Breed and Burn: Faceless

Chapter 2 - The Other Side

It was the hollow whine and metal clicks and displacement of air which finally jerked Axel awake. Whilst rousing, he felt the odd coolness of the air and something hard beneath his face and body. It took him several moments to realise he was lying on a wooden floor, face down. His muscles felt weak. Hunger was a ravage beast inside of him, appearing in surges. His mouth was as dry as bone and his insides felt like gravel. His thoughts went back to the white space. He wanted to think about it, but the sounds of soft breaths and deep groans filled his ears.

With the little strength he could muster, Axel lifted his head up from the floor and glanced around. Giving away, he fell down from the sudden lurching movements from the ground. Instantly, he rushed to pick himself up and balanced his feet beneath him.

He looked to be in what seemed to be a train compartment only it was much larger and instead of the normal seats there were a variety of armchairs, stools, benches, circular tables and even woven chairs which hung from the ceiling by at thick, rope. The only way he could tell it was a train carriage was the clicking sound of the wheels against the tracks. The crack between the red curtains that was drawn over the window cast a sinister glow, even though the window revealed plummeting darkness. As he turned slowly on the spot, the sound of the grimy inner workings of an engine twisted into his head.

This wasn't what really surprised him, though. It was the people occupying the seats and tables and the floor. Slumped against the array of furniture was about twenty boys, who all seemed to be waking up after a long, restless coma with no clue as to how they got there. When he saw their faces an inward explosion of fear, instability, and anguish twisted and pulled until everything burned. Most of them looked to be teenagers. The oldest person in the room couldn't have been more than twenty.

Confusion streaked their faces for a few moments before immediately becoming fear. A few of their faces paled considerably. Others looked on the verge of death with obvious dark circles, colourless skin, and bloodshot eyes. Some were covered in bruises and scars and looked like they had just put up a good fight. Others had already stood up, just like him, not sure if they should move. Axel's hands shook at his sides whilst he took all of this in. The carriage felt oddly cold and gloomy almost like invisible chunks of ice were floating in the air. Each second felt like an eternity.

"What the bloody hell," said Axel breathlessly but more to himself. He felt dazed at hearing his own voice for the first time in his salvageable memory. It didn't sound quite right, higher than he expected.

The air was so tense it could be cut with a knife. A desolate whimper came from somewhere in the room, but Axel couldn't tell from where. Someone was crying. Something inside of him crushed.

Boys all around him were slowing getting to their feet with similar reactions to his own. No one knew what to do. Axel couldn't remember how he got there and judging by the looks of the others they didn't either.

My name is Axel...and I'm sixteen, maybe seventeen...

That was all he could remember. Sure, he remembered things like watching water run over a cliff, swimming and learning how to ride a bike but those things were like the basic starter packs of memories. They weren't his. He could picture images of wind blowing through trees, downpours of rain, polluted air, and busy city roads.

People flashed through his mind, but Axel showed no recognition of them. They were replaced with blurs of meek watercolour. The faces of blurred people that did manage to flash through his empty mind were faceless, nameless, and characterless. Some were tinged with hate and spite whilst overs felt warm and close.

Despite this, Axel remembered that he used to be someone who preferred to be alone and loved listening to the sweet sound of silence when those rare moments presented themselves. He remembered that he used to always say that he was alone, not lonely though he wasn't sure to who. Maybe his parents. Knowledge of history and facts flooded through his brain. Yet parts that made up real memories were gone. He couldn't remember how he learned those facts.