The Mystery of the Missing Memory (short fiction)

I woke up facing a blank brick wall. It made no sense, that wall... I didn't recognise it. Everything was strange... unfamiliar. I reached out. My hand fell onto a cement floor. Thoughts came in a rush of questions. I'm on a floor? But...I'm comfortable. Why? Aah... I'm on a mattress. A mattress? Why not a bed? What time is it? At least it's daylight, but early? late? No watch! Where am I? Good God! I'm fully dressed! No watch... Maybe a wallet...Oh no! Have I been robbed? My head's hammering. That's it! I must've been robbed...hit on the head.

'No I.D... Great!', 'What now?' I stood. My legs shook. At least I was dressed. I looked down at my clothes. Khaki trousers? And a khaki shirt... emblazoned across the front with a big, red N/C, not familiar either. Must be work-clothes. I wondered what work I did. I racked my brains... nothing! It must've been quite a party! I don't know where I am and I don't recognize my clothes.

But I know my name.... It's... It's... Come on! You must know your name! By now my mind was in panic. My name! I must know it! Neil? Norman? Nothing!

I felt claustrophobic. I had to get out of this room. As I wrenched at the door, it flew open, and almost hit me in the face. I wanted to run, but my legs were stiff. I stumbled and fell over something. It must've been leaning against the door. 'God....it's a wreath!' It was large, made of white lilies... arum lillies! Was that thing meant for me?

I tried to stand, but my head throbbed with every movement. From hands and knees I looked around. Where in damnation was I?

Then I saw...a stack of boxes...not ordinary boxes. They were long polished boxes with polished brass handles. Coffins! The hair on the back of my neck rose.

Now I really panicked! Someone was expecting me to need a coffin and a wreath...and, from what I'd seen,...quite soon.

I wanted to get as far away as I could. I was in a back-room of sorts because there were trestles and long benches too. I rushed across to the only door and opened it a crack. As I did, I heard singing... hymn singing. I edged into the room, a show room of coffins, in neat rows. Each one was gleaming, topped with a small white price card edged in gold, and placed on a tiny silver tripod. In the corners of the room were elegant silver vases of more white lilies. As I crossed the display room, the singing increased in volume. I guessed the chapel was through the next door.

Again, I eased a door open a crack. The chapel was filled with a grieving congregation.

Nothing to do but wait, and hope no one came through the door. I sat, resting my shaky legs.

The service ended. I was impatient while the chapel emptied.

I peeped out. the coast was clear, so I squeezed through. But still not free, I sank behind a pew, then duck-walked, dodging around more pews. I reached the front row. Could I make it across to that door in the back corner? I estimated twenty feet to cross.

Everyone out the front of the chapel had their backs to me. I doubled over and ran for it, feeling a thousand eyes on my back. I heard no shouts of alarm and I didn't look back.

Outside the door, I was in unfamiliar surroundings again. I saw two men talking as they walked, also khaki-clad, and followed them. I couldn't hurry to catch up though, afraid my head would explode, just with the jolt of walking.

Then I saw what might help. About a hundred metres up the street was a police station. I made for it, But once inside I was confronted by blank stares. Two 'policemen,' wearing similar khaki clothes and khaki caps looked aggressive.

"Yes?" One asked sharply.

"I--, ah.. can't...."

"Yes, yes?"

In a flash of crushing nausea my memory returned. The hair on the back of my neck rose again.The mindless clapping of the sect...the chanting voices... "You will obey! Your mind is missing! Missing! He's Non-Compliant! Non-Compliant! Non-Compliant!"

I made a dash for the door