INHALE.

Exhale.

Inhale.

My eyes feel stuck together. I try to pry them open, unsure of what happened to get me here. A faint buzzing begins in my ears - something mechanical issuing static to the left of me. The sticky salve on my eyes starts to lessen as light trickles through my senses.

It burns.

My muscles ache, as if I've been running all night. My skin feels tight, stretched twice beyond its limits. And coldness all over, like I've been sitting in an ice bath.

And my memory.

My memory is gone.

Except for one word. From a faint corner in the backstage of my mind it emerges, quietly at first, then buzzing as loud as the machine next to me.

Celeste.

I don't know what it means, but it seems important for some reason. I can't even remember who I am, what I'm doing. I could've just been born for all I know, except I know I'm a man - I just know it.

As the light ramps up into my vision, I can see reds, greens, and yellows all mixing together into a mosaic. My nose starts to smell a faint aroma, again barely perceptible, but then sickeningly pungent after thirty seconds.

Chemicals. Gases. Metal burning. It makes me retch.

I can't feel my body below my neck and start to panic. My eyes widen. I bite my lip, hard enough to taste iron. I can feel my heart beat, a drum that only seems like it's about to burst up through my head. Until-

Tingling.

A million pin pricks come on simultaneously. The buzzing intensifies and I can't hold back the scream that erupts clumsily from my lips. Fire all over my entire body, as if every nerve is waking up with an adrenaline rush. Pulse picking up speed, my breath becomes shallow.

I must be dying. Something is wrong. This can't be a good thing.

Every second seems like hours while I pant like a dog on a hot summer day. Buzzing growing louder with the mix of colors makes my head spin until I'm on the verge of passing out.

And then it stops.

All I hear are breaths. Normal, deep breaths. The pain is gone. Exhaustion washes over me, but the adrenaline is still in my system. As intense as the prickling was, the relief of not feeling anything except hard, cold metal around me is blissful to say the least.

The only thing that is out of place is my hand, still tightly clenched like a fist, but that'll have to wait. As much as I try to open it, the muscles just don't move.

There's glass in front of me, slightly fogged up now from the heat emanating from my body. I reach out an unsteady hand and push. Nothing happens. I kick and kick against the glass, bracing my body against the surface I'm laying on until I feel a release.

The door opens, steam leaving the chamber around me. An overly dramatic entrance like a vampire coming out of his coffin. I remember another word as I sit up from the bed.

"Pop culture."

A reflection in the glass stares back at me. Disheveled, scraggy, with chiseled cheek bones and chin. I recognize the image as myself. I'm handsome of course, and under normal circumstances, and maybe a decent bath and suit, I'd be pretty dapper. Brown hair like a chocolate bar and deep set gray-toned blue eyes stare back at me as I raise my hand to my cheek. I'm obviously good looking.

I step out from what looks like a glass chamber, a pod maybe. The buzzing noise over to the left is now louder than ever, though not uncomfortable now. I look around at what appears to be a room full of metal beams. The colored lights I saw show up as dials by a giant screen, a large red light flashing "Danger." Lights overhead blink in and out - the power cutting out in pulses. At least five other pods sit around me, one of the pods opened just next to me, the others still sealed up. Two entrances line the edges of the room - one is completely blocked by twisted metal shapes, contorted from whatever broke the room I'm in.

I look down at the source of the buzzing, and my eyes nearly jump out of my skull when I see what's written there. A dark screen with several cracks across it has only one word written. A "T" and "E" are missing from it, but I know what it is. I can't help saying it out loud.

"Celeste."

My throat feels like sandpaper as I try to whisper the word on cracked lips.

An image courses through my mind, distinct as if it were in front of me. A gorgeous woman, with soft, blended features in her face. The lightest blue eyes, piercing into your soul if you met their gaze for too long. Blond hair with tints of strawberry red and violet weaving throughout it. Immensely long eyelashes. Full, supple lips with auburn tones, and a dimple in her cheek on the left side.

I reached out my hand, but in an instant, she was gone. A phantom. A hallucination.

Looking around to find the exit - the only thing I know at the moment is that I have to find her. I have to find my Celeste, because she is the most important thing in the world to me. She is the reason I have to survive, the reason I have to escape this prison I'm in. The idea she might be dead or hurt makes me panic, but I shove it out of my mind for the moment.

Light shows through in the corner of the room near the two sealed capsules and I try to make a run for it, though my legs don't oblige.

