His breathing was ragged, and his eyes darted from side to side, peering through the broken windows into the decrepit houses as he ran by them. Frigid air sheared over his skin and the sounds of his footsteps echoed across the empty suburban street.
There it is.
He skidded to a halt.
His target was a rundown building, the paint peeled off long ago by the heat of the red sun and its door layered with scratches and bullet holes. Something had lived here, once upon a time, but any signs of a happy home were dead now.
"I’m back,” he gave the door a knock for old times sake.
It creaked open at his touch. The lock was blown off its hinges from the inside. He stepped inside and looked at the entryway. The inside of the door and the walls around it had come under heavy fire.
He recognised his dad's shotgun pellets splashed in a mosaic of destruction. There was no sign of what he had been shooting at. No blood laced the holes, and no torn flesh rotted on the carpet. The foyer opened up into a living room and directly in front of him was the stairway to the second floor.
"Eight months,” He rubbed his neck and sighed as he walked into the living room. “I can't believe I came all this way for an empty shithole.”
Despite his words he felt a flutter of nostalgia as his hands ran across the furniture. He’d spent a lot of time on these sofas dreaming about what he'd do when he grew up. An astronaut. An artist. A soldier. During one of his younger summers he’d even dreamt of becoming a hippy.
A cute girl in a floral dress may or may not have instigated that chain of thought.
Now the fabric was torn and he could see that all of the chairs had been moved to form a protective barrier around the fireplace. Some of the chairs had been smashed and their sharpened legs stuck out to form a wall of spears. He could see a pile of wood shards on the floor where something had smashed through the makeshift barricades.
"Damn it, dad,” he grimaced. The man had always thought that he could do a better job than anyone else.
His chest was rising and falling rapidly now. He needed to retrieve the—
There was a crash nearby and his head whipped up, a long white sword appearing from thin air in front of him. No. Not appearing. It had always been there, hidden within his flesh.
Wisps of shadow rose across the building, blocking out the rays of red light that filtered through the windows and gashes in the ceiling.
They found me quickly this time. His mind raced.
Without hesitation he bounded upstairs. He sent a prayer up to the heavens, the first he’d sent in ten years. The stairs creaked underneath his shoes, and he was careful to distribute his weight evenly. It wasn't easy being heavier than human structures were built for.
Behind him he could hear whispers floating into the air. They came in through the cracks of the walls and spilt across the shards of glass underneath the windowsills.
They were blind but they searched for him relentlessly. Never tiring, never stopping, and never feeling.
He lost sight of them as he turned into the small corridor hallway, the sounds disappearing the moment they left his vision. They were still there outside. He could sense them. A vase broke downstairs and a shiver crawled down his spine.
Normally he would fight and run. This time was different. He was finally at his goal, and nothing would stop him now.
He grasped his fingers around the weapon in his hand, a white sword made completely of white material. It shifted in shape and size, becoming a spear that flowered into a trident and he watched as the speartips grew and multiplied. Within seconds there was a labyrinth of deadly edges and piercing tips wriggling across the corridor. He placed it down on the ground and forced the weapon to face the stairway, ready to shred anything that followed him. He forced a few of the tips to dig into the ground and create a standing barricade.
The moment he let go of the weapon it stopped growing and stilled, waiting patiently in its spot.
"Eenie Meenie Miny Moe, which room did I take from the hoe,” the words brought a smile to his face. It had been a long time since he had spoken those words.
He still remembered his sister fondly.
A single whisper broke through the silence, and he sighed. He felt the floor tremble around him as the weapon was touched. Then there was a frozen moment as the house stilled.
There was a single shriek, a siren wail that shattered his hearing and caused him to stumble as he opened the door at the end of the corridor. He shut it behind him just in time and he heard a crash. His footing trembled as something broke through one of the walls to the house.
They were here.
He ignored the sounds of destruction coming from below as he made his way to his old bookshelf. He threw comic books and graphic novels aside in his haste to find what he'd been looking for.
"Please, please, please,” he hoped his father had never gone through with his threats and destroyed the book. Even after he'd run away he knew his family loved him too much to destroy his possessions.
