All That I've Got

Far away, muffled as if through many walls, Frank could hear horns honking. Next, he registered tinny music, and the sound of a city so full of people it practically had its own heartbeat.

That thought made Frank shake himself more fully-awake. His eyes hurt to open, like they’d been shut for too long. Worse, his whole body ached, and it was curled up on itself.

Frank saw why when he lifted his head. He was in the backseat of a car.

In a second, Frank was sitting up, groaning at the pain licking its way up his body. Panic gripped his heart, pumping it twice as fast as it should go normally, and his head couldn’t process everything.

He was in a Jeep. It had dark leather seats, but it was obviously used: the console was beat to shit, and the whole inside stunk like smoke. Was this his car?

Frank pushed the question aside, this couldn’t be his, or he’d remember it. He looked down at himself, hoping he wouldn’t find some open wound and a missing organ.

Running his hands over his head, he noted what felt like a deep cut right at his hairline, but it wasn’t bleeding or anything. Nothing else looked damaged, however.

He was endlessly glad to find he was wearing clothes, too. Jeans (holy crap he needed a new pair), black tennis shoes, and a Batman shirt that was full of holes.

The biggest problem now had to be addressed.

Slowly, Frank tried the door. It was unlocked, and it opened, letting cold air snake in. Frank hissed and wished he’d been smart enough to bring a jacket before passing out in someone’s car or whatever.

He stepped outside, arms wrapped childishly around his torso. He dropped them when he took in where he was, his mouth and heart dropping too.

The Jeep was the only car in an overgrown parking lot, and after it came crumbling buildings, and beyond that sterling skyscrapers pierced the horizon.

The city was absolutely gorgeous from Frank could see. The sky was a vibrant pink, like evening, and the fading sun shimmered off the glass and steel and beauty. He could smell fallen leaves- crisp yet damp- and car exhaust.

“Holy shit,” Frank whispered. This was not where he lived. And then his heart spazzed a bit more when Frank realized he didn’t even know where exactly he did live.

Whirling in a circle, Frank could feel his panic becoming tangible. Holy fuck, holy fuck, holy-. It hit him then.

“I don’t remember anything,” Frank said to himself. The goosebumps on his arms rose even further.

Had he been drugged?

But he knew immediately that wasn’t it.

He could remember his name. Frank. His age. 17. And he could name all fifty states if someone where to ask. But other than that, there was nothing.

It wasn’t even like he had a gaping hole in his mind, that he could feel the absence of his memories. No, instead, it just felt like he’d started back at square one, with every scrubbed and clean and whole. Just empty.

Something was horrible wrong, and Frank had no idea how to remember what. He was stuck, freezing and alone in a sketchy parking lot in some buzzing city.

Should he leave? Where would he go? The police?

That sounded reasonable to Frank. They could identify him. Maybe he was missing? Frank still hadn’t ruled out being kidnapped then abandoned here. Maybe whoever had left him here was coming back, and this was Frank’s only chance to escape.

Huddling his arms back around himself, Frank started a brisk pace across the lot. Wherever he was it must be the slums that leaked out of the heartbeat-city. Frank could hear the larger noises from the horizon, and closer he could hear the less pleasant sounds of trash scraping pavement, of voices peaking, and of the mufflers of shitty cars.

Frank was just about to walk off the cracked lot, and onto the equally ugly sidewalk, when a car came rumbling to a stop at the curb in front of him.

Oh, shit. Was this whoever had left him here?

Frank picked up his pace, shooting by the car’s bumper and across the street. When a man stepped out of the car and turned toward Frank, Frank began to run full-out. Praying to whatever god there was that this wasn’t really happening.