Program Erin

by Alex Fall

  I gave up strength and let myself go limp on the ground. I do this to myself, don't I? I'm going to kill myself one day. He was right. He's always right. I hate it. I've gone one night without hearing his voice, and look where I am. I don't even know what he looks like, but he knows me well enough to be right even when he's not watching. I hate it. I hate him. He knew I would rampage like this. He did this to me. You never wanted to hurt me? Look how much pain I'm in now! This is all because of you. Are you listening? My life would be better if you weren't in it. My life would be better...if I wasn't in it. Now get out of my head! I know you're still in there, Fake! Shut up and go away! Just leave me alone. Leave me like you found me. Get out of my head. Go away.

  My mind slowed and began repeating itself. Exhaustion started pulling me under again. I found myself talking out of my head, cursing Keegan for interfering with my life. A minute or two more and I wasn't even sure what I was saying, just mumbling to the air. My vision faded, and my eyes grew heavy. Pain became distant and hunger was forgotten. But the noises...they wouldn't leave. They kept getting louder actually. So many people screaming. So many angry voices. Sudden booms of explosions and bullets. So many people screaming in pain, my own voice mixed with theirs. The sounds of metal clanging, and things being dropped. I can't sleep with all this noise. Make it go away! Sounds of plastic packages being torn open, medical equipment being powered up, whispers about me all around, and finally, a bone saw. But what really got me was when the saw touched my arm, I felt the pain.

  My upper body jerked, sending a shockwave of anguish into my nerves. I drew a breath in because of the surreal experience, but used it to express pain with a half cry, half growl of frustration. The pain on my arm wasn't the dream bone saw, it was a piece of glass that touched my overly tender, seared skin. I rolled onto my side that wasn't so burnt and gritted my teeth, but a plank underneath me creaked and snapped, jarring my whole body, and causing the metal sheet on my legs to shift slightly. I let out my frustration and anguish vocally, but with no particular words. So much pain! So much anguish and needless suffering! Make it stop! I can't even sleep anymore!

  Many minutes passed by and I used a good portion of my remaining mental strength to pull myself free of debris and drag myself to a window only a couple meters away. I felt so exhausted from the ordeal, I never bothered trying to stand. I saw out a crack in the debris that the building I destroyed was no longer burning. Only the soft glow of some coals remained. Have I been unconscious that long?

  I'm so exhausted.

  I attempted to go to sleep twice more, and both times, nightmares kept me awake. It dawned on me that Fake Arty isn't waiting in my dreams. He's not watching me anymore. That's why the nightmares are back. No matter how badly I wished, I couldn't fall back asleep. If only I had sleep meds.

  After another hour, I found myself on a very makeshift crutch, laboriously limping around the husk of a building I had left behind. No one was around. There was no sign of my crew or their skiff. There was no sign of Nicolette or her airship. There wasn't even any other Greaters. Have I been left behind? Why....why would they do that? Surely they don't think I died? Yet, I could see why they would think I would have died. Ugh, I'm so hungry. It's so cold out here. There's no telling where they are. I don't know where the new camp is either. And I'm so exhausted...

  I found a spot in the dirt to lie down and sleep. Compared to the splintered wood and glass, the dirt was quite soft, just very cold. Fortunately, the spot I chose was very near a pile of smoldering embers. The heat was enough to coax me to sleep. The only problem was the persistent nightmare noises. Destruction and pain followed my ears no matter what I did. Crashing. Guns. Fire. Leftovers.

  I sat up upon that last sound, despite stiffening from discomfort. That wasn't a nightmare. In the distance, I heard some kind of Leftover-like creature screech again. This isn't happening. Does this world hate me that badly? With Leftovers in the area, it's possible I may not live through tonight. I'm in no condition to run. I'm absolutely in no condition to fight...but I will if it comes down to it.

  I grabbed a section of some kind of plastic sheeting and dragged it over myself. At least now I'm out of sight. All I can hope is that some creature with a good sense of smell doesn't find me. If this is my last day of life...then fine. Its close enough to how I've always imagined I'd die; alone and in pain. How does that line up with your plans, Fake?

