Dangerous Games
As I walk down this street, my mind wanders. I stroll automatically past buildings; houses, shops. Occasionally people stop me to talk. I mutter a few incomprehensible things and carry on. The people I talk to are familiar, and they seem to know me, but no name appears in the depths of my mind. After a while, walking down a deserted country road, my conscious mind informs me of footsteps behind me. I turn to cross over the road, and catch a glimpse of the way I have just come. I see no one. My mind is still insisting the footsteps are there, but I am still, and no one is in sight either way down the road. The steps cease; I continue my journey down the road, my mind rambles aimlessly through the empty void that is my memory.
“And you can’t remember anything about the accident?”
“No” I reply honestly. “Every time I try to remember, I come up against some kind of wall that prevents me.”
“Hmm, yes. I did expect that to begin with, but something of what happened should be coming back by now.”
I frown, confused. I have been coming to a psychiatrist twice a week for six months now, and no memories of my accident have come back to me.
“I think we should leave it there for today.” His voice cuts through my reverie. “I’ll see you next time.” I shake his hand.
“Yes, of course. Thank you.” The office door is open and I leave.
As I walk down the street towards my house, I hear footsteps behind me. I ignore them, for there is no one there. I have a feeling they are of a memory; of something I heard but didn’t acknowledge. Something important.
That night, I find myself wandering down dark and lonely roads. Out here in the countryside there are no streetlights; the only illumination is from the moon. Somewhere a bonfire is burning. As the scent reaches me, a memory flashes across my mind. A vivid memory of a fire, of wood burning. A perverse kind of pleasure at watching green leaves shrivel and burn.
I’m so engrossed in the recovery of a new memory I don’t hear the car coming down the road. There are no headlights, and the driver does not signal to me. I see it as I turn round to go back home. Instead of slowing down, it seems to speed up. I don’t stop to think; I throw myself sideways, landing on my front, taking my weight in all the right places. I don’t feel the pain from the stings across my arms; I see the car skid as it does a hand-break turn. As it comes back towards me I jump up and sprint off down the street, amazed at my speed. I cannot out-run a car, though, and soon it catches me up. I vault over a hedge at the side of the road with an agility I didn’t know I possessed. The driver of the car jumps out and starts to follow me. Some instinct tells me to drop and roll. The bullet misses me by inches. My unconscious mind takes over. I crouch in the long grass and wait for whoever it is to pass by. I stand up quietly and kick the man in the back. He drops and rolls away. I ready myself unconsciously for the oncoming attack, but as the man stands up I freeze. I know him, or at least I did. I also know he is trying to kill me, and with good reason. Memories come flooding back; of my life before my amnesia, of the accident. Except it wasn’t an accident. I had been set up- had walked right into a trap. I also know that I am a very dangerous person to know. The government employed me to take care of their dirty work. I have killed, and I feel no remorse for the lives I have taken. It is what I am, and I am something to fear. I play a dangerous game.
The man tackles me. I wrestle him for the gun, my muscles screaming at me from the long period of disuse. I manage to grab the gun, but I cannot see what I am doing. If he pulls the trigger now, there is no way he can miss. I try to turn the gun round even as the shot is fired. The bullet screams off into the night, missing both of us. I manage to turn the gun a little more, and the next bullet hits its intended target. As the body slumps to the floor, I use his jacket to smudge the fingerprints on the gun. I see that he has run in my footsteps, so I switch shoes with him. I back step my way to the road. As I walk along, I whistle contentedly. I smile, knowing the police will not be able to trace me. I make plans to leave the country, and in a few days, I have sun, sea and sand, where no one knows who I am.
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