---=Chapter 22: You Can't Have My Name---=

I slipped into the hall and closed the door behind me. There were crows everywhere. I had a vague outline of a plan—besides running blindly in. I decided to go with snacks, which is fairly typical of my plans if I'm honest.

The crows were thick in the hall. I'd expected a couple dozen, but this seemed like hundreds. Somehow they weren't running into each other. They were slightly less graceful around walls and obstacles, as evident from the presence of a couple unmoving crow bodies beside the door. Either way, it was way more crows than I bargained for, more than I remembered seeing in the ER. Still, I put the first step of my plan into action.

Actually, the first step I'd planned was to sprint through attacking birds to the break room. Thankfully, the crows didn't attack, so I walked cautiously forward, trying not to agitate them more than necessary. Crows occasionally brushed me with their wings, and there was one particularly close call as a crow flew between my legs that made me decide to stop pushing my luck.

I regretted not bringing the catcher's chest protector. It wouldn't do jack against bullets, but I doubted beaks could penetrate it. I removed my backpack and put it on backward to protect my front. It would also give me an easier time when reaching for supplies. I started with two bags of chips. There were more crows than I'd expected, but hopefully, I could still use the chips as a distraction if they came after me.

I had no idea if crows liked chips, but who doesn't, right? The crows had been largely quiet but began to caw repeatedly as I opened the chips. It wasn't random or chaotic, and the usual harsh rasp of their voices was missing. It almost sounded like people saying—or even singing— "caw."

There was a rhythm to it and harmonies. It moved through the flock like a round of "row row your boat," starting with the crows nearest me and moving back through the swarm until it faded around the corner. Crows took up different parts of the call over and over until harmonious patterns layered a complex melody in an absolutely awful sound. It was like a highly trained choir of cats caterwauling; it was truly terrible.

It was also kind of haunting. If I ever slept again, I was sure it would be featured as a soundtrack in my nightmares. Yet still, they didn't attack.

They swooped and occasionally nipped at me with their beaks, but I didn't think it would have been hurt even without fur. Which didn't mean it wasn't annoying; I couldn't keep myself from flinching every time.

I'd seen flocks of crows but never interacted with them before. Most of my experience with flocks of birds came from hungry pigeons and seagulls. I hoped that food would distract enough of them that I could move through the hall without the harassment. I smacked the bags together, popping them and sending chips flying. I'd wanted the bags to pop loudly and satisfyingly, maybe startle some birds, but they completely failed to meet the expectation. And—in a first—so did the chips. The crows were thoroughly uninterested as I scattered the contents on the floor to either side of me.

Dammit.

They still didn't attack me, though that could change as I got closer to Alice and Jessica; either way, it was probably best to move quickly. Anderson and Denis seemed sure Alice and Jessica were dead, and they'd all sported significant wounds, except Maebe, for some reason. Seconds probably wouldn't make the difference between them living and dying, but if they were alive, I didn't want to leave them to that hell any longer than I had to.

I reminded myself that, whatever this nightmare was, it wouldn't last. The day would end, and everything would loop, undone like it never happened. They'd be fine, with no scars and few, if any, memories carrying over.

I pressed forward, hunched over, with my arm covering my face. Trying to keep low didn't stop the crows from swooping at me, but it kept me below most of those who weren't, so I could at least see where I was going. I considered pausing at Anderson's office to get his golf clubs and hat, but I didn't think either would help against the crows.

The crows nearest me must have been tasked with calling out my location to the others, because the start of each new round of harmonized caws always seemed to originate from right where I was. Then again, I might have overestimated my ability to interpret musical crow speech. A moment later, the expected caw-and-response was replaced with a new screeched pattern that reversed the direction of the round.

Waves of cacophony rolled down the hall toward me, increasing in volume as crows stopped diving and came together in a growing—floor-to-ceiling—tornado of crows. The rounds of crow-music moved like waves up and down the corridor, but when they got to the crow-nado in front of me, the sounds changed. The harmonies of the tightly spiraling crows faded and shifted until intelligible words were spoken in unison.