A cover drew his attention. It was bright red and in the middle a child had drawn a single red sun. Underneath the sun's rays were a happy family. A dad. A son. A daughter.
It had a single title written in darker crimson ink.
[Zane’s Diary.]
A cry of pain shot through the air from behind the door and he heard the sound of shattering. They were breaking through his weapon.
He lifted a finger, and a single white shard broke through his skin from the inside of his body.
A bone.
Ten years of hell and eight months of travel all for this moment. He turned to the very last page of the diary and brought his bone pen down towards it. He scribbled a single sentence using his blood as the ink.
The moment he finished he breathed a sigh of relief, and the tension that he’d been feeling for longer than he could remember disappeared.
He saw the last line he’d written before his intrusion today. A single sentence scribbled in black ink and underlined several times.
[There is no such thing as a system.]
The words brought a smile to his face, and he laughed into the air. He’d truly believed that statement when he’d written it. It was the cause of all of his problems. And the world’s problems too.
Wooden shards broke through the air as something smashed through the doorway into his room. He turned around to look at it but all he could see was darkness.
"You're too late you bastards,” he flicked his wrists out, opening his palms and allowing two needle-sharp white bones to grow out of his flesh.
Without hesitation he raised his palms towards the darkness and the needles shot out of his body, quickly replaced with new ones.
It didn't slow the advance of his enemies. A single limb grew out of the shadows, a disfigured hand flying in the air towards his neck.
As it reached for him, he heard a single whisper in his ear, the words unintelligible. Gnarled and twisted flash gripped his neck and he held back a scream as he felt a thousand razors tearing through his insides.
The words the darkness spoke grew louder as his vision blackened and with his final breath, he made them out clearly.
“Wake up, Zane.”
Then the world went black.
****
Zane woke up with a start. Sweat ran down his neck, dripping onto the pillow and mattress underneath him. His heart thumped rapidly as adrenaline coursed through his body, blood pumping through his veins.
"They got me,” he lifted himself up and took a deep breath. "No. Nobody got me. It's not real. There’s no such thing as a system.”
He repeated the words like a mantra. The same morning routine he’d repeated for the last few years. Every night he dreaded going to sleep. Every morning he had to remind himself which world was his imagination, and which was reality.
It was a battle he was afraid he would eventually lose.
Thankfully, the contents of the dream were already fading from his mind.
"It's a good thing you finally woke up. If I had to say the words ‘wake up Zane’ one more time I'd have done us both a favour and smacked you awake,” a broke through his thoughts.
Against the door frame and looking into his room was a messy head of blonde hair and blue eyes, otherwise known as Tommy, his best friend. The man was standing tall, wearing what he'd decreed as the latest fashion trend. Belt buckles and zips.
"You like it?” Tommy patted down his chest and the sound of metal zippers jingling spilled into the air.
“That is a monstrosity, and I won't have any part in it,” Zane groaned.
He reached out to the chair next to his bed. He’d figured out a long time ago that he was too lazy to get up unless he had a change of clothes within arm’s reach, so he kept them stacked neatly on a chair beside his bed for when he woke up
His skin brushed over the fabric, and he frowned as a strange sensation trickled onto his fingers. He could feel the cold of metal pressing against his hand.
"You didn't,” he narrowed his eyes and looked at the clothes. Each piece of fabric had been replaced by a zippered monstrosity.
"If you're gonna make it this easy to switch your clothes then you can't blame me,” Tommy raised his hands in the air and dodged out of the way as Zane threw a jacket at him. “Hey! That took me two days to make! Do you even know how fast that is?”
Zane wrapped his head in his hands and groaned again. He waved his friend out of his room and he heard Tommy's laughter as the man walked down the corridor. It had been three years since he’d moved out of his parent’s place and struck out on his own.
By the time he'd made his breakfast and sat down to eat he was growing used to the clothes. He’d never admit it to his friend, but he felt like the steampunk characters that used to litter his graphic novel collection. Thankfully his friend had taken care of the jiggling problem by covering most of the problem zippers in a soft layer of material. It looked like glue, but fashionable.