CRASH!

Metal objects on a table beside me scatter to the floor in a din. One of them appears to be a gun, and my hand instinctively reaches down before my brain knows what's going on. I just know I'll need it.

About halfway to where the sunlight streams through the split metal doors I stop. I let out a gasp, peering into the sealed capsules where all I can see is blood.

Dark, crusty blood that has been on the glass for a very long time. Bits of tissue stuck against the glass make me absolutely want to vomit. I turn away quickly - one thing I know is I don't have a tough stomach. As I glance toward the door again, I notice that no names show up on the screens under the capsule. There's no power left going to these units. Whoever was in them is now dead.

A thought hits me, and I debate about heading back to the capsule I had just come from. If I can just get a name, even a couple letters, it might help me remember. I retrace my steps excitedly but then stop as the hairs on my neck go up.

I glance toward the open door with the light - my only hope for an exit. Dark shadows, at least three of them approach. Deep, guttural voices, speaking in a language that definitely doesn't sound like English, grunt back and forth to each other with heavy footsteps booming across a metal grate.

Heart racing, I duck down beside a metal cart with what appears to be torture instruments. A scalpel blade twinkles in the light and I grab it with my free hand. No matter how hard I try I can't open my fist - it's as if its frozen, which is really horrible timing considering I'm already outnumbered three to one.

Are they a rescue party maybe? Or a raiding party?

With the gun in hand and scalpel blade resting near my leg, I crouch against the cold metal. The smell of iron in my nose rushes in from the blood pulsating in my nostrils.

Sneaking a glance at the three visitors, I nearly lose it and scream, but no sound comes out. I definitely didn't sign up for this.

The largest of the two stands at least a foot taller than myself. He has long, murky hair like dreadlocks and large muscles protruding from what looks like some armor. His legs are twice as large as mine, and he looks like he probably isn't much into rescuing people. He grunts to the man on the left of him, pointing toward the capsules and issuing what I imagine is an order.

Where will I go? I search frantically, but noticing in each of the men's hands glinting metal in the shape of rifles. I feel my own finger graze the trigger of the gun. My only hope is there's actually ammunition in the damn thing. And the other hope is that it actually shoots something other than a big sign that says "BANG."

The man comes forward, brushing his hand against one of the metal tables while moving a flashlight around, eerily highlighting shapes that look like little monsters. I still my breath as the light swings by the metal cart where I'm hiding. He pauses for a second, then turns to the right of me toward the capsules.

Coming within ten feet of me, still casually looking around, I wasn't sure if he was looking for something in particular, or just looking for any survivors at all. I still wasn't sure if he would be friend or foe at this point, but I wasn't about to take a chance.

My muscles tense as he walks directly by the cart where I'm hiding, and I debate for a half second trying to get the jump on him by trying to shoot him while I have the jump. I'm hoping they just turn and walk away at this point.

He passes me without much hesitation, heading instead to the two capsules on the far wall. I'm able to see the man's face in the light. It looks disfigured on the side that faces me, either a burn or a knife to the face, I'm not sure. He has a buzzed head, and is six inches shorter than the leader. But looking across his chest, he's loaded with all kinds of grenades, and ammunition to the nine.

Walking between the two capsules the man stops for a second, then looks over at his boss, still standing at the exit. If only they'd move, I could maybe sneak out without them knowing. His boss gives his grunt a nod, along with a word that sounds like "Murtesch." Even without understanding their language, I have a pretty good idea what's going to happen next.

I let out a gasp, nearly tripping backward, falling against the wall.

The grunt pulls out his rifle, and in two quick strikes fires bullets right into the capsules. Horrible popping noises reverberate across the metal chamber we're in. There's no way they could've survived and I know it. Had they come five minutes earlier, I would've been right there with a bullet in my skull also.

My fingers tighten around the gun, as if gripping it harder will save me. I wasn't sure if I even knew how to shoot a gun, but instincts were kicking in, and those instincts told me I better be ready to shoot.

The man turns, heading back my way, this time shining the light more thoroughly. He would find me. No way he would miss me this time.

I could hear heavy footsteps smacking against the floor within three feet of where I was. All he had to do was look toward the wall. He turned away from me, scanning an area full of round objects in a pile, debating if he wanted to check.

Then he turns toward the wall where I'm hiding, and I freeze in place. Just like a kid hiding under a blanket, I silently hoped the monster would disappear.