"Oberon. Turn back. They are mine already." the circling birds said in unison.

Shitting fuck what? This was too much. The crows are a hive mind? Are you telling me that's what I'm dealing with here? This fucking apocalypse.

I wouldn't turn back. I took a slow breath, crouched low, and readied myself to dive around the cyclone of birds on all fours. And then they were gone. Between one blink and another, the crows and their racket vanished.

The silence was deafening. I looked around; it wasn't just the crow; the hallway itself was gone. Even the smell of the air hand changed. The sickly sterile smell was gone, and in its place was a sharp, salty smell, like licking a salty battery. The change in the air made sense a moment later as my surrounding clicked into place.

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

I was standing on a pirate ship, surrounded by raging waves of blue-green plasma that extended as far as I could see. The vessel I was standing on was made of stone, like it had been carved from a cliff face. There also weren't masts on the ship. Instead, it had strange-looking trees that felt simultaneously familiar and alien. The branches of the two center trees had been bent and twisted to take on the shape of sails that towered over the ship. Still, I had a hard time believing that would provide a giant stone ship with enough push to get it moving. The island ship was completely alone in the raging green waves. Dark purple clouds also sat low in the sky and furthered the feeling of solitude.

"where am I?" I thought I thought, but I instead spoke. Suddenly, I had a voice. The sound wasn't familiar and seemed too loud in the silence that surrounded me.

The ocean was absolutely quiet; so were the trees. I could see the leaves moving in the wind, but no sound accompanied it. Even the wind moving past my ears didn't create any sound. It left me feeling deafened now that I knew there should be sound.

"YOU ARE REAL. I KNEW IT." A voice boomed out of the sky above and ocean below.

"Fuck!" I swore, jumping with a start. I came down on bare feet and realized I wasn't a werewolf anymore. I had human toes.

It wasn't my body, though, or at least I didn't recognize it. I had strong arms and legs. I was wearing my favorite shirt and some comfortable jeans, but they fit differently. My chest was flat, and my shoulders were broad. Like my werewolf form, my body was male.

I hadn't ever cared that much for physical appearance, partly because I'd never felt connected to my own skin. I'd just stopped paying attention to it. It was the kind of thing that could drive you crazy if you didn't distract yourself, like having an itch you can't reach. I learned to ignore it as something outside my control and just lived how I felt.

For the first time I could remember, I was paying attention to how I felt, and I felt comfortable. I often dreamed of being different people, usually characters from some book I'd read or show I'd watched. In the dream, I just looked like the character, male, female, animal; if it matched the character, it seemed normal. This was like that, except, for once, I looked like I'd always felt.

"This. This is me. The real me." I felt a tension and uncertainty I'd held for a long time drain away.

"WHO ARE YOU?" The booming voice asked, which brought a different tension right back. Its voice vibrated through me, making the hairs along the back of my neck rise. I'd been so startled by my physical changes I'd utterly forgotten the disembodied voice.

I pinched myself to check if I was dreaming but only confirmed that I was awake.

"Umm, who's asking?" My sanity was maybe questionable.

"I AM THE ONE AND MANY GOD, MORTAL. YOU WOULD BE WISE TO ANSWER ME." the voice boomed.

I gulped, more unsure than terrified. "Uh, Sam?"

"WHAT IS 'A SAM'?" the thunderous voice asked in a display of below-average omniscience.

"Myyy... Name? You know, the answer to your question?" I asked confusedly into thin air.

"SILENCE!" The air shook. "YOU WERE FOUND IN THE PROJECT. I HAVE CAUGHT GLIMPSES OF YOUR DESTRUCTION. WHAT ARE YOU?"

"So... I'm sorry, I'm feeling very lost. Shouldn't God know these answers?" I asked, with minimal quaver in my voice, probably.

