--=-Chapter 50: Our Trauma--=-

Jon was speeding across the parking lot, sirens going, racing toward the bottom edge of the vortex a football field away. We were too late. There was no way we'd make it out.

Wait. What's happening? The thought flickered through my head.

"Jon, we're not going to make it. You have to stop." Did the loop change?

"No, we can make it. We'll drive straight through." This can't be a visualization; it feels real. It feels the same.

"Jon, no!" I said. "I've seen what it does to people. It eats through anything in a second." Had I thought he'd listen? I'd known better. Jon had always been stubborn; he didn't like admitting he was wrong.

Instead of slowing down, Jon accelerated, trying to beat the vortex. "Everyone, get low—it's our only shot." It really was too late. I should let him try anyway. Maybe this is where the day will loop now.

I grabbed the wheel and twisted it left, steering us into the parked van feet from the vortex wall. I didn't mean for it to happen; I couldn't stop myself. I wasn't in control.

The noise was deafening as the van buckled and the car skidded and spun, tossing us around as the back end careened into the vortex. I helplessly watched Titus be swallowed by the swirling green barrier. It was my fault. I knew we weren't going to make it. I should have acted sooner.

The car stopped with a lurch. Nia was screaming, and I was half curled into the fetal position, inches from the deadly barrier—close enough that I felt a growing static pull on my arm and the back of my neck. With a snap, energy pierced my hand, the tinfoil hat, and my head. Light flashed in my eyes, a pulse of vibration surged through me like a bass drop, and the world went dark.

I BELIEVE THIS WAS THE MOMENT YOU BROKE THE APOCALYPSE. Hands's voice echoed in my mind.

What the Hell? I tried to look around for the source of Hands's voice, but there was nothing to see, no sensation to feel. I was thought in a void.

The emptiness became white noise, a static humm that quickly grew in intensity. It wasn't really sound, or any one sense, or even just the main five. Every sense that I had or imagined I had buzzed and screeched, demanding attention, but had nothing to say.

Then the world was back, my senses still.

My old body knelt on the blacktop in front of me. I could feel myself bracing for something, but the sensation was distant.

Waves of light flashed from the vortex; another thrum of bass disorientated my past self but ignored my disembodied form. I helplessly watched Jon and Nia fall prone to the blacktop under the disorientation of the light and sound and the weight of the Haze.

YOU WERE ALREADY BREAKING APART, EVEN HERE. I still couldn't see him.

What is this? Where are you? I mentally called out. I couldn't move, couldn't breathe. I'd been confused and dazed then, thrown off kilter by the sci-fi noises and surreal events. From the outside looking in, things were clear. I knew what was coming.

I don't want to see this.

YET YOU MUST. FACE IT.

The light and silent thunder came again, and a portion lingered in the fog when the flash ended. A web of light danced in empty air, its form shifting like sunlight dappling the bottom of a pool. It looked like a wireframe model of an anorexic cloud made of energy. It started to grow, its branches of light extending, splitting repeatedly, like cracks in the fabric of reality. As the Web expanded, its light dimmed. It shattered and rebounded into three distinct light webs that quickly grew to the same size and brightness as the original. Then, they began to drift like seaweed in the tide, inexorably floating toward our immobilized bodies.

As I'd known would happen, a tendril of energy shot from one Web like a whip and pierced Nia's head with a sizzle and hiss that sounded like metal being quenched. Separated from my body, I didn't feel nauseated; I couldn't try to scream. I could only watch.

Nia's body, unmoving from the invisible weight holding us down, relaxed. Jon struggled on but to no avail. A light web got to him next.

I wanted to squeeze my eyes shut, to refuse to see anymore. I had no eyes to close, no head to turn away. I could only watch as the back of his head was again pierced by light with another snapping hiss of cauterized skin and bone.

My younger self closed his eyes so he didn't have to watch the glowing web drift ever closer. There was a surrealness to watching myself die from a 3rd person perspective.

The world went black, and yet I remained. Why did you show me that? I asked, assuming Hands could still hear me.

I DIDN'T. IT'S SIMPLY THE CURTAIN THAT MUST BE BRUSHED ASIDE FOR YOU TO ENTER.

Enter what?

Then, light returned. I remained an observer, with no body to speak of.

I was in the bed of a semi-truck. From the sounds and the rattling, I could tell it was moving. A small dolphin was in the center, slung in a cradle, a canvas hammock.

Uh, Hands? Is that you? I asked the empty air.

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

IN A WAY. His voice said, still disembodied.

That seems unnecessarily cryptic.

TRUTH OFTEN DOES.

The young dolphin seemed nervous, agitated. He wasn't alone in the semi-bed. Two men in matching khaki aquarium uniforms sat in chairs strapped to the floor beside the sling that held Hands. They were monitoring a sprinkler system they had set up to keep the dolphin wet and offering comfort to the animal who must be scared. One of the men was Guy.

Where were they taking you? I asked, my mental voice soft with anticipation.

SUPPOSEDLY TO RELEASE ME INTO THE OCEAN BEFORE THE WORLD FELL APART. THE TRUTH IS DARKER AND MORE DELUSIONAL.

