One Life Left...

One Life Left... (Part 2)

That was a mighty drop. I'm really terrible with maths and the measurements of height so I can't exactly tell you how many feet Zen fell but best believe it was quite a descent.
Shifting nervously between the woman from earlier, a teenage girl who looks to be more or less the same age as me and a well dressed man in a grey suit, seemingly in his late fifties, I stand in the elevator as it descends at a rapid pace towards the bottom.
Obviously Zen and the other jumpers died and the only way to get to them is by use of the transparent, glass elevator, which despite its really fast pace, is taking its time getting to the bottom. It shows you how far the bottom really is.
As we approach the bottom, despite the horror I anticipated, it is not all that bad and definitely not what I expected at all. The physical bottom, that is but not the scene it portrays.
The base is not concrete or rock at all but has extremely thick padding, sponges and trampolines covering a very large radius.
As I previously stated that I'm hopeless with mathematics, you can't expect me to give you an exact estimate of how great the area is but it's really quite an open field.
They really did quite a job turning such a rocky bottom into something like this.
Don't be fooled, though, the fancy padding and trampolines are just for show.
They don't prevent one from dying after the fall.
No matter how many sponges are present, the fall will still kill you, undoubtedly.
The padding is just to prevent there being too much of a mess.
A full on collision with the bare ground would leave something no different to splatter paint art. Horrifying.
The sponges are just to prevent there being too much blood splattered and staining everything.
It's better this way because you free fall at a very rapid pace, collide with the padding, break almost every bone in your body but still die instantly without looking too much like roadkill.
The worst is a slowly cascading blood pool under your lifeless corpse, but without too much blood.
Watching from the elevator as it nears the ground, I look in horror at the number of fresh corpses scattered all over.
Victims of holocausts and genocides look way better than this mass grave I am witnessing.
Is this really what people call fun?
This society needs some serious deliverance.
Sprawled all over are disfigured, bruised corpses, not a single one moving.
Others have broken arms, twisted in such a disturbing manner.
Everything I'm witnessing is really provoking my lunch to come back up.
As the elevator comes to a halt and the doors open slowly to let me and the other perplexed passengers out, I debate with myself whether I have the stomach to carry on any further.
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice six slow moving male figures heading in our direction. They are all surprisingly tall with blue overalls that seem to fit them just perfectly without being too baggy. They approach us carefully, extending their hands and greeting in a very humble manner.
At this point, my mind is still traumatized heavily by the blood bath around me so I don't catch their names or half of what they utter but only that they are the ones who are going to help us identify and move the corpses out of here.
I simply cannot believe that there are people who would consciously  choose this type of occupation. I cannot stand to be around so many dead bodies even for a minute, let alone get paid to always be surrounded by them.
One of the male figures taps me on the shoulder, snapping me out of my thoughts.
In his right hand is a clipboard and a slick, black pen on his left.
"What's their name?" he asks slowly, his tone soft and patient.
As if being distracted by the mass murder scene around me wasn't enough, all my attention is suddenly pulled towards this tall figure before me who seems to pull my stomach further into knots.
I try to let out a sound but nothing leaves my lips, the sweat on my brows also betraying my nerves.
I have to hand it to him, the man is blessed with looks that seem to fry every circuit in my brain.
Tall, light skinned with a lean build, he has my mind wandering aimlessly but on top of it all he has a familiar face. He doesn't look like he's that much older than me,probably in his early twenties.
I don't know whether I think he looks like a certain celebrity or whether he has one of those faces, but I definitely feel like I've seen him before.
"Miss?", that humble voice speaks again, making me almost jump and feeling even more sheepish.
"Sorry, what?" I finally manage to stammer out, my lips losing moisture by the second.
He lets out a small giggle that melts my heart before proceeding to speak again.