  My mind wavered again and my thoughts dissipated to nightmares soon enough. Yet, it felt like it still took me over an hour to finally collapse from exhaustion, with sounds real and imagined haunting me even into my dreams.

  * * *

  I'm going to murder all of you! You have shoved me aside and made fun of me and hurt me and threatened my girl for too long!

  A blood rage took me over. The power charged into my hand and I plunged it into Rod's bodyguard. The feeling of melting someone and my hand passing through, the look of shock on his face, the burning of my skin and excruciation it caused, they were all real. I could feel a dreadful horror take over everyone in this room. The man I destroyed seemed like little more than a simple object now, not a human life. His armor and body offered no resistance to my superheated hand. How many people knew this man? Did he have family? Did I inspire fear into everyone else in this room? It made me sick of myself. It made me angry. I turned to douse everyone behind me in my power. They wouldn't live through it. The sounds they made trying avoid it would haunt me forever.

  In fact, those sounds are what awakened me. My eyes snapped open, but the pain of being conscious promptly turned my face into a scowl of annoyance. I was holding a handful of dirt with a death grip, as if it was an enemy. My disposition was angry from the moment I woke up, but I wasn't even really sure what to direct it at.

  Morning light poured in around my plastic covering. It seems I have lived through the night. It also occurred to me that I moved next to none throughout the night, so my body was incredibly stiff. It’s going to take a full day or two of stretching and conditioning to undo all that. I slid the plastic covering to the side and sat up slowly. A startled crow took to flight and made a fuss. Do I look that much like I died? I had more mental energy now, but the pain was about the same. There was less raw damage and more aching all over, but I didn't feel so exhausted. Now, I was simply tired. I still couldn't catch my breath, and hunger and thirst had returned stronger. Plus...I had to go pee. I'll add it to the list of discomforts.

  The sky was blue and cloudless, with a soft breeze that made me cold. After looking around for a moment, I realized that the depot was very thoroughly destroyed and that was why everyone fled. There were char marks everywhere, which meant the scene must have caught fire and burned for a while. Even nearby buildings got scorched. My...I'm dangerous.

  I rose and with the help of my old crutch, made my way around the wreckage. After using the bathroom and unsuccessfully scrounging for food, I decided that my time would be better spent searching for the new camp site. At least at the camp they have my medicine. And sleep pills.

  At the thought of sleep pills, my mouth watered slightly. I smacked my parched lips and cussed under my breath. What I wouldn't give for a sleep pill. It made me frustrated.

  I limped on until my legs grew tired of carrying me. How far away is the camp? Where are people? All I know is the direction Vick was originally heading before I took over. The city out here is thinner, and certainly much less inhabited. And to my dismay, when I turned around, I hadn't gone far at all. I could still see the destroyed depot down the road. I exhausted myself just to walk a couple dozen meters?!

  The foot of my crutch broke when I was leaning on it in a twisted position, spilling me out over the street. The pain swelled within me and I clamped my teeth to try and stop it. My frustration boiled. I sat up again, grabbed my crutch and threw it at the nearest building to break it. I succeeded. Now I have no crutch.

  Stupid city! *Cuss* world! I hate you! I hate my life! I hate EVERYTHING! I scream
ed at the building like a caveman, as if somehow it was the building's fault. Afterwards, I realized I looked like an idiot. I screamed at the air instead. I grabbed the foot of the crutch and hit it against the road a couple times, just because it made me feel better to hit something. The only problem was that it hurt to move that fast and with that much force. I drew a breath in, closed my eyes, gritted my teeth, and flexed my lungs, as if I was trying to crush the breath of air within me. It made blood rush to my head. It made me angry.

  A crow called on a nearby building.

  "SHUT UP!" I screeched. It looked at me and cawed again.

  "*Cuss* YOU!"

