Hole not whole

I opened an eye and there it was, pointed at my face! The muzzle weapon's

ready to blow my head into a thousand pieces.

I lay on the floor, my heart pounding so hard I knew I was in danger; I

knew my life was hanging by a thread, but I had no clue how it came to

that. I tried to remember, and all I achieved was to increase the

bombardment my head was experiencing as the past, the present, and my

very uncertain future collided together, leaving me with no memory. All I

had was one voice screaming: do not let them stop the train!

It was adamant, precise, and sure of itself; it was more potent than any

gut feeling. It was more substantial than my survival.

I listened and caught the sound of an engine. It could be a train; that

knowledge only strengthened my resolve never to let the train come still,

no matter what.

The grogginess was slowly evading my body, and I could mind my

surroundings. I heard four different voices; they were in a state of panic

close to mine. They argued, and I feared my head would crack under

pressure. It nearly did when I heard ten minutes. At that moment, I knew

that was the amount of time I had before.

Before what? That was a blank I couldn't elucidate, especially not when

the guy pointing the weapon yelled in my ear: "Give us the code!"

The code for what should have been my first question, but all I managed

was to spit out blood. I was injured, and I feared it ran deep. The bullet

trapped in my stomach couldn't help me to heal. I forced myself to

remember and saw lightning flashing before me; I had a concussion.

Who was I? Who was I? I pondered what sequence of events had brought

me into such a predicament and returned empty. Besides, there were more

pressing issues like the four people threatening my life.

I had to act and follow my instincts, for that was all I had left. They

wanted to stop the train, and everything in me said it had to follow its

course. It was imperative to let it.

I was the only one who knew the code to stop it, and I swore it would

stay that way.

"We do not need him," another man said, definitely trying to hack his way

through to gain back control.

He posed a real threat; he could not succeed!

"If we do not stop the train, we're all gonna die!" a woman thought of

mentioning.

"You think I do not know that!" the hacker answered.

"You hear that, buddy? In less than ten minutes were all dead!" the one

with the weapon added, talking to me.

I did not budge; all I could think of is the longer the train ran, the better.

Where did I get this certainty? I did not know; my head whirled just by

thinking about it. My enemies were about as adamant about having the

train stopped. The silent one left the cubicle, and when he passed by me,

he kicked my left ribs. The pain jolt electrified my whole body, and I

remembered I was the train's driver. It was a new train model, more

digital than before, and you had to enter a code to change the settings. It

was on autopilot and going full speed, too fast to be safe, that was for sure.

Part of me screamed it wasn't fast enough.

The silent man's name was Eddy. I heard loud enough thanks to the

others' reactions, who were not too happy he had brought in a child. He

had to be no older than five years old. Eddy didn't care, and he got the

child closer to me.

"Are you a murderer, a child murderer?" he asked.

The mere question infuriated me so much that I yelled No! Even though I

didn't have the memories to back up my claim. After all, wasn't I the one

responsible for letting the train reach killer speed? How did I expect this

would end? Everyone aboard will die! Cold sweat ran down my spine;

thinking about what I was doing or my worsening condition, I couldn't tell.

I blinked, and I saw him as my eyelids covered my eyes. It wasn't a

memory as much as a gut feeling that I was a father and the boy I glimpse

was my son. It convinced me I wasn't a murderer; I felt the urge to protect

and help him. As I was feeling now, for that young stranger who couldn't

be more than seven and seemed terrified out of his mind.

"And yet you are! Because by not telling us the code, you are condemning

this boy to death. How can you deny that? And do you know how many

people there are on this train?"

"Five hundred and fifty-six!" I answered automatically, proving I had to be

the driver.

If only I could remember! Then I could be sure what I was doing was

right! The doubts reached the torment level because everything Eddy had

said was true! I couldn't find anything to defend my position; all I

managed to do was look at my watch, hoping the ten minutes had passed.

We were only three minutes in, seven to go; I couldn't make it! At that

moment, I considered giving them the code. My story was too full of holes

to make sense or worth fighting for, and I condemned too many people to

death.

But maybe that was what I wanted; after all, the odds suggested I wouldn't

make it, and perhaps I would prefer not to die alone. A wave of

discouragement washed over me as part of me who still held on to live

knew how bleak my future was. The resolve to not have lived for nothing

kicked back in, with the certainty that no one, not even me, could stop the

train.

