Dance Side

I woke up in a hotel room. I knew it was a hotel room; I just knew. But I didn’t remember getting here or checking in. In fact, I didn’t remember… me. I had no idea who I was. I remembered everything except details about me. It was very surreal, but it was reality.

I sat up and scanned my surroundings. Two beds, a TV, bedside table, sink, and bathroom. The usual things. Sitting on the bedside table was a wallet. I scrambled to get the wallet. There was money, a lot of money, and a paper with some numbers on it, but nothing else. No ID, no credit cards, no pictures, not even a library card. Sighing, I pulled on my jeans, and found two keys in my pocket. One looked like it was to an automobile; the other I guessed was to my hotel room. I went to the mirror to wash up. My face was neither familiar nor unfamiliar; it just was.

Okay, I thought, I’ll see this car of mine. In the small parking lot there were two cars and one motorcycle. I tried the key in all of them; the bike was mine. I checked out of my room and headed for a gas station. I can get a map there, I thought. I don’t even know where I am.

At the gas station I talked to the man behind the counter. His name was Jorge, and he got me a state map. Eagerly I poured over it while he told me the lay of the land. Turns out I was in Nebraska near the northwest border. It was when I thanked him and turned to leave things began happening.

“That’s a right nice locket you have.”

“Hmm? What?”

“Your locket. Most unusual. Does it have a picture in it?” Jorge asked.

“Uh…”

I hadn’t even noticed it before. The picture in my locket was of a young man; he was handsome, had brown hair, blue eyes, and a nice smile.

“He your boyfriend?” Jorge asked me.

Suddenly two men both in their twenties burst in with guns pointed at us.

“You!” one shouted at me, “Hands in the air, and you, open the register!”

I don’t know what came over me, but I stepped in the way. “C’mon, you guys don’t really want to do that,” I said.

“Move!” he screamed. “Move or I shoot!”

“No.” They both shot at me; three bullets hit. I grabbed at the counter as I fell.

“Now, hand over the money,” the other man spoke slowly and very calmly to Jorge.

I could feel blood on my shirt. It was warm, but I was cold. I knew I was going to die. Jorge was stalling, then I heard one, two, three pieces of metal hit the floor near me. I was warm again; the bleeding had stopped. I stood up and faced the robbers. They were dumbstruck at the sight of me. Then I attacked. I hit them with my fists, hard. One in the meat of the shoulder, the other blocked, but I hit his arm. They yelled in agony, one screamed, “Let’s get outta here!” and scrambled out the door immediately followed by the other.

I was breathing hard, but felt fine. I watched them run, and asked Jorge if he was okay. He didn’t answer, so I looked over to him. He was standing where he had been before, but he was looking at my hands in shock and terror.

I looked down at my hands. There was blood on them, and protruding out of each one were two five or six inch pieces of metal that were sharp at the end. I gasped, unable to believe my eyes. I looked quickly from my hands, to Jorge standing there, to my hands again. I was afraid.

I relaxed my hands from the fists I had made; the blades retracted under my skin, which healed from the slits inbetween my knuckles, right in front of my eyes. I found my breath again, and scrambled out of the station in shock.