"You gave in to fashion,” Tommy clapped his hands together as he entered the room. “Heck yeah. I'm thinking that this is what we’re wearing to Comic-Con this year. I've got Josh all on board.”
Zane looked around for the final member of their shared house. He wasn't too surprised to not see Josh around. The man worked his life away in the busiest building in the city.
"If you get Tahlia to agree to this then we’ll kick ass. All she needs is a pair of goggles,” Zane saw Tommy grin as he mentioned his friend’s girlfriend.
The two of them knew that she was going to agree, if only for Tommy’s sake. And she would kick his ass first.
"Well, I'll have to miss that amazing conversation,” Zane continued, his lips pursing. “I'm back to visit my family this weekend.”
The idea of seeing his dad gave him a headache, but his sister had insisted. Apparently, the man was threatening to leave the country again. The same empty drivel he spewed every time the anniversary came around.
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
Zane didn't blame him. Nobody wanted to be around the house on the date of his mother’s death.
He sighed and got up from the table. The jacket was lighter than he thought it would be. Silver trimming made the black clothes pop, and he knew exactly why Tommy had chosen that colour in particular.
"Oh yeah, it matches your hair exactly like I imagined,” Tommy grinned.
Zane ran his fingers through his hair. Most of it was black, but a streak of silver ran through the top. The colouring was natural, despite the long-time speculation of his friends, but because the line never expanded, he couldn't call himself a silver fox.
Instead, most people assumed he was a cosplayer or making a fashion statement.
With this jacket and the dark pants that Tommy had given him he might as well be. Zane shook his head and smiled. The clothes would make a fun conversation piece for his sister. Maybe they would even provide a little icebreaker for his dad.
"You're not going to be driving in that jacket for six hours,” Tommy wagged his finger. “I designed it to be tough, but you can still stink up the thing.”
Zane waved his hand dismissively. His car had an aircon and most of the trip would be on the open road with the windows open. He didn't have to worry about the jacket.
It was strange that in the first place he’d taken eight months to get to his old home from here. Well, in that scenario he didn't have a car, and he had been hiding and running most of the time without food in his stomach.
Zane shook his head and dismissed the stray thoughts. That wasn't real.
"I should've slept longer,” he gave his cheeks a light smack to wake himself up.
His dreams were too realistic for his own good. It didn't help that they mirrored his time in the real world exactly. Every day that passed here was a day that passed there.
"Good luck, don't die you crazy speed freak,” Tommy waved Zane off with a smile as the car pulled out of the driveway.
“I'm not the one that should be worried. I'll come visit you in the hospital after your girlfriend rips you in half for suggesting she dress up in nerd gear,” Zane flipped his friend off and got a laugh in response.
Within minutes he was speeding through the highway, the beginning of the long trip away from the city and towards the peaceful town he'd grown up in.
It was about halfway through the trip when Zane got the feeling that something was out of place. He’d learnt through sheer stubbornness to ignore the dream world and its uncanny semblances of realism.
That didn't stop a sense of familiarity rising up within him as he passed by landmarks he'd visited within the dream. He could barely remember them, but some had left stronger impressions than others. Like he could almost picture them.
It was when he was looking at a tall building, he'd hidden inside that he spotted something out of the corner of his eye.
A small shadow was moving at the back of his car.
"What the hell?” Zane almost swerved into the next lane in surprise.
He risked a quick peek over his shoulder and saw nothing except for the bags of food and clothes he'd brought.
The car was completely empty except for him.
A shiver ran down his back and he locked his eyes onto the road in front of him. His dreams often turned into nightmares, and when that happened, he was skittish for the entire day, jumping at shadows and twitching at loud noises.
"Stop letting a stupid dream get to you,” he shook his head and forced a laugh.
He couldn't even remember what this latest one had been about. The dreams often faded away after the first few minutes of the day unless he focused on memorising them or wrote them down. He'd stopped doing that after his dad threatened to burn his diary.
