The Coffer

The First Day

Something bright flashes against my closed lids, turning my sleeping world bright red for a moment. I'm not quite ready to wake up, so I toss my blanket over my face and groan from a sharp pain in my wrist. The hell did I do in my sleep this time? Slowly I open an eye and see two things that catch my attention very quickly: this is not my blanket, and when did I get a tattoo? The black ink looks fresh, almost like a pool of liquid on my skin, with my skin around it showing an angry and burning red-black. Curiosity and fear starts to eat at me, making my stomach churn, so I slowly bring the blanket down so I can see where I am.

The brightness behind the blanket blinds me momentarily, though my vision starts clearing after a few short moments. From the bed I can see that the walls have video images of nature scenes. Across from me are two beds, one occupied by a male and the other a female, and a wall that has a scene of green grass, wildflowers, and lusciously leafed trees in bright sunshine on it. Behind my head was another female in a bed with the screen wall next to us showing a darker scene, it looked like a storm in early fall. Lightning flashes across its sky, most likely the culprit to the bright light that woke me, and colorful leaves struggle to stay on their branches from the gusts of strong wind. There is no sound of thunder, or anything of nature, coming from the screens. The wall behind me has a winter scene with deep, glistening snow covering the whole landscape, the only thing marring the image is another bed with a sleeping figure. I can’t tell if the sleeping person is male or female, but in the end, does it really matter?

I look down at my wrist, my eyes adjusted to the light and try to make out what the tattoo is. It's delicate and simple, just a few lines and circles, and doesn't look like anything with meaning. Though, it does tweak something in the back of my mind, like I have seen this, or something like it, before. I trace along it, and try to think back and figure out what it could be. My fingernail catches on a bit on a scab under the tatoo, possibly from a small cut. I shake my head, in an attempt to remove the fogginess of sleep and cobwebs of dreams in my mind.

This doesn't even feel real, should I wake up everyone else? I decide against it, thinking that pandemonium right now isn't the best option. I’ll look around a bit, see if I can figure anything out before everyone else gets up and gets in the way. I don’t need to panic, and I need to keep myself calm and under control. Breathe in, breathe out, and look. Growing up I had dealt with the potential of being kidnapped, or our home burglarized, it was a bad neighborhood. I learned quickly to keep my calm and to not bother anyone I didn't know, and to take in my surroundings.

Looking around I notice a three drawer dresser, made out of shining white plastic, at the foot of the bed. Each of us has one, which causes me to notice something I hadn't before: there are names engraved on our beds. “Sara” and “Brendon” are next to the screen wall that shows the summer scene, “Toni” is the lone person against the winter wall, and behind me is “Kait”. I grab the blanket and wrap it around me and look at the floor, hoping for slippers as I don’t know the material of the floor, and notice how it shines white like the plastic dresser. Seriously, what the hell is with this place? There are no slippers, but it turns out to be alright as the floor is made of the same plastic as the furniture.

My mind starts racing, wanting to panic. Fears from childhood are trying to claw their way to the forefront of my mind, and I have to push them away. Traces of screams, gunshots and hiding under beds are being painted in my vision. I try to blink them away, tears wanting to form. Before I can stop them, tears start to fall and cold slivers of fear make their way down my spine and cause me to shiver. The fears of what has happened to my child, my husband, and my home make the tears fall faster.

Okay, get ahold of yourself, let’s try to remember last night and figure out how you ended up here. Put the baby to bed, hubby was coming home late so I made myself some tea and went to read a book and go to sleep. I made the tea myself, so I couldn’t have been drugged. Did my husband even come home? Wait…”husband”? The realization that I’m calling him “husband” in my thoughts hits as I find the button for the bathroom door. It’s a small thing, set between where we are all sleeping and what looks like a living room area. His name…is Jonathan. Don’t know why it took me a minute, maybe I was drugged after all.

I continue to go through the events of the evening before, and just can’t recall anything that could possibly have gotten me here. In the bathroom I check myself in the mirror. My fingers, still manicured a soft pink, run across my body in search of anything that might be off. There is a swollen spot on the back of my left thigh, and in the mirror I see a pale dot on my dark skin. I circle around it with nails, it looks almost like a pimple but didn't have the same feel as one. More like the swelling of an infected wound. Was I drugged?...But how would this happen? And when?

