Jim had to see this close up. If he could touch the building, confirm its reality, maybe he could make sense of it all. He parked a few blocks from where the South Slate Bank should have been, his heart still hammering from the eerie revelation. He took a few deep breaths before stepping out of the car, his thoughts spiraling out of control as he grasped for some logic in the madness. The bank—his deposit box—everything he needed was supposed to be here.
But it wasn’t.
Instead of the familiar 30-story monolith, a modern, two-story building sat comfortably in its place. A fresh sign read "McGil & Matherson Dental." Jim stared at it in disbelief, his pulse pounding in his temples. His legs felt weak, and a cold sweat broke across his brow.
He’d expected a trap. An ambush, maybe even a cover-up. But this? This was different. The building was gone—not just closed or demolished. It had been replaced, as though it had never existed at all.
He forced himself to take a few steps toward the new building, his eyes scanning every detail, hoping for something—anything—that might give him a clue. The air around him felt thick and heavy, like the tense stillness before a storm. The sounds of the street were muted, as if the world itself was holding its breath.
And then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw it.
A small, lithe creature darted through the alleyway—silent, nimble, and strange. Jim stopped mid-step, his entire body going rigid as he tried to process what he'd just seen. He blinked, straining to focus on the shadow that moved in the periphery of his vision. It wasn’t a dog. Too small, too quick. But what the hell was it?
The creature slinked out from behind a trash bin and looked directly at him, its amber eyes gleaming in the dim light of the alley. Jim’s breath caught in his throat. It was sleek, covered in short fur, with pointed ears and a long, twitching tail. It moved with an eerie grace, like something out of a dream—or a nightmare.
A low hiss emanated from its mouth, exposing tiny, sharp teeth. Jim’s skin prickled. The animal’s gaze was piercing, almost intelligent, as if it were assessing him, weighing whether he belonged in this world at all.
“What the hell...” he whispered, taking a hesitant step back. The creature darted into the shadows and disappeared, leaving Jim frozen in place, his mind racing.
Was this another change? Another shift in reality? His pulse quickened as the enormity of the situation crashed down on him. Or was this creature responsible? Was the general right? Were they under attack?
Just as he was about to turn fully toward the dental office, a movement caught his eye again. This time, it wasn’t the creature.
A young girl—no more than ten—walked out from the alley, her steps carefree. Jim’s breath hitched as she bent down, her small hand reaching out toward the shadows. The creature reappeared instantly, rubbing against her legs with a low purr, as though it had been waiting for her.
Jim stared, frozen, watching as the girl stroked its fur like it was the most natural thing in the world. She giggled softly, whispering to the animal as it twined around her ankles, its strange amber eyes closing in apparent contentment.
It was as if the creature had always existed here—as if he were the only one out of place. The girl's casual interaction with it made Jim twitch. Was this one of the strange creatures from those early reports? The anomalies Brettell had hinted at?
Reality was shifting again, and the changes were far more pervasive than he could’ve imagined. This thing, this creature that had no place in his world, had a place in theirs. Whatever had been altered, it wasn’t just subtle—it was fundamental. People were living in a reality that wasn’t his anymore.
He tore his gaze away from the girl and the creature, feeling a surge of panic rise in his chest. He needed to stay grounded, but nothing made sense. The reports of strange creatures, anomalies in the system—they weren’t random flukes. Brettell had been onto something, something bigger than Jim had initially believed.
He pulled his phone from his pocket with trembling fingers, unlocking it with a quick swipe. The screen blinked to life, and he scrolled through his contacts looking for Brettell’s number—it wasn’t there. He searched social media, a few directories, until he stumbled upon a last-known address and phone number.
Westside, Jim thought. That was a rundown, neglected part of the city—a place where peeling paint and broken windows were the norm. Hardly the kind of neighborhood for a scientist of Brettell’s stature. It raised even more questions.
What’s happening to this world?
Jim tapped the contact, then hesitated, staring at the screen. He could feel the weight of what he was about to do. Brettell had warned him—there were risks, unknown variables at play. But the longer Jim waited, the more reality itself seemed to unravel around him.