"I think I have it! I am breaking the firewalls; I told you we didn't need

him!" the hacker said.

The terror and the hyperstimulation that followed, if that version ever

came to be, activated my whole body to react. I barely noticed myself

standing up. Nobody expects a soon-to-be corpse to be able to muster

such energy, giving me the advantage. I jumped on the hacker, my first

goal being to neutralize his equipment, my second doing whatever I had to

do to get there.

I punched him in the stomach and tried to grab his equipment. He

gripped my wrist to stop me; we struggled for a few seconds before I threw

him on the floor; unfortunately, he brought me with him, and we fell. The

others didn't dare do anything, not wanting to injure their friend or me

since they needed me to get the code. I glimpsed the others securing the

equipment while we fought and prayed I had busted it.

"Stop! or I shoot the kid!" I froze an instant, and it was a second too long.

My assailant kicked me in the stomach with his elbow, and I was out of it. I

had used up all my juice, and my condition came back to me with a

vengeance. While he rushed to his equipment, I stayed limp on the floor,

catching an inexistant breath and wondering if I would pass out.

I caught Eddy grinning from my weakness, but I could not stand for the

child to get hurt; it reassured me that I must have had a point.

"No! He busted it! I can't do anything about it."

"We're running out of time," the woman reminded.

"What do we do!" The hacker said. "We can't let him win! Our very

destiny depends on our success."

They were all looking at something I had not noticed before. I tried to

focus. I felt it was all the source of my dismay. My heart pounded at full

speed when I grasped what it was.

"It's a bomb!" I stammered.

"Of course it is; why do you think we want to stop the train!" Eddy

retorted.

I grabbed my head, so sick of being stuck in this web of unending

contradictions. The bomb changed everything. It had a timer that

brought me back to the dire importance of holding on for ten minutes. It

could only be so that the bomb exploded. And yet every part of my cells

revolted against the idea I could be a mass murderer. What then? Why

couldn't I remember? Who or what should I trust?

I closed my eyes, sensed the room, and felt ill intent from everyone

present but the child and me. No matter what I saw, I knew it was

primordial that the train did not stop before the bomb exploded. All the

other pieces of the puzzle were missing, but I wasn't about to give up on the

one I had.

The others ignored me, knowing I would never talk and assuming I was

dead or so close to it. I could not hinder anything. They were talking, but I

was too out of it to grasp what they were saying. It was too bad since it

might have been a means to clarify who was the bad guy. Maybe I didn't

want to know. I just wanted it to be over, and my wish was close to being

granted.

Not so soon, however. I couldn't believe it when I saw it! In all the

turmoil, a weapon had landed near me. I still had a chance to complete my

mission. I didn't hesitate and managed to get up to fire on everyone I saw.

I hit some but not all of them. They retaliated and-

The bullet hit my chest, and it passed close to my heart. I cringed and fell

to my knees; I knew it was over. My last gesture was to look at the time; I

missed two minutes. Perhaps less since I had lost time when I woke up

and only remembered I had to hold on for ten minutes. I hang on to the

thought that I followed my heart through the ordeal and must have made a

difference. There was no visual support for my claims, and as my mind

dissipated into the ether of non-existence, I clung to my last belief.

My main and only regret was that my identity was full of holes, and I

couldn't die whole.

Twelve minutes earlier.

"Yes?" Dennis answered the call from headquarters. He nearly had

reached his destination, and it was the end of his shift; he was looking

forward to the break.

"Listen to this very carefully; there is a bomb on your train. Terrorists

want to blow it in the city's heart, kill as many people as possible and send

a message to their cult. There is no way to disarm it. The only thing you

can do is: Do not let them stop the train. Try to go as far as you can, and

lessen the damage. Do not let them win. You have ten minutes."

Dennis didn't hesitate and accelerated at full speed. Almost immediately,

the terrorists rushed in.

"Quick! Stop him! It has to explode here if we want to be eternal!" the

woman nearly screamed.

Dennis got a series of blows on his head with the end butt of a weapon.

He tried to fight back and ended up shot in the stomach. That knocked him

out for a while.

Twenty minutes later.

"How bad is it?" the director of the FBI asked.

"Bad! But they didn't get to claim they were eternal, which would dampen

the support from their followers, and it could have been a lot worse. The

driver pulled through."

"He died a hero."