Lucky and the Killer ✔

Fries

Gray sat in the recliner with his feet on the coffee table and the blade of grass between his teeth. Lucky was asleep on her floor—back in her apartment on Earth. He stared at the walls and thought it was funny that they were gray, too. The television was on, but all it showed was static—particles of white and black mixing into gray. He found himself everywhere, and just like the color, he was neither here nor there.

He clicked the remote and shut the television off. Silence radiated off of the walls to fill in the void. In every way, he had a love-hate relationship with Earth. Everything in the tiny apartment reminded him of his past. From the picture frames on the walls to the cars rushing by outside, he saw it everywhere.

He looked from Lucky on the floor to his arm. He idly picked at a scab there. He dug and pried until it was off and blood sluggishly seeped across his skin again. She looked like his mom. She coughed and clenched her eyes now and then. He was sure she would wake up soon.

He watched her wake up, struggle, and cry, but he couldn't really hear any of it. He felt rigid, but he did watch her until she calmed back down. Her blond hair fell down over the carpet like their mother's. It was that beautiful honey color that had bits of brown mixed into it—like sunsets and caramel. Her hair spread out all over the carpet the way their mother's had when she used to play with them. It was loose, wavy, and all over the place. It wasn't stiff and combed back like a wall—like it had been in the cold, metallic casket.

He let out a sigh and propped a foot on the coffee table so that he could straighten out the laces on his boot. He shook his head slightly, and finally, Lucky's muffled cries popped into his ears. He hadn't wanted to kill King. His mind thought back to the time they fought in the forest—just after they'd returned with Lucky. He'd convinced them both so easily: King and Valerie. He was oh-so mad at Lucky for what he'd done. They were just so blind, and it would have stayed that way. But, she got her memory back. She got her memory back, and she still couldn't remember him. To her, he never existed. He stared at the yarn and magazines in front of him. He really hadn't wanted to kill anyone, but sometimes life dealt you different hands.

"Stand up," he said to Lucky. He pushed himself off of the chair, towered above her on the floor, and rolled his eyes. "We're going out."

"I'm not going anywhere with you," Lucky spat back. He hadn't heard a word she'd said until he stood up. It was like he was some sort of broken robot—like he wasn't even really there. And, if he was, he would always be so far away.

"We're just going to eat," he said. "I'm not going to kill you today...Scout's honor. I kind of want fries. What do you want?"

"To go home," she said.

"You're not home?" Gray asked as he shrugged his shoulders and looked around her apartment.

"I'm not from here," she whispered.

"But, you are," he said and shook his head with a tired smile. "You mean to tell me you remember all of this stuff, but you've forgotten Rachel?"

"Rachel...," she whispered as she thought about what he said. The flashes came like they usually did—in bits and pieces with smiles and lights and a movement here and there that she couldn't interpret.

"Wow, I guess amnesia is no joke," he said. "I guess I could wipe your memories again. It might make keeping you on a leash a bit easier between now and the third moon."

Lucky's head hurt. She squinted her eyes shut. She remembered a lot, but some things were still off in the edges of her mind. She couldn't get it all back, but at least she remembered King.

"I remember that name," she said as she sat up on the floor. Her wrists throbbed in the rope, but other than that, she was pretty much free to speak and walk.