Joanna

Sean keeps his eyes closed a few seconds after gaining consciousness. He stretches his arms above his head, yawns, and slouches lower in his seat, eyes still unopened. His hands search for the armrests, and he grips them. The vibration is soothing.

A train. The realization kicks in. Sean lets his eyes gradually open. Yes, He is aboard a train.

He leans his head back, his eyes darting around as if searching his brain for answers. He must not find anything, because he lowers his chin back down and sighs.

Then, he smiles. It worked.

Darkness envelopes the room as the train enters a tunnel. Sean puts his hand on the window beside him, impressed by the speed of this machine. Within seconds, light bursts through his fingers as the train emerges into the daylight again. He lowers his hand and scans the landscape outside.

Skyscrapers stretch up into the clouds, and littered city streets create a maze down below. He doesn't recognize this city, and that's how he likes it.

A door slides open in the back of the car, and the deep voice of a middle-aged man draws Sean's attention back to inside the train. "Tickets, please."

Sean turns around in his seat to locate the voice. The conductor waits for a young couple in the back to present their tickets.

Ticket, ticket. Sean feels for pockets in his pants then his jacket. Finally, his hand grasps a small slip of paper, and he pulls it out. The size of a business card, it contains no logo or color. Only a few printed words in a generic font:

I AM SEAN DAVIS. I AM 31 YEARS OLD. I AM NEW.

Sean gulps, then nods. This is what he wanted. Nothing but a name and a blank slate. Though he can't remember why.

The conductor reaches Sean's row. The man is tall and muscular, with no trace of emotion on his face. He holds up a hole-puncher. "Ticket, please, sir."

Sean nods and holds up a finger, then searches through his empty pockets again. He shakes his head and looks back at the man. "I don't have one."

The conductor raises his eyebrows.

"I mean I lost it, I lost it. It should be here...somewhere." Sean feigns confusion as he checks between and under the seats. He puts a hand on his head and laughs, bemused. "I'm sorry. What should I do?"

The conductor opens his mouth to speak just as a second conductor approaches, a smaller man with a meaner face. "Behind schedule, are we?"

The first man, Nelson according to his name tag, responds with a hint of sarcasm. "This gentleman has apparently lost his train ticket."

The second conductor, Corey, plasters a fake smile on his face. "I see. Sir, can I have your name?"

"Sean...Davis. Sean Davis." His name is the one thing he can be sure of, yet the sound of it is deprived of any familiarity.

Sean catches a glimpse of a knowing look between the two men before they mask themselves in indifference again. Corey bows theatrically. "Well, Mr. Davis. Welcome to the end of your new life."

Sean tries to speak but has no words. He watches Corey turn to address the the room. Only a dozen other passengers ride this quiet car. Corey speaks with a powerful voice. "Attention passengers. Due to definitely foreseen circumstances, no one will be leaving this car for an indefinite amount of time."

The passengers, all eyes on Corey now, murmur amongst themselves in confusion. A woman in her sixties stands and shouts, "What is this about, what's going on?"

Nelson moves to stand in front of the back door, his beefy arms crossed over his chest. Corey blocks the front entrance. He pats the air in a gesture to calm them down as he fails to hide a smirk. "Please remain calm and pay close attention. Our special guest here" -- he gestures toward Sean -- "has some very valuable information that we need. Now, all he has to do is give us a certain name, a code. For every five minutes he stalls, the train will increase its speed. After thirty minutes, every one on this train will be doomed to certain death as this train will be sent off a bridge currently packed in dynamite. Are the terms clear?"

Sean stares, mouth agape, trying to comprehend the situation he is now facing. Then protests erupt in the car and he jumps to his feet with every one else. The woman in her sixties screams profanities at Corey. The young man in the back shields his wife as she cries in her seat. A father of two children stomps into the aisle and goes after Nelson. "You can't keep us here!"

