Last Day As Me

The boy sat in his bed, covered in his Buzz Lightyear blankets. Hunched over a flashlight-illuminated photo album, he flipped through the pages of polaroids. One day he’d go on sailing trips as his mother did in her youth, but for now, he was content with fanaticizing over her pictures. He had looked through these photos dozens of times, yet his excitement never seemed to dwindle. Worried his mother would catch him awake, he thought it best to call it a night soon. As if she were reading his mind, he heard the click of his bedroom light switch. He thought about trying to ragdoll under his blankets and pretend he had been fast asleep, but his mother’s voice quickly crossed that plan off the list.

“James, this is the third night in a row.”

“Yes but today’s Monday, which means the last two days don’t count,” said James, still sitting upright under his blankets.

“My count is the only one that matters.”

He threw his sheets off his head and fell back dramatically on his pillows. “You said you’d be home in time to tell me your sailing story. So this is your fault,” he said.

“By now, you could probably tell it better than me.”

“Yeah probably.”

“Hand it over. Time for bed,” she said as she reached for the album.

“Can you at least tell me about my favorite one first?”

She looked at James with a mischievous smile and conceded. “Fine, but afterward, the lights go off, and you sleep.”

“Deal!” he said.

His mother pulled a chair next to the bed and grabbed the photo album. She flipped through the pages, smiling occasionally as she did. “Ah, here it is.” She scooted closer to James so he could see. There were six pictures on the page, but the one they were interested in was at the bottom left. It was of a sunrise that had “Last Day As Me” written in the polaroid’s margin.

“What does that mean?” he asked.

“Well, it was my last trip before I started my first big girl job. I guess I thought the corporate world would change me and that I’d be different.”

“Did it change you?”

“Yeah, it probably did,” she said with a smile. “Why is this one your favorite?”

“I’ve never seen a sky that beautiful before,” he said softly.

“I haven’t seen one since,” she said. “It was like God invented new colors to decorate the sky, just for me.”

“Wow,” he whispered, hypnotized by the fiery sky and glistening water. 

She let him look a while longer before closing the book. “A deal’s a deal. Off to bed.”

“Just a few more minutes?”

“Nope, not gonna work this time,” she said making her way to the doorway.

“Can you try and be home in time for the full story tomorrow?”

“Have you forgotten?” she asked.

James’ head twitched to the side. “Forgotten what?”

His mother wore a sympathetic face. “Oh honey, I won’t be here anymore.”

His face only showed more confusion.

“I died, remember?” she said.

“Mom, what are you talking about?”

“You’ll see, darling. Okay now lights out.” She flipped the lights off and closed the door.

James ran toward the door but the knob wouldn’t turn. He yelled, but his screams came out as whispers. ”Don’t leave!” he said. His voice shook with panic. James grabbed the baseball bat sitting next to his closet and started hitting the door with as much strength as he could muster. Small dents turned into big ones which turned into holes. Blow after blow he got closer to breaking down the flimsy door. His eyes squinted shut to avoid the explosions of wood shards coming at his face. He wound up for one last swing and…

“James!” The voice startled him.

He looked around and saw his classroom nearly empty. In front of him sat his calculus final. Instead of the page being filled with calculations, it was blank aside from his name half-written at the top. The room was empty aside from him and his teacher who stood at the head of the classroom with her arms folded. Her heels clicked on the tile floor as she made her way down the aisle of tables. She pulled a chair from a neighboring desk, sat, and glanced at his nearly untouched test. Her face was somehow a contortion of sympathy and annoyance.

“This is the third time I’ve let you make up this makeup exam,” she said. “I’m trying to be patient with you, but you need to meet me halfway.” 

James stared at the blank sheet, squeezing his clammy hands in his lap. He wanted to explain, but he wasn’t sure what to say.

“Talk to me, James. Where does your head go when you zone out like this?”

He shook his head and sighed. “I don’t know. I guess I…” He looked at her with glassy eyes, hoping she’d finish his sentence. She pursed her lips and nodded.

“One more chance. Tomorrow after class,” she said. “James, I’m serious about this. I know things have been tough lately but this is your last chance.”

“Thank you.” James gathered his things and handed the blank paper to his teacher before heading to the door.

“They’re really screwing this kid up,” he heard.

“Sorry?” he said spinning around toward her.

She looked confused and tense. “I uh… didn’t say anything.”

He nodded, trying not to look suspicious. “Okay, have a good evening.” He turned back toward the door, but he could have sworn he heard someone say “Jesus Christ” as he walked away.

James entered his kitchen and was greeted by a note and $40 sitting on the counter. “Will be home late. $$ for pizza. -Dad”. Notes coupled with money were starting to appear more regularly than usual, but he didn’t blame him. His dad never talked about money, but James could tell it had been tight ever since his mom had passed last year. One thing he never quite understood was why his dad insisted on signing his notes. As if anyone else dropped by to buy him dinner. He threw the cash in his wallet, ordered his food online, and retreated into his room. 

As embarrassed as he was to have blacked out again, he was thankful he had some extra study time. He painstakingly flipped through his calculus notes for several hours. As for math, he was relatively gifted, but he wanted to prove to himself he could stay focused for long periods of time. There couldn’t be any more episodes, or whatever those daydreams are tomorrow. Just as he was about to wrap up his studying, his stomach growled. Suddenly he was aware of his hunger and that it was accompanied by a blistering headache. 

He tapped his phone and saw that his pizza had been delivered nearly three hours prior. It clearly hadn’t retained any of its “hot and fresh” advertising on the box, though he couldn’t blame anyone but himself. Regardless, he ate it without hesitation until all that remained were crumbs and the circle of grease where the pizza once sat. It hadn’t been particularly good but his stomach had been quieted, so it did its job. 

