Dark & Grey: Somewhere, anywhere, nowhere Prologue: Signal 7 Just about a quarter before 7 a.m., a police officer drove through restaurant’s drive thru window. Biting the plastic spoon in his mouth, he was trying to open up the plastic container of the hot chicken stew. A sudden buzz caught his attention. “Officer Rogers, signal 13, white vehicle reported on highway 400 near exit 95. You are needed to investigate the vehicle. Over.” “Copy. Over” Shifting his gears, quickly pulling out of the parking lot, the officer gave a really inpatient look and mumbled, “This better not be a prank again.” “Why would anyone drive over there? Outside of nowhere?” The officer angrily dropped his spoon back in the bag.
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A night sky without any signs of stars or the moon gave its witnesses a spooky chill in the heart. The moving grey clouds flew like the hair of a mad woman, or perhaps struggling like a zombie breaking through a thousand-layer of bindings. After continuous days of rain, the mud flow heavily covered the road. The officer was forced to drive slowly and cautiously. Fixing his eyesight like a hawk’s eyes on its prey, Officer Rogers looked through his hydroplaning car. The movement of the windshield wiper and the drops of rain separated his vision into pieces, and made it impossible to see even the giant green exit signs. “I probably just passed exit 94. I still can’t see a thing. I need some back up.” When the officer was ready to make another call, a brutal wind stroke onto his vehicle and shook it furiously during this chaos. The chicken stew spilled all over the seat. Trying to maintain his balance and his steering, Officer Rogers dropped his walkie talkie by accident. As he was just about to break down to cuss, light beams escaped the darkness and shunned the clouds. Forcing him to squint his eyes, Officer Rogers drastically slowed down his cruiser, almost reaching to a motionless point. As he opened his eyes again, finding to his surprise that the rain was gone. Did the zombie finally break loose? Or did the angry woman finally calmed down? Doubtfully, finding to another of his surprise, the officer spotted a resting vehicle a few yards at front. He hopped off his car, approaching closer to the suspicious vehicle that bitterly dragged its tracks to the other side of the shallow trench, filled with a mixture of water, leaves, and dirt. “Vehicle is located, signal 11, do you copy?” “Stand by.” The tire tracks softened the ground, allowing rain water to form in puddles. The police officer had to slowly pick up his feet with every step he took. He glazed at the mud-ridden sedan, and confirmed that the appearance of this model was at least ten years old. He could see the keys were still in there, but the engine was off. Stacks of essay paper, receipts, wrinkled advertisement, torn envelopes at the passenger seat and cardboard boxes in the back. Officer Rogers made a clear assumption that there was only a driver, and no possible passenger. “Warning blinkers are on. It is a Nissan Sentra; license plate number is Bravo, Tango, India 7760. No visible outer damage is shown. The front and the rear is covered with bumper stickers, also there is a country banner of Romeo, Oscar, Charlie and a student parking tag hanging on the rearview mirror. No sign of the driver, confirming Signal 8…..” As the officer was reporting the status, he carelessly stomped into a deep puddle of mud. He made a groan as he looked down. Nevertheless, he paused and widely opened his eyes with his eyeballs, like a size of a cue ball, fixed on the tracks of footprints. “Correction, I’m on my way to track down the driver. Over.” Rain washed most of the foot prints away; however, the softness and the wetness of the mud clearly preserved few foot prints along with other markings. It seemed like this person might have fallen on the ground many times, dragging his or her foot to get back up. Some tracks were deeper than others; some tracks are dragged too much to distinguish the direction they were heading. The disoriented tracks, Signal 13: Suspicious Vehicle Signal 11: Abandon vehicle Signal 7: Dead Person
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or markings, distinguished a line which leaded the officer into the deep pine forests. The officer paused momentary before entering the forest. He heard soaring of birds, not of those casual tweets from the birds in his backyard. Officer Rogers looked up to the sky and saw huge birds, perhaps hawks, perhaps vultures, circling in a certain area. Fear and haste struck his mind, the police man then made a rush through the pine trees. Perhaps it was because of the outrageous rain wash, perhaps it was because of the number of times that this person might have fallen, the mud and the leaves were stirred in a chaotic pattern with different levels of deepness. Nevertheless, the police was only able to identify one set of foot prints. The ground slightly elevated as he proceeded onwards. Officer had to make use of his hands to make his way up the skidding hill. He slid a few times, trying as hard as he could to preserve this suspicious scene. After traveling for fifteen minutes, the slop descended back to its normal elevation. Officer Rogers finally had a wider range of vision back in handy. Looking afar, he finally spotted his possible target in his vision. He hurried his foot step and approached this person lying flat on the ground. Officer gapped to realize that the suspect was a slim woman, or perhaps a teenage girl. She was resting on her side with long black hair and leaves covering all over the face. Officer Rogers didn’t want to break the originality of this possible crime scene. He gently removes only the leaves on the suspect’s head. “Suspect report: female, prone on the ground, age around 16-25, located about a third of a mile away from the sedan. Asian, black hair, wearing a light cotton jacket and blue jeans with some holes on the knee; light bleeding on the knees and elbows, possibly caused by falling on the ground many times. Please send medical attention right away, over.” “Copy, report the suspect’s life condition, over.” Her skin was damp and pale, probably not from nature. She has lost much of her body temperature. The way she was positioned looked like she was holding something in the arms, but nothing was found. There was no sign of fighting in this environment or on the women’s body. The only reason left to explain why she was holding herself was probably because of this coldness. Officer revealed a small joy on his face to believe that this girl might still be alive. He quickly reached to hold her tiny wrist under the cover of weathered leaves and her own messy hair in order to check on her pulse. As he flipped her left wrist over, he saw a horrific scar that gave him even a sense of physical pain. The scar carved out the line of her vein and was about a good five inches long. The scar appeared with a resemblance of a centipede crawling inside her skin. The rustle of the trees and the whisper of the wind, and especially, the unexplainable discoveries gave him quite a shock and left him speechless. “Is it a Signal 7? Report the suspect’s condition, sir.”
