The Gaming Outpost

Second person, present tense, puzzlement to awe…

“Wait.” You hear. Your head is buzzing, and you’re laying on something stretchy, with a confining tubular edge. A cot.  Why would you be on a cot?

It had been several years since you went camping with…who?  The memory skates out of range, not helped in the least by the buzz in your brain, and the tumult in your stomach.

You decide to do as the voice suggested.  It had seemed friendly, and even hopeful.

A ten count, and then a rustle, and some padding of the feet.

“Hey Rocket.” And you felt a soft cloth, with water and soap, wash your face, and slip across your closed eyelids.

“I…” You began, and then stopped, not sure what to say, but knowing that much hurt your throat.  The voice helped you sit up, and then offered you a tricklet of water from a plastic bottle with a pull-up nipple.

“We need to get gone, old pal. You think you can walk?” You try to open your eyelids, but they just won’t open.  The voice is helping you to your feet, and you do feel some resurgence of strength.

“I-I can’t see.” You hate that your voice is so weak, and that is some sort ot clue.  I hate being weak, or …., but I don’t mind this ‘pal’ helping me.  Who am I?  And no answer comes back from the deep abyss in your mind.  No name.  No, ‘I am me.’.  Just a stone tossed down an infinite well.

You whimper.

“It’s okay. It’s okay. Don’t move.  The docs sewed you up after the battle, and they have a few weird ideas about your type….” He babbled on.

I have a type? What is it?

“But you told me its not needful.”

You grasp on to one phrase out of the running stream of his voice.  It was, in your previous opinion, not neccessary for you to have your eyes shut.  And from the tone of your friend’s voice, he would trust you over the doctors.

“Can, can you help me get my eyes open, friend?”

“Sure…” And the unmistakable sound of a knife being drawn you heard, and then some chilling words.

“Stay very still.”