Jack in the Box (11 page)

It breathed in deeply.

"And why can't I see you?" I wiped my hand on my shirt.

"It's all. . ." it grabbed my arms. ". . . Part of the test." I felt its breath right in front of me. "But you've heard that answer before, haven't you?" It pushed me up against the wall. I was pinned. Just like I had been more than once before. It kept my hands above my head.

"You," I exhaled. My eyes were squinted. "Are you. . ." I had to catch my breath after being knocked around so much. "Are you Satan?"

It chuckled. It was a low, raspy, laugh. Then it laughed louder.

I squirmed.

It gripped me more tightly. Its hands. They felt like they had the shape of human hands. But they were cold.

Reptilian.

"No, Jack. I am not the devil. I do not make the rules." It lifted me higher. "But I do take them very seriously."

I didn't have much of a plan. But I knew I had to get free from his grasp. First, though, I wanted answers. "What do you mean that I'm passing? I'm supposed to." My head was starting to throb
.
How am I going to get out of this?

"We know that," it said. It drew out the wor
d
tha
t
. "We know that you're supposed to pass. But we. . ." its grip loosened just a bit, "are supposed to keep you from passing."

"You said 'we,'" I noticed I could move my hands slightly. "Who else is trying to stop me?"

It sniffed. "Brian, of course." It wasn't holding me that tightly anymore.

"Oh," I jerked my hands downward and dropped down to my feet. Before the referee could do anything, I placed my hands on the wall behind me. Next I pushed myself up enough to get my legs curled in, knees against my stomach, and I kicked the referee in the gut, with both feet.

I actually managed to knock the referee back. I heard it hit the ground. This was my opportunity to escape. I ran past it and picked up the compass. The monster grabbed for my leg, but I ended up stepping on its hand.

It growled. Started moving. Trying to get up.

I opened the door.

"Go ahead and run, Jack!" it yelled sarcastically.

I ran out.

"Go ahead and run from the invisible."

I closed the door.

→

I ran for a few rooms. Just to get away from the referee. Oddly enough, I actually ended up back in my room.

Lightheaded. Exhausted. I wiped my nose with my right hand, getting blood all over my palm. My nose started running blood. I pinched it and stumbled to the table.

Why did he attack me? Just because I'm passing? He's supposed to be a monitor. Nothing more.

I fell into a chair. Numb. Losing blood made me feel odd. I felt half-there. My stomach didn't feel right either.

You're okay; just stay awake.

I squinted my eyes. Reopened them. The room started swaying. Or was it my head?

Just stay awake.

I let go of my nose. But the blood hadn't clotted yet.

Stay awake.

My head fell onto the table.

→

"Rough morning?"

I squinted. My head really hurt. Not just my forehead, or my sinuses. It was my entire head. My jaw, my cheeks, nose. It all felt terrible.

"Come on, wake up."

I raised my head.

"There he is!" Brian sat in front of me. Food was on the table. Not breakfast, though. Lunchtime.

"I didn't dream?" I looked down at the table. Blood still there. Looked at my hand. Still had the red streaks I'd given it before. I opened my nostrils. But my nose started to run blood again. I couldn't have been out long.

"No, you didn't dream." Brian pulled his chair forward. "So, rough morning?" he asked again.

"Yeah. . ." I held my nose. "No thanks to you and your friend."

He raised his lower lip. "What?"

My jaw was really starting to hurt. "Don't. . .." I said lazily. "Don't play dumb, Brian."

He shrugged, "Okay," and started cutting up his pork chop.

I sat up straighter. "So I can ask for things?"

"Yeah."

"Any chance you can give me a first aid kit?"

He pulled out a large box from underneath his chair and put it on the table, making
a
thump
.
It was red, with a white cross on the face.

My eyes narrowed. "You knew I was going to ask for it."

"I thought you might."

"So yo
u
wer
e
in on it." I opened up the box. And I  immediately knew what to do. Something else the Jack of my dreams had learned, I assumed. I made sure my nose wasn't broken. Next I put gauze in my nostrils and my mouth. I looked to Brian. "Do you have any-"

He pulled out some bags of ice.

". . . Ice, thanks." I held a bag next to my face.

"In response to that accusation," Brian wiped his mouth. "I had nothing to do with it."

I didn't say anything. My face felt bad enough without moving it.

"But I did know it would happen."

I shook my head. "How's that supposed to make any sense?" I said in a low, muffled voice.

"It's within the rules," he said, ignoring my question. "The ref and I can do almost anything we want to keep you from passing."

I put another bag on the opposite side of my face. "So you can't kill me. That's your only limit."

"Well, that," Brian doodled on the condensation of his styrofoam cup, "and we can't attack you when you are in your bed. Whether you're sleeping or not. Basically anything that'd be unfair, we can't do."

"Unfair?" I put my head down. "This is talking about an invisible beast. Not exactly fair."

He rotated his cup.

"And why hasn't he attacked me until now? And. . . why haven'
t
yo
u
attacked me?"

