Fog In the Memory • TMR Book 1

Chapter 2

Once I steady myself, I take a look around at my surroundings consisting of: a vast courtyard at least twice the size of a football field, four gigantic stone walls that are hundred of feet high with thick ivy covering them, and a split in the middle of each wall, leading to passages beyond the courtyard.

"Look at her," a scratchy voice announces from somewhere. "She's not even going to last a week. The Greenie's pathetic."

"Shut your hole Gally,"a deeper voice scolds. 

I scan the group of boys in front of me, seeing the tall blond with a determined look on his face. A heavily-muscled Asian boy crosses his arms as he studies me, his sleeves are rolled up and show off his biceps. Next to him stands a boy with light brown hair who's- smiling at me? That's strange; most of these guys are looking at me as if I don't belong here. My gaze shifts to a dark-skinned boy frowning at me, and I can't tell if it's a resting face or not.

"Which Keeper's she gonna get?" a voice shouts from within the crowd.

"I told ya shuckface, she'll be a Slopper- no doubt about it," a shrill voice laughs.

I feel a pressing ache of confusion from hearing all of these foreign words and phrases. Shuck, Keeper, Greenie, Slopper. They came out of the boys' mouths so naturally, it feels strange that I don't understand them because I feel as if I should know what they mean. It's as if my memory loss has stolen part of my language vocabulary.

The scratchy-voiced boy speaks. "-even do that much, bet my liver on it."

"I said shut your holes!" the dark boy yells. "Keep yapping and your next break will be cut in half!"

I realize this guy must be their leader. To take my mind off of how everyone is gawking at me, I study the place the boys had called the Glade. The ground in various spots is made of large blocks with weeds and long grasses sticking out, but for the most part it is all dirt and grass. There's an odd wooden building near one corner with a few trees surrounding it, their roots like gnarled hands digging for food. Another corner of the compound holds gardens containing corn, tomatoes and fruit trees. Across the way are wooden pens with pigs, sheep and cows. A large grove of trees fills the final corner; the closest trees appear to be crippled and close to dying. The sky above is cloudless and blue, but I can't see a sun despite the brightness of the day. As I inhale a deep breath, a mixture of smells fills my nose- fresh dirt, pine, manure, something sweet, something rotten, and of course, sweat. Somehow I know that this is what a farm smells like.

I look back to my captors, feeling awkward and a bit curious. Captors, why did that word pop in my head?  I see the looks on their faces and judge them, taking in each expression. One boy's eyes stop me cold as they flare with confusion and anger. I honestly wouldn't be surprised if he came at me with a knife. When we accidentally make eye contact, he turns away, walking towards a wooden bench as I shake my head. I'll be sure to not bother him. 

Suddenly the group leader -perhaps seventeen- takes a step forward. He's in normal-looking clothes: a black t-shirt, jeans, sneakers, and a watch. For some reason, the clothing here shocks me; I was expecting something menacing- like prison jumpsuits. Other than the scowl on his face, there doesn't appear to be anything scary about this guy.

"I'll take you on the Tour tomorrow and explain most of this. Until then, don't break anything." He extends his hand, clearly wanting a handshake. "Name's Alby."