Not From This Time |The 4400|

1

AS SOON as we appeared in that lake, we -all the 4400 people who showed up there- had been taken to this government facility where we were given these beige colored clothes, and tossed into this white room they called quarantine.

We were being treated as some kind of criminals, people who didn't have rights. Fortunately for me, they didn't dare try to take away my necklace. The only thing that reminded me of who I was and where I came from.

We were also given a number -1798- was mine, so we could be interrogated about how we got here and who we were. There were these people -returnees- as we began referring to ourselves that they were lying to them, that they wanted us to believe we were in the future; 2004 they were saying. Crazy, I know.

It was 1984. We couldn't have time travelled. Time travel didn't exist. Only in fiction.

Their panic made me panic, my head throbbing, hissing in pain, holding my head and tucking my knees to my chest where I tried to hide myself from everyone, overwhelmed for the situation we all were at; we had no memories of leaving our homes to that lake, we didn't know who the other was; and I thought this was making my headache worse; it was as if being near them was making my head tingle with this knowing sensation making me feel anxious, as if their anxiety triggered my own.

Or maybe it was my own anxiety reaching its peak.

Not too long after being alone, in our third day in this white room, someone approached me, sliding down on the floor next to me.

It was this guy with blonde hair and blue, seeming concerned yet fearful and anxious like everyone else, but he managed to keep on a friendly smile, "Are you okay?"

"Considering..." I trailed off, breathing a chuckle, shrugging a shoulder "Yes. Besides this killer headache"

The guy smiled a little and a small silence formed between the two of us, it wasn't awkward but it wasn't uncomfortable either. I welcomed the silence though.

After a moment, the guy sighed softly, "Have they called you?" He pointed at the speakers, and toward the rooms they held the interrogations.

Every once in a while, a number was called and one of the 4400 stood heading toward the interrogation rooms.

I furrowed my brow, shaking my head "No. And I have no clue what I'm going to say when they do"

The guy hummed in agreement, "You and me both. I have no clue what happened and how I and all of you" He gestured around us; at the 4400 of us "All of us ended on that lake. I was with my cousin drinking and then, nothing. I was there with you all"

"I was in California" I explained, "Next day I'm surrounded by a bunch of other 4400 people on the other side of the country with no clue how I got there. And these people? They all have the same amnesia as me" I sighed heavily, "What are the odds they will believe that? It sounds crazy even to my own ears"

"It's the word of 4400 people" The guy told me, chuckling slightly. "Everyone saying the same? Not everyone speak the same language we do so they wouldn't understand us. And we're too frightened to talk to each other to figure this out"

"Still, crazy" I pointed out.

"Agree" He said with a smile. "I'm Shawn, by the way"