"There are rules for us too, Jack." He lifted the cup and moved it to the side slightly. "Rules you're not aware of. There is. . . authority that we answer to. One thing
I
ca
n
tell you is this: right now we are allowed to attack you. I choose not to."

I was tired. Not in a drowsy sense; I was physically beat. The fight. It exhausted me, and I needed to lie down. "Why do you choose not to?" I asked. My voice was almost silenced through the gauze.

"All things are lawful for me, but all things are not expedient."
1

I lifted my head.

"You'll fail on your own. I don’t need to stop you."

I stared at him.

He kept his gaze on the cup. still moving it around with his right hand.

"I'll fail on my own. . ."

He tapped his foot. His eyes stayed down.

Five seconds passed.

I waited for him to look back at me.

He didn't.

Ten seconds passed.

I tilted my head.

He continued to look down, rotating the cup.

"I don't think you believe that, Brian."

He stopped moving the cup. But he didn't look at me.

"You know I'm figuring it out."

His breaths got deeper.

"It knows I'm figuring it out."

He gripped the cup again.

"I'm going to crack the code, and for some reason. . . that bothers you."

He wouldn't say anything.

"But right now," I stood up. "I'm going to be in my bed, not getting attacked. I'll try to get some shut-eye, and I'll save that pork chop for a little later."

Brian still wouldn't even look at me. He traced the rim of the cup with two fingers.

I picked up a knife on the table. Threw it. It stuck straight through the styrofoam cup and sent it to the floor.

Brian lightly lifted his hand from the spot where the cup was.

"I'm sorry." I shook my head. Sat down. "You just. . . It's a cup, Brian."

He breathed out.

"I'm right here," I said. "You can look at me, you know." I turned my back to him. Walked toward the bed.

Those few seconds were completely silent. When I reached the bed, I turned around, and sat.

Brian stared at my feet.

I stared at him.

After a few more seconds, he finally made eye contact with me. Opened his mouth. Breathed in slowly. "A few moments of free fall," he said quietly.

I raised my eyebrows.

"A few. Seconds. Of free fall." he repeated, like he was listening to his words as much as I  was.

I gripped the side of the bed.

"Are they anything more than wind in your face?" He looked back down.

I folded my lips. I didn't react. I didn't say anything. I just lay down. Lay down, and closed my eyes.

A few more seconds of complete silence.

Eventually, my ears picked up Brian slowly standing and leaving the room.

I exhaled
.
It doesn't make sense. Why is Brian pushing that on me? If his job is to keep me from passing, why would he allow me, actually, tell me, to kill him? Is that what I'm supposed to do
?
I stretched my fingers. For one second, I just thought about that possibility. Was that what I was supposed to do? If I were to kill a man holding me hostage, is it justified? He had no right to keep me there. And besides, we were in hell. Hadn't we already died? I thought about my past. I was an intellectual prodigy. A prodigy creating an invention. But I thought about myself here. My hands felt like a cradle for a gun. The pistol was so familiar, I had to have held one before. I knew that the Jack of my past had at leas
t
learne
d
some fighting in the past. But a gun? When would I have used one? I shook my head. My throbbing, gauze-filled head
.
I guess I'll find out
.
But killing them? I decided
,
no. I won't do it. I know I won't. After all I've done, killing him wouldn't prove any strength in me. It would only prove weakness. It would prove that I couldn't do it. That I couldn't pass. Couldn't figure out the combination. Even if it were the only way. .
.
I said in my head
.
Even if it were the only way. It's just. . . Not right. There's another way to the end of this thing. There's a smarter way
.
I rubbed my fingers together
.
There's. . . There's a stronger way.

I felt my face. Nothing seemed to be majorly wounded. My nose was fine. It just had a bleed. My teeth hurt, but none were knocked out
.
I'll be fine
,
I closed my eyes
.
So, they won't kill me, and no, I won't kill them
.
I squeezed the ice packs
.
But still
,
the
y
might just 'not kill' me to death. And why is the referee so violent now? If it wanted to keep me from passing, it could've beaten me down in the very beginning
.
I let out all my breath. Tried to relax
.
But I will pass it. I will
.
I held the bags back up to my face
.
And next time, it won't be able to stop me.

nine

"And now, ladies and gentlemen," he said through the microphone, "I'd like to introduce to you a very bright young man."

I looked around. I was in a large room. About a thousand people filled it, facing the speaker. Some sort of conference, or meeting. Projector screens on either side of the man displayed his upper half.

I was in the front row. In a suit. Once I noticed it, I realized everyone was dressed nicely.

"A young man, who has many times been called a visionary." The speaker smiled. "Now, we all get to get to call him 'boss.'"

A polite laugh resounded from the audience behind me.

"This man has fantastic vision; since he started here at OTB Industries nine years ago, he has made incredible technological and mechanical advancements in our products, while simultaneously bringing his own inventions to the market. And with great results. Of those inventions include these best sellers that I'm sure you're all familiar with."

The screens displayed some different products. Everything had an OTB logo on it. The audience applauded.

I felt myself smiling. Looking at the speaker, I realized something. He was the guy who had disapproved my project nine years ago. Nine years ago. So, I was twenty-four in this dream.