His house had been in the dream. He remembered that much at least. Feelings of nostalgia and frustration built up in his mind.
There were good memories buried in that house. Some too deep for his family to remember.
He sighed and reached a hand into the back, pawing around for the open bag of chips he'd left there. He kept his eyes glued to the road as he did so, carefully steering with his one free hand.
There was a prickle against his skin, and then a sharp pressure as something pressed against his hand. He felt something drag its weight over his hand and he let out a yell, pulling his hand back to the front.
"What the—” His words cut off as the car swerved violently because of his sudden movements.
His panic was overridden by adrenaline, and he focused on the situation in front of him. The long stretch of highway was empty, and he brought his car back under control without any incidents. He turned into the emergency lane and hit the brakes, stopping the car.
He took a deep breath and opened the car door, shooting outside and then peering through the window overlooking the back seats.
Something had crawled over his hand in there.
He pulled the door open with a cautious motion. His fingers curled into a fist, and he narrowed his eyes, scanning the surroundings for anything suspicious.
His ears twitched as he heard a rustling sound. It was faint, a single pitter patter of plastic chip bags being stepped on, but it was enough to confirm his suspicions.
He zoned in on the plastic bag in the middle of the seats. It was where he kept all of his junk food for trips. The plastic ruffled and he saw a body pressed against the bag's side, a dark outline of fur becoming visible for a moment before the creature disappeared deeper into the bag.
"Dammit. That food isn’t for you!” Zane hunched over the bag and opened it wide.
Inside he saw the culprit of his anxiety.
It was a mouse.
"Cheddar. How many times have I told you not to sneak into my car,” Zane groaned at the sight of the small white animal pawing at his chips. “How did you even get in here?”
Cheddar glanced up at him and he saw the fur around its mouth littered with crumbs and salt. Then it dismissed him and continued eating his food.
Instead of stopping it, Zane opened up the boot and brought out a box from within. Inside it was a mouse cage. A few moments later it had a mouse in it, resting peacefully after pigging out on his food. He placed the cage in the passenger seat next to him and rolled his eyes.
"I hope you're ready for another three hours of fun because I'm singing all the way there,” he poked the mouse cage and Cheddar chittered at him. “The moment your dad figures out you're missing there'll be hell to pay.”
The mouse wasn't his. It was Tommy’s. Somehow the little thing kept escaping its enclosure and scurrying off into different sections of the house. There was more than one time Zane had found it nestled comfortably inside the food bowls, sleeping peacefully.
It was bad enough that he kept the spare cage in his boot.
A few hours later he parked the car in front of a familiar suburban house, telling Cheddar to wait inside the car as he walked toward the building.
The family home.
Pain shot through his head as he looked at it. The door had seen better days, its paint beginning to peel, but he felt like it was better than when he'd last seen it.
"What's going on with me today?” He shook his head.
The door was definitely not better than when he’d last seen it. His dad had given up maintenance of the house years ago. The lawn was looking crowded, but someone had to be cutting it since it wasn't a jungle yet.
Rays of sunlight shone bright overhead and he began to regret leaving the jacket on for so long. He knocked his hand against the wood and waited patiently for someone to answer.
Nobody came.
He knocked again, his foot tapping impatiently against the welcome mat. There were no footsteps from inside, and a quick peek through the window showed an empty house.
“Mandy? Dad?” He shouted.
They were either using the bathroom or his family had forgotten he was coming. He sighed. Considering the date, he couldn't be sure his dad hadn't gone through another episode and ran away.
He moved one of the pot plants underneath the windowsill and took out the spare key. He’d always told them how silly it was to keep it in such an obvious place.
Before heading inside, he made his way back to the car and opened the door, reaching out toward Cheddar’s cage.
Tommy had trained his pet well.
Zane raised the mouse to his shoulder, and it clung his claws into his new jacket, sniffing it curiously. He wasn't going to leave it alone in the car for too long in this heat or it'd stink up the place for weeks.
"I'll give you the VIP tour if you freak my sister out when she gets back,” Zane gave the mouse a pat on the head.
It squeaked in response.
