Unstoppable: Revitalized

06

I'm back here. Well, wherever 'here' is, anyway. Is this what people see when they die? It must be. I must be dead. Like, real dead this time. Maybe I'll pass on, but what if there's nothing after this? No, it can't be. There has to be more, there just has to be. Come on, let me pass. I've had enough, I've done enough. Let me go. Please, let me go.

The same white orb I'd seen before suddenly slammed itself into my irises, pulling me straight back into reality. Blinking the crusting feeling of death out of my face, I found myself tied, the rope once used to bind me now reeling itself down, and fast. Suddenly, the floor met my cheek, smashing against teeth and bone, my frail structure collapsing over like a sack of potatoes. Instead of immediately panicking like I'd done before, I simply took a seat, aiming to wait fr an easier chance to escape.

My next visitor wasn't 'The Boss,' but rather two people, both men and, yet again, both average. I must've been sat there for hours, fidgeting the seconds away. I tried the cabinet doors, but they wouldn't budge, even when I threw my whole weight on one of them. The lantern had gone, darkness claiming the room and my vision once again, the switch for the light seeming impossible to find. The only thing I could notice besides the absence of information was the absence of warmth: It was fucking cold down there, the coldness digging into my skin and worming through my bones, keeping my joints  lot stiffer than I'd like.

If that man is in here, he'll kill you. If The Boss walks in and finds you sniffing around, you'll die. If that door is locked and you try to head towards it, he'll make it hurt. Just wait, see how this all plays out.

The two gentlemen joined me moments later, both joking about seeing a frozen man on the ceiling, and immediately stopping once they saw me sat on the floor, hands in front of me. As soon as they saw I was mobile, one drew a pistol from his waistband, my head in his crosshairs. Upon seeing this, I surrendered, both hands going above my head and my gaze staring at the floor as they approached. They didn't do much besides take a sample of blood and watch me for a while before disappearing. The gun never went away until they stood at the door, a safe enough distance away from me. No words were exchanged between us. They came and went, as if they didn't even need to be there in the first place.*

It took a while, but 'The Boss' did finally appear, the same man who'd ordered my 'death' in the classroom. His gaze was still just as cold and distant as it was then, an unmoving, stoic expression as he came into contact with me: Soaked in my own blood, freezing cold, chattering teeth, you name it. I wouldn't have been surprised if parts of my body had succumbed to frostbite. The sense of power shifted: As he stepped in the room, the place seemed to suddenly become colder and darker.

That's how much power he had over me.

Callum, the man I had the unfortunate displeasure of meeting, was only a few steps behind him, his arms rubbing his sides as if it would stop the penetrating heat. He wore the same clothes, letting me know that if it had passed, it wasn't too much.

"So, your still alive. And that's impressive, considering you've died twice..." He glared slightly, as if only just noticing the fresh blood "No, three times. I assume two times simply wasn't enough?"

The only response he got was the chattering of my teeth as I tried desperately to think of some sort of plan.

"You can relax. You aren't dead, nor are you going to die. Nusanda is still alive, and so are you. And, by some unknown reason, no one actually knows what happened to either of you, so we're choking it up as an extreme case of vandalism on school property. And that's the story you are going to follow too. You being wheeled out? You were hurt badly by a group of hoodlums. On top of that, once we let you out of here, you are to go home, clean yourself up, and come back to school the next day like normal. If you are not present, which I myself will be checking, you'll have either Callum or myself on your doorstep. And we won't knock." After saying this, he simply walked out, handing a note to Callum. He waited until The Boss was out of sight, read it, and grinned, his expression spelling out how utterly fucked I was.

The bag was taken off at my street, the only thing immediately visible was the sudden collision of my skin and tarmac as I was thrown out of a van, it squealing off so fast I barely got enough time to turn around and see Callum waving out of the side. Not wasting any time, I dragged my lifeless body to the door, fumbled the keys, and let myself in.

Even if I do chase after them, what on earth am I going to do? I'm one guy, there's no way I could stop them. They'd just hurt me all over again. I'm alive, I'll take it.

No matter how many times the door opens, I expect someone there: My family, a lover, even a kid, his little arms outstretched to show he wants love and attention, yet every single time there's nothing. My hopes were always crushed. My keys were flung against the windowsill, my brain forgetting to lock the door as I practically crawled into the living room, my boy finally giving out from stress. As soon as my head hit the sofa, it was as if someone had removed my soul, as I finally found rest.

"Adam! We're home!"

The house was empty, quiet, dead. I felt younger, my body less stressed and more flexible as I got up off the sofa, ruffling my hair and checkin my ears.The lights suddenly refused to work as I headed towards the kitchen, bumping into a few walls until I hit the top of a drawer. After fishing around for a torch, I flicked the end, generating a small bulb of light. Shining it around, I found nothing out of the ordinary as I continued to push through, then the hallway darkness claimed my torch, leaving me with no light to stumble through my house. Using my hands to feel, I came across nothing, except the supple touch of faded wallpaper and wood. I kept searching, pulling, pushing forward.

I heard it, I know for sure I did.

And yet there was nothing.

I climbed into bed son after, only sleeping fitfully as the night slowly changed towards dull daylight. My alarm rang loud and forcefully, practically taking my ears off as I shook awake, my fist slamming the 'off' button. Groaning, I picked myself up and followed the routine I always did: Shower, breakfast, teeth, clothes, shoes, lock door, school. The walk there was slow, my brain keeping pace with the movement of my feet as I trudged on, my mind so stuck inside of itself the day suddenly passed by.

How do i even explain what happened? I can't be immortal. Maybe this is all one bad dream? No... I felt pain. I know I did. I know what I felt, I know what happened, but still, how-

My thoughts were suddenly cut short as my vision went dark, immediately fading into grey as I fell to the floor, concussed and unconscious, unsure as to what would happen next.

I've really got to stop fainting.

I can't remember how it happened, but I woke up, not in my house, but instead face down in the room I'd been executed in. My body, feeling miles more drained than most days, forced itself into a sitting position. I glanced around haphazardly, having little to no strength left in me, expecting to see the classroom in tatters, the same table that ruined me to be in fragments all over. But instead, nothing. It was as if the room had never changed. The desks sat neat, teacher's table at the front, overlooking it all. Not a mark. I ran my hands over the floor and was surprised to find how clean they were after.

Someone came in here and cleaned the place.

Tears started to form in my eyes. Now I truly had nothing: They'd think I was crazy. They'd think life finally got to me, a kid with no parents, no nothing. I wanted to stand, to run through the door, kicking and screaming, but some form of invisible, fiery rope seemed to keep me in place.

I had no proof... Except... The bruises, cuts, everything on me! There must be something left!

I put my hands in my vision, glossing over my chest whilst checking my body: Nothing. Besides my clothes being different, Jeans and a classic white button up under my blazer, my body looked the same. No marks, no scrapings, nothing. Just the same, normal, pale, sunlight-resistant skin.

Now, either I got extremely lucky with how I hit the stairs, or my skin is made of titanium. Either way, I had nothing. I stayed for quite a while, watching minutes tick by as I worked through the last few hours of what happened. Nothing came to me, besides leaving and going home, and calling the police. Or the SAS, or Mi5. Or someone. But just as I worked up the courage to stand up, the door swung open.

And in walked Callum.

Wielding a baseball bat.

(*Editors note: In the first draft of 'Unstoppable,' there's a chapter dedicated to them both, however I find the chapter to be filler, and honestly boring to read.)