My heart starts to race and the world starts to spin, the metal sink keeping me from falling to the floor. Dayna, Mommy’s so sorry she isn't home. I hope you're safe and Daddy is there with you. The tears that started to fall hit the sink with sharp clinks, my vision gone. What if someone took Dayna as well? Stop, breathe, come back to the now. This is what’s happening, this is where you are, keep your calm and move forward.

Shakily, I get out of the bathroom, and go back to searching for any clue on how to get out of, or how I got in, here. There's a kitchen area, well stocked with both food and cooking supplies. There was a black wall, probably another screen that hasn't been turned on. The kitchen is more of a nook, it adds an extra two walls including the black screen. White cabinets, white table, white chairs, white vase, white flowers. Everything was sanitary white in here. Overall the place is much larger than it seems. The sleeping area is far enough from the kitchen that it doesn't seem intrusive, could possibly be for the illusion of privacy from others if necessary.

A groan from the beds catches my ear and and I rush back to the bathroom, keeping the door cracked to pay attention. What am I doing here? This place is so odd, I just want to go back home. A few moments have passed, and there was no noise. Perhaps the person was still asleep. Slowly I get out of the bathroom, and go back to the bed and look around it. Nothing. No clues. No doors. No windows. Just white.

There is a drawer under the bed, and I open it slowly to make sure it didn't make any noise. Books, a multitude of them, were filled inside it. I finger through them and try to find something of interest. I stop on a book about symbols and look at my wrist again, then decide to pull it out and see if I can find more information on the design. As I close the lid, I see a symbol on the inside of it. I can’t make it out, as it is only a raised image, no color. I frown and place the book on the bed, my fingers lingering on it briefly. I decide to go through the miniature dresser.

White clothing was inside each drawer. White socks, white shirts, white shorts, white pants, white bras and white underwear. I pick up the undergarments and raise an eyebrow, seeing that they are my size. I can’t stop the cold chill that goes down my spine. It reaches down to my toes and into my fingertips; I place the garments back into the drawer and shut it quietly.

With nothing else to do, I wrap my blanket in a tight hug around me and wait for the others to wake up.

The first to wake up is the person whose bed says Toni. Toni turns out to be a male with shaggy dark hair and scars crisscrossing all over his arms. He stretches, either oblivious to where we are or knows more than me, and looks over at the rest of us. His chocolate eyes show me it's the former, he was just oblivious to where we are and is just starting to realize he isn't in his bed. He blinks a few times, and shakes his head.

“Hey, I’m Angela, do you know how we got here by chance?” I can’t even begin to imagine how I look right now. Hair disheveled and wrapped in a blanket, I’m fairly certain this person thinks I'm a loon. It doesn't seem like I'm wrong, as as soon as I ask my question he reaches around him for something. His arm comes back to his front quickly and his body lunges at me; his posture is like he is holding a weapon and I cringe back against the wall, familiar with the motion.

His breathing is heavy, and I can hear it across the space between us. I can see small beads of sweat form on his brow and along his hairline, glistening in the imitation daylight of the room. I stay against the wall, remembering my mother telling me how to behave if someone got upset. Don’t say anything, don’t move, just wait until the initial reaction is over and they calm down. He runs his hand through his hair, then looks over at me again.

Toni shakes his head, “Nah, man. Last I remember is passing out on the train home. Don't think I’d even make it to the car.” His voice is still a bit coarse from sleeping, but it was loud enough to stir the other people in the room. He moves away from my bed and sits back on his own. He is behaving as if nothing had just happened, and so shift back to the edge of the bed.

Blonde hair pops up from under one of the blankets, a curly mess that definitely needs a good combing, Sara looks around with nervous blue eyes. She is rather pretty, young and terrified looking like a small puppy. I watch her shake and pull her blankets tight around her, her eyes wide and moving back and forth between all of us. Behind her, Brendon stretches and begins to wake. His skin is darker, a man who is use to being outside in the sun, and has very defined muscles. He’s going to be a fun one to have around, being cooped up in this box is going to drive him mad. I can see when the grogginess of sleep is gone from him, his body tenses and his lips are pressed tight. His eyes, a stormy grey, narrow and he gets slowly out of the bed. He keeps his back to the wall, and moves to a spot where he can see all of us. One of his large hands brushes back ash blonde hair from his eyes, and he glances at each of us. The girl behind me isn't up yet, must be a deep sleeper.

