7426

Devon

The bunker door opens wide to a foul stench. I snap my head back as it pours in. The putrid odor spills from the rotten ground just outside the bunker. The sky haunts the horizon—a dark and starless night greets my face with a single gust of wind. The forest that lead from bunker to bunker was gone—burnt to the ground. Whatever I expected to see...it was not an ashen-gray wasteland.

Welcome back. It sounds sort of weird for me to say that, now. Not only because I’m acknowledging you’re here, but for me it doesn’t feel like you really left. I know you did, it was in that single gust of wind, right? That’s what it felt like, just a chill up my spine. I don’t know really what my plan is from here on out, here’s what I have so far:

-Jesse Anderson is NOT Jesse Anderson. For some reason, the real Jesse was able to use ICARUS to travel back to my time and change places with Noah Marshall. This means that the Jesse Anderson I’ve been buddy-buddy with this whole time has been Noah Marshall. Whether or not he remembers me is yet to be known, but I wouldn’t put it past him.

-God exists...sorta. Turns out he was once human...is human. Something in-between, and he was the hero who saved humanity from enslavement after the destruction of Earth. He was also Andrew Cress’ best friend, although I think that was is a bit tentative, since Gavin seemed to only think kindly of his old friend. Andrew must blame himself for that, too.

-Roland Duschand is back in my time inside my body to gather a mysterious artifact from this time that has somehow gotten stuck in my time. If left unresolved it would be catastrophic to be the least. This incident is related in part to both Khap-En, son of the current Lunfilios council member and exile of the Lunfilios race, and the real Jesse Anderson traveling back to my time.

-Cross, the ancient Dromedan intelligence is alive and well, and worst of all, Alex’s consciousness has merged with his. Her feelings of betrayal and hurt bathe him in a rage unlike any I’ve ever seen. She’s mostly dormant inside of him, but I’ve seen her spill out, and it wasn’t pretty.

All in all, things could be worse. I mean, I could be on fire, that could totally put a damper on my day. Really, though, I have to thank you again for helping me out here. Both you and Gavin have been paramount in me getting better so that I can deal with things. I’ve been away for almost three years now...that thought is alone what is keeping me here, standing out across the ashen fields. I know nothing good is going to come of me going out there...I realize that me being away has been an open invitation for Cross to continue his genocide.

I know that sounds extremely cocky, like I was implying that I was the only thing keeping him from doing so, and I promise I didn’t mean it in that fashion...but I can’t help to wonder that something like it may be true. I mean, it isn’t coincidence that all of this has lined up this way, and I’ve been able to hold him off twice before when I was not even close to anywhere ready. Maybe...maybe I am destined to stop him, and maybe that thought is what brings the guilt of my absence.

But nonetheless, I am here now. Here, and I am confident. I’ve had time to think about everything—from Alex, to Noah, and even what I feel I am here for. I believe everyone deserves a second chance. Me? I think I’m on chance number ten myself, who knows if I’ll be able to do right by it? I’ll sure as hell try though.

My name is Devon Campton, and I’m a terrible friend, a rapist, and for a large chunk of my life I was a part of a suicide cult because of my conflicting feelings over my ex best friend and her parents. I’m also a hero, saving the lives of the council members of Sayar and standing up against the evil menace who threatens a global genocide. I’m also a missionary to eliminate that very menace with years worth of combat training like anyone wouldn’t believe.

I’m learning that you really can’t classify anyone by the actions they do in the long term, because if given the opportunity they’re bound to surprise you and do the exact opposite of what you’d think. I know that personally. I take my first step outside of the door and let it shut behind me, closing forever. I look up toward the sky and its darkness one more time before I press my finger to my palm, activating my speed. I race down the path I’d walked with Jesse three years ago. This time, I don’t stop at the next bunker over, the burnt forest already tells me that it is no more. No, I’m headed straight where this all began. I’m headed for the ruins of Pandera City.

Now, I hear what you're saying, but I have a very specific reason for heading to Pandera and I see it within seconds. I find myself gravitated back towards where I first stepped out into the streets of Pandera, the mysterious shack that Roland's body had been kept while he waited for my consciousness to travel to this time. It's been bugging me since the very second I saw that it didn't show up on Cardus' video footage, so I need to confirm it for myself.

Breaching the city's limits is fine enough, the sky is still dark and the ash starts to settle less frequently. If I was back home I would have suggested that the existence of ash had meant that the fires had only stopped burning recently, but I know better now to assume that it is probably made of a different substance than the ash I'm used to, and that it could have been from a year ago, or maybe even two. The time of when it happened isn't as important to me, right now. I'll let the Head of Archives deal with that one.

The Taction walkway isn't as bright as I remember it, the over-reflective path that serves as all the main streets for the city that doubled as constant crime surveillance. I had quite the unpleasant experience with the Taction roads if you remember that much back.

Inside Pandera, I find myself at my destination easier than I would have imagined. It feels like it’s been forever since I’ve been here, but I have a sort of attraction back to this spot. Of course, I don’t see tha shack. I was hoping it would be so simple that everyone had just missed it in the video and it was here all along, but that doesn’t seem to be the case. I think back to anything at all that might help clear up the confusion...anything. I remember a shack being here, of course it was—it had to. I remember the way I stepped out of it and how I looked out onto Pandera...so alive and the opposite of how it looked now.

Stolen novel; please report.

I turn toward the broken mess of what once was, the capitol building ever visible in the distance. I can only stare at it as I think of how it looked. I’m devastated by this mess and I’ve only seen a small fraction of what this city had to offer...imagine anyone else who survived who’s lived in this place forever must feel.