Nelson pulls a taser from under his uniform jacket and strikes the man before he can land a punch. He falls to the ground and passengers scream in shock. Then there is silence.

Corey sighs dramatically. "This can be over as quickly and smoothly as you let it. Or, as Mr. Davis allows it."

All heads turn toward Sean. He scans the room, all the eyes staring daggers through him. His legs fail him and he slumps onto his seat. Corey claps once, piercing the thick silence.

"I trust you all can help bring this to a happy ending and you can all be off to your own lives again in no time." Voices pick up again as Corey approaches Sean. "Maybe this will jog your memory a bit." He hands Sean a business card. This one has a logo of a triangle with the word ZAKO in the center. Sean studies it with shaky hands.

Corey returns to the door and faces the room again. He pulls a burner phone out of his pocket. "Once you have the answer" -- he tosses it to Sean who barely makes the catch -- "Give me a call." He quickly exits the car while Nelson leaves through the back. They are already chaining the doors closed before passengers can get there, desperate to escape. Sean sits in shock as chaos ensues in the room.

The young couple sit holding each other. The old woman bangs on the front door. The father recovers from the taser shock with his kids beside him, a boy and a girl trying to hide their fear. Sean doesn't realize the sounds have died down as their attempts at escape have proven futile. Now their attention is back on him, and he doesn't notice until a stern "So?" is directed at him. He looks around. It was the old woman.

"So? What's the name? You'll give them the code won't you?" Her expression makes the fear finally sink in. Sean can't decide between nodding and shaking his head as panic floods his mind. He stands to see everyone.

"I..." He looks around. These people are scared, and scared people can do scary things. He tries to take a deep breath.

"You what?!" A few voices echo. Sean gulps and manages, "I...don't remember."

Groans and shouts fill the room. Sean throws his hands up. "Please believe me, I don't know what these people are talking about. I don't know them! They--"

The father points at him. "Nonsense, they obviously know you. Just give them what they want!"

Sean plants his feet and raises his voice. "I'm telling you, I don't know!"

The father bolts from his chair, and in two strides he's grabbing Sean by the collar and slamming him into the wall. "You better figure it out right now or else--" Sean grabs the man's wrists, and the man sees the card in Sean's hand. He snatches it and backs away.

"What's this?" He studies the logo. "Zako?"

Sean catches his breath and shakes his head. "I honestly don't..." He trails off, stops shaking his head. The word flashes in his mind again. He's seen it before.

A laboratory. White coats. A doctor rolling up his sleeves, that triangle tattooed on his forearm. Sean puts a hand on his head as if to catch the memory.

The father interrupts his thoughts. "So he does know. We don't have time for games, give up the answer."

Sean doesn't say anything. The father begins to grab him again when a woman pulls him away. Sean hadn't seen her before, a woman in her thirties perhaps, wearing black pants and a leather jacket. She gets between the two men. "Please, calm down. I'm sure he wants to survive, too, just give him a second." She turns to Sean. "Do you have any idea what those men could want?"

Sean sighs, putting his head in his hands. Then, between his fingers, he sees a gun holstered on the woman's belt, peaking out from under her jacket. His mind races again with unfamiliar images.

A makeshift hospital room. A man with a gun. It's aimed at a scientist standing by a large computer. An echo of "This power will never be in your hands." A gunshot.

Sean falls into his chair again. He replays the montage of memories in his mind. There was a folder. No, a laptop. Memory dictatorship. #1 Fail. #2 Fail. #17 Fail. #34 Success.

Success. Sean shoots to his feet and enters the aisle. "I think I know these people. Or what they're after at least. It's like mind control, or memories, or...I remember...I remember..." He pounds his head, searching for clarity. Silence drags out.

The whir of the train rises in pitch. The passengers sway back as the train picks up speed. Some whimpers and profanities break the silence. The father's hopeful stare is clouded by fearful rage again. He shoves Sean. "You know it! You know it, say it!"