We all look at each other, none of us knowing the other. Sara opens her mouth and before a word can come out a siren blares. The long, high pitched wails are awful, and my hands cannot drown the sound out well enough. All the screens turn red and flash, making spots dance before my eyes. Kait wakes up, and her first reaction to all the noise is to punch the wall and start swearing. The noise stops, and the screens go blank. She is breathing heavily, her shoulders lifting and raising rapidly as she scans the surroundings. The lights above us dim to a movie theater darkness, and suddenly there's a light in kitchen.

“Welcome to your new home. Welcome to The Coffer, your temporary new home,” a robotic, yet slightly feminine voice reverberated through the place. “The Coffer?” Sounds a lot like “the coffin” in some ways. I tug on the blanket, wrapping it tighter around me for comfort, and make my way to the dining room table to sit. Thoughts are racing through my mind on what this robotic voice is telling me, “new home” echoes in my thoughts along with the new feeling of possibly being in my own grave. On the screen is an image, most likely the logo of a company whose name I don’t know, with the words “Encouraging the Growth of Humanity” underneath in large, flowing letters. The company’s name is nowhere to be seen, which leaves a heavy feeling in my stomach.

“Here in The Coffer you will find yourselves without worry. Food is replenished daily in the refrigerator and freezer, and cleaning is done through the use of specialized technology. If you have any special requests, please feel free to press the off white button under this screen and write out your request when the prompt appears.” A slapping sound brings me back to the room, and I see Brendon holding his wrist and glaring at Kait. They’re right in front of the button, the temptation to touch must have been too strong for him and Kait most likely reacted. As I'm contemplating why Kait had hit Brendon, the screen changes from the logo and slogan to an overhead view of our “new home.” The area we were just sleeping in is zoomed in on, and the recording continues. “Here you will find both your sleeping and living quarters, under the beds is a button that will put your bed away and replace it with a very comfortable chair. When wanting to go back to sleep there is another button on the underside of the chair’s armrest.” A video of where the button is and what happens when it's pushed plays.

I continue to watch the video, intrigued “Exercise equipment can be requested for use, but please expect a sleep-cycle’s delay for it to arrive.” This appears to get Brendon’s attention, as he seems to be more upright. “If, for whatever reason, any of you are tiring of the scenic views on the wall screens you can have them changed. Only one person may do so a day to make sure everything remains fair. The ceiling lights are set to replicate sunlight until the appropriate time to go to sleep, in which case they will be dimmed. If everyone isn’t awake after fifteen minutes of the lights returning to daylight setting, an alarm will sound to wake others. Oversleeping is not permitted in The Coffer, as it will damage the study.” A huff came from Kait, her arms crossing in front of her and her leg bouncing in annoyance. I’m gonna guess she likes to sleep in... “Understanding humanity is our biggest and most ambitious goal. You five were chosen out of the entire world to participate in this home, as there are many things about you that we would like to help encourage in others. You will not be staying with us for more than a few weeks, so please keep that in mind and try to just be yourselves.” The recording has ended and now there is silence.

“So, who else thinks this a bunch of bullshit?” Kait must have gotten up before the video ended, her arms still crossed in front of her with her fingers drumming silently against them. Her voice drips with acid, as does how she stands. A glance at her shows me that she's wanting something, what it is I have no idea. Her attitude is atrocious, I don’t know how I’m going to be able to keep my calm if she keeps this up.

In response, I straighten my arm and show my wrist. “This doesn’t look like “bullshit” to me. Whoever gave this to me must be taking this really serious. Do any of you have one?” I make eye contact with each of them, and slowly they begin to look at their own wrists. Each of us has one, and it looks as if some of them are the same. The tattoos are different styles of lines and swirls, creating intricate patterns on our skins. Apparently none of the others are having the sensitivity issues that I'm having with it, nobody else has the redness around theirs.

Sara spoke, “Your’s looks like it might be infected or something. Have you ever gotten ink before?” Her voice is really soft, like someone who doesn't know how to talk above a whisper. I shake my head in response. “Well, they aren't supposed to get red like that,” she let her finger hover over my wrist to point to the discoloration, “and it looks like it’s really sensitive, which is also a bit unusual. I have gotten a few tattoos, and they have never looked like this.”

