Narrated By Number eighty-six
March 23rd, 2035
I walked for about an hour and a half, at least that’s what it felt like, through a thick back wooded area. I feel nauseated and hungry at the same time. My head feels like it’s going to explode, but I feel no pain from my bullet wounds. Its getting late and I can see the moon through an opening in the sky beyond tree branches and leaves. The sun is on it’s way down by the looks of the dark blue and pink hues to the west. I can also see in the distance a barb-wire fence that seems to be protecting an industrial area with what looks like a power plant. By the time I reach the edge of the trees, it’s dark. I walk the length of the fence and come to a dirt road. I can see another road that is paved and I can see a few dozen eighteen wheelers parked in the lot on the other side of the industrial area I walked through. Beyond these trucks was a main road that led past a what looked like a small farm area. I walk down this paved road towards the north and I finally see houses. I was finally reaching the outskirts.
I keep checking the sky for choppers. I routinely check over my shoulder for vehicles and hide when they drive by. Once I get in town, I make my way through a few alleyways until I made it to main street and I decide to take a look around. I have no idea what to do. Who I could talk to. I need help. I’m so confused. If I could only figure out who and what I am then maybe I could gain some direction. I look over my wounds and I realize that I’ve got to be a sore sight to others. I see a few people walking and I go hide in a dark alley beside a large dumpster that smelled like rotten fish.
“So, did the boss send you a picture of this guy?” One man asks the others.
“Yeah, and in the report it said he’d been shot so he can’t be hard to catch,” one replies. I can’t see them but I can hear that they are close. Right around the corner.
“There’s a bar on the corner over there. Can we take a break?” Asks the third guy. All three of them laugh.
“Man, we’re supposed to be working. You know they track our progress. Gotta call in every god damn hour,” I hear one say. They stop walking right in front of the alleyway.
“Yeah, we get drunk again, we’re back in the slammer. Quasar will call it quits on us,”
“This is a raw deal, man. We get jail time, we get out after we agree to work or the feds, then we gotta catch other low lifes just like ourselves. There’s gotta be another way to earn back our citizenships,” one complains.
“I ain’t no low life, Grant. Fuck you,” Another says.
“What’s up your ass?” Grant asks.
“Cool it,” says the other guy.
As I listen to them bicker I watch a bull dog waddle its way up alley way. He gets about five feet from me. He stares at me and begins to growl. Aw, fuck!
“Let’s just find this guy and cash in.”
“What’s the rush? Whether we catch these bounties or not we’re still stuck with this probation for a few years,” Grant tells them.
The bulldog shows his teeth and starts barking.
“Shit!” I yell.
“What the fuck is going on?” I here one of them say.
I jump up and the bulldog bites at my legs. I shove him away with my right foot and start running.
“Is that him!?” One shouts as they look around the corner of the alleyway.
“I think it just might be!” Another yells.