T W O.
K e n t.
"Who's there?" A voice calls out into the night, "I'm armed... Come out with your hands up...Or I'll shoot!"
Kent gets up from his awkward position on top of a stack of ripped, old tires. He was currently in a junk yard and now it seemed the owners had noticed his presence.
Time to find a new place, he thinks to himself. Although Kent spent his days outside of the yard, exploring the city and trying to find food, he came back to his bed of tires every night. Now he would have to look for another space to rest his head.
He hears someone's footsteps approaching, and quickly ducks down behind the tires. When the footsteps stop and start to retreat, Kent allows himself a relieved sigh. Then, a head pops up above him over the ledge of the tire stack. Startled, he cries out and scrambles back. The person climbs off the tires and stands next to him, towering over his crouching figure.
"I think I know you." The girl says, offering him a hand up. He looks at her warily; eyes narrowed, but can't deny that he too recognises her. However, he isn't sure where he knows her from. The girl speaks again, hand still outstretched, "Did I scare you? 'Cause if I did, I didn't mean to. I was just hoping to get rid of anyone that might give me any trouble."
"How do you know I won't give you any trouble?" He questions, eyes trained on her face.
"It's more like I'm hoping you won't." She says, "But if you do, I'm a black-belt in karate."
He ignores her hand and gets up, realising how much shorter she is. "How old are you, anyway? Eleven? Twelve? Shouldn't you be asleep or something?"
She glares at him, indignantly, "I'm sixteen."
"Sixteen? You can't be that old. You're like five feet tall." Kent says, starting to turn and leave.
"Actually, I'm five two." She states, following him, "Hey, slow down! I can barely keep up."
"That's the point."
"What?" She half jogs, half walks, but is persistent in following him, "Look, please... I don't remember anything and you're the first person I've actually recognised."
Kent stops, spinning around to face her, "You lost your memory, too?"
"Yeah, and all I remember is my name. Well, I didn't remember that right away. It took some time and like reminders. Someone said something about emeralds and it got me thinking. It sounded so close to something I should know. And then, when I looked up and saw the sun, the same thing happened. I thought about it for a while and then it just came to me. Emerson. That was my name. And once I said it out loud, my last name came, too. Peak."
"Is this a joke or something?"
"What?"
"I swear if you're just doing this to get on my nerves-"
"Doing what?"
"Pretending you lost your memory, too!"
"Why do you keep saying 'too'?"
"Because I lost my memory! And just discovered what my name is!"
"Stop shouting! Why would you think I'd lie? What would I even get out of it? Come on, Kent. Think logica-"
He grabs her shoulders roughly, "How do you know my name?!"
"Let me go!" she shouts, twisting around until he does. She takes a shaky breath, and whispers, "I'll tell you, just let's sit down somewhere. It's a long story... Okay?"
Kent nods and she leads him to one of the many rusted and rundown trucks in the junk yard. They sit on the hood of the truck; Kent with his feet dangling and Emerson with her knees pulled up, her head resting on top. Then, she starts her story.
"I woke up in the back of one of these trucks, around a week or so ago. It was weird, realising I couldn't remember anything. I tried to remember how I got there or what happened before, but it was like there was no before. Like my life had started then and there. It was a really confusing feeling. I couldn't understand anything.
"Anyway, I think I fell asleep after thinking about nothing. I had weird dreams while I slept. Really weird. I felt like they were actual events. Then, when I woke up, I thought they might be memories. But that didn't feel right. Later, when I decided to explore my surroundings, the same things I dreamt about actually happened. Like there was this cat that jumped out of a garbage can and tried to scratch me and then when I left the junk yard, there was the same family I saw in my dream, and an old woman offered me a bun from her bakery and I saw children playing tag. It was scary. I thought I'd gone insane or something.
"I went back to the yard that night and dreamt some more. This time they actually were memories. I dreamt about this huge building and I was taken inside. There was this man as well. He was an old man and he gave me the chills. I don't remember much because it was only in bits and pieces but I kept seeing other people, too. That's how I know you. You were in that dream and in every dream after that. Once I remembered my own name, yours was the next I tried to remember. It took some time but finally I saw into the past again and when I awoke, I knew.
"Last night, I saw myself walking towards the tires; into your part of the yard. I didn't see any further, but the next day I decided to go there. In my dream it was dusk, but I couldn't wait to see what was there. I came to the tire stack and nothing happened. So I waited. When night finally came, I walked to the tires and then the rest you know."
Kent didn't answer at first. In fact he stayed really quiet for a really long time. He thought over and over about the girl next to him. He had no idea what to think about the story she had just told him. Whether it was the truth or a lie, he couldn't tell. But he hadn't told anyone his name and she knew. Though, she could be part of the people who had originally taken his memories from him. Maybe she was being honest and was just one of the victims. Or maybe he was hallucinating because he hit his head. Whatever the case, he didn't know.
Emerson Peak, he thought, why do I feel such a strong connection to that name? She had dreams about me. Could I be a part of her past? Is she the key to getting back my memory? Does that mean what she said could be true? Kent didn't know what to think. This girl sounded like she had some kind of sixth sense. So he decided not to think and to follow his instincts instead. Swiftly, he hops off the hood of the truck and starts to walk towards his tires.
"Hey! Where are you going? Aren't you going to say anything?" Emerson shouts, clambering after him.
"I'm going to sleep."
"What? Why?"
"I'm tired and I need my energy for tomorrow."
"Why? What's tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow we're going to talk about everything and anything we remember, and discuss all of your dreams."
"Really? You believe me? Alright!" She laughs a little in relief, "So, I'll see you in the morning, then?"
And he nods, turning to head back to his bed of tires.