Streams of material broke away from the sky and rose from the ocean in thick braided columns that merged into a silvery orb just past the ship's rail. The rail was made of wood and enclosed most of the ship's deck, which looked a bit like a homestead now that I looked closer. There was a garden, several trees, including a fruit tree, and what looked like a compost bin. The ship's Cabin looked like a small stone cottage, and a cellar door went into either a basement or lower levels of the granite ship.

The metallic orb darkened in one spot and took on the shape of an eye that whirled around to look in every direction. "Dog Biscuits. You're right. I was sure I was God. Oh well, who are you?" it asked again. This time its voice was light and tinny, and it talked too fast.

Now that the godly airs were cast aside, my uncertainty was largely replaced with confusion and curiosity. "I am Sam. I'm a human person. What are you? And what's going on?" inexplicable experiences can't possibly be good for a person's grasp of reality.

"Oh! 'Sam.'" I like that name. 'SAM. ' Can I have it?" The silvery eye asked, suspended between columns of plasma oceans and storm clouds. It had that over-eager energy you only see in freshmen and people trying weed for the first time.

I blew out a breath, trying to wrap my mind around this new level of surreality. "Don't you have a name already?"

"Oh! My name! Boy do I have a name! Boy, do I have a name?" The eye began to swivel around as though searching the air. "Um...How would I know my name again?"

"Usually, it's the thing people call you?" I prompted.

"Oh oh oh! That's easy, then. You're the first person I've met. What do you call me?"

"Are you the one who destroyed the world?" I asked, trying to get a handle on what I was dealing with.

"What me? No, I don't think so; that doesn't sound like something I'd do. Where would I even find a world to destroy? I think that Sam guy did that."

"I'm Sam."

"Wait, I thought I was Sam."

"Nope, Sam is me. You can't have my name."

"We can both be Sam!" The eye said excitedly.

"So, you're not God," I said, ignoring the thing. "Are you alien or AI?"

"Alien, definitely Alien Intelligence. I am not artichoke intelligence; your mind is so creative, who would even think of that?"

"What? No. Why? Just-" I sighed. The thing reminded me of this annoying kid who used to follow me around like a puppy. "Hey, you seem smart," I said, changing my approach to just seem friendly and curious. "What do you know about what's been happening lately?"

"It's been so interesting! A lot of really neat things have been happening, and that's where I saw you keep dying, and that's when the trash collectors broke. Hey, did you break the trash collectors?"

"I literally have no idea what you're talking about. But let me turn it around on you and get to the point, did you break the world?"

"Okay, full disclosure, I'm not exactly sure what you mean by the world."

"The WORLD. The thing people live in. It recently got hit by a plague of green vortexes that eat everything. They resulted in painful time loops, giant bugs, and talking flocks of birds? Not to mention whatever the hell this is. Any of that ring a bell."

"Oh, that world," The eyeball said with complete sincerity. "What did you want to know? Did I break the world? It seemed fine when you brought me here?"

"No it was not- Wait, when I brought you here? You brought me here!"

"Not true!" The eye protested. "I sequestered your mind from that part, so I could ask what you were, and then next thing I know, you're pulling me in here. Kind of rude if you ask me."

"I don't even know where here is," I replied disdainfully at its redirection. But, there was a homeyness to the place. A familiarity I couldn't quite place. Maybe it had something to do with my lost memories.

"What about my memories? I'm clearly missing memories, and I'm not the only one."

"Now, that sounds familiar. Why does that sound familiar? Oh! I have memory problems. Wait one second, did you take my memories because you didn't have any of your own. You did, didn't you?! You couldn't be bothered making your own memories, so you went and took mine. You son of a-"

"I didn't take your memories." I finally interrupted.

"Oh, well damn, that had been bugging me."

"So you're saying you don't know if you're the one who ended the world."

"I told you, the world is fine. You can probably go back whenever you want."

"And you have nothing to do with the glowing green vortexes," I said more than asked.

The eye looked up and considered the twisting braid of storm cloud, then down at the column of glowing green plasma. "No?" He tried, and then after a beat, "Actually, I think I might have scheduled it."

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