Quick footsteps.

Three feet away.

Two.

Before he can get a foot away from me, I spring into action. I click something on the gun, maybe the safety, and feel my hand raise up in a split second. I just know where to aim it. My finger squeezes the trigger and let's go.

BANG!

A half second later, chaos breaks out. A loud thud echoes, as the form of the brutish man slumps against the floor, obviously dead based on how his eyes stare back at me. The other two shadows, one small, another large jump behind some tables they tip over, and hundreds of firework sounds erupt across the room. At least I am well-sheltered from the rain of bullets by a shallow partition that juts out from the wall. They have no idea where I'm hiding exactly, and just shoot anywhere they can into the darkness, sparks shooting out as they hit various pieces of machinery and computers.

After about thirty seconds of gun fire, an uneasy silence surfaces as the two men stop and survey the area. I don't even entertain moving at this point. I got lucky once with the gun, but who knows if there is actually another bullet in the thing. I just keep crouching, my leg muscles starting to cramp, but my brain doesn't register the pain. I just don't really want to die today.

The two men stand up, and after what seems like an eternity start to cautiously walk around, shining their lights in every corner of the room. Deciding the threat might be taken care of, they begin walking toward their fallen compatriot, which I realize would lead them right to my feet.

Not so bueno.

They speak back and forth to each other, deciding who gets to go where. The smaller shape heads away from me, while the big one, of course comes to check on his soldier. My throat tightens and a sickening feeling rises up in my stomach when the mix of blood hits my nostrils from the raider man in front of me. I squeeze my eyes shut, feeling my hand tremble that's holding the gun. I don't know if it's the surge of adrenaline or something else, but just then, I can feel a thousand needles stabbing into my clenched fist.

My hand is waking up now. Of all the times, it has to be now...

I drop the gun, a small clatter ringing out into the quiet air. I grab my other hand that is no longer clenched, but holding something. A piece of paper. Quickly stashing it into my pants pocket with my free hand, I fumble around to pick up my gun, and feel a twinge of pain as my hand grazes the scalpel blade.

I hear the footsteps and heavy breath as the man lets out a grunt just a foot from me. I grab the blade immediately as I feel something reach down along my neck and throw me against the wall.

Eye to eye with the leader of this band, my eyes widen and my throat tightens with his crushing strength. I can't breathe and start to kick against the wall in a panic. His eyes are blood shot, wrinkles cover his face where the dreadlocks don't cover it up. Scars are all over, multiple knife wounds from many fights he's had in the past no doubt. One eye is slightly lower than the other, and the corner of his mouth has a deep gash.

He speaks deeply, but this time I understand him. Sounds like a Russian accent.

"Survivor." He says, his pupils becoming tiny dots. "Not for long."

I feel the blackness coming on as I know I'm about to pass out. I struggle, kicking against his chest, but nothing seems to phase him as he lets out a crooked, sinister smile.

The next thing that happens is a blur. I can feel my hand, still clutching the scalpel blade reach up as if it isn't connected to the rest of me. Before the man can react, my hand is already in his face, metal scalpel blade ramming into the eye not covered by dreadlocks. Blood splatters into my eyes, stinging my vision.

The large hand loosens from around my neck as the brute drops to the floor.

Writhing in pain as he reaches up for the blade, I grab a heavy lamp next to me on the floor and throw it with all my might against his head.

CRACK!

His hand goes limp next to his body, and I reach down hastily to his rifle that clangs against the floor. No doubt the last raider would be charging angrily toward me to avenge his leader.

But he doesn't.

I stand up, ready for a fight now that I've taken out two of these unsavory soldier types, but I can't find the last man. I see a shadow, crouched on the open floor. I'm not sure what he's trying to do, but I make my way to an overturned table near the raider and see.

He's scared. Shaking. Crying. Wincing on the floor.

I crinkle my eyebrows in confusion. I feel the larger gun against my chest. I could easily take him out while he's sobbing. It might be an act from his part to draw me in, then he'll slit my throat knowing I have the jump on him. For all he knows, I could be the best marksmen on the planet.

My hand trembles slightly in anticipation. Nerves on edge, I rush around the table, gun pointed in the raider's direction.

A split second decision - do I pull the trigger or let the man live?

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈․° ☣ °․┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

*What do YOU think our main man should do? Comment to let me know. I will move to the next chapter with ten comments. Also, please "like" my book if you can to get more people to vote! Thanks!