  I tried gripping the road to vent. Sitting here on my knees, I could feel my heart racing. It made me angry. Everything is making me so angry! Why am I so angry? Its because of my dream! I woke up angry. No, its because of HIM! He's feeding me dreams! He's doing it to make me angry! I inhaled and screamed again, this time a roar directed at the Fake. I was facing the ground when I did it, because it seemed louder than yelling in the air. After I was done, I was left panting and hot tears formed in my eyes.

  This is pointless. I could scream for the next three hours, and then what? That's right, nothing. It's my fault anyway. He isn't feeding me dreams. He's just simply not there anymore. He couldn't handle my anger. Right now, I can't even handle my own anger. I'm screaming at buildings and crows. Right now, I'm exhibiting a lack of intelligence, like I'm rabid or something. I'm acting stupid. I am the idiot, just like he always told me. He was right. He's always right. I hate it...

  My anger swirled within me. I felt like a miniature hurricane, kneeling on all fours in the middle of the road. Maybe that's why hurricanes were so destructive, because they're always in so much pain. I've got to break the cycle. If I don't stop my anger, I'll exhaust myself and collapse. I've done it plenty of times in the past. How do I stop? I can't think straight, I'm so angry. It makes me mad that I'm angry!

  I shook my head and swallowed dryly. I closed my eyes and let a breath of hot, angry air out of my nose in a controlled manner.

  "Adjustment session 9. Bone marrow, batch 5C, augmented by proxolyne, Ferrous amalgam 2.1, and Tartar spores. Two kilograms. Vancomycin. One hundred thirty units. Epinephrine. Forty-two units. Intraglucocorticoid B-1. Thirty units."

  As I mumbled my list of medicines, my mind became lax. Anger subsided and my body cooled off. Soon I was in a trance-like state of reciting the medicines of my adjustments, quietly muttering words to myself that every other person could go their whole lives and never hear or learn the definition of. The only thing that snapped me out of it is that I finished reciting adjustment session nine. I was still for a moment, before realizing I was done.

  What I wouldn't give for some sleep meds...

  I lazily looked at my surroundings. Nothing changed, except the position of the crow. How much time had I wasted, sitting here in the street, trying to fix my mind? The wind tickled my face and ears, and along with it came a sound. I perked up and turned my face to hear it better. It sounded subtle, and slightly frictiony. A vehicle? A skiff. That could be my crew. But at the same time it could be someone else. I need to move. Oh, but the idea of moving hurt my soul. It needs to be done. Today is *cuss.*

  I hustled to a small alley, where I could easily conceal myself in some grasses and vines that were there. After only a brief wait, the vehicle approached and passed, although on a different street. I recognized it. That vehicle belongs to me, and my crew was manning it. With some effort, I pushed myself to my feet and limped back to the ruined depot. Please still be there when I arrive. The vehicle didn't power down. It wasn't going to stay in the area long. I need to hurry! All this shuffling hurts my shins. I'm so tired, and hungry. Please don't leave me! All I want is a shower, a meal, and a bed. All I need to do to get it is hurry! Only one more alley. No! There's a fence in the way! Stupid thing, I will burn you down if you slow me!

  Some indecipherable voices called out and seconds later the vehicle picked up speed. It's heading my way. They're leaving! No! I won't make it out of the alley in time! I grabbed the fence, which pushed aside but not to the ground. Almost over it. Please look this way! Someone find me!

  I raised my broken hand and at the cost of my thumb, shot a small burst of flame out into the open as a signal. The vehicle grew louder, but I had no way of telling if they saw me or not. But..what if I was wrong? What if that wasn't my crew after all? I stopped hobbling towards the street and leaned against the wall. I stopped nurturing my fresh burn and readied myself to make another if I had to. The nose of the vehicle pulled in view, then stopped. I hardened my face, not sure whether to be respited or defensive. A face came in view.

  Reggie.

  A wave of relief swept over me, accompanied by fatigue, hunger, and a major craving for sleep medicine. My body eased itself and my legs gave out, forcing me to my knees.

