Jack in the Box (3 page)

             
“Try not to strain yourself, Jacky.” Brian stood up, pushed his chair in, and walked to a door. “You’re not even that far into the test.” He grabbed the doorknob.

             
“Wait.” I stood up.

             
He stood still, hand resting on the handle.

             
“Is the test passable?”

             
He turned back to face me and smiled. “Now you’re starting to ask the right type of question.”

             
I kept my gaze steady. I wanted him to answer.

             
“Yes, the test is passable,” Brian turned back toward the door and opened it. As he walked through the doorway he added, “but it’s still hard . . ." Then he turned his head back and stared me up and down. "At least for you it will be.” He chuckled and closed the door.

             
The laugh made me shiver.

→

              Forward.

             
Forward.

             
Right.

             
Left.

             
Left.

             
I went through the doors having no idea where I was, or where to go. In other words, nothing had changed. Sometimes I purposefully went in a pattern, as if that would do anything. I wasn’t about to think that the pattern would magically make Brian appear and say “Oh, you got me!”

             
I did more thinking in the place than anything else. At least I knew that I was smart. Those questions I was asked when I woke up showed me I had a pretty good understanding of things. Except for who I was. And anything that happened before that day. But hey, thank goodness I knew the alphabet backwards!

             
I started walking in one direction for about ten doors. As I went through one room, I noticed something in the bottom of my peripherals. I walked into the next room, but realized I should have checked what was on the floor. I had gotten so used to just walking without stopping that my reaction to the item was delayed. I turned back to see what the thing was. I opened the door. Nothing. It was gone, whatever it was.

             
“What?” I asked out loud.

             
This isn’t fair.

             
Was I seeing things?

             
Is Brian trying to mess with me?

              Was I just given a clue to something, only to have it yanked it away?

             
Each explanation seemed reasonable. The thought that I might be hallucinating was the one that scared me.

             
If I see things that aren’t there, how am I supposed to get out of here?

             
I rubbed my temples.

             
Either I’m imagining things, or it was taken.

             
I had to know. I needed to test it somehow. Trying to think of something to use, I remembered my notebook.

             
“Perfect,” I said as I took the notebook out. “I can even use a ‘Hansel and Gretel’ strategy by leaving a trail of paper for when I’m running around in this place.” The statement didn’t even make sense to me; I thought that maybe I had known people named Hansel and Gretel before I lost my memory. Focusing back on my plan, I ripped out a piece of paper from the notebook, and crumpled it up. I left it sitting in the middle of the room and went back towards the room I had just doubled back from. Once I had opened the door, entered the room, and closed the door behind me, I turned and reopened the door, just to assure myself that the paper was still there. I looked into the room. No paper on the floor.

             
I ripped out another piece of paper, crumpled it up, and left it in the same spot that the vanished one had been. I walked back to the other room. Waited. Returned to the room with the paper. The room no longer had the paper. I threw my notebook down in frustration. After cooling down, I picked it back up and tried again.

             
The process went on for quite a while. I used up ten sheets of paper, and lost ten sheets. Every time I left a piece of paper in the room, it disappeared after I left. When the tenth piece was seen to be missing, I stopped and considered my options. Keep losing paper. Or move on and keep walking mindlessly through the rooms. Both seemed to reap no desirable results. I decided to waste one more piece of paper. I tore a page out and crumpled it up like I had all the others, but this time I didn’t place it in the center of the room. I stood from within the other room, door open. I tossed the paper ball into the room. As it was still in the air, I shut the door and reopened it as fast as I could. The action only took a second. No paper was in the room.

             
I lost it.

             
“How can this happen?” I yelled at the floor. “Where are they all going?” I paced the floor, looking down as if I would find one of the missing pieces of paper. “This doesn’t make any sense!” I threw my notebook down, with much more force than the first time. I yelled at the floor again. I wasn’t even using words. Noise just came out of my mouth. I needed to blow off steam, and standing there, in that room, I had a whole lot of steam.

             
I can’t do this.

             
I can’t take it anymore.

             
I gotta get out of this, this…

             
Hell.

             
I paused when the word came to my mind. I didn’t say it out loud, but the word made the inside of my mouth taste funny. The word fit the place. I decided that I was in hell. I knew nothing about what hell meant, besides what I felt, but I decided that there was no better name for the place than hell. Bad sounding name, for a more-than-bad place.

             
When I started to think about what hell must mean, the feeling came back again. I was about to fall asleep again. The room looked like it was getting darker. I started to stumble backward, but regained balance when I realized what was happening. I began walking toward a door. I relied on my will power to keep myself up. It didn’t work.