I look back behind me to where the shack is supposed to be, and all at once I feel a shaking sort of presence inside of me. I press my finger to my palm, feeling the waves course through me. Flashes of the dark world I saw in Gavin’s simulation appear in my mind, the coldness of the tar that latched onto my being. I remember their pulsating veins connecting to mine and yanking in rhythm with my heartbeat...not anything from this shell Roland inhabits, but my own heart, back on Earth.

I reach out my hand and feel the cold presence of a door. It vaporizes into existence, the hinges followed by the crooked handle, and all at once the shack materializes out of thin air. A nervous sort of smile passes my face and I feel the butterflies in my abdomen, walking up the steps toward the single room I’d most wanted to see.

There are no extraneous hallways, bedrooms, or any of the like—the entirety of the shack consists of the single room. To my right is the mirror that I’d first seen Roland’s face out of, and to my left is the wardrobe with the dragon-handles that had confused me so profoundly on my first inspection. On the far corner of the room is the bed I had woken up in.

Now, I have some answers. This shack is somehow connected with the waves inside my body...whether that be in my actual body, or the body Roland owned is something I don’t wholly find important. I think the point of this place is to be hidden from normal people—traveling through pockets of time does enough to differentiate your waves if I’m remembering with Khap-Ar had mentioned. He was able to tell I wasn’t from this time solely from my waves.

It also makes enough sense as to why any of the others weren’t able to see it through the video that the Taction plates had recorded—they weren’t in sync with the waves. Counting our options, the only ones that would be able to utilize this opportunity would be me, Gavin, Roland, Khap-En, and the real Jesse. As far as I know we are the only ones that have crossed time at some point or another. I make my way over to the wardrobe and look down at the inscription made just between the two handles. This was the insignia that bothered me most about this room. This insignia had come at him when he knew the least about his surroundings and he hadn’t thought on it more than it were something he shouldn’t mess with...but he was placed in this room for a reason, and that reason just had to include this wardrobe. It wasn’t like it was some common person’s room and it had their spare underwear tucked away. This was a locked wardrobe in a house hidden to the large population of the universe.

As I look at the insignia, I understand it:

I

t didn’t make sense for me the first time because I didn’t read or speak the language. This is Krande...the language of the Sayarians. I remember Gavin telling me this. I know I didn’t touch on this when it was most relevant, but I didn’t know you were with me fully at the time, so forgive me, but Krande as a written language is a whole lot different than English. English as you know is written out all horizontally as we both know, but Krande is compressed into several layers. Each layer is actually composed of English letters. Why that is, I don’t know. This insignia is a simple word, one I’m sure you’ve seen before.

K E Y

So it looks like I need a special key to get into this wardrobe, huh? Well, luckily I’m always carrying that sort of key with me at all times. I take off my right glove and hold the handle, feeling my waves in my left hand. Hearing the heartbeat in my ears ring as the simple word flashes across my vision: Pulse.

I feel a similar sensation reciprocated on my hand and I pull the door of the wardrobe open toward me. It is mostly empty inside save for a single journal tucked in on the left side. I reach in and pull it out, opening it up and finding the vast language of Krande out in front of me. It’s the first time I’ve seen it handwritten, so just give me a moment and I’ll try to translate:

It took you longer to read this then I was expecting. Oh well, we can’t all be winners. My name is Jesse Anderson—not the disgusting man that you’ve been journeying with thus far. Like my choice of matchmaker? It’s like you two were made for each other. But I’m not here to pat myself on the back.

You must have so many questions. Well, keep this journal with you, and I’ll keep you in on the loop. Wonder how that is possible? Then you’re missing some fragments of the story. You’re assuming too much, everything makes sense eventually. I can shed some light that will drag you deeper into this cesspit—but only because I cannot wait until it swallows you whole.

I hate you. I hate everything you stand for, stood for, and will stand for. Every single time you’ve realized the error of your ways you are one step further from being exactly where you belong—lying back in your whorehouse skull-fucked out of your mind.

Confused? You don’t even know the half of it. Why don’t you ask your good friend Andrew about me? He might point you toward the Head of Archives to learn some more...oh wait.

This rabbit hole goes so much deeper, princess, and you’re already in too deep. Keep falling. I hope you snap your neck.

-Five

That is...very disturbing. If anything, this note is right about one thing...I am very confused. The rest of the journal is blank. Somehow...I think it’s updated in real time—or whatever would be the equivalent if he really is back in my time. The one thing I can take from this if anything that’s positive is that Andrew’s still around kicking? I breathe a sigh of relief as I now have some goals to work toward:

-Find out what I’ve missed in these past three years.

-Find Andrew, see if he can help me figure out this nonsense with the real Jesse.

-Find a way to stop Cross and whatever he’s planning, maybe even see if we can find a way to separate Alex’s consciousness from his.

-Try and help Roland back in my time...if I can at least. I really don’t want to play the waiting game.

With my goals set I close the journal and hold it by my side. Whether I like it or not, it looks like I’m going to be keeping Jesse real close by. He knows that I wouldn’t be able to leave it here...he knew that I wouldn’t get it on my first go around. Just why does he hate me...specifically me...so much? He was born five-thousand years ahead of my time, how could he even know of me? It looks like I need to do some legwork.

I step outside of the shack once I’m sure I haven’t missed anything else. Staring back out at the ruins of Pandera gives me a panging feeling in my chest. I turn away as I begin running. Where? I have no clue, but I’ll find out eventually.