Chapter 6: Reset or Restart?

I awake to the sound of alarms going off in my ear and my beautiful white room being flushed with red lights. A guy in beefy armor walks in with a rifle, yelling, "Stand down! Get on the ground!" I don't understand why he's yelling at me. I'm peaceful. I carefully and slowly slide out of my bed and stand before him. He yells at me again, with more intensity. I casually walk towards him as he seemingly freezes. I walk to his left shoulder and touch it with the lightest of touches. For some reason, he vanishes. Like he never existed. I stumble back, as my breathing goes funny. I catch my breath and stand. I blink as my room shifts from a clean and untouched room into a padded room with a millions of scratch marks. My stomach twists into noodles as I realize my bed is no longer a bed, but now a pile of dead soldiers. I almost throw up, being forced to swallow my vomit.

My vision spins, as I stumble and catch myself on the open doorway. I stand, as more soldiers come down the hallway. I walk out as they too fail to react to my presence. As soon as they make contact with me they experience some form of medical condition and collapse, spasming out and convulsing violently. I don't understand why I'm unfazed. I hear whispers as I feel an icy chill. I blink and Slenderman is standing before me. I key in on the whispers. I decipher a voice. It's deep and utterly terrifying. Other than my already chilled body, his voice chills me to my soul. "I took and gave. I fixed you." He says, before vanishing. I hear gunfire, as the cold chill goes away.

What did he mean? Am I infected? Or am I healed? I carefully walk through the hall, looking at my hands. I question my hands. My left finger is still missing. I walk into another soldier as he chokes on thin air as soon as he contacts me. I don't understand. I have a layer of clothes between me and his armor which is another layer between me and these now dead guards.

A mustard colored gas enters the hallway. I identify it as mustard gas and I immediately attempt to cover my mouth and nose and shut my eyes. I inhale accidentally and I don't feel any burning. I don't cry when I open my eyes. What's happening to me?

I'm not the brightest person in the world, emotionally and intellectually and I certainly don't pretend to be the smartest. Probably because my intelligence is a directly equivalent to my unpopularity. Unlike what many would assume, I'm very bright and quick to conjure an easy to understand and operate plan of attack from nothing, with relative ease. However, many underestimate me. They assume that I'll overclock and over-think my plan and actions. I throw them all off my trail by acting aloof at times, making them look at me like I'd screw up a plan. But, they're assumptions are easily the furthest lie from the absolute truth of reality. 

"Excuse me, sunny, could you please scan my groceries?" The sweet old female customer calmly asks me. As I forgot, I was at my job. My mind rambles on sometimes. I quickly start scanning the groceries on the conveyor belt and loading them into the plastic bags. Some days I honestly wish that I didn't work at this idiotic store. The sweet old lady paid for her groceries and left without much more of a fuss. I questioned why I was still here, until my dull boss, Garry, strolled up to me from the wall at the other side of the store, and began his business manager talk. The kind you get when you've done a good job, but the manager believes you can do better than that. "Jay, you've been a good employee, but you've got to stop zoning out while customers are in your line. Keep up the good work, discontinue the bad work." Garry said, strolling away, his dress shoes clicking against the ground loudly. Garry is the boss you want to slap, but your afraid to because of his fragility. I actively ask myself in my head why I'm still here until I suddenly snap back to my reasoning of why. Garry gives some very beefy paychecks, despite the job. Jenny and her pink and purple hair extensions walked past me, at the counter, taking off her work uniform, Garry flipping the sign on the door over to closed. I took off my worn uniform, hanging it in the office, awaiting my paycheck from Garry. Time seemed to slow to that of a snail's pace, oddly similar to two children at the teacher's desk, awaiting punishment. With the exception for this being that the punishment is money, and the teacher is my grumpy, dulled and emotionally lifeless boss.