He hit the call button.
The phone rang twice before a click echoed in his ear, followed by a faint, static-filled voice. “Brettell.”
“Doctor, it’s Jim,” he said, his voice lower than usual, steadying himself. “We need to meet. It’s urgent.”
There was a pause, followed by a gruff, “Yeah, I thought you’d say that.” Brettell's voice sounded more resigned than surprised. “I’m at my apartment. You’ll find me in the old Westside complex, near Ashbridge. You know the place?”
“Got it. I’m on my way,” Jim said, hanging up without waiting for a response. He glanced once more at the girl and the creature—still entwined in their odd, surreal dance—before heading toward his car.
As he drove through the streets, the sight of the creature haunted him, the way the girl stroked it so casually burned into his mind. His thoughts spiraled. How deep did these changes go? Brettell’s cryptic warnings echoed in his head. If a new species could emerge without warning, how much of what Jim had known was still real?
He nervously bit his lip as he navigated through the streets, heading for Ashbridge. He had to find out what Brettell knew—what he had been trying to warn him about. The crumbling facades of the old buildings loomed ahead, a fitting backdrop to the reality that was slowly crumbling around him.
Jim parked near the apartment complex, the neighborhood as rough and decrepit as he’d imagined. Rusted cars lined the streets, and the faint hum of distant traffic buzzed in the air. The smell of damp concrete and mildew filled his nostrils as he stepped out of the car.
Something about this felt wrong. Brettell was supposed to be a scientist, a man of intellect, but he was living in a place that barely had running water, let alone the tools to analyze the kind of phenomena he was hinting at.
Jim narrowed his eyes at the building ahead, its windows dark and lifeless. This place didn’t belong in any world Jim knew, but then again, neither did anything else.
Nothing is the same anymore, he thought grimly, heading toward the entrance.
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
Whatever answers Brettell had, Jim hoped they were worth the risk.
Jim stepped inside the apartment, the door creaking as it swung open. The smell hit him like a wall—a stench of rot, sweat, and something distinctly human. He wrinkled his nose, taking a step into the dingy, rundown space. The light was dim, flickering through the grimy windows like a dying flame, casting long shadows across the room. The place was a mess. Clothes were strewn across the floor, papers and empty bottles piled high on broken furniture. The wallpaper peeled in long strips from the walls, revealing the mold-riddled plaster beneath.
Jim’s boots stuck to the floor with each step, a tacky residue clinging to the soles. He scanned the room, his instincts on high alert, but nothing felt right about this place. There was no sign of life—at least not the kind he expected from a scientist like Brettell.
“Brettell?” Jim called, his voice cutting through the silence. “Doctor, it’s Major Adams.”
From somewhere deep within the apartment came a weak, hoarse voice. “I don’t think I’m a doctor here... And I doubt you’re a major either.”
The voice was shaky, slurred, almost as though it were battling its own consciousness. Jim’s pulse quickened as he followed the sound into the next room. What he saw made his stomach churn.
Dr. Paul Brettell was lying on a sagging, filthy mattress, covered in sweat. His clothes—stained with who knows what—clung to his frail body, and the smell of stale urine hung thick in the air. Brettell’s face was gaunt, his eyes sunken and wild, darting around the room like a man lost in his own mind. He looked nothing like the brilliant, composed scientist Jim had met not so long ago.
“Jesus, Brettell, what the hell happened?” Jim muttered, his voice edged with disbelief.
The doctor struggled to sit up, his arms shaking with the effort. “What’s... happening?” Brettell rasped, his words disjointed. “The whole world... It’s being rewritten.”
Jim took a step back, eyeing the state of the room—and the man before him. “You’re not making sense. What do you mean, rewritten? What’s going on?”
Brettell’s head lolled to the side, a twisted smile forming on his cracked lips. “My father... He was right. They thought he was insane... changing... reality.” He coughed, the sound wet and weak. “But he was right. Someone... something... is altering the fabric of our world.”
