What Was Missing

Three: -Maximilian-

Note: This section takes place a few minutes before the last section's end. Maximilian Yellowhood begins with processing memories from a younger age.

I'm right outside an octagon of glass. Octagon, I think, like from school. I grin. I actually do remember things from school! Pressing my curious hands against the window, I see Mummy, and six other workers settling into reclining chairs. My face is planted into the glass, scrutinizing every movement. The chairs remind me of a dentist's place, or a doctor's office. They scare me. Seven adults. Eight chairs. Eight hats. Seven heads. Why? I frown. What is this?

Another, older girl is next to me, kneeling on the floor. Her mother is in a chair behind us, along with some parents. Looking around, there are a few other kids. One is named Lily, I remember. She is unnervingly pale, with straight, pitch-black hair. The one next to me is Madeline. Curlier hair, brown and gold. And that's Jacob. Jacob, from school! I wave to him, but he doesn't respond. He's staring at a blond-haired woman, pulling on her headset. That must be his mom. The blond woman lays back in her recliner, and waits for something. I look away, back at the other kids. Maddy is thirteen. Jacob, like me, is ten. Lily... I don't know. I yawn, and look back at my Mummy.

She looks worried, I notice. She's pulling out a needle, supporting my theory that this is a doctor's office. Looking at the other adults, they all have similar needles in their hands. Are they all doctors? I thought that Mummy was exploring, going on an adventure.

Suddenly, they seem to notice that they should do something with the needles. I look away. I always hate shots. When I look back, my eyes widen. "Hhhh?!" I exclaim. Jacob makes a similar noise. Madeline is talking to her mom, and seems not to see what I see.

Mummy's eyes have turned pitch black. All of the adults in the octagon's eyes seem to follow suit. Then, the worst part comes. They scream. Mummy said that the glass was sound-proof. Well, she was wrong. The screams seem to emanate from all directions, increasing, increasing, and the glass shatters. The other parents in the room I'm in rise from their seats. Suddenly, though, the workers fall back, and light fills the room. Too bright. Too bright! Too bright! I close my eyes, and when I open them, it is done. They are out cold. They are gone.

Ding. Back in reality. I let out a puff of air, and the elevator doors open. A girl walks in, with brown-gold hair. Tannish skin. She looks a few years older than me, and stress lines her brow. I can recognize stress signs easily. I know them like a friend. My biological mom and dad had them, when they were in the car accident. My mum doesn't, though. Her face is completely relaxed, in her Iss-induced coma.

The girl stares me in the eyes. Studying me, I guess. Pretty unnerving. Quickly, she looks away and the doors close. "Hey," I say. No response. Ok, trying again. "I'm Max." Finally, she nods. "Maddy." A wave of deja vu startles me, and then I remember. She was at the Iss Exploration tower. Does she remember...? Tentatively, I ask her something risky, giving where I'm going. "...Have you heard about the Iss Accident?" She swivels around to face me, and squints. She seems to do battle with herself, then replies. "No, I haven't." She turns away, and goes silent once more. I put my hands in the air. One more try.

"My mom was one of them," I comment sadly. Jackpot. Her eyes widen, but she tries to mask it. Stuttering, she replies, "I'm sorry." The elevator slows down and stops, and she climbs out. A second later, she looks back once more, suspicious.

"Where are you going?" she asks, frowning. "This is the bottom floor." I tilt my head a bit, and smile. "To the basement." As the door closes, I see her visibly shudder. I begin go down, and can't help but laugh a bit. A few months ago, I would've pressed all the buttons, or do some other silly prank as soon as she got in. It's surprising how fast you can mature in a period of stress.

A low hum fills the room as the elevator descends once more. I wait a bit, and

my transport slides to a stop. I step out, and survey the room. Moldy, concrete walls adorn an aged, dirt-covered flooring. A solitary door resides across from me, dark oak rimmed by white. Tapping my foot, I keep scanning, until I finally find what I want. In a dark corner, a wooden box is mostly covered in shadows. As I walk towards it, faded red lettering becomes visible: ISS PROJECT HEADSETS.

