7. Land of Confusion

Mateo thought, because he had nothing else to do in the dark. He sure wasn’t sleeping that night, he knew that much. Thanks to that bag, he hadn’t seen much of the building after his first look, and he wasn’t even totally clear on what this room (ok, cell, definitely cell) looked like since it was so dark in there.

He automatically reached for his Mp3 player, but it was gone, like everything else he had on him including the clothes on his back, swapped out for some jail uniform. At least they’d untied him (thanks for nothing, Murder Amish), pulled the bag off his head, and given him water. Then they’d gone away and left him in this cell.

The place was freaky quiet. No sound but his own breathing. Aside from the guys who went through his stuff — all some flavor of British, apparently — he wasn’t sure anyone else was inside. Which was crazy. It was a huge place. Where was he? When was he? Maybe he got sent WAY forward in time, to some weird retro dystopia. The place seemed really old, but it was Europe (probably) and Europe seems old, right? His brain ran around and around like a coked-up hamster on a wheel while his eyes made random patterns of the dark.

There’d been some little details, just to really amp up the weird, like there needed to be anything else. Like before somebody tightened the sack around his head, he’d looked down and seen the nearest soldier/SWAT team guy/Mad Max enforcer(?) was wearing 50s NBA basketball sneakers instead of boots. And the army medic they’d taken him to when they searched him had been weirdly fascinated by his dental work. Maybe they’d forgotten how to make fillings in the future, who the hell knew?

He groaned and put his aching head into his hands. It was the only sound in the building.

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