Jim clenched his fists, forcing himself to stay calm. “Brettell, listen to me. You need to focus. What the hell are you talking about? Who’s changing reality?”
Brettell’s body trembled as he tried to sit up again, his fingers twitching as though they couldn’t quite grasp the mattress beneath him. “I built a device... small... Bose-Einstein condensate shielding. I set it off... protected us... our memories. That’s why we remember... that’s why you remember.”
Jim’s brow furrowed as he stared at the doctor, disbelief warring with the unsettling truth in his words. “Protected us from what?”
“From them... whoever they are... they’re changing things... rewiring the world,” Brettell wheezed. His eyes fluttered as though he was fighting to stay awake. “That’s why... why you’ve noticed the changes. The device... it shielded us... kept our memories intact. We’re the only ones who remember.”
Jim swallowed hard, his mind racing. He wanted to dismiss the doctor’s ramblings, but the truth was, he had seen the changes—the missing bank, the strange creatures, people not remembering things that should have been common knowledge. Brettell’s words, as broken and erratic as they were, struck a chord.
But then, the state of the man in front of him... “Brettell,” Jim said carefully, his voice low. “Are you sure this isn’t... you know, something else? You’re not exactly in a good state right now.”
Brettell let out a strained, hollow laugh. “I... I know. I don’t... I don’t think I was meant to be like this. In this version of reality, I’m... dependent. Drugs. My body... shutting down.” He gestured weakly to the room, his hand trembling violently. “This place... this me... not the one I was supposed to be.”
Jim rubbed a hand over his face, trying to process what he was hearing. “You’re telling me that reality changed you into this?”
“Yeah,” Brettell whispered, nodding slowly. “My father... in this version, he never went insane. He... he was right. But me? I ended up like this... some addict, barely functioning. My mind’s scattered. Can’t focus... pain all the time.”
Jim took a breath, trying to steady himself. “So what do we do, Brettell? How do we stop it?”
Brettell’s eyes glazed over for a moment before he blinked, trying to pull himself back into the conversation. “You need... to get me something... a fix. Just... something to take the edge off. I can’t... can’t think like this. My body... it’s shutting down. There are people... in this estate. They can... get it.”
Jim felt a wave of revulsion rise in his chest. He wasn’t about to go looking for heroin to save this broken-down man’s mind. But if Brettell’s words were true—if he was the only person who could explain what the hell was going on—then maybe, just maybe, it was worth it.
“Fine,” Jim muttered, already regretting the decision. “I’ll get what you need. But you better be ready to talk once you’ve got it in your system.”
Brettell let out a weak, shuddering laugh. “Yeah... I’ll be ready.”
Jim turned, the stench of the room clinging to him as he stepped out into the hallway. He didn’t want to think about what he was about to do. He didn’t want to think about Brettell’s withdrawal or the agony he was going through. But if this was what it took to understand why reality was unraveling around him, he’d do it.
The neighborhood was a mess. Finding someone who dealt in drugs wouldn’t be hard here.
It wasn’t hard to find what he needed—Jim didn’t even have to leave the apartment complex. The stairwell stank of urine, sweat, and desperation. He walked past doors that barely hung on their hinges, and through cracks in the plastered walls, he heard the murmurs of people living in quiet misery. After just a few words exchanged with a man loitering in the hall, a greasy exchange of crumpled bills followed by a handoff, and he had what Brettell needed.
Returning to the squalid apartment, Jim moved quickly. He didn’t like this place—it felt like the rot here would cling to him if he stayed too long. He found Brettell still writhing on the filthy mattress, his eyes half-open but unfocused, lost in some painful haze of withdrawal.
"Alright, Brettell," Jim muttered, kneeling beside the bed, his movements brisk and methodical. "Let’s get you sorted."
He prepped the hit, his hands steady despite the disgust curling in his gut. He wasn’t cut out for this kind of thing, but he knew enough. He slid the needle into Brettell’s arm, watching as the liquid disappeared into his bloodstream. Almost instantly, Brettell’s body jerked, his back arching off the mattress before he slumped back down, exhaling sharply as though he’d just surfaced from a deep underwater