[ WP ] You wake up in a morgue with no memory . On a table next to you is a brown envelope marked 'Confidential ' .

The sensation of cold metal ran up my spine and my eyes snapped open. I sat up quickly and sucked in deep gasp of air. My chest rose and fell quickly and then I felt a slight twinge of pain. Looking down I saw black pattern making its way up and down my torso. I reached to feel it and drew my hand back quickly. The area was slightly red and tender, but without a doubt I knew what they were. That familiar feeling of thread. At some point and time I'd gotten stitches. 
 
 `` What the fuck,'' I mumbled. 
 
 I looked up and glanced about the room. It was cold and had an odd smell. Somewhere between a hospital room and chemicals I could n't quite place. I looked back down to see that I was sitting up high on a metal table. A white sheet covered my waist down. I was naked and in an unfamiliar place. I'd be lying if I said this was the first time this had happened, but I usually woke up in bedrooms or living rooms. Usually the wake up was abrupt and followed by a hungover walk to a diner for breakfast. 
 
 As my head began to clear and I began gathering my thoughts, it occurred to me I had n't gone out the night before. I turned around slowly and it clicked as to where I was. Behind me were rows and columns of what resembled large filing cabinets. On the cabinets were names and the stamp'T.O.D' below them. I was in a morgue. I turned back to sit forward, careful not to tear my stitches... stitches? A new wave of panic washed over me. Why did I have stitches? Why did I have them in a morgue of all places? I began scanning the rest of my body but found no other marks. 
 
 `` Hello,'' I tried to shout but my throat was to dry, `` is there anyone in here?'' 
 
 Silence. I called out again but was only met with the brief echo of my own voice. I sunk my face into my hands. 
 
 `` What the hell is happening?'' 
 
 I looked back up and of to my right to see a brown envelope on the other table next to me. I brought my legs off to the side slowly and grabbed the sheet. I started to try and stand up but instead stumbled forward like a newborn calf. I raised up my hand to catch myself on the table. On the envelope a large red stamp with bold letters that read'Confidential' ran across the back. As I steadied myself on my shaky legs I used a free hand to slide the envelope towards myself and turned it over. On the upper tab of the envelope, just above the metal pins that kept it closed, was a small note written in pen that read'Please open upon awaking'. 
 
 As instructed I opened the envelope and emptied the contents onto the table. In it was a smaller white envelope addressed to Riley Ward, a black flip phone, and a small roll of money held together by a rubber band. The money was mostly $ 100 bills but there were some twenties in there as well. The roll came out to be a little over 10 grand. When I inspected the black phone I found that there was nothing particularly special about it. I turned it on and looked through it, but there were no numbers, no call history, so all I could gather was that it was new. There was also no reception here so any attempts to make a call would be useless until I got out. 
 
 Then came the white envelope. My name written across in black pen. My legs had begun to regain feeling but unfortunately so had my stitches. A dull aching pain that began at my midsection and radiated all over my body. It was bearable but not easily ignored. I tore open the envelope and then hoisted myself back up onto the table to sit down. I pulled out the paper from inside and unfolded it. 
 
 Mr. Ward, 
 If you are reading this it means that you have likely just woken up. You probably have a lot of questions and are likely scarred. Perhaps you are angry or confused. This does not matter. What you need to understand is that time is of the essence and you have been contracted to complete a task for our organization. Who we are and why you in particular were chosen is of very little importance. What is important is that you are currently carrying something that means a great deal to our organization. You may have noticed a long series of stitches across your midsection. Take comfort in knowing that we took the utmost care in preparing you for this mission, and that the procedure you underwent was performed by highly skilled medical professionals. After completion of this letter we would ask that you go to the cadaver door marked No.12 and open it. Inside you will find a new set of clothes, a wallet, a passport, and three prescription bottles. You are to take these things and the phone you've been given and proceed outside. Once you are there wait for a call and you will be given further instructions. We would also discourage any contact with authority figures as we can not guarantee the safety of you or your family if you should choose to do so. Please do not test us as we are not patient people. We hope you find the clothing to your liking and you are welcome to use the money you've been given as you see fit. Upon completion of this letter you are to burn it and proceed with your orders. Do not fail us, Mr.Ward. 
 
 P.S. Please get the lights as you leave. Best of luck. 
 
 My hands had begun to shake as I was reading. Cargo? Mission? What kind of X-Files bullshit was this. This whole scenario did n't seem real and yet here I was. Alone. 
 
 I set down the letter and hobbled over to cabinet 12. Sure enough inside was not a dead body but the contents the letter had described. A new clean t shirt and a black hoodie, a pair of blue jeans and a pair of black canvas shoes, a baseball cap with a now defunct team as a logo. The pill bottles were an antibiotic to help prevent infection, a pain killer, and the last one had a label but no print. Inside where a couple of white pills. The wallet and passport both had my face but the name read'Carl Marsh Eubanks'. Fake documents? What did they want him to do? 
 
 Whoever'they' were had neglected to give me underwear so it looked like I was going commando. I winced as I bent over slightly to pull up the jeans. I raised my arms slowly and pulled the t-shirt on. Then the hoodie followed by slipping on the shoes.'They' had n't given me socks either. As I put the passport into the pocket of the hoodie and the wallet into my back pocket, I caught a glimpse of something else near the back of the drawer. I pulled the drawer out a little more and stopped when my eyes landed on it. 
 
 A black handgun and two clips had been duct taped down on the silver slab. I swallowed hard and reached for it slowly. Peeling the tape up and off the gun then holding it in my hand. I had n't gone shooting since I'd been in high school. Even then all I'd ever shot were paper targets with my dad. The situation began to feel even more dangerous. Something I did n't even think possible. I checked the safety and stuck the gun between my waist and the band of my jeans. The clips into either of the deep pockets of the jeans. I closed the drawer and took one last look around. My eyes landed on a set of large swinging doors. I made my way towards them and started out but stopped abruptly. A part of me wanted to leave the lights on. Maybe in some sort of half-assed rebellion so that I could pretend to have some kind of control in this crazy scenario. But instead I just ran my hand across the switches and flipped the lights off. The room fell dark and I pushed open the doors to leave. 
 
 To be continued
