Nano 2012 Day SIx

"How do you know?"

"Everyone wants to live. Even the suicidal person wants to live on a base level. You will think about getting up, defying us, jumping out of the truck but most likely at the last second you will stop yourself."

"Why would I stop myself?"

"I told you. You wold want to preserve your life. The instinct is too strong."

"Hmm." Yet another unfamiliar voice introspectively rumbled, "We shouldn't push him too much though. Don't forget, youth is impetuous. Not only that, it thinks itself immortal, takes chances where grown adults would not. I can't help but feel waxing philosophical on life and death is wasted on the boy."

"Won't we be doing exactly that at the academy, however?" the first voice rebuked.

"Yes but that is where we will be giving him the frame of reference. If we do our job properly he will respect life but not before..."

"Academy?" The boy butted in, "you are taking me to school."

Once again, there was no answer. He swore he could sense one of their faces creaking into a smile. The feeling in the van was ominous. the side of his head burned under the blindfold. "This is still really itchy, you know."

There was the sound of something crackling and then the sound of water gurgling into a glass. He could hear someone taking a drink of whatever it was and then gasping with appreciation after they had drunk. "Oh, I'm sorry." Came yet another new voice from where the drinking noises had been, "here, let us help you cool off." He felt water hit his face and drench his shoulders. To his relief, it actually calmed down the itching sensation on the side of his head. He tasted the liquid on his lips... this was not water. It burned as it hit his throat, he coughed. He heard a couple of the men laugh. It tasted like a dog had taken a bath in methylated spirits.

"Be quiet, fools." said the man sitting next to him, the one with the minty cinnamon breath. "At least you're not wasting the good whiskey on him."

"Good is subjective." said the man who had thrown the drink on him. "Personally, I prefer this one to that aged crap you're so precious about."

"That's because you've no palate. I bet all you eat are wood planks as well."

"I take out the nails first."

"Then you're not truly a man!" said the third voice and they all laughed. The boy stayed quiet. He felt the van lurch to one side and the road became a lot bumpier. He guessed they had gone onto some sort of dirt or lawn track. As it got much bumpier, he ventured to guess they weren't on a marked track at all, possibly going to some hidden location. What was their interest in him? Why did they need to kill his parents? Had they done something, was he payment for something? The van slowed to a halt and he figured they had arrived where ever they were going. Sure enough, he heard the heavy door open wide and could smell fern trees. Fern trees? Where were they? He didn't think they had travelled far enough to get to a forest of any sort. The man next to him stood up and then he felt his hand on him pull him to his feet.

"OK, we're here." The blindfold was pulled off his head and he could see blinding white. He blinked a couple of times and once his eyes adjusted to the light he saw he was right about the van. It was already empty of the other men, there was just the guy who was sitting next to him, now pulling him towards teh exit of the van. Through the doorway, he could see a few fern trees and a whole lot of bark on the ground. Chips.  He responded to the pulling and stepped down off the van. He had never seen this area before. There were so many trees! Surely this wasn't possible with the short distance they had travelled? Not that he had really been to that many places with his parents, normally they just took him o the movies or watched things with him at home. One glorious day they went to an ice rink and skated as a family but that had ended suddenly when his mother had laughed at his father falling on his butt on the ice. He shot her a look that could have dropped a bulldozer dead and they had gone home soon after.

"Follow me. There are more men in the woods, don't think about running."

The thought of running hadn't even occurred to him, though he was scared at the thought of men being in the woods. Were they always in the woods or had they been placed there today specifically to make sure he gets into the cabin? Why was he so important? Did he have some sort of magic power? He focussed his thoughts on the back of the head of the guy in front of him as he followed him, trying to make it explode. Nope, nothing happened. As they came around the can he could see a large log cabin with the words "World Is Mine Inc" written along the top in that weird log script you see sometimes, basically words made out of logs split lengthways. The man gestured for him to follow him inside and he did so. They came to what looked like a registration area for a camp. It almost felt like he had been sent on a holiday by his dead parents, or to some kind of camp. An old woman appeared at a little window in the waiting area. She had guy hair tied up in a bun held in place by what looked like a crochet needle.

"And what is this little boy's name?" She soothingly screeched from the windows. Name? What was my name? The man shoved him slightly.

"Come on, answer her."

"It's...umm..." he tried to think. His brain was not cooperating, "I'm really sorry, I don't remember."

"How can you not remember your name?" The woman looked annoyed.

"Look, if he says he doesn't remember let's just drop it. I'll put that field on the form as today's date and his hair and eye colour. It's not like we'll lose track. He'll be what we call him from now anyway."

"What will my name be now?" the boy asked. He hoped it was something cool like "Radsta" or "Superman".

"Four Two Seven." The woman replied.

"Four Two Seven? It's just a number?"

"Not JUST a number, young man." The woman rebuked, "Four is your first name, Two is your middle name and Seven is your last night. Some of us may just call you Two. Don't forget it."

"Are there four hundred and twenty six other kids here, then? Won't there be others with the middle name "Two"?"

The woman gave him a confused look, "No of course not, what would give you that idea? Does it sound like it would be a common name? Take him into the auditorium before he gives me a headache, Ton."

"Yes ma'am" Ton said and guided the boy through a big set of double doors, green with faux wood banding in the middle stretching horizontally along the front of the doors into a giant room full of kids.

He wasn't expecting to see all the children. They looked vaguely scared and confused. Most of them seemed to be in their pyjamas. Did this mean they were abducted just like he was? He guessed that was the case. Four Two Seven was taken over to a spot where there was a space on the floor and told to sit down. He sat next to a boy with very short cropped light brown hair that had bits of blonde in it. Ton walked off to the front of the room. "Hi" he whispered to the boy next to him. His eyes darted to to boy and then darted back to the front of the room. "Hello" he whispered back.

"What's your name?"

"We shouldn't talk. They can hurt us."

The boy turned his gaze towards the front of the room. He had a point. Four could see Ton and a few other adults standing at the front of the big room we were in, they were mostly standing in front and to the side of a massive stage that was there. In fact, this was a lot like a theatre except that they didn't have any seating, they were just being made to sit on the floor. The curtains that were drawn on the stage were black with a large unhappy face on the left one and a large smiling face on the right. Both of them were bone white and had big holes for eyes. He found them creepy. Unlike the last time Four went to something like this (a concert by some group of guys with colourful jumpers on. He used to love them but now he couldn't remember their names. All of a sudden their show seemed awfully silly), the kids around him were all still and quiet. He guessed that made sense, everyone was scared of being hurt. He wondered if all of their parents had been killed as well. That would probably be the way to do it, to get them all here and not have people looking for them straight away. But why do it at all? He guessed the answers would be forthcoming in the show they were about to be presented with. With a 'crack' all the adults standing in front of the stage stamped their left feet in unison. The noise made several of the children sitting in front of the stage jump in position. One of the kids started crying, until someone at the side walked over and put their hand on their shoulder. The child immediately stopped wailing but sniffled slightly still. There was another loud 'crack' from the front as the adults stamped their right foot down in unison again.