Twelve

Prologue

"And here I thought I was going to die. Guess not, huh? This is my story…" 

I saw the rogue truck coming at us before I felt the impact. My side. Then it hit me… hard. People usually say that in accidents things happen too fast that you can’t almost acknowledge them. Either they all lie or I have a major problem with checking how fast or slow time passes.

I barely had time to scream out to our driver before the truck crashed right into us. Crash. Burn. Shatter. It took my breath, literally. The truck’s force pushed me to the opposite direction from where it hit. Shards of glass were already on top of my hair. If it weren’t for my seatbelt, I probably wouldn’t have even survived. We all stayed there, hurt, barely even able to move while the people around us called the paramedics. Disoriented, with my head hanging on to my side; I didn’t know where I was. Instead I just kept hearing false reassurances from bystanders. I stayed like there nearly for an eternity. Too hurt and in pain to actually open my eyes and look at my surroundings. My chest felt heavy, more than heavy. It hurts. I felt like I had just been punched in the gut, by a really strong fat guy. And finally they arrived; and I passed out.

Bits and flashes are all I remember. It felt like I was in a stretcher, I was moving. At least four or five paramedics were around me, all were looking forward, none of them actually paying attention to me. Wheezing and barely audible I asked,

“Where are my friends?” 

The pain in my chest had increased; it was starting to feel light. At least half of them looked down at me. I didn’t have time to actually hear their response. In less than a minute, I felt faint once again. The last words I heard were of a male doctor yelling,

“We’re losing him!”  Before I fell back into unconsciousness…

That was days ago, I realize now. I woke up in a dark, brown, small room; in the bottom of a wooden bunk bed dressed in a white T-shirt and long, loose, white pants. Not knowing where I was, I started freaking out. What happened? Where are my friends? Are they all right? Am I all right?

Somebody put a hand on my shoulder, almost making me yelp in surprise.

“Take it easy man, nobody’s gonna do anything to you.”

A guy looking no older than my age peered down at me in the dimmed light.

“Where am I? What’s going on? Where are my friends?  I was there just a few moments ago.” I started rambling to the guy.

The guy looked down at me with a questioning expression. He looked just about my age and was wearing the exact same thing I was. “Shh, just relax for a second, alright? You woke up, that’s good. You’re actually one of the last ones, which leaves…” He looked up to the ceiling as if he were trying to remember something. “Two more left. Okay? Just take it easy. What happened?" 

“What do you mean what happened? What the hell is going on? Where am I?” I spoke a bit too loudly; this guy was definitely not helping with my temper. Sadly, patience was not one of my virtues.

Rolling his eyes, the guy asked gruffly, “What’s your name?”

Biting my tongue from other vile remarks, I answered, “Josh Gorman.” 

Smiling, the guy extended his hand. “I’m Damien.” I looked at it blankly. “You’re supposed to shake it.” I’m not an idiot. “Whatever, calm down. Look, there are twelve of us here. Nobody knows how we came here, or what exactly is here anyways. We just, woke up here. You’ve literally been out for days. Nine of us are already awake.”