Sara is odd in that she is even more calm than me, I can hear it in her voice. It's a soft voice, one that sounds almost like a whisper or the wind blowing past your ear. Up close I can see she has scars all over, and fading bruises around her neck and wrists. Her eyes are almost empty, and I wonder what is going on through her head. She seems nice enough, though, and I don’t feel as if she is a threat of any type.

“It is really tender, and it hurts to move my wrist. If it is infected how do I treat it? The bathroom in here didn't look like it had a medicine cabinet.” Another huff comes from Kait’s direction.

“Of course there isn't, this place is probably a prison. What did you guys do to get in here?” She’s jittery, with her cat-green eyes looking around like a feral animal in a cage. I have a mixed reaction She bounces her weight from one leg to the other, looking like one of those fighters on TV. Kait makes me think of my old life, how I must have looked at her age.

“I haven’t done anything, my record is completely clean and always has been. What would make you think this is a prison?” Not only can I see her glare at me, but I can feel it. Her looks is hot, like fire burning into my soul and already condemning me to an eternity of hell.

“Because, Princess, there are no doors and no windows. And you having a clean record sounds like even more bullshit. Ain't no black bitch who's not been in jail around here.” She nods her head in a satisfied agreement with herself.

I could feel my eyebrow raise, confused and questioning her response. The room was silent, waiting for me to say something. I decide to not even blink at what she said about my race. “Where, my dear, is this ‘here’ you speak of? We are in a room in a place we do not know, unless you know something the rest of us do not?” There’s still tension in the room, I can feel it prickling my skin like static. Those cat-like eyes narrowed at me again before she started to walk away.

“So...what do you think she’s done if she thinks this is a prison?” Toni’s gaze follows Kait through the small place we are calling home. He looks both intrigued by her and scared of her, his fingers pick at his arm. Sara gives a quick shake of her head to indicate she has no idea and Brendon pipes up.

“Prob a hooker. Use to see girls like her on the lots, back when I drove for a living. Though, dun think she would get that much doin’ that, she’d need a special kind of guy to pay for her time.” The Coffer isn’t very large, so anything we say is most likely heard by everyone. Still, she doesn’t act as if she can hear what we are saying, and sits back in her bed and searches through the container underneath. Brendon continues, “An’ you prob shouldn’t listen to her, doll, most them girls seem to think everyone who look diff’rent from em’ have all been caught up and locked up.” He leans back in his chair, and I have nothing to say so I just nod.

His speech doesn’t completely match his appearance, unless being a good ol’ boy was actually more his style than an athletic jock type. It really is difficult to judge people in here. I turn and look over at Kait, and really try to take her in in order to figure her out. We are all in the hospital white clothing I had found in my drawer earlier, though matched to our specific sizes. Somehow Kait looks different than the rest of us, she looks less like a prisoner or victim and more like someone who is strong no matter the situation. Tattoos cover her arm from shoulder to the beginnings of her fingers, the design of them dark and murky. I can make out a few images though; a dream catcher adorns her shoulder, lit up like the moon, and a wolf’s head is poking its way around under her elbow to look up at it. She has scars, thick ones, on the outer parts of her right thigh and a body that moved like a panther’s. I look away and feel a gentle shiver go across my shoulders and down my back, I turn back to the others.

“Well, probably should make ourselves comfortable. It might be awhile before we get let out of here.” Brendon, Sara and Toni nod in agreement. Toni gets up and moves to the fridge, glancing only for a moment over to Kait. Brendon and Sara begin talking, leaving me to myself. The screen that showed us the video is dark now, and the button underneath calls to me invitingly. With only a moment’s hesitation I decide to press it, knowing full well what I want. A dialogue box expands in front of me, similar to old television screens that lit up from the center outward. In it is a line and in the corner is a small animation showing a finger moving. I write out telephone and click on the box that says “send”. I take a deep breath, the mere seconds between when I sent and when I receive are agony. An error message appears, and asks me to try again. There is a stabbing sensation in my chest, and my knees shake in weakness. I write out contact my family and I send it again. Another error message. Email, and I send yet again...and another error message. I try other ways of trying to ask for a way to contact the outside and get nothing but errors. Sweat is glistening on my palms and beading across my brow. My chest is squeezing into itself, the pain so bad it causes me to almost wince. “Guys, I don’t think we are allowed to contact anyone outside of here.”