The door flung open, and he frowned as he had to bring in his arms to enter. It was a bit of a tight squeeze. He hadn't been here in three years, but ever since he’d hit puberty he'd begun working out in earnest.
It helped ease the daily anxiety his dreams brought him.
"This is the living room," Zane gestured proudly. Cheddar looked around curiously and he laughed. "I've got one place to check first, and then I'll call my sister to see if they're fine or if I have to cook dinner for us.”
He made his way up the stairs first, his first destination the same as it had always been. His room. Whenever he came back to visit the family, he always checked to make sure his place still existed. He'd told his sister she could transform it into a game room, but she'd insisted on keeping it as it was.
"Eeinie Meanie Miny Moe, wait, have I already done this?” He spun around and checked the stairway behind him, a shiver running down his spine.
Cheddar let out a squeak and Zane chuckled. He was a grown man jumping at shadows. His childhood memories had probably triggered old phobias. He pushed open the door at the end of the corridor, entering his old room.
It was left exactly as he'd remembered it, except for all the dust gathering inside.
On his desk was a familiar red book, with a crimson red sun on the cover.
His diary.
He felt a tug in his heart as he saw the object. Instead of going back downstairs he turned towards the diary, his lips parting into a grin
“See Cheddar, this is the stuff Josh and Tommy would pay four figures to read.” Zane sat down at his desk, a plume of dust rising from the chair. He brushed it off the diary and flipped the book open with a flourish.
The first entry was written in a childish scrawl. He'd never been good at writing, and it hadn't gotten much better over time. He read the first page with a smile on his face.
[February 26. It's my birthday today.]
“Huh.” Zane blinked in surprise.
It was February the 16th today. He hadn't remembered the first dream happening on his birthday.
[I had a strange dream today. Something was happening on the news. I think it was a storm in Europe. Big red clouds were covering cities, but nobody was panicking.]
[My dad and sis were in Paris. I'm not sure why. Something about an anniversary. I asked my mum when I woke up, but she didn't know what it was for and said that it was probably made up. I guess that's why they call it a dream.]
“Don't judge me Cheddar. I wasn't the best writer or very smart,” Zane chuckled. Then he stopped as he read the next sentence.
[The dream happened ten years in the future. I remember singing happy birthday to myself alone for my twenty-fifth birthday. I wasn’t happy.]
"Well, that's a good punch to my gut,” Zane frowned.
In ten days, it would be his twenty-fifth birthday.
The next entry skipped a few days because he'd resisted the initial dreams.
[Day: Unknown. I guess twenty? Judging from the fact that my dreams seem to follow my time perfectly.
The clouds finally spread to my country. I found myself in a new place this time. It happened the moment I touched the red light, but it's escaping my mind like a fish in water. A watchtower? No. A clocktower. They told me I'd find the system here. This one is important but… damn it. I forgot.]
He flipped through the pages, feeling a pull at his heart. Most were hastily scrawled after waking up, the dreams quickly disappearing into the depths of his mind. Some he’d remembered clearly and written down intensely.
As he reached the end of the diary, he felt like he was in a trance, words flitting through his mind and distant echoes of memories beckoning toward him.
"Hello?" A female voice floated into his ear.
Zane jolted and saw that he was holding his phone. He'd brought it out without realising and had even dialed a number.
“Mandy?” He'd called his sister.
He shook his head and rubbed his temples, the focus on the diary broken.
"Zane? Oh my god! I forgot you were coming today. I'm so sorry!” His sister’s voice rose, and he winced, moving the phone away from his ear.
"That's fine, that's fine," he spoke. "Do you need me to make food?"
“Uh, it's going to be a bit hard for us to get back quickly,” he could hear his sister’s regret. “Dad kind of freaked out. I'm on my way to get him.”
Zane groaned. When their dad freaked out it was never good. Last time Zane had to hike halfway up a mountain three states away to retrieve his dad from a first-class spa resort. He hadn't even gotten to spend the night there.
"Where did he go now?” Zane’s lips tightened.
There was a long pause.