Sean ignores him as a memory of being shoved resurfaces. In a warehouse. He is fighting over a hard drive with another man. A man in a lab coat with a triangle tattoo. "Think about the future," he yells. "Think about..."

Who? Sean sinks to his knees. He mutters, "They need the password."

"What?" the old woman growls.

Sean speaks louder. "They need a password, or a code name. They're called Zako, some kind of underground science gang wanting to control memories, and in turn, people's minds. I helped develop the process of dictating memories. And...and I think I tried to stop it."

The young man in the back, holding his wife, speaks up. "But you can't remember the code name?"

Sean furrows his brows, deep in thought. Finally, he shakes his head. A collective sigh frustrates the room.

"You'll get us all killed, you son of a--" The father tackles Sean and starts throwing punches. Sean vaguely hears shouts and cries, but the man's pounding fists make his ears ring. No one is helping him. Then his eyes meet another's.

A child. The man's daughter. She peers over a seat toward the back, watching in anguish as her father attacks Sean. Her eyes are so big and so sad. Sean can't look away from her. Then he remembers.

The makeshift hospital bed. A little girl lying there, her head bandaged. Sean sits by her, holding her hand. "It's okay, honey. We'll get your memories back." She touches her head, looking at her father with no recognition. A monitor showing a flatline. Sean wailing beside his lifeless daughter. "It destroyed her brain, it could do the same to you," a doctor says. "I only deserve that. And if it does work, then I won't remember what I do or don't deserve anyway," Sean replies, wearing wires on his head. "Just don't let Zako get this technology. They'll--" "Don't worry. The password will disappear with you. With..."

"With Joanna." Sean returns to the present, forgetting about the man above him hitting him left and right. The woman with the gun yells to quiet everyone. "Stop! He said something!"

The father stops himself from throwing another blow, staring down at Sean. Sean, his nose bleeding and head bruising, holds his hands up. "Joanna." He takes a deep breath. "The code is Joanna. She's my--" A tear slips down his face.

The father stands up. Then rocks back with the rest of the passengers as the train speeds up again. The old woman yells, "So call them!"

Sean gets up and goes to his seat. The phone must have fallen at some point. He gets on his knees and searches. Finally, he finds it under a seat and flips it open. A number is already saved. He dials it.

"Joanna. That's the code name for the program. It's Joanna."

The passengers wait in anticipation. The father sits back down with his kids, who hug him tightly. The couple embrace each other as if for the last time.

The train's whir falls to a rumble beneath them as the train suddenly begins to slow. The passengers finally release their breath as relief swarms the car. They hold onto their seats waiting for the stop. Sean sits on the floor.

Finally, The train reaches a halt. Silence shrouds the room. Sean wipes his eyes. It didn't work. The memories....

The front doors abruptly slide open with the sound of chains falling. Corey enters, followed by Nelson. They scan the room, seemingly amused by the terror in people's eyes. Corey looks at Sean as he speaks. "Well done. You may all get off at the next station. Mr. Davis, if you'll come with us."

Nelson approaches Sean, grabs him and lifts him to his feet like he weighs as much as a child. Sean lets him escort him out of the car behind Corey. Corey opens an exit door, then gestures for Sean to step out. Sean hesitates, then steps off the train, followed by the two men. Once they are a safe distance away, the train starts up again and resumes its journey, leaving the three alone.

Sean looks around. A barren desert town is nearby. The outskirts of a city. He sees a black car parked not far from them. Nelson shoves him in that direction.

"You'll be coming with us, my friend," Corey says as they start walking. "Now that your memories are returning, I think you'll be quite helpful to us. A shame #34 is no longer a success, but you may be able to aid in our race to the future before your brain overcorrects and shuts itself down."

Sean slows at the harsh words, and Corey grabs his arm to keep him moving. He looks down and sees the same triangle tattoo on Corey's wrist. A thought forms in his mind, and he looks down at his own arm. He also has the tattoo.

His past will never let him escape.