Garry gave me and Jen our paychecks before all of us left the store, Garry locking the door behind us, leaving the store deserted for the upcoming weekend. The sky was a bright orange. Nearby trees absorbing the beautiful orange color in the large and vast sky, indicating Autumn is fast approaching. I live in a small town, so no need to drive my car five blocks for my job. A benefit of walking home is that I get exercise. I start my walk back to my house, a two story building with a guest bedroom and a balcony overlooking the massive forest in my backyard. God, that forest is my personal safe place. No hostile animals have ever show up at my house or anything similar, for that matter. However, most of my close friends love to get drunk and enjoy an amazing game we all came up with, we came to a decision on the name about a week ago, "Hunt". The rules are that we all tie a piece of yarn around our wrist and we all collectively choose a hunter. Usually the Hunter is the person who had drank the most. We all start toward the center of the forest. Someone counts to >)kîlL mē}, in the meantime we all run away from that person. That person becomes the designated hunter, tasked with finding all the other drunks, and obtaining their bracelets by dueling the other through physical means, usually boxing or some form of physical attack to incapacitate the others. Last time we did it, we all got caught by Alex, and I got knocked out. He was always a great hunter.

A loud honk of a car speeding by my face snaps me out of thought, realizing that I almost walked in front of the car. I look back and forth between the intersection and the long street out of town. I step out, right before making a mad dash across the street. I make it to the other side, barely in time before another speeding car comes barrelling down the road. This street has claimed at least three lives. An idiot on his phone, a hipster checking a dating site, and a nerd reading books. I carry on, walking further down the sidewalk. This town's history is fairly new. I am a co-founder, my rich friend, John, jump-started this entire town. Or, at least his parents did, he runs it. His parents bought the ruins of the town, which had an astounding population of over two-hundred, if accounting for the rodents. Around ten or so, only accounting for humans only. They completely bought out and cleared the land, as a farewell gift for their son. We were always fast friends, my hidden intelligence shocked him. And, if it wasn't already obvious, I became friends with the rich kid, because he was rich. We have always had one another's back. He'd always crash at my place after a round of beers or a game of Hunt. I continue down the sidewalk, as a military soldier appears in front of me, pointing his shotgun at me. He yells before shooting me. I collapse to the concrete as he shoots me in the head.

Wait. How am I still thinking? Much less, am I dead? I carefully stand as my chest is bloodied with buckshot. Blood drains from my head into my eye. I reactively close it. The soldier is gone and it looks to be night. As neighboring houses have their lights on and the sky is darker than tar. I pull up my jacket and shirt examining my chest. Although flabby, the buckshot has gone through me. I don't understand how I'm still breathing. I should be dead. Medically, at least. I begin walking, but immediately fall. I force myself to stand, my legs acting like unset gelatin. I walk forward, each legs wobbling like toothpicks. I make my way to my house.

By the time I get there, caution tape lines the area of it and a pink paper is stapled to the door. I walk towards it, realizing my door is rotting. Like it had flooded and I had forgotten to replace my door. The door creeks as I open it, before falling off it's hinges altogether. I can't support it's weight, so it crushes me against the ground. It isn't that heavy from what I remember. I shove it off me as I carefully stand again. Everything has gone to shit. The sofas have fungus and mold all over them. My television is demolished and my counters are either deteriorating or missing entirely.

I stumble to my room, opening the remains of my door. The bed is completely untouched. What? That doesn't make any sense. The walls have water damage and the floor is damper than my ex's cave. I walk over to it as a cold wind blows. As I take my eyes of the bed, I'm in the woods. I see my house in the distance. I have a sudden need to get back. I begin to run as my legs are no longer wobbly. Whispers surround me. I feel the wind blowing on me, forcing me to pick up speed. I begin to sprint as the whispers turn to growls. I disregard and ignore them as I run faster.

Suddenly, something trips me, as I fall into a ditch. It's muddy, icky and most of my clothes, shoes and face are now covered in mud or unsanitary water. I feel a tremendous pain near my ankle as I look down at it. A steel bear trap with sharp and jagged teeth clamps onto my right foot. I hear footsteps. Oh, thank God. Someone can help me. I hear them get closer and closer until I suspect that they're right above me. I hear the smallest of movement, like a mouse. Then, the noise makes an appearance. It's.... Me.

Oh god. What happened to my face?! It's a solid plate. There's nothing there! The other me aim a handgun at me, before creepily waving goodbye. I attempt to make a noise before he can put the trigger, but, I can't and all I hear is a bang.