Page 18 of Anarchy Chained: Alpha Thomas

People are pressing up against me. I hate it. I hate them touching me. I want to be away from this chaos more than anything. “Yes,” I finally say. “OK. Just get me away from here.”

“Follow my lead.”

We take our turn shuffling down the stairs towards the ground level. An old man who smells like stale bread and mold is too close to me. I want to be sick. But then there’s the door being held open by firemen. There’s a few nurses and doctors, but mostly we are just patients.

No. I’m not a patient. I do not belong here.

“When we get outside, make us look like visitors. Can you do that?”

Can I? “I’m not sure,” I say, deciding it’s better to be truthful.

“You can, OK? You just told me you’re a level ten illusionist. If that’s true, then I know what you can do. Just find the faces of two people in plain clothes and change us into them. OK?”

I stare at the daylight pouring through the open door. I want to be outside so bad.

“OK?” Thomas asks again, shaking my arm to jolt me to attention.

“OK,” I agree. I don’t know if I can really do what he just said, but it won’t hurt to believe in it. Just get me outside and away from all these smelly people.

We approach the firemen, and just when I think I won’t have to throw a trip—trip?—and we’ll be able to make our way to safety, there’s a whole army of nurses and doctors, rounding up each and every patient as we file out through the stairwell.

Thomas sees them at the same time, because he says, “Fuck.”

“Fuck,” I echo.

“Do it now, OK? Make us anyone but who we are now.”

“I don’t know if I can.”

“You can. I know you can. Just do it now!”

I find two people far out in the parking lot, both clearly hospital employees by the way they’re dressed, and I just… steal their faces. Thomas still has my hand. And it’s only when I throw the trip—trip?—that I wonder if I can change him as well as me.

But I feel the shudder, in my mind and his, in the same moment.

When I look over at him again, I almost let go of his hand in shock.

So this is what it feels like to see a trip. Where am I getting that word from?

I shake my head and concentrate on keeping the illusion in place. We walk, hand in hand still, right through the door. Several nurses are herding patients as we emerge, but they yell right past us.

We walk faster. Walking off towards a large parking lot. We’re not the only people doing that, either. Several dozen others are right alongside us.

When we get to the parking lot, Thomas steers me towards a car. “You can drop it now,” he says. His illusion falls away as soon as he speaks, becoming Thomas again. “No one is looking. They are way too busy back there.”

“Is this your car?” I ask, feeling the illusion drop away.

“Sure.” He laughs as he takes his shirt off.

I lift an eyebrow at him.

“I need one to break the glass without fucking up my hand. And I don’t want to take yours. Yet.” He smiles at his innuendo.

I look down at myself. Horrified. Again. What the hell did I put on this morning? Where was I this morning? I search back, trying to find something about my day that makes sense. A cup of coffee, maybe. Or checking email. Something.

Thomas wraps his shirt around his hand, then punches the glass, making it shatter into a million shards that fall harmlessly down to the ground.

I go still, almost in a panic. Who am I? I know my name, but that’s not enough. Who am I?