Chapter 7 g Amnesia

Iggy came to his side. “What does it mean?”

Nansen held up a finger for silence. From the camera pointing toward the very inner gate, they could see a massive black vehicle charging along the road. It was covered in armor that was strong enough to burst through the iron gates. The sun was gleaming hot behind it at a low angle, too. They held their breath as the vehicle came closer. A few feet before the iron gate, it skidded to a halt. Nansen exhaled, but just then, the gate opened all on its own and the vehicle squealed into the front yard.

Nansen swung an arm around Iggy and pushed him toward the lobby. “Go! Go! Go!” he screamed. They whipped around the corner toward the stairway. As he passed the front doors, Nansen’s face flattened against the eyehole and his hand blindly rechecked all of the locks. It made no difference.

The front wall blasted into shreds. The smoke and flames rolled in, clouding the lobby with dust and the leaning sun filled the room with a hot yellow-orange light. Iggy flung himself up five stairs at a time. After reaching the top stair, he ducked down and flew around the first corner, cowering beneath his forearms.

The house alarms howled, but he could hardly hear them. The only sound that he could hear was the cruel scream bellowing out of Nansen from the downstairs lobby. His voice broke, but still desperately fought through the last few moments of life as the sun rays fried him viciously, much like oil does to meat, incinerating him through his skin and muscle until nothing viable was left and the Nansen Iggy had always known and loved was gone.

A platoon of masked soldiers in green and brown camouflage, armored head to toe, piled into the house and spread through the first floor like an infestation. They had fully stocked utility belts holding ammunition, small hand pistols, serrated blades and automatic rifles in their gloved hands.

Iggy leant forward onto his shaking arms to peek around the corner, and in return a barrage of bullets shot through the air and popped pieces out of the wall all around his head. He couldn’t stay there, but he sure couldn’t make it across the sun filled hallway to the other side where Baine’s bedroom was, so he raced toward his own room. He burst through the door and slammed it shut behind himself.

The bed was disorderly, the light in the bathroom was on, and the closet door was shut. “Emi?!” he searched for her. She was near, he knew it. He glanced inside of the bathroom, then retreated to the dark closet. Hangers were strewn out of order along his side of the closet and his only other white uniform was missing. He ducked underneath the clothing racks searching for her there to no avail.

The bedroom door flung open and crashed against the wall as a team of four invaded his sanctuary. He reached his hand out for the closet door knob to shut it, but it ricocheted back into his knuckles. Through the doorway it was obvious by the sunlight pouring into the room that they’d drawn open the curtains.

The four invaders surrounded his only exit. They appeared like black shadows entering through a portal as they circled around him and the tips of their guns came within three inches of him. The man behind the first barrel growled behind his mask, “get on your knees, or you won’t have a face.”

Iggy’s chest filled with air and blood. He bent his knees and came onto the floor. His arms lined the sides of his body and chest, his head lowered, and his shoulders hunched upwards. The clean metal barrel pointed directly at his nose. He could smell the gunpowder.

“What’s your name?”

“I… Ig.... gy.”

“Iggy?”

He nodded once and their rigid stances flexed even more.

That’s when he felt his entire body freeze, even while sweat trickled down his cheeks hot. He could already feel the heat from the sun, too. His hands and forearms tightened, as if his skin was being stretched around his swelling muscles and bones. The color red glowed in his peripheral, framing his vision.

A small snap-pop in his head and the world all around him slowed down right before his eyes. The soldiers at his sides and in front of him seemed to be decorative more than anything else now, for they moved slowly, swaying with each breath like seaweed dancing in the bottom of the lake. Their words were so deep in tone and long that Iggy couldn’t understand them.

A thin trail of smoke floated up from the floor. Although the motions between water and smoke are similar, in this dream-like state even the gases moved with such fluidity that it was impossible to know exactly that it was what it was. It danced.

The pungent smell of burning rubber and hair filled his nostrils. He looked down at his hand planted on the floor. Flames burned along his skin, coming out from beneath his palms and incinerating the carpet. Fire. Real fire. He could feel the heat, but not in a painful way, and if it was the sun doing it, then he didn’t feel so bad for Nansen anymore.

A bright flash of flame purged forth a bullet through the barrel of the gun and straight into Iggy’s forehead. As his head whipped backward, he saw two black eyes staring at him from the brightly lit bathroom across the room. That was all that he could see. Her black eyes watched the scene with horror. The edges were sharp, the whites were red, as only terror could do.

Iggy didn’t blame her for staying put, either.

Another slam into his forehead and he collapsed onto the ground. Blood leaked from his head, across his eyes, and puddled on the floor around his face. “His eyes are still open, Sarge,” someone said. Through Iggy’s back, a blast of bullets shredded holes into his lungs and he started to drown from the inside out. He coughed and blood spattered through his teeth. His vision blurred. It pulsated. His heart struggled. His mind was fading. And then, everything disappeared.