The Ticketmaster

I woke up with a start, my body jolting forward with my head coming close to slamming into a table before me. I throw out a hand to stop myself from smashing my face into the metal. Instead of one hand stopping me I discover two hands. Hands that just so happen to be restrained in handcuffs.

My brows crease in confusion and my mouth folds into a frown.

Why am I handcuffed? I don’t remember falling asleep with these on. Actually, I don’t remember falling asleep in the first place.

My frown deepens as I bring my hands closer to my face for a more thorough inspection. I twist and turn my pale hands in the cuffs, trying to determine if I can break free of them. My effort is rewarded with an uncomfortable pressure on my wrists. A hiss escaped my mouth at the discomfort.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” a deep voice says.

I jerk my head up in alarm and shove my hands into my lap.

My eyes are met by vibrant blue eyes sitting across from me. A young man looks at me with a serious expression.

I open my mouth to ask him what he means by that when he cuts me off saying, “Those are acupuncture cuffs. The more you play with the cuffs the tighter they get. If you don’t want to cut off the circulation to your hands I highly suggest you stop moving so much.”

I try to gauge how truthful his words are by rolling my left wrist. The cuffs tighten at the movement making me wince as I hold back choice words.

In my nagging pain, I take in my surroundings. My head swivels as I take in the small dimly lit room. Both I and my male companion are sitting on a hard booth bench with a metal table bolted into the wall on our left. Above the table is a window that is pitch black with not a flicker of light to be seen in the abyss.

I lean forward trying to make out any street lights or stars with no luck. I am rewarded with a mirrored reflection of a face I don’t recognize. Tired sunken brown eyes of a young woman staring back at me. Her face is ghostly pale with a black eye the only source of color on her face. No hint of a smile graces her face.

Who am I? Why does my face look so foreign to me? Who gave me this black eye? Why am I here? Who is this guy?

My eyes shift to the right of the darkened window pane where I see the man watching me through the glass.

I turn to face him, prepared to ask him a question when the wall parallel to the window slides open to reveal a middle-aged man with a tailored suit and a black cap with golden letters on it. He sent me a scathing glare in my direction with a hand on a gun holster at his hip before turning to the young man with an outstretched arm.

“Ticket please.”

The young man reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a silver ticket with a scrawled name I can’t make out. The conductor grabs the ticket and scans it with his wristwatch. His watch flashes green before handing the ticket back.

The conductor turns to me with distrusting eyes. He looks me up and down before extending his hand expectantly.

I look at his hand, down to my empty hands, over to the man across from me before settling my gaze back on the conductor’s face. I shrug my shoulders not sure where my ticket is. I gulp as I watch the conductor’s face rapidly turn red with rage.

Before I can blink the conductor lunges forward, grabs my jumpsuit in his fist, and yanks my face up close to his. My eyes widen in terror as I try to look anywhere but his blinding gaze.

“Don’t play dumb with me missy. Either you present a ticket or else this train will have one less passenger,” he growled in my face, splattering saliva on my cheek.

My heart was hammering in my chest, my body froze in place.

“Conductor release her. We have unfinished business here,” the mystery man spoke up.

I don’t move, afraid the young man doesn’t have the power he portrays to possess.

The conductor scoffs and gives me a shake.

I tense up prepared to be dropped or assaulted.

“You know the rules. Her times up. She gets the boot if she doesn’t have a ticket by the allotted time. No acceptions.” He starts to turn towards the open door with me in tow.

“I’ll make an offer you can’t refuse,” the young man spoke in a firm tone. A small thud trailed his words.

The conductor turned his body to face him giving me the perfect chance to shift my gaze to the other side of the room. What I saw made my eyes widen in disbelief. On the table sat a large wad of cash, enough to live life comfortably.

The young man’s gaze bore into the conductor’s and I felt the man start to give in. Sure enough, the older man shoved me back into the seat, scooped up the cash, and shoved it into his black cap.

“You have fifteen minutes.” The conductor scowled at the young man. He hiked up his trousers and left the room without a second glance at me.

The doors closed behind him and I turned my gaze upon the ever more mysterious man before me. He gazed back at me with a calm exterior.

No longer willing to remain silent I open my mouth to ask him what the hell is going on when blind cold fear runs down my spine. No words come out.

I quickly try speaking again, thinking it must be some weird fluke. My mouth opens again and still, nothing comes out.

Acupuncture cuffs be damned as I raise my shackled hands to graze my throat and insert fingers to touch my tongue. I give a sigh of relief when I discover my tongue is still intact. My relief is short-lived as my cuffs get tighter and I wince at the newly applied pressure.

I look up at the man sitting across from me with disdain.

“What? Cat got your tongue?” He asks with an upturned smirk.

I bare my teeth at him, not finding his joke funny. Without moving my body I rotate my head to encompass the entire room, then stomp my feet.

I mouth the words, “Where am I? What is happening?” My eyes fixate on him. We have only a short period of time before I may no longer be living. I need the man to give me the details and fast.