Dolphins were supposed to be extremely intelligent as problem solvers and social and emotional creatures. Even so, their understanding of the world would be alien to a human perspective. How had Hands gone from dolphin to essentially doing convincing human cosplay with his illusions?

The trailer lurched as an enormous crashing sound came from the front of the truck, and the back end careened out of control.

The unknown aquarium worker wasn't tethered down. He was tossed from his seat as the opposite wall swung toward him. Hands squealed and clicked, his body thrashing in his harness, but he was held secure.

The cab tipped around me, Guy and Hands turning sideways to my perspective, and a horrendous grinding crashing sound filled the air.

When the truck settled, Guy dangled, still strapped with make-shift tethers to his seat. "Hunter! Hunter!" I watched him scrabble at his straps, only freeing himself when he brought out a pocket knife and cut the belt. The bed was at a steep angle, but he managed to half fall, half lower himself down to check on the other aquarium worker.

"Dammit, Dammit, Dammit!" he wailed. Hunter's neck was broken; even I could see that. Guy checked for a pulse anyway. First at his wrist, then his neck. Hunter was sprawled out. Guy hadn't moved him, likely worried about doing more damage. When he didn't find a pulse, he must have decided it was worth moving Hunter's body. Laying Hunter flat, Guy pressed his ear to the other man's chest and listened. When he didn't hear anything, he began chest compressions.

Outside, cars honked, and people shouted. A siren approached, turning off just outside the truck. More voices shouted. Soon, the trailer doors were opened, revealing two people wearing khaki and a police officer.

They pulled out Hunter first. Then they began to argue. The vortex was getting low. Guy and the other two aquarium workers convinced the officer to help carry Hands out of the semi-truck. They didn't call him Hands. "Please, just help us carry Floppy out of here. We're so close."

"I need to direct traffic around you. I don't have time." The officer said.

Another siren could be heard approaching.

I wonder if that's Jon and I.

SO YOU'VE SAID. Hands replied.

Wait, have we done this before?

Hands didn't answer. Floppy?

THAT'S NOT MY NAME, Hands replied.

"See, they can direct traffic. Please! We can't just leave him."

The officer sighed. "Fine. But we have to be quick. It's coming down quick."

I remembered thinking the exact same thing. And even then, I'd been wrong about how quick.

Using Guy's knife, each person took a corner of Hands's hammock and cut the straps free. Hands was hanging at an angle almost parallel to the ground, the aperture holding him in the middle of the truck. This meant two aquarium workers had to climb onto it to cut Hands free. If Hands had been full-grown, it probably wouldn't have been possible. Based on what it felt like to be body slammed by him, he was probably 200 pounds. Still, they worked quickly, and in seconds, they were backing Hands out of the truck.

Outside, half a dozen cars followed Jon's car behind the hospital. Other vehicles were trying to drive around the semi, but the ditches on either side of the road were steep, and only one thin strip of the shoulder was available to drive on.

The quartet carefully carried Hands out of the semi and down into the ditch.

"Son a bitch, it sped up." The officer said. "Run!" They didn't wait to see if the others listened. They didn't try to bring the dolphin with them. They just half lowered, half dropped their end of the canvas, and ran.

The road was lower than the hospital's rear entrance, so when light and the bass rumble shook through them, they still had a window of escape.

The others couldn't hold the dolphin up without the officer. The khaki-wearer who shared the rear load with the officer lowered their end just as quickly. Guy and his counterpart were forced to lower the front.

"I'm sorry," Guy said, rubbing 'Floppy's' head. The others ran past him, but as Guy turned to go, the dolphin panicked.

I WAS TERRIFIED. I DIDN'T UNDERSTAND WHAT WAS HAPPENING. I DIDN'T WANT TO BE ALONE, Hands said.

The dolphin turned his head, quicker than I would have guessed, and clamped his mouth down on Guy's hand.

Guy screamed.

His coworkers glanced back and hesitated, looking between Guy and their quickly closing window of escape.

Tears in their eyes, they yelled and swore, apologizing over and over as they hurried beyond the boundary of the slowly rotating vortex wall.

Guy punched and elbowed Hands in the head. Screaming and swearing, blood trickling from Hands's mouth. "FUCK! Let go! Goddamit, no!"

Eventually, he pulled out his knife and began stabbing. By then, it was too late, and Hands didn't let go anyway. Even when the dappled light showed up, Hands would let go.

Even when light and sound crushed Guy and Hands to the grass, Hands hung on. As webs of light dappled the air and struck out against them, Hands held on.

I REMEMBER THIS MOMENT TWICE. I REMEMBER BEING TERRIFIED AND CONFUSED. I REMEMBER NOT WANTING TO BE ABANDONED. I REMEMBER KNOWING TIME WAS RUNNING OUT AND THAT MY ONLY HOPE WAS TO GET FREE. I REMEMBER DYING AND WATCHING MYSELF DIE. WHEN I WOKE, MY BODY WAS A DOLPHIN'S, AS WERE MOST OF MY MEMORIES. BUT MY THOUGHTS, THEY WERE THOSE OF A HUMAN.

THIS WAS OUR TRAUMA.

--=-