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Chapter I: The Awake and Return to a Long Sleep “….Get up.” A man’s voice echoed in a vision of pitch blackness. This compressing air was squashing him into pieces, rolling his head to pain as if his brain was smashed into a pulp. The echo broke through his ear drums, shaking his entire body from the deeper most of his bones to his exposing skin. This voice became perhaps louder, or perhaps more powerful, “Get up!” He sat up on the bed, waking up in a big surprised after he escaped from the pain. His eyes were wide opened, and hands holding tightly onto his blankets. Breathing heavily, he looked around his environment. White curtains were hanging just an inch above the clean tiles, a smell of a mixture of bleach and medicine scattered in the atmosphere, and he then heard the sound of EKG and the small drop of IV fluids. He flipped his wrists over and saw tubes of fluids going into his body. In addition, he saw his name on a wrist band, including a bar code and the date that he did not know what for. He saw a nurse walking pass the window. The moment their eyes met, she stopped with a twisted gape on her face. Her sudden movement gave him a surprise as she dashed like a beast down the hall way. There was a momentary silence, but soon there came sounds of many footsteps, getting louder as they hurled. The nurse came back with two doctors. One of them was younger, wearing a tag, the usual stethoscope, typical long and neat white coat, and a bright red tie to further emphasize his youngness. The other man perhaps was also a doctor because of the similar hospital tag, but he wore a much casual outfit compare to his junior colleague. His skin was dim, yet hair was pure white. There was a hearing aid in his ears. They hastily opened the door and rushed in. The nurse was holding a clip board, taking her pen out of her chest pocket. “Feeling any dizziness?” He looked at her. She was so surprised as if she saw someone dead who came to life. After a momentary pause, he quietly replied, “No.” “Sore throat or stomach ache? Or any discomfort on the body?” “No, at least not anymore.” She checked his body temperature, blood pressure, heart rate, and many other things that he couldn’t even name. Her pen sounded busy with the constant scratching sound over and over again on the clip board. The younger doctor held his wrist and scanned the bar on his wrist band. “Hello, Milo Morris, I am your attending physician, Dr. Avery. How are we doing today?” one of the doctors asked. “My name is Milo Barkly,” he lowly whispered, “I stopped using that last name a while ago.” “Sorry Mr. Barkly. How are you feeling today?” Milo glared at him with his eyes of frost, “Why am I in the hospital?” Dr. Avery lost the smile he had prepared on his face. Trying to hold still of the anxious movements of his arms, Dr. Avery held onto his own leather belt with a golden buckle. As soon as his mouth opened he closed it again, he then crossed his arms, leaning on one foot. After adjusting his tie and repositioned his glasses with half-an-inch thick lenses, Dr. Avery begun to look down as if he fell under a deep of thought, and was ready to give away a secret that had been kept unheard for years. The other doctor pat on his shoulder, whispered something to his ears. Signal 13: Suspicious Vehicle Signal 11: Abandon vehicle Signal 7: Dead Person
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“Leza, I need the reports.” The nurse handed over the clip board. The doctor stepped out of the room. The nurse looked at Milo, stuttered as she spoke, “Let me bring you a glass of water.” The room was left with silence, the confused patient, and the other doctor. The doctor rolled a stool over and sat down next to his bed. After hearing his deep breath and swallow, his question broke the silence, “Sorry for interrupting the conversation between you and Dr. Avery. I think I need to take care of the situation from here.” He gently placed his hands down on his knees as he spoke, looking as if he was preparing for a long talk, “I am Dr. Jones, therapist and psychiatrist of this hospital. And I am specifically assigned to be your personal therapist when you wake up. Alright, Milo, do you want to make a guess on today’s date?” Milo looked around, squinting to see at the clock away on the other side of the glass window. The doctor gently waved his hand to get his attention to him, “No, the date, I asked. That clock will only tell you the time.” After he gave up on the clock, he looked back down at his wrist band, “Feb 26th….” The doctor closed his eyes as he covered Milo’s wrist and said, “20 years, Milo, that wrist band was from 20 years ago, which meant that you’ve been here for 20 years.” “Cut the crap! You….” Milo felt a deep pain from the throat. It almost felt like a scorching fire crawling from the lungs up to his lips. He held his throat, shutting his eyes in