James flipped on the TV in the living room and resumed his progress in the most recent season of “Running for Tilman’s”. The show followed a kid in his early twenties trying to track down his middle-aged friend who went missing. James was usually sucked into each episode and had to force himself to call it quits for the night, but tonight he had no interest. He just sat on the couch, occasionally staring off into space, completely unaware of what was happening in the show. After one episode, he decided to head upstairs for bed, but as he stood, his knees buckled and he collapsed to the floor. 

James got off the ground, confused by what had just happened. Yes, he was up now, but each step seemed more labored than the previous. By the time he had reached the bottom of the steps, the idea of walking to the top seemed almost comical. 

“What the hell is happening,” he thought.

He decided that a sort of army crawl would be his only hope of making it to the top. He fought his way up the first flight of stairs to the landing, where there were only a few more steps, so he decided to stand. He struggled but eventually thought he was steady enough to walk. The first step went alright but on the second his legs once again buckled, sending him painfully back down to the first floor. He lay on the hardwood, barely able to move. With the last of his quickly depleting energy, he pulled his cell phone from his pocket and called his father. His vision was blurred and he could barely keep his eyes open. The phone rang and after each tone, he prayed for an answer. The sound of his dad’s voice made his heart skip. 

“Hi…”

“Dad, I…”

“This is Larry. Leave a message at the tone.”

James had thought his body was completely limp. After that, it was. As the pre-recorded voice explained how voicemails were left, he felt a hand grab the device from him and cancel the call. As his eyes closed, he saw what looked like his mother standing over him.

James awoke, thankful that the terrible dream was over. That comfort quickly dissipated when he realized he was in what looked like a hospital room. He tried to sit up but moving was apparently an ability he had not regained completely.

“Ma’am, he’s up.” The voice startled him so much, he nearly fell out of his bed. The young man standing in the corner of the room wore a beret and a camouflage uniform. 

“Thank you,” said a female voice from a radio on his shoulder. 

“Excuse me, what’s going on?” asked James.

The man remained motionless as if he hadn’t heard him speak.

“Sir?”

“Stop talking to me, kid,” he heard. James’ hair stood erect on his neck. The soldier’s lips hadn’t moved.

“Don’t call me kid.” The soldier flinched and his eyes widened. Before James could say anything else, he was gone.

James sat in the room trying to figure out what was happening. He had been to his local hospital before for appendicitis but this was not what the rooms looked like. Each minute, he could feel his strength returning, and after an hour, he was pacing in the windowless room. He heard the door open behind him and when he turned, his knees buckled again. This was different than the previous night. He had no idea what that was about, but I bet anyone seeing their dead mother walk through a door would fall to their knees as well. 

“Mom?” His voice was shaky. She was also dressed in a militaristic uniform but she looked much more official than the last guy.

“Feeling better?” he heard. Her mouth didn’t move.

“Yes, but why the hell can I hear you? And what happened to me last night?”

“Something special in the pizza,” she said. Again, mouth closed.

“Okay, that doesn’t tell me why you’re talking to me without using your mouth!”

“I assumed you had already figured that out,” he heard.

“I can hear thoughts.”

“Pretty much. When you’re in close vicinity,” she said. This time she actually spoke. “I’m going to assume you have many more questions.”

“Yeah no shit,” he said.

“All will be answered soon,” she said.

“Start with how you’re alive.”

She took a deep breath as if preparing for something painful. “This is going to be a lot, so just listen. When you were born, your real parents gave you up for adoption. My government stepped in and took you away for… a program.”

“Real parents? Program?”

She held up her hand at the question as if to say “Hold on”. 

“You were a perfect candidate for us to implement into something called ‘Project Echo’,” she said. “You were modified, to hear thoughts, something our scientists figured out a while ago. The problem is it comes with a delayed fuse. It takes about 16 years for the ability to show itself. When you turned 17, the scientists decided to kill me. Thought the emotional trauma might speed up the progress.”

James sat silent. He might as well just forget about the questions he had because this is way more than anything he could have imagined.

“When your teacher gave us a call yesterday, our theories were confirmed. When you were a baby, you were placed in a fake American town. Raised as all young Americans would but you were guaranteed the best education to prepare you.”

“Prepare me for what,” James asked.

She took another preparatory deep breath. “To infiltrate America’s government.”

“This is all some sort of dumb joke right?”

She ignored the question and handed James a file he hadn’t noticed. He opened it and saw a birth certificate, a social security card, and other legal documents with his name and face on them. James looked through them one after another, not really processing anything he was looking at.

“What if I say no?”

“Then we will kill you,” she said. There was no hesitation or gentleness in her voice. She looked like his mother but this was a different person entirely.

“Guess my mind’s made up then,” he said. “What’s next?”

“Over the next four days, you will undergo preparatory training for the mission. One day you will be a high-ranking official in the US government. With the information, you are privy to combined with your ability, there will be no secret the United States can keep from us.”

“Who is ‘us’, exactly?”

“Can’t tell ya, sorry”

“Figures,” he said.

“Take the rest of the day to get back up to strength. If you have any more questions, check the file,” she said as she made her way to the door and out of sight.

There was so much information spinning through his head. So much he didn’t understand. He hadn’t asked the one question he wanted to ask more than anything. Sure the answer to that one wouldn’t be in the file, he threw it to the side and the contents spilled out. A small white square slid across the tile floor to the corner of the room. He made his way over to it and flipped it over in his hand. It was a picture of the most beautiful sunset he had ever seen. Below it was written “Last Day As Me”.

“It sure is”, he said.