“I like you, Hex,” L.T says as he sits next to me in the middle of a large room full of cots. The lights are extremely bright and shine down on each bed. I count twenty of them. All empty except for mine. “I suggest you not move around too much. Might die.” I sit up and look for a mirror. L.T hands me one and I check my head. The entire right side of my head is completely shaved. About one weeks worth of growth is there. “And before you ask, yeah, I shot you in the head.” I sigh and lay back down onto my pillow.
“I'm hungry,” I say aloud to no one in particular. L.T laughs and slaps his knee.
“I'll be damned, Hex!” he shouts, his voice echoing throughout the empty room. “I tell you that I shot you in the fucking head and all you want to do is eat!”
“Well, I'm hungry,” I repeat. “What am I supposed to do? Shoot you back?” L.T smiles and reaches behind his back pulling out that same strange gun. He hands it to me handle first. I take it and place it on my stomach. “Maybe later.”
“Keep it,” L.T says while fishing for another one of those odd cigarettes.
“I thought we weren't supposed to have weapons,” I say. L.T just nods and hands me a cigarette that I turn down. He places it on my stomach next to the gun.
“Hex, you've been out for about three months,” L.T says. I hide my shock. “Yeah, I shot you in the head. But while we had you open we figured that we'd just root around in there a bit. Gave you some improvements.”
“What do you mean ‘improvements’?” I ask. Here we go again with me asking questions and getting answers I didn't understand.
“Enhanced certain features,” L.T says “and dulled others. You'll notice once you’re out there in the field.” L.T inhales deeply and holds it in. He continues talking and I notice once again that he doesn't exhale. “Wait to you see this shit. You'll run, fight, and think faster and better than your Black ass ever thought possible.”
“Really?” I ask sarcastically. L.T nods and throws a fast kick at my face. Before I realize it I have his leg in my right hand and the gun aimed at his throat with my left. “Oh.”
“See?” L.T says while pushing the gun away with his index finger. “Shit usually doesn't kick in this fast but I was sure that you'd take a shining to it faster than the others.”
“What others?” I ask.
“There’s only ten of y’all left at this point,” L.T says with a tinge of disappointment in his voice. “By the way, there was one other chick here besides you.” Before I can ask about her he finishes. “She shot herself in the head a few weeks back. Apparently Tony was too rough on her.”
“Who is Tony?” I ask.
“Well you called him Teeth,” L.T says. “She couldn’t take the threat of rape. Somehow found a live gun and, boom, blew her brains out all over her breakfast. Damn shame, too. She was cute.”
“And I'm not?” I ask. What am I doing? “You all right,” L.T says. “A little too thick for my taste.” “You like those skinny model bitches?” I ask. L.T laughs and stands. “Yeah,” L.T says. “If your legs touch you weigh too much.” “I'll work on that,” I say while rubbing my head. “Don't,” L.T says. “You're damned near perfect.” “Except for my thighs touching,” I say. “Yeah, except for that.” Two weeks after my talk with L.T I am running laps when suddenly my brain is on fire. I fall to the ground and watch as the other nine finalists run past me. None of them stop to check on me, which I totally understand. I wouldn't stop to help any of them either. This is a competition. Any sign of weakness is a sign of failure. L.T pulls up next to me in a small golf cart with a large gun mounted on top.
“Get the fuck up, Hex,” he says. “And stop fighting it.” “I’m not fighting anything,” I say, annoyed with him faster than usual. “Did it feel like your brain was sizzling?” he asks. I nod. “That’s the program, baby. Don't fight
that burn. That's all kind of synapses and scientific shit rewiring your brain, making you better. Now try it again. This time just go with the fucking flow.” L.T pulls off to catch up with the other runners.
I stand and begin running. After a few hundred feet my brain begins to burn again. I don't stop running and it gets worst. I keep on pushing. Just when I start to think that I am about to collapse something happens. The world begins to change. I attempt to blink it away but nothing happens. Everything looks brighter. I look down at my legs and they are moving impossibly fast. My arms are at my side like I'm a diving eagle. I am leaning forward with my chin just a couple of feet from the ground.
Already I am catching up with the rest of the group. A few of them turn and look over their shoulders. I can't imagine what sounds are coming from my mouth. I can feel my lungs but I can't hear my breath. I run past L.T and his cart and he waves. Three laps around he starts racing me. He is flooring it but can’t keep up with me.
After thirty times around the track L.T blares an alarm that tells us to all stop. I hadn't noticed the others had long since stopped and were resting on the sidelines. I can't stop running. I am trying to stop but my legs aren't listening to me. As I pass L.T I hear him laughing.
“Run, Forrest!” he shouts. “Come on, Hex! We got lunch to eat!” I shoot him a glance that says, “What the fuck you think I’m doing?” as I pass him again. “Just run into something!” he shouts. I look for something to cushion me as I plan my crash landing. I see a padded wall and head towards it. I lift my head as much as I can and hit the wall with a loud smack. I collapse to the ground and my legs feel like rubber.
“What...the...fuck?” I whisper. “120,” L.T says while standing over me. “120 what?” I ask him while trying to catch my breath. “You were running 120mph,” L.T says. “The fastest anyone has ever run was 110mph.” “Yeah?” I ask. “What's he doing now?' “You're looking at him,” L.T says while walking away.