extreme discomfort. A door knock distracted their attention. The nurse returned with a glass of water, but she sensed that the condition in this room was rather intense. She kept her mouth shut and placed the cup on the table. She pressed a bottom on the bed handle, gently supported Milo’s back, and slowly adjusted the bed into a comfortable sitting position. As she was about to speak, the doctor gave her a look. Both of them nodded, the nurse then left the room. A glass of water was handed to him; Milo shook his head and refused. However, the determine look in the Dr. Jones’s deep hazel eyes told him that he would not put the cup down unless he takes it. Milo took the cup, but instead of drinking it, he started blankly into his fading and transparent reflection in the unstable water. “Sorry Milo, I shouldn’t have begun our conversation in this manner,” the old man gently rested his hand on his shoulder, “Now, drink this water and take a deep breath. If you can, slowly recall your memories, but if you can’t, don’t force it. I’ll bring you a mirror and some necessary documents.” He left the room and the shutting sound of the door stroke to his ears. The water moved and created ripples, blurring Milo’s reflection. Milo fell into a deep stream of consciousness, making grasps of groan. He swallow the cup of water all at once, then insanely embraced his head with is hands. Around thirty minutes later, the old man returned to this room. Before he would open the door, he glared at the blanket cocoon with a shape of a man that curled up within the pillows. The doctor then redirected his attention to the empty cup on the table. He exhaled in relief, entering the door with a folder filled with paper and a small hand-held mirror. Milo would not face the old man. Dr. Jones deeply and powerlessly sighed, “I would recommend you to cover yourself in a blanket like that; for now, you must in hale as much air as you can…..”
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Milo’s finger tips sneaked out of the blanket, pointing at the mirror that the doctor carried in his hand. As the mirror was handed to him, Milo slowly flipped himself to the other side, facing away from the doctor. He curiously but fearfully opened up just enough space to see his own eyes in the mirror. He saw his own eyes with bright iris with a crystal blue; however, the tears that came out were clear. After gathering his courage, he tucked his head out of the blanket. Blond hair mixed with some hazel streaks, just slightly covering up his long and thick eyebrows. After awakening a sleep of over two decades, his entire face appeared to be gaunt and dry, with protruding cheek bones and much caved in eye sockets. His nose was large in size, as well as his mouth. Nevertheless, he saw his skin in multiple layers, cracking and peeling off. Milo then fixed his attention on his right ear. He gaped at the missing upper piece on his ear lobe, slowly touching it with his own hands, made sure that the piece was really gone, and no illusion. At the moment of feeling his ears, Milo also felt a lump along with a sharp pain near his temple. He moved his hair away and revealed the wound that was hidden beneath his blond steaks. A horrific scar with an image of a centipede ran across his head for about a few inches long. Milo soon recalled his fear of Frankenstein as a child. He remembered that he would crawl up to his mother’s bed, shaking in fright that Frankenstein would appear at his window. He soon returned to his blanket, leaving himself with loneliness and resting the mirror and the reflection of himself on the table. Within the sound mixture of his shakiness and gasps, Milo also heard moving sounds of paper, perhaps being dragged, perhaps being flipped. Then, the old man then took a swallow and a deep breath, “You can remain in that position if you feel comfortable. Try to be as relax as you can, but still, make sure you stay calm as you listen to your story.” Milo, with both fear and excitement, sat up immediately. His blanket fell from his head to his lap. Dr. Jones looked at him; Milo fixed his eye sight on the newspapers that were in the folder that he carried. He saw horrific photographs in the article. Without reading the text, Milo already had an idea sliding through his head. Dr. Jones passed the paper to him. To Milo’s surprise, there were even more articles about his incident from different news channels. Milo fearfully yet bravely began reading. However, the confused look and the squinting of the eyes reflected Milo’s deficiency in reading. “You haven’t used your eyes for the past twenty years; give them a break. News reading at your age is probably too much for you. Here, I’ll give you a brief summary of the article. You just sit back and relax.” Dr. Jones slowly spoke, taking the newspaper away from Milo’s hands. Milo slowly leaned back down as he fixed his sight closely at his therapist. Dr. Jones gave