Just what I need.

Prying the lid from the dusty crate, I grunt as the thin staples on one side break. I let out a breath and fall back for a second. I have to admit, I'm not really in shape. After catching my breath, I brush my hands on my rugged jeans, and resume. The top finally disconnects, and I breath a sigh of relief. All eight headsets are still here.

When the Iss Project was cancelled and the lawsuits had begun, the tower was sold to a hospital company. Apparently, they kept all of the equipment. I grab a tablet and three headsets, in case one or two don't work, and walk back towards the elevator.

<> <> <>

Running through the asphalt streets towards my self-claimed home, I occasionally have to dodge a person or two. I hate that. Each time I come near to touching one of them, I get an angry glare that makes me resent them even more. That may sound odd, so let me clarify. They don't look at me angrily so much as... well, looking at me like dirt.

Fancy house after fancy home, I dash until a cramp begins to form in my side. Slowing down, I breathe heavy and grab under my rib. As the pain subsides, I keep on running, the barely cloudy sky blurring like the overly green grass. My life has been like this, sprinting in every waking moment, ever since my mom went into the Iss.

After she... left... I was to be sent back to an orphanage. My only living relatives to my adoptive mom were my aunt and uncle, and my uncle was an alcoholic. Neither of them wanted me anyway. So, the night before I was supposed to go to the orphanage, I ran away.

Note: Though Maximilian doesn't indicate it anywhere in this section, his story switches into the past in the next paragraph. He does, however, adopt past-tense. This can arguably be called an indicator, but it is a controversial subject.

After being temporarily given a bed at a nearby two-star hotel room, I had begun to climb out a grimy window. I was on the fifth floor, but I had to get out. I've been in an orphanage once, and being there again, for me, was not an option. Lifting up my head, I saw only two options. Neither were savory.

A large tree reached up to what looks like the eighth floor, and it had a multitude of branches. It's dark brown bark looked stable enough, and so my first option was to jump over and grab for my life. My second... was to fall. I didn't have much of a choice. Pushing up my window until it clanks against the top, I readjusted for optimal window-sill placement, and for a second, I closed my eyes. A soft breeze blew on my cheeks, and the brisk spring air felt good around me. It would be so easy to fall...

No. I couldn't let go of my life that easily. Opening my eyes with a jolt, I clenched my fists and breathed in sharply. I was ready. Adrenaline shooting through my veins, I leaned back, then thrust forward in a leap of faith. Time seemed to stand still for a second, and my eyes widened. Then, it was over. Scrambling for a handhold on the branch I barely grasped, I heaved myself over and caught my breath. Pushing myself to my feet, I hugged the trunk and lowered my right foot onto the lower branch beside it. Testing it, it was sturdy.

In this tentative manner, I inched my way down the gnarled bark until I reached about a five feet off of the ground. I released, and pain shot up my legs. Crouching down to ease the queasy feeling in my stomach, I gradually pulled myself to my feet and winced. Then, I was off.

I sprinted down the darkened road, glancing up occasionally at the pitch-black sky, until I found what I was looking for. The old, abandoned barn.

My new home.

<> <> <>

Back in the present, I slow down a bit and take a breather. Hands on my knees, I pant for a moment before slowly looking up. I've hit the edge of town, where the road blisters and civilization ends. Almost there. Running at full speed once more, I turn around corners and speed down cracked roads until I finally reach the Barn. Swinging open one of the dark red doors at the front of my home, I dash in and slide to a stop. I collapse onto an old, wrecked bench, and slump back. Breathe in, breathe out. My pulse slows down along with my heart, and I start to pull myself to my feet. Failing, I decide to take a rest. When I awaken, it'll be time. Time to enter the Iss.

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