What the Shuck

Ch. 1 - Headache

So, this is gonna be just a teensy bit different from what The Fever Code said, but other than that, everything else is completely the same as the books.

Pain

Throbbing pain

Like someone playing with a drill inside my skull. The loud grinding of metal-on-metal certainly didn't help. And the air...stale and dusty.

Suddenly, the ground lurched, bouncing my head, which came back down and collided with something cold and hard. The floor. More pain washed over me. I couldn't hold in the quiet groan and hiss that followed.

"Oh, hey, you're up" A deep-ish voice came from somewhere to my left. They only sounded mildly interested.

I lifted myself up to my elbows, but almost immediately regretted it; the pounding in my head doubled. I winced, bringing a hand up to touch my forehead.

My hair felt wet, and when I retracted my hand, the substance between my fingers was sticky. Blood. But I couldn't see it. I couldn't see anything in the darkness of the moving room. I hoped my eyes would adjust soon, if at all.

"What's wrong? You a mute?" The voice from a second ago spoke up again. It sounded like a boy. I gritted my teeth and sat up fully, "No. I can talk just fine, thanks."

Something about my voice felt weird, not like I would've imagined it sounding.

But haven't I heard it a million times before?

Then it hit me: I couldn't remember anything.

Y/n...Is that my name? Seems like it.

It came from out of nowhere. And that was the only thing about myself that I could remember. I didn't understand how that could be possible. My brain was functioning fine, trying to calculate my surroundings and predicament.

I had knowledge about the world and how it works. Pictures of nature, lazy Saturday afternoons, and dreary Monday mornings flashed in my brain, but I drew a blank when it came to faces and names. I didn't know where the sudden burst of memory had come from, either.

But that was all it gave me; I still didn't know how the heck I had gotten in this moving metal box—or cage—or lift—whatever it was. I didn't know how I split my head open. I didn't even know my last name, or who my parents were.

"Remembering things?" The boy asked. The way he said it was like he had already been through the same process. I nodded, then realized he probably couldn't see it, "Yeah."

Silence fell, again. But I had questions. "How long have we been in here?"

"Dunno."

"When did you wake up?"

"Maybe a few minutes before you did."

"Do you know where we're headed?"

"Nope."

"Does your—"

"You sure like to ask questions, don't you?" He snapped. Even though his annoyed tone didn't phase me much, I still quieted down. This guy seemed to know about as much as me.

A few moments passed, the only noise being the rattling of chains, which I assumed were the things pulling us up. There was a slight, oddly comforting, sway to it. Though I suppose that would be miserable for someone with motion sickness. I wondered if the boy had motion sickness?

"Are you alright over there?" I asked.

"Aside from waking up with no memories and an unconscious girl in a moving, pitch black room?" He responded sarcastically. I gave a dry chuckle, "Fair enough."