"The person you're looking for," he says with a smile on his face, "what's their name? "
"Uhm, why exactly do you want to know her name?" I realize how stupid the question sounds only after the words have parted with my lips. Did I seriously just ask the person who's supposed to help me identify my friend's corpse why he wants to know her name?
Why am I like this?
What is this man's presence doing to me?
"As we've just explained, so we can help you identify her body, of course." he speaks again, still with that charming smile and seemingly unphased by how stupid my question was.
"Oh, right. Khaya Hughes!" I blatter out, my mind saying the first thing that comes to it.
His eyes shift onto the clipboard, his lips slowly repeating the words in a manner that sends slow, tingly goosebumps down my spine and his eyes focused sharply on the clipboard, searching.
"Khaya Hughes, you said? Strange, I can't seem to find that name on the list.", he replies as he looks up from the clipboard in a semi-confused
stare. Even in his confused state he still has me staring and drooling. What is this boy doing to me?
"Miss, are you okay?" he asks after what seems like a minute of silence.
"Look, I'm really sorry," I proceed to speak once I find my voice yet again and snap out of my fantasy , "this place has my mind traumatized and I can't think straight. I don't know if I'll be able to actually walk amongst all these bodies to identify my friend's."
Obviously that's only half the truth, it's not like I'm going to admit to him that standing before him is the other reason my knees are so weak and every brain cell fails to be operational. "Don't worry about that, that's why you have us." he speaks once again.
"Each person was previously tagged before jumping so the body has at least 2 tags to help identify them, which is why all we need is their name, but the issue is that I can't find your friend's.  There's no Khaya Hughes on the list."
As soon as he says the name, I just want the ground to swallow me because I realize that I had given him my name and not my friend's.
This magnificent masterpiece standing before me is making me a prisoner of my own thoughts and emotions, trapping me in a state of sheer body chemistry that seems to be drowning out every small ounce of common sense in me.I can't think straight for any longer than 5 seconds.
I wonder what he's thinking right now.
He's probably not surprised that a teenage girl is losing herself just from being in his presence. I can imagine at least every one he deals with has this reaction towards him, hence why he's so relaxed about it.
"I'm sorry, yet again," I say sheepishly, "I gave you the wrong name, that's my name. My friend's name is Zenzele Mukheni. "
"Don't be sorry." he says softly, the smile still plastered on his face,"I understand what this place does to people and the trauma. It's okay."
Yeah, sure. It's this place that's stirring the butterflies in my belly and making me lose it.
"I found your friend's name on the list. We'll round the bodies up and identify your friend You'll have her back in no time, assuming it is a her?"
"Yes, it is a female.I don't really have any male friends. "
"Oh, alright good then. At least I won't have any competition."
Wait, what?
What competition?
What does this guy mean?
Obviously, I don't have the guts to ask. The questions don't leave my lips and all I can do is watch as the figure slowly walks away.
The stride is slow and sexy, each step as if he he's afraid to hurt the ground yet commanding dominance and respect at the same time.
It's not that often that I have a reason to bite my lower lip but I do it subconsciously without even realizing as I watch him walk away slowly, feeling forlorn with each step that he takes away from me.
"Oh, and by the way," he says turning around for a split second, "you have such a beautiful name. I'm guessing you were too dazed to catch mine so I'll repeat it for you. My name is Menzi."
Before I even have a moment to process that, he smiles once again and carries on with his mission.
Menzi...
I can already imagine it slowly leave my lips given the chance to moan it out.
Still being a virgin and having being raised conservatively, it's only second nature to admonish sexual and raunchy thoughts as soon as they enter my mind but not this time. I just stand there and fantasize without seizing, equally surprised by what my mind can conjure up.
I don't know for how long I stand frozen in that same spot but the lady from the elevator's touch is what brings me back to reality.
"Are you okay? You look lost. " she asks with a genuine look of concern on her face.
"Yeah I'm fine." I reply with a big smile plastered across my face as I regain my composure
Just fine.
Maybe there is a silver lining to this day after all.

End of Part 2...