The Memory Machine 2

Chapter 9 - Pain

"The pain will go with time. All you have to worry about now is finding your way home..."

Connor slowly pushed his cage down the isle, passing by busy shoppers as they searched the shelves for whatever they needed. He gave each of them a friendly smile, but barely any of them returned it. It was slightly disappointing, but that was just the way the world was: everyone caught up in their own little world, where they're the only ones that matter. At least they were polite enough to move aside for him. If not, he would've had to ask them himself, which was something he wasn't particularly keen on doing.

It was nearing the end of the day, and so most people were beginning to leave. For Connor, that was both a relief and a harsh reminder. On one hand, he made less accidental eye-contact with people, but on the other that would mean he would have to re-stack the shelves. With a sigh he continued down the isle. His eyes scanned the shelves to his left, remembering the joy he had felt when he had finished stacking them before. Now they were half empty, and things were out of place and had even been dropped on the floor. Usually he would've picked them up and replaced them, but he had a job to do already. His boss wasn't best pleased with him at the moment; it wouldn't be wise to stray from his task.

He left the isle and started his way down the next. This one had barely any people in it, which told Connor that closing time was drawing ever closer. He continued to walk through the store towards the stock room. Just as he reached it, the overhead lights dimmed a little and the air conditioning stopped. It always reminded Connor of a horror movie, the way everything suddenly went silent.

With a deep breath Connor got to work, filling his cage with boxes that he would then unload onto the shelves. Luckily he wasn't the only employee who had to do this. The shop he worked at wasn't too big, so they didn't need that many people, but it would still take ages if Connor was the only one. In total, there were three of them. As Connor placed a collection of soup tins on a shelf, one of them passed him. It was Mike.

"You don't look very happy, Connor. Don't enjoy stacking shelves?" he joked, standing beside Connor and placing a tin on the shelf beside him.

Mike was a funny guy. He and Connor were good friends; it was a shame they couldn't see each other more often. Mike was only 24, but he already had two kids, which took up most of his time, since he was now single. Luckily his mother picked them up from school, which meant Mike could work later. How did Connor know all this? Mike was very talkative, and often shared more than he meant to. Connor was glad to listen, but he couldn't help but feel sorry for Mike. He couldn't even imagine having children so early on.

"No, I love it," replied Connor sarcastically.

Mike laughed at that. He turned to Connor, not looking at where he was putting his tins.

"What's been happening while I was on holiday? Anything interesting?" he asked.

Connor shrugged. He tried to focus on his own work, but he couldn't help but wish Mike would look at what he was doing. Something told Connor that it wouldn't end well. And he was right.

Just as the thought crossed Connor's mind, about 5 tins of chicken soup fell from the shelf, landing on Mike's foot. Connor gasped, stepping back in shock. Mike, however, didn't move. He looked confused. "Connor? What's up?"

Connor's jaw dropped, and his eyes floated down to Mike's foot, where blood was slowly pooling around it. He pointed, unable to speak. Mike looked down, and his eyes widened. Still though, he looked completely fine, and like he didn't really understand what he was looking at.

"Mike! Are you okay?" exclaimed someone behind Connor.

It was Aisha, the other employee. She hurried forward, a look of concern on her face. "Does it hurt?"

Mike shook his head.

"No. I didn't even feel it."

He bent down and poked his foot. He didn't even flinch. He straightened himself and, to Connor's surprise, lifted his foot. It dripped with blood, but Mike showed no reaction. Connor's knees began to feel weak. He fell to the ground, sweat gathering on his brow. Every part of him told him to run, the same it had in the corner shop a week ago. The fear he felt was scarily familiar to then, and he couldn't help but think that they were connected somehow.

Mike couldn't feel pain...

Connor pushed Aisha away, who had been crouched beside him trying to help him up. He ran past Mike, almost slipping on the blood. He ran from the store, not caring if he would be fired for leaving early. He had to get away. Something was wrong. Everything was wrong.