”

“Yeah.” Lucas replied rather sombrely before reaching into his backpack and pulling out a bottle of water.

“You should drink some water.”

I opened my mouth as he unscrewed the lid and poured some in. I swallowed the room temperature water and coughed a little as I felt the inside of my mouth go from tasting and feeling dry and sour to something a little more bearable.

“Do you remember what happened?” Lucas asked as he put the water down on the floor next to him.

I sat there for a few seconds, just taking in what he had said about how long I was out for. I tried my hardest to think back to last night, but my memory was spotty. I could only remember up until a certain point. I turned my attention back to Lucas, taking a breath before speaking.

“No, not really. I only remember parts of yesterday. I don’t remember anything about last night.”

Lucas nodded with an expression that appeared to show a level of concern.

“You hit your head pretty badly; it’s a miracle that you don’t have anything worse than a mild concussion. In any normal situation I’d recommend you rest for a few days but-.” Lucas appeared to stop himself from saying anything else. I regarded him.

“I’ve a question that I’d like to ask you… if that’s alright, Doc?”

“Ask away.”

I looked him directly in the eye and began to speak.

“What kinda hospital do you call this? I’m not sure my insurance plan includes takeout.” I looked to my left towards the large windows that were covered by a set of blinds each. I turned my focus to the door and realised something out of place. The drinks fridge had been pushed in front of the door.

Lucas looked at me solemnly, still crouched down in front of me.

“That’s a bit of a long story, that we really don’t have time to hear right now.” He sounded impatient.

“How about the abridged version?” I said while not taking my eyes off the fridge.

“Let’s get you up on your feet first, we don’t have a lot of time.”

He stood up and moved parallel to my right-hand side before wrapping his left arm around my abdomen and placing my arm around his shoulders.

“On three. One… two… three!” He lifted me as I pushed my legs up to try and stand. I let out a groan as I got up.

“Are you feeling any nausea?”

“A little, nothing too bad.” I replied as I got my balance. “I feel okay, my head still hurts like hell though.”

“I’m hoping that it’ll pass.” Lucas replied. “That must have been one hell of a hit you took.”

“I guess I got lucky.” I said as I looked down at the floor.

I scratched my head as I looked him up and down, taking in his appearance properly. We looked to be at almost equal height and he was wearing his black Jansport backpack that looked like it had been well used up until that point. I then redirected my focus to myself, taking in my own appearance from the neck down. I was wearing a white button-up shirt with a dark brown tie, black jeans and a pair of black and white Vans sneakers. Immediately, I noticed that the top half of this outfit didn’t match the bottom.

I looked back up at Lucas who had a rather worried, impatient look on his face. I’m certain he was doing his best to mask it.

“One more question, Doc-”

“We don’t have time, Craig.” He interjected. “We have to get out of here.”

Why was he suddenly so anxious?

“Why’s the fridge blocking front door?” I asked, staring him dead in the eye.

“Craig, we really need to leave now.” Lucas told me firmly. “We can’t stay here.”

“What aren’t you telling me? Why are we in this place?”

I now felt a great degree of impatience within me, why wasn’t he answering my questions and why was he so desperate to leave despite the fact the door was blocked?

“We don’t have time-“

“Answer me.” I cut him off.

“Craig, please. We need to go. You’ll attract-“

“Answer the damn question!” I cut Lucas off again, shouting in frustration which made my head pound even more. “Tell me now-“

Behind the blinds, banging began to ring out from the windows while the door seemed to produce a similar sound. I could see silhouettes that looked like people behind the blinds, but the noise completely derailed my train of thought as both of our attentions had diverted. I turned to look at Lucas who was still staring at one of the blinded windows. He spoke with a very nervous, almost frightened tone.

“Craig, we need to leave now.”

Lucas quickly turned around and vaulted over the counter before running into the kitchen area.

“Come on!” He yelled to me.

I quickly followed Lucas by climbing over the counter and running into the kitchen after him, almost tripping on the single step into the kitchen that was so subtle that anyone could have fallen and broken their neck. I regained my footing and caught up to Lucas who was trying to get a brown door open.

“God damn it, it’s locked!” He exclaimed.

I looked around the small kitchen. It looked well maintained but appeared to have some black marks around the white walls and some dirt on the beige tiles on the floor. I frantically walked around the room and soon spotted a number of small hooks on the wall next another door on the other side of the room with keys hanging from them. Not wanting to waste any time, I ran over and grabbed every set of keys from the four hooks and rushed back to Lucas with them. “Try one of these!”

Lucas took them from me, began jamming them into the lock on the doorknob with desperation and tossing the ones that didn’t work away to the side. I still didn’t even know what was happening other than we were under attack from someone, whoever those people outside were. Dr. Lucas was holding out on me and I knew that I’d get the truth from him eventually. Lucas stuck another key into the door and when he turned it, the door clicked open.

“Thank God!” He shouted breathily.

He turned the knob and sprinted through the door, which lead to a stairwell that went upwards and I wasted no time in following him. The two of us ran as fast as we could up the stairs which lead to another door. I closed my eyes and tried hoped for another streak of luck. Please be unlocked, I thought, before Lucas got to the door and pushed the handle down, causing it to open outwards. I swallowed with a dry throat, taking in the daylight that was coming in through the doorway before following Lucas out.