“Paris,” his sister’s tone was apologetic. “I think he booked a two-week trip.”
“Paris?” Zane cursed his dad. “What am I going to do if you're both in—”
He froze, his eyes turning slowly toward the diary spread out in front of him. His sister said that their dad had booked his trip for two weeks.
Just like the diary had said.
"You know what," Zane spoke slowly. "I need to check something.”
He ended the call without waiting for his sister’s response. He could feel his heart thumping against his chest and his ears pulsated. He’d flipped through all of the pages, rushing toward the end, but he didn't know why.
On the very last page there was a single message written in black ink and underlined several times.
[There is no such thing as a system.]
Zane remembered writing that. Dozens of therapy sessions had etched the mantra into him. He'd needed to escape the imaginary world where humanity was dead. It was a horror-filled nightmare that had haunted him every day and night.
“What—” Zane traced his finger over the page.
There was something else underneath his final entry. Another sentence, scrawled messily with crimson ink.
He hadn't written this one.
[The system is real.]
Pain blossomed through his head, and he let out a shout. He clutched at the diary, dragging it toward his chest, and his vision darkened.
The last thing he felt was the wood and dust on the desk pressing into his cheek as he laid his head against it, a single grunt escaping his lips.
Then the world went dark.
****
Zane groaned and pressed his hands against the damp ground. Droplets fell onto his face, sliding down his cheeks and dripping into his hair. He ran his fingers over his skin to wipe away the water and frowned as it only grew wetter.
A single squeak broke him out of his daze.
"Cheddar?" He blinked his eyes open. He was in his room, so it couldn't be raining.
Wait. He wasn't in his room.
He shot up from the ground, drops of red liquid running down his skin and clothes. He’d been laying down in a massive puddle of the stuff.
It was blood.
It fell through the sky, a crimson torrent that spread out as far as his eyes could see. The ground was covered in it, and so was his body.
When did I fall asleep? The thought crept into his mind.
Another squeak reached his ears, and he saw a small head poking out from one of his jacket pockets. It was Cheddar the mouse. Zane rubbed his eyes and winced as they were coated with a wet sheen. This dream felt realistic, but then again, they all did.
"Where am I this time?" He turned around trying to spot something. Anything.
Two complex structures towered above him. Each one was surrounded by puddles, crimson liquid dripping off their sides. He saw a city in the distance, covered in fog and blanketed by crimson rain. The city in the distance disappeared as he focused on the buildings in front of him.
He could find shelter from the rain inside them,
There was something calling him from within the structures. A beckoning sensation that tickled his heart and dragged his feet across the bloodied expanse.
This area felt familiar. As he drew closer the feeling of nostalgia grew and he got a better look at the two buildings.
One was small, and still mostly intact. The other one was bigger, and damaged. It hurt to look at its highest points, and the architecture wove in the air in impossible angles. Every time he tried to focus his attention on it, his eyes slid away without his permission.
On the bigger building he could see a massive circle of glass, shattered and glistening pink as blood slid down over it.
It was a clocktower.
His feet splashed against the ground as he made his way inside the building. He entered the smaller structure and huffed as he wiped blood out of his black hair. This was one of the worst dreams yet.
He paused as he felt a presence surrounding him.
A shiver ran down his spine and he put a finger to his lips as he felt Cheddar moving in his jacket pocket.
He didn't know how, but he recognised this feeling.
Something was watching him.
[You are the first of your race to enter the Observatory.]
Zane let out a shout of surprise as something appeared in front of him. A blue box, reminiscent of a computer screen. He gazed at it and ran his fingers over it, not feeling anything as his skin passed through the intangible object.
It disappeared, only to be replaced by more screens.
[Connecting to your system. Error— No system detected.]
[Checking… your world has already been connected. Checking… system integration request has already been granted.]
[Judgement: System will be granted early to Observatory visitors. Individual system integration will begin in five minutes.]
“System integration?” Zane frowned.
Another blue box appeared in front of him, and he froze, a sense of trepidation crawling across his skin.
[Query registered. Answer permission granted.]
[System integration for your world will begin in ten days.]