[Part 1: The Awakening]
Light—it flooded through the cracks of his eyelid. It burned through his eyes, hammering nails through his brain. Eyes that were like led vying to fall of its sockets. Michael groaned and closed his eyes shut. He had never before believed simple light could be so painful, so uncomfortable.
The last thing he remembered was walking home with his older brother and sister, who were twins. Not to mention that morbid friend of his sister, Nairobi. After that, his memory was filled with fog, as if he had lost time in a way he could not understand or fathom. And now he had just crawled out of a compartment filled with a slimy substance that smelled like sugarcane juice and somewhat tasted like it as well.
Opening his eyes to understand where he was and what was happening had been a mistake.
The place smelled old. It smelled of dust and decay. The smell didn't bother him. It was a different smell from what he was used to, but in a familiar sort of way.
He made a decision to do something rather than do nothing.
With his eyes closed, Michael moved about on all fours, trying to get the feel of area, hoping to figure out where he was.
Every time he moved, his joints protested in agony, as if he had not moved them in decades. The pain did not stop Michael, though. The fear was far too prevalent in his mind for him to let it stop him.
He moved and moved, but he found nothing. Nothing at all that told him where he was. The room was empty except for the whatever compartment he had crawled out of. Moving randomly wasn't helping. He picked a direction and walked at a snail's pace with both his hands upraised. It didn't hurt to be too careful. Michael didn't want to hit something and hurt himself.
Deep down, Michael knew none of this would help him figure out where he was. But doing something, keeping himself busy, did help in a way. Moving about kept dangerous thoughts at bay, thoughts and other emotions he didn't want to feel.
He walked until he reached the wall. He decided to circle the entire room, one hand on the wooden wall, another on the wooden floorboards. Michael paused. Wooden wall? Wooden floorboards? No, that was ridiculous and impossible. Illegal, in fact. It could not be true.
Michael traced his fingers across the wall and across the floor. Just to make sure, he even knocked them a few times. It was definitely wood. How could that be? On Mars, the law about owning or even building a wooden structure was taken very seriously. Even owning the wooden furnishings was a thing of rich and privileged. And even then, you'd need a proper licence to own them.
Was he perhaps trapped in some kind of illegal holding of smugglers?
Gods, what have I gotten myself into? Even associating myself to a place like this can land me into three years of juvie confinement.
No, no, no, he could not have that. He liked his life as it was. Michael looked around wildly for anything, for a escape route. But the light that attacked his eyes was too much. He closed them shut, tears running down his cheeks. He did not wipe his tears away. What was the point? He was already covered in slime. Tears wouldn't change anything.
Calm down, Michael, and think about this rationally.
Michael took in a deep breath.
How could I have gotten myself into the holding of some smugglers anyway? This has to be a prank from my sister. Yes, that has to be it.
He nodded to himself, feeling his body for any sign of wounds. Fortunately, there were none.
She must have drugged me, and that has muddled my memory and sense of touch. A prank that went a bit too far and left me covered in slime and ... naked, apparently.
Even if Michael told himself so, he did not believe it was a prank from his sister. The idea of his sister drugging him and leaving him as he was now sounded far more ludicrous to him than a holding of smugglers. Yes, he and his sister constantly played pranks on each other. And they had their share of fights and disagreements. And yes, they were rivals in some way, but they did not hate each other so.
She would not go as far as to drug him, would she? No, she would not. Besides, their family was barely richer than a beggar. They were practically destitute.
Pulling himself out of his thoughts, Michael continued his work to circle the room, feeling the wall and the floor with his either hand.
Nothing but dust.
Nothing.
Are these vines?
He continued, trying not to think about the vines.
A closed door. The vines were thicker here. The door, and the wall and the floor around the door were covered with something slippery. Michael had a foreboding feeling, now. Was he in some kind of forgotten cabin in the woods. Now, that was impossible. Mars hadn't been terraformed and colonised for long to produce a place like this. Forestation program was still ongoing and most trees in the planet were barely more than a saplings. That was why wood was mostly illegal here.
Michael continued, there was nothing else to do.
He found more of nothing.
A hole in the wall large enough to put his hand through, also creeping with vines.
A shuttered window covered with ... cobwebs? He wiped his hand on the wall. Slimes and tears were one thing, but cobwebs? No, thank you.
When he finished his bout in the room Michael did not know what to do or think. So he decided to do the first thing that came to his mind. He searched for the compartment he had crawled out of and eventually found it.
He traced his hands over the thing. It was taller than him. Obviously far larger, and from what he could feel, it was shaped like an egg with smooth shell. It had no openings. That gave Michael another pause. How could that be? How could it not have an opening? He had crawled out of it.
I didn't imagine it. I am sure of it.
One didn't imagine crawling out of a slimy egg, did they? No, that was absurd. This whole situation was stupid. He just wanted to go back home, eat his mother's cooking while watching anime. Or may be even study for once in his life. He loathed studying. But this, whatever this was, was far worse than any exams.
This time he did not let the panic set in. Maybe the thing had an automatic door that closed once he crawled out of it. Like those sensory deprivation tank he had once tried about a year ago. He may not be rich but one of his friends was.
With nothing to do, Michael sat hiding behind the egg-shaped thing. Hopefully, he was hidden from the entrance of the room. He had found a door, yes, but decided against going out of it. At least not until his sight returned.
So, he sat waiting, weeping.
"Mother, please, where are you? I promise I will be good. I will even study and get a perfect grade. Just find me. Mum ..."