  "Yeah! It's her!" He called to the skiff. As he grew closer, he slowed down. "Captain, what happened? You need a doctor or..."

  "Get me back to camp," I uttered.

  He approached to help, but couldn't figure out where he could touch me. He eventually reached for my right arm.

  "No!" I started. The sudden jerk of my arm hurt my hand.

  "I don't...know where or how to help."

  Lori trotted into the alley, but stopped at the sight of me. "Hot *cuss!* You look-"

  "Shut up." I offered my burnt arm to Reggie, but struggled to stand on my own.

  "You sure? I mean, you're kind of burnt there."

  "You think I don't know that?" I sarcastically said.

  He grabbed and helped me to the skiff, slowing down every time I winced, growled, or drew a breath in, even though I told him not to. Eventually I was sitting in the rear passenger seat of the skiff, speeding back towards camp with a concerned crew staring at me.

  Lori gently waved her hand in front of the left side of my face.

  "What are you doing?" I quietly said.

  "Can you see out of that eye?"

  "What are you talking about?"

  "Captain. You have a huge bruise across your face. And the back of your head is caked in blood."

  "What happened last night?!" Wyatt suddenly asked. "We were all there, you disappeared from view, next thing I know the building explodes! And then we can't find your body! Me and Vick ending up having to leave and get our wounds treated. Two of Nicolette's guys are in critical condition! You should be too! What...what happened?"

  I swallowed dryly again. "You talk too loud..."

  Wyatt leaned back. "Really? That's all you've got to say?"

  Though he was piloting, Vick grabbed something and held it out to me. "Here."

  I barely reached over and plucked the protein bar from his hand. After looking at it for a second, I let it drop from my hands to the floorboard.

  "OK, Vick? Hit it," Lori said. "She's not doing good." The skiff picked up speed.

  "I'm fine."

  "Sure. Here, drink." She held a bottle of something up for me to drink but wouldn't let me hold it. It tasted like aloe juice. Lori opened the bar and fed it to me like I just got out of surgery or something. The food felt amazing on my stomach.

  "What's wrong with your hand?" Reggie said.

  "It hurts."

  "Where? Here?" Lori said as she grabbed my arm and began feeling. My whole arm tensed when she touched my hand, and I drew a breath in through my teeth.

  "It's swollen really bad. I feel the break here," she said. Her touch lightened up a lot when I drew a breath.

  "Is that why you're breathing so heavy?" Reggie asked.

  These people...are getting on my nerves. "I'll be fine when I get my bag."

  Lori ran her hand down my back. Before I realized what she was doing, she found the broken ribs, causing me to draw another breath in and growl at her. My crew traded glances with each other.

  "What? You don't think I've been hurt before?" I stated.

  Lori resumed checking my body over, b
ut Reggie and Wyatt just watched uneasily. Vick focused on getting back to camp.

  "What happened?" Wyatt repeated.

  "I ran into a slick and ended up hitting-"

  "A what?" Wyatt interrupted.

  "Don't...interrupt me. A slick. Someone that can move inhumanly fast. She had a metal bar she fought me with which is why I have-" I took yet another sudden breath when Lori found an abnormally tender spot under my burned sides. "DON'T touch me there!"

  My volume startled her. I glared at her a moment before continuing. "I blew the building up, OK?"

  Reggie bolted up. "What?! YOU did that?"

  "Dude! We almost got seriously injured!" Wyatt said.

  Vick just mumbled "Oh wow," to himself.

  "I DID get seriously injured!" I sat up and shouted. The movement blurred my vision. Stupid concussion. It makes me angry.

  Lori calmly got my attention. "Captain, can you walk me through each of your injuries?"

  "Why?"

  "So I can help you."

  "I'll deal with it on my own."

  "What about the back of your head?"

  "Lori!" I warned. It was a sudden movement.

  "Captain!" She stood ground.

  "Girls..." Vick said.

  "What is happening?" Wyatt asked.

  "This is crazy..." Reggie added.