             
Was I ever going to get to have dinner in this place?

three

I like dreams, particularly the good ones.

              I didn’t have any until the third night. The feeling of happiness that I had in the dream stayed with me even after waking up. I opened my eyes and smiled.

“Good Morning!”

              My smile went away. “Yeah, whatever.”

             
“Breakfast is ready and sitting on the table,” Brian said as I got out of bed and sat in a chair.

             
He sat down across from me. We both had a meal set in front of us. He eagerly began chowing down. I stared at him as he chewed his food.

             
He stopped chewing and looked back at me. As we sat there, something from my memory popped into my brain. Something called an awkward moment. I felt like I had experienced one before. I didn’t like it.

             
“Looks like you know good manners,” he said as he swallowed and took another bite. “Starin’ at me like that.”

             
“Looks like you do too,” I grinned. “Talking with your mouth full.”

             
He looked back up with a mouthful of grits. After swallowing, he just smiled.

             
After seeing that, I actually laughed for the first time. It confused me. I thought hard to remember what laughter was, or why one laughed. It finally came to me that you did it when something was “funny.” Then I thought about what funny was. Laughter just seemed like a weird thing to me, to randomly make noise from your mouth, basically yell, multiple times in short bursts. And for some reason I couldn’t just do it once. I couldn’t let out a “ha” without going further, at least one more. The thing didn’t make sense. But neither did much else.

             
“You say that as if you haven’t done it before. Talking with your mouth full is a normal thing for you.” Brian said, trying to break the silence I created. He said it like we’d known each other for a long time. As he put more grits into his mouth, he said “However, it’s a habit of mine as well.”

             
“Great, so we both have no manners. Can we get on with this?”

             
“Already getting impatient, are we? The test must be irritating you.”

             
“Wow, you’ve figured me out! Good job, Sherlock!” Another expression that made no sense to me. The wor
d
sarcas
m
came to my mind after I said it, though.

             
“Well, you haven’t eaten anything yet. Are you sure you want to start?”

             
I looked down at my plate full of food. “Oh yeah, right.”

             
While I ate, Brian just sat and stared at his empty plate. It felt awkward. In fact, hearing the wor
d
awkwar
d
in my head even felt awkward.

             
As I finished up my breakfast, I decided to attempt to get information out of Brian again. “So, Brian, can I ask you a question?”

             
“Yeah, ask me anything.”

             
“Will you answer?”

             
“Well,” Brian pointed at me and smiled, “that depends on the question.”

             
“Where are we?”

             
“We’re in your bedroom. Next question.”

             
“Seriously. You know what I mean. Where is this building located?”

             
“It’s interesting that you’d ask that.” Brian stood up.

             
“Why?” I stood up after him. “That’s a completely legitimate-”

             
“Would it make any difference to you if I said this building was in California, or in Australia?”

             
I said nothing.

             
“Exactly. Any other questions?”

             
“Yes. Many. Like, why am I here?”

             
Brian looked me in the eye. “To take the test.”

             
“You mean to pass the test.”

             
“No.”

             
“But…” I paused. “But you said-”

             
“You just have to take it, whether you fail or not doesn't matter to us.”

             
“Who’s ‘us’? You’re the only one-”

             
“Just take the test, Jack.”

             
Just then I thought of something. The wor
d
loophol
e
seemed to fit what I was thinking. “So, I just have to take the test, and it doesn’t matter if I fail.”

             
“No, but you don’t want to.”

             
“Why? I can just give up.”

             
“You can't just say 'I give up,' Jack.” Brian shook his head. "The only way to fail is. . . Well, you gotta die."

             
"Oh."

Death. The absence of life. I remembered the gun. I was allowed to kill him, but he wasn’t allowed to kill me
.
So, if I die, I fail. But if he dies, I pass. All I’d have to do is shoot him
.
I pictured the gun in my hands. But that would be. . . That would be murder.

             
Murder. I didn't like the word. For some reason, the thought just didn't sit well with me. But at the same time, I felt like I had done it before. One side of me felt so familiar and comfortable with it. Another side despised it and didn’t want anything to do with it.

             
“We really should be getting started, Jack.”

             
I watched Brian leave the room. I followed him, bringing the gun with me. I put it in the back of my pants beneath my shirt.

             
As I walked into the next room, I saw a door closing shut. I chased after it and went through. Once again I saw a door closing. Once again I followed it. No matter which direction Brian went, I was able to stay right on his tail.

            
 
This time is it. I won't get lost; I'll stay right behind him. I got him.