Hi, this is the senocd part of my fourth chapter in my first novel... with me so far? The rest; prologue part one, two and three, chapter one part one and two, chapter two part one and two, chapter three, and chapter four part one, can be viewed by clicking the respective lables.
Here goes:
I had to think back to the store clerk in the clothing shop. She didn’t have any accent that I knew of, but I could have just overlooked it because of my hurry. The clothing store assistant. She had seen me before, she could know me. I would see her again tomorrow, as agreed, and sort this all out. She seemed nice enough; she wouldn’t not show up; she had to come.
Anticipation was rising in my heart, I could finally find out who I was, or what I had been doing before my accident. I soon realized that my breathing was rapidly increasing, and I brought my hands up to my face to hold my chin. The action seemed to work as I felt control returning. I closed my eyes and took in a deep and reviving breath. Feeling the cool rush of air as it flowed down my windpipe, I exhaled. I closed my eyes and reminisced in the calm sense that had enveloped me. Tomorrow, I would know something.
“Are you ready to order?” The voice came as a sweet surprise. I quickly checked it for any accent, but couldn’t pick one out. It took a few seconds until my mind ticked over, she wanted to know what food I wanted.
“Uh, yeah. I’ll have the…” My eyes flicked to the menu, it was lying on the table, open faced. I made a split second decision to choose the first thing I saw. It wasn’t like I wanted a gourmet meal; I just wanted to eat. “Sweet and sour pork,” I continued.
“Noodles or ri-?”
“Noodles” I answered faster before she could finish the question.
“Would you like anything to drink?”
“Um, no thank you.” Who could waste time on liquids when it would mean longer wait for the food?
The waiter left and, despite the load and warm environment, I suddenly felt very cold. The bitter wind bit into my unprotected arms, and I wondered if there was a draft coming from a window nearby.
As I clenched my arms, I realized that I had chosen a seat in the centre of the restaurant. There was no inside wind, and I hadn’t been cold when the waiter was here. I looked down at my right arm, and was mildly surprised by what I saw. There were, as I had expected, Goosebumps now plastering the arm, but the shock was great as I realized that the stainless steel band was still tightly enclosing my wrist.
Why hadn’t it gone of? I must have noticed it, from what I remembered, the pain it gave was great, and the jolts came in regular intervals. Was it something different about when I had woken up in the pipe? Did the band require a catalyst to sting me?
No, it must have been them. They would have been sending out signals for it to pick up on signal it would inject me. That had to be it. They found me, and they stopped. Am I wearing a tracker?
I couldn’t help myself; I had to take a quick glance at the window.
No, I sternly demanded, you’re being silly. It’s just normal people walking the normal streets on a normal day. The only thing abnormal was me. I snapped my head back inside, to the warm atmosphere and overexcited chatting. Breathing in deep, I felt some warmness in my arms again, and I started to drum my finger on the table.
Don’t think about it. Just think about… food. Sweet, succulent, sour pork. I closed my eyes in anticipation, letting the calm roll over me and the feeling in my limbs return. The tracker. It was there, in my thoughts and devouring my imaginary meal. It bombarded me with questions until I couldn’t resist a hasty look at the window – just out of the corner of my eye.
They were walking by. Men; all in business suites and holding briefcases. They were always there. I couldn’t help myself; I turned around to face them, and stared out the window. I catalogued each face and ran it through my memory. None of them were Henry, but I searched for more than that. I searched for any sign of recognition, anything that could tie me back to the days, months, and years before my accident.
One of them could be my father! I jumped slightly in my seat. Just to think – I could have a family waiting for me at home! Well. I decided solemnly, I would never be able to find them. Just walking around the city for less than a day had almost got me lost – I couldn’t remember anything from before late this afternoon, but anything after that and it was crystalline – pure.
I could remember the voices that had echoed through the pipe, I was sure that I could pick them out of a crowd of more then a hundred.
I could bring up the exact same smell as the cookie I had almost devoured – trigger the chemical reactions in my brain that would allow me to smell it as if it were real.
I looked to my left, towards the back of the restaurant. One glimpse and I saw all that I needed to. There was a fat woman, sitting all by herself, eating a curry. A whiff in her direction and I could tell that it was Tandori Chicken, another and I could name the individual spices that comprised it – and the order they were added. I was sure that the skills I possessed were extraordinary – a normal human shouldn’t be anywhere close to what I could do.
If I’m not human, then what am I?
I pondered the question for a second. It wasn’t long before I realized that I had been staring at the golden wallpaper for what was probably ten minutes.
The door to the kitchen swing open and I could tell that my order was ready.
She was over at my table in a flash, as she set the plate down, her face was puzzled.
“Is your mum here, or your father?”
“No,” I replied, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
“So… you’re eating alone? How old are you?”
“I seem to think that’s none of your business. If you will now leave me to eat…” I hinted, not really believing it would work. Another few seconds went by, I thought she was going to report me to the police, or the restaurant manager. I could see it in her eyes – she wanted nothing more to send me out. I was an arrogant little child, eating by herself, with no respect for anyone. I probably wasn’t even allowed in here by myself, so I should leave. She was going to make me leave. I would go hungry, and no-one could change that.
It became a battle of the wits between us, both staring and neither wanted to give up. I knew what would happen if I lost though, I would go hungry. If I wasn’t allowed in here, then I would be kicked out of the others. I was sure of it.
Then, without even thinking, I chose my own future. The staring battle was going nowhere, so I slowly pulled up my hand. It touched metal; stainless steel, my super-human brain informed me. My other hand joined it, grasping another piece of the same material. Without loosing her gaze, I picked up my knife and fork. I had half a mind to throw them at her, for thinking she could get away with this. I was a paying customer, and I deserved this food. With delectate, precise movements I cut a small bite off of my chicken. Bringing it up to my mouth, I sneered, then opened wide and chewed.
God, that tastes good! It must have been the first food to pass my lips in the last three hours, at
least. Who knows how long it had been since I had actually eaten.
I crushed the food against the roof of my mouth with my tongue, and savored the juices as they rolled down, down to the back of my throat. I resisted the urge to slurp it back up, prolong the liquids presence in my mouth purely so I could taste its divine flavor. This is the food they serve in heaven.
I closed my eyes without realizing, lost in the moment. Once I swallowed the mouthful, I was about to start on another when I remembered the waitress. I opened my eyes cautiously, one at a time to make sure she wasn’t there. To my delight, she was walking away, back to the kitchen; in her hand was a notebook, she had already moved on to the next customer.
After savoring the meal for over an hour, I paid the check and left the confused and condescending glances behind, along with the inviting warmth of the restaurant. In the end I had devoured over forty dollars worth of food, but still had over fifty left. It seems as though my Instinct; my past life of which I could not remember, was rich. They had left me with a hundred dollars, and skills to fight off whatever might be thrown in my direction.
Oh, and they gave me an annoying Instinct which seems to know everything, but refuses to spill. Seems like we’re just about even then.