a bitter smile as he placed his wrinkly yet forgiving hand over Milo’s eyes. In the darkness, Milo listened to the slow, soft story from him, gently picturing images inside his mind. “This car accident took place twenty years ago on highway 400. It was raining that day, oh no, hum, excuse me, storming. A drunk driver hit a black Nissan sedan from the rear end. The hydroplane and the force of impact pushed the vehicle off the road. This black sedan fell a down steep hill, rolled around for nearly five times, and finally landed in a deep trench……The trench was filled with water at the time, slowly washing the vehicle away. By the time when police officers arrived, the vehicle has been moved about a quarter of a mile away from the original scene. One of the police men, Officer Signal 13: Suspicious Vehicle Signal 11: Abandon vehicle Signal 7: Dead Person
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Rogers, was able to save a 14-year-old boy……but even though he was rescued from the accident, the boy remained unconscious because of the severe wound on the head. After days and days of rescue, the hospital has secured the boy’s vitals. Nevertheless, the answer addressing the question in regards to the boy’s possible recovery from his coma was never found.” Dr. Jones removed his hands from Milo’s eyes, and held onto his pale hands. The old man’s utter words slowly, individually stroke into Milo’s ears one by one. “That 14-year-old boy was you, from nearly twenty years ago.” Milo finally opened his eyes again, looking blankly towards the ceiling. The mirror slipped out of his hands, he remained even weaker. The beeps of EKG echoed in his ears with each sound it made, consuming the lingering strength that the boy had in his body and heart. There were no more images to picture in his mind. His vision was soon absorbed by darkness. Wetting the frame of his eyes with tears, and holding them back as much as he could, Milo stutter as he spoke, “Where is my mom? Where is Drew?” They looked at each other, freezing their sight. While Milo was sitting motionless, with eyes thirsty for truth, Dr. Jones closed the folder and stood up as he adjusted his belt buckle and his collar. He turned his back on Milo, wrote a few notes on the clipboard. Trying as much as he could to keep himself busy, Milo sat patiently, watching the doctor’s ever move as he waited. Even without looking back at him, Dr. Jones could feel Milo’s eyesight pinpointing at him; Milo has not moved a muscle after he asked that question. Dr. Jones put down his pen, still looking away as he responded, “they are on vacation right now. I’ll notify them once they are back. You will be able to reunite with them.” “When are they coming back?” “I don’t have that information yet.” The old man grabbed a booklet and rolled his stool near Milo’s bed, “we will have to give you a physical therapy and some exercising program to strengthen your cardiorespiratory system. Leza’s report shows that your blood pressure and heart rate are very low.” Dr. Jones opened a booklet; reading carefully with a sophisticated look. Later, as Milo peeked into the booklet himself, he realized that it was a menu. The old man pointed at one of the pictures and said, “how about some ham and broccoli? Or perhaps a side of split peas? And peaches for dessert? This is the perfect healthy meal for you.” Dr. Jones put the menu down as he looked at Milo. His crack lips started bleeding. Milo licked it with his tongue, trying to suck the blood back in. “Okay, Milo, stop that.” Dr. Jones put the menu on the table, stacking on top of the folder with news articles in it. Milo watched the folder as it gently sat; however, before he could get any closer to that folder, Dr. Jones grabbed a wet napkin and started to clean Milo’s face. Milo faintly saw the nurse walking by the window, followed by a door knock. Dr. Jones slightly crack the door open, and the nurse said, “You have a call on line 7.” Dr. Jones nodded, handing her the food order and asking her to bring more water for Milo. He turned to Milo and rested his hands on his shoulder, “Alright Milo, I’ll be gone for a while. Hopefully your dinner will arrive before I come back to you.”
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He pressed a button, the bed slowly lowered to a laying position. The doctor’s image in Milo’s vision slowly became distant as a result, casing under his shadow. Like a solar eclipse, the lights that surrounded him turned grey. Like a baby in a cradle, caressing his blanket and looking at the departure of the old man, shutting the lights behind him. “Dr. Jones.” The old man looked back at the young man who slowly lifted his emaciated hand that was dragged and tangled by the IV tubes.
Chapter II: What is the date Chapter III: Rain and Berkly Chapter IV: Isolation and Seclusion Chapter V: Wild One Chapter VI: Theophilus
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