Chapter One: What Darby Doesn't Remember

 

    The first thing Darby Jones realized when he woke was that he had not been asleep. His eyes were still closed, and his internal balance told him he was lying on his back, but he didn't feel grumpy or refreshed or any of the other normal feelings one has after a short sleep or a long nap Strange.

 

    Darby couldn't feel the sheets he supposed covered him, or the pillow he thought to be beneath his head. A quick jolt ran through his heart when he realized he couldn't, in fact, feel anything: not an arm, nor a leg, nor any other part belonging to himself.  Darby considered the possibility that he might be paralyzed. For some odd reason, the prospect didn't frighten him. He didn't much care one way or the other.  

 

    There was no need for Darby to keep his eyes closed any longer, so he opened them.

 

    He was wrong.

 

    Darby had not been on his back. Instead, he was positioned upright in what Darby assumed was a chair. The room was dark, but he could make out a door directly in front of him. He couldn't tell if it had a lock. That annoyed him.

 

    Darby narrowed his eyes, more habit than suspicion, and tried his best to survey the room. It was too dark to see much of anything, but he had the sinking suspicion that there wasn't anything to see. A pang of fear crept across his chest, and Darby, who much preferred the darkness inside his own head to that mysterious room, closed his eyes again.

 

 

    Darby's eyes shot open. Flames, terrible and bright, lashed at his body, and although he couldn't feel himself, he knew that it hurt.

 

    Run Darby! Keep us safe!

 

    He could see the metal door now, the one that led out into the garden. He lifted his body away from the burning mass and stumbled across the room toward the door.

 

    Grass, then mud. Then...water, first at his knees, then his torso, then at last above his head and all around him. Darby tried to swim, but the metal collar around his neck weighed him down. Good God! Was he drowning? Darby looked up. Flames danced just above the water's surface, orange distorted into yellow and red. He could hear someone calling for him, but even that faded into the darkness of dying.

 

    But Darby didn't die.

 

    Unfamiliar strength propelled him through the water, up to the surface and past the fire that raged on the other side of the reservoir. With a sputtering gasp, Darby fell over onto the bank, and collapsed on his back. 

 

    He couldn't move, couldn't feel anything, but he could hear humming. Low, at first, then louder. The sound reminded Darby of the electric airplanes that flew over New York the night the Statue of Liberty fell.

 

    Darby's vision dimmed. He closed his eyes.

 

    The humming stopped.

 

    "Hypnopompic state over. Darby Jones, please open your eyes."

 

    Darby didn't obey. He was terrified of the voice, but even more terrified of what he might find when he opened his eyes. 

 

    "Darby Jones, open your eyes."

 

    Better do what she says. Electric shock for those who don't.

 

    Darby's eyes snapped open. He was on his back. The ceiling was white, and as far as he could tell, there were no windows. Not that it mattered. And what the hell was that voice?

 

    "Look at me, Darby Jones."

 

    Darby turned in the direction of the voice. A woman dressed in plain white scrubs hovered over him. She wore large black glasses that didn't suit her.

 

    "Darby Jones has regained wakefulness."

 

    Darby struggled to speak.

 

     "Th-that voice...?"

 

    The woman cocked her head.

 

    "What voice, Darby Jones?"

 

    "Didn't you hear it?"

 

    It's just us, Darby.

 

    "There, again!"

 

   He tried to crane his neck to see where the voice was coming from, and felt a bit foolish when his body did not respond. Stupid. He'd already forgotten about his paralysis.

 

    Darby stared up at the woman, a little too excited to feel foolish, but she just blinked and disappeared from view. She reappeared a few moments later, a small metal tube in hand. She held it over his temple, and with a slight click, it activated. The low humming began again.

 

    "Darby Jones, please state your name."

 

    That's easy.

 

    "Darby Jones."

 

    She made a sound of approval. 

 

    "Darby Jones, please state your age."

 

    Darby opened his mouth to reply, but found he couldn't remember how old he was.