We See What We Want

PROLOGUE

FEBRUARY 2ND, 1984

THURSDAY

3:45 PM

He sat on the left side of the small chair and leaned back. The front leg was missing and it was the best chair in the waiting room by a long shot. The walls were covered with black and white lined wallpaper that, if looked at long enough, would allow the viewer to see through time. The carpet was gray but had small strips of purple that were more or less as rare as four leaf clovers. Above him, a large round clock was nailed to the wall. Only the minute hand was still clicking in an endless race. He pulled up his sleeve and looked at his own watch. "Ma'am," he called to the young woman eating her lunch behind the large metal desk. "Am I too early for the interview?"

Her eyebrows raised in silent question and she looked up at him for the second time in their time together. A long slice of lettuce hung from her red lips, seasoning dripping from the fresh vegitable and onto her desk. She swallowed then looked down at the  schedule on her clean desk. She held up a mud and oil stained finger as she took the last bite of her lunch.

"It says here that your meeting with Mr.Grayson was two hours ago." She stated the pen he had signed in with only three hours before marking his name on the paper. "Sir you are two hours late for your meeting."

FEBRUARY 2ND, 1983

THURSDAY

5:03 PM

Hours later he was on his bike, the ancient wheels gliding over the dark red sand that covered what once was the highway. He pedalled slowly, afraid of the scrap of metal he called a bike crumbling beneath him. The sun hung low in the west, dark storm clouds filled with refreshing rain hovering ahove it. The moon had already begun to rise in the darkening sky, a slight glow causing the atmosphere to appear red.

The thundering sound of a running motor slowly grew clearer in his ears. He didn't know whether to take it as a sign of hallucinations or truth in the vast wasteland. He looked back, a small blue car was speeding its way down his lane. The driver either had the intention of frightening him or ending his life. Along with the small chance they could possibly be blindly running away from an unknown danger.

In newfound panic, he pushed the pedals as fast as the rusted chain would allow. The old unattended metal screeched in mechanic pain, a small cloud of dust whisked behind him. Sand and cold air brushed into his eyes, the savage pain and grittiness making the battle to keep his open eyes unbearable. The world went dark, sunlight still trying to reach his eyes. He thrust the handlebar to the left to get off the road, out of the way of the car. His arms and shoulders jarred as the bike hopped off the cemented road.

Twigs and small animal bones crunched under the wheels, the once smooth ride becoming painful for both the bike and him. Suddenly the front wheel jolted to a stop, propelling him off and onto the ground. Pain shot throughout his arm and side, broken glass finding it's resting place in milliseconds.