Brendon and Sara stop talking, Toni continues to munch on whatever food he has taken from the fridge, and even Kait seems to hear what I have said. None of them move for a moment, the air is thick with the weight what I said brings. Kait is the first to speak up. “You were right, Princess, this sure as hell isn’t a prison. They at least let you talk to your family from time to time.”

A shiver goes down my spine, coldness spreads through my veins and stabs at my heart and lungs. I need to make sure my family is okay though, how am I going to know Dayna and Jonathan are fine? Do they even know where I am? Does anyone? In the time it took for Kait to say her piece and for warmth to start returning to my fingers and toes, Sara smiles a little and relaxes more in her seat. “Are you sure we can’t talk to anyone? Do you think they can talk to us?” Her doll blue eyes sparkle as she asks, her voice becoming somewhat more vocal and perked up. Is she happy about this?

I nod at her, feeling again in control of my mind and body’s reactions. “Pretty sure. I asked for a phone and the ability to contact my family and it sent an error message every time.” My voice is shaking a little, perhaps I’m not as in control of myself as I would like to think.

She hugs herself and looks at us, seeming almost joyful as she smiles brightly. “This means Papa can’t find me here, doesn’t it? Do you think he might not even know where I am?”

My heart feels a hard yank down, realizing a thing about this cute little blonde. Though I am sad I can’t talk to those I love, she might be safe if nobody can find us. Looking at her bruises and how she is smiling about not being found, I conclude that this “Papa” is not someone she should be around. Sara’s eyes well up with tears, and she hugs herself tight. I can’t help but feel bad for her, and so I hug her as well. “I don’t know, dear.” I can’t help it, it’s in my nature to comfort those who are, or have been, hurt.

Even if we are unable to talk to anyone, maybe it’ll be okay. It’s just a few weeks...right? Maybe I signed up for something like this through my email or something. Our emails are everywhere, electronic signatures sent almost daily by some people. I know I signed up for a lot of things a while back when I was needing some extra money. Thoughts on how I got here continue to pile through my mind, trying to make sense of this situation. I pull from Sara, who seems quite content right now, and go back to my bed. I stare at where I woke up, the name on my bed not making sense. “Amber”.

“I have a question for all of you, what are your names?” I turn glance at each one of them in turn, wondering if perhaps my bed had simply been misspelled.

Toni looks at me, “Mark.”

Sara, “Elizabeth, please call me ‘Liz’.”

Brendon, “Chris.”

Kait, “Kait. Why do you ask?” She had set her book in her lap at some point, and stared at me like I was crazy. She waves a hand to all the beds, “The names are all right there, there wasn’t any reason to ask.”

“Actually, if you look, the only one who’s name is right is yours.” I already don’t like her, she seems snobby and unable to pay attention to detail. “My name is Angela, my bed says ‘Amber’. Mark’s bed says ‘Toni’, Liz’s says ‘Sara’ and Chris’s says ‘Brendon’. Why is yours the only one that is right?”

Kait’s raises an eyebrow at me, a small smile playing at her lips, “Princess, maybe you didn’t get to take your medicine today, but the names are all fine. Maybe you should have requested your meds before asking to talk to your family….if you have one.” She let the smile appear briefly before picking her book up again.

I look over at the beds again and see she is right. The names that were there before are gone, and in their place are “Mark”, “Elizabeth”, “Chris”, “Kait” and “Angela”. My vision blurs and the ground feels like it’s trying to tip me off of it. I feel dizzy and sit on my bed, my eyes on the ground. I could have sworn the names were different. How could I have so clearly have seen the other names and now these? What was I injected with? The blanket is around me again, as tight as a straight jacket, helping me feel safe. I have never hallucinated before in my life, I could have sworn that the names were different.

Kait looks over at me every so often. I can feel her gaze, her judging and brattish smile probably still painted on her face. None of the others have said anything about what I said, maybe one of them had seen the wrongs names as well. Maybe I’m not wrong.