“Fine, I’ll cut to the chase. You’re a prisoner being held on a runaway train with no destination. Why you’re a prisoner I can’t say. For your safety and mine, you have been given a serum that paralyzes your vocal cords making you mute. Oh and don’t forget it jams your memory too.” He scans my face for a reaction.

I keep my face as neutral as possible. Was I freaking out? Of course but I wasn’t about to let him know that. I needed him to keep talking if I wanted to attempt to get out of here.

The concept of being a prisoner, some kind of criminal, was off-putting.

Was I capable of committing a crime? Was it for a good cause or my own selfish desires? Am I a good person or am I a bad person?

Considering I was on some prison train going nowhere, that seems to be answer enough.

My brain was an empty abyss. I understood the basics of everyday life but no matter how much I tried to recollect past events or memories it was devoid of any detail. No hints as to who my identity was or what my life was like before I found myself in this mess. No idea as to whether or not I had family or friends.

Shit! Was I a thief or a robber? Had I killed someone? Was it in self-defense or had I planned it? Am I worthy of living a normal life after what I’ve done? Would anyone be happy to see me if I got out or would I be alone?

The questions of my uncertainty were spiraling out of control as I tried to keep my mask in place. I must have zoned out because a flicker of movement made me blink out of my stupor.

I watched a card be pushed in my direction. I shifted my eyes downward and sucked in a breath. I leaned forward in my seat for clarity. Familiar brown eyes stared back at me in what appeared to be a mugshot photo. Below the image, a name read – JoMarie Wisner. A birthday was listed as March 14th, XX59.

I had a name and it was Jo-Marie Wisner. I tried the name on my lips even though no sound escaped. I finally could put a name to a face which brought me some comfort. My birthdate wasn’t much help because I had no idea what year it was currently but that was the least of my worries.

I lifted my head to meet the blue eyes across from me once more. I quirked an eyebrow in question, trying to relay I wanted more clarification.

“Jo-Marie Wisner, you have been given an opportunity to change your future. The Ticketmaster has given you this opportunity on the basis of the good behavior you have shown in recent times.” He paused for emphasis.

I nodded my head vigorously and moved it slightly to the right hoping he’d get a move on with his explanation. The suspense and the limited time I had to act were killing me.

“You have three tickets to choose from. The bronze ticket allows you to return to prison with your full speech and memory intact with your sentence cut in half. The silver ticket allows you to be released from prison today with your voice, identity, and memory as a forfeit. The golden ticket allows the conductor to collect you and throw you off this train. You will not survive. Those are your only options.”

He glanced down at his clock.

“You have exactly five minutes to decide before the conductor returns to enact your decision.”

He looked at me expectantly as I tried to not tumble into an abyss of fear, anger, sadness, and guilt. Today was just not my day apparently.

Okay, JoMarie now is not the time to panic. You got this. Don’t overthink it and you’ll be fine. I tried reassuring myself but found my words did not cause the comforting effect I had hoped.

I began to weigh my options as quickly and as thoroughly as I could. There were no pros to dying so option three was off the table. That left me with two options, both equally good and bad. If only I had my memories still intact. It would make this decision so much easier.

What did I have to lose? My memories, my identity, my family, my friends, my history, my safety, my health. I could literally lose it all if I even had anything to lose in the first place. No matter what people tried to get you to believe, freedom was not free. It often came at a high price. A price I wasn’t sure I was willing to pay.

“One minute remaining. Choose the ticket you so desire and sign the appropriate name on the ticket. When the conductor returns you may present your ticket to him to be given to the Ticketmaster.” He nodded his head at the three tickets and pen sitting in the place where my identity card had once been.

Dread filled my stomach as I went to pick up the pen with shaking hands. The cuffs to their credit remained obedient and didn’t tighten around my wrists further. My heart was pounding like war drums throughout my body as I contemplated one last time if I was making the right decision or not.

The tip of the pen hit the shiny ticket when the sound of the door opening hit my ears. I madly scribbled a name down, dropped the pen, and yanked the ticket up in the conductor’s direction. I locked eyes with the older man as my chest heaved for air and sweat beaded down my forehead. My handcuffs tightened from all the rapid movements. Only by sheer will alone did I hold onto that ticket for dear life.

The conductor narrowed his eyes at me his eyes full of both judgment and amusement. After a brief pause, he scooped up the ticket from my fingers, scanned it with his watch, and gave a grunt of what I can only hope was approval. He handed the ticket over to the blonde man.

“I see you have made your decision. Follow me miss,” he stated in a matter-of-fact tone.

I stood up from the bench and made to follow the conductor. As I passed through the doorway I hesitated. I turned around to look at the young man who was still a mystery to me.

“What is your name?” I mouthed to him in question.

The young man smiled genuinely for the first time. “I think you already know. What is your name miss?”

I opened my mouth to respond. The doors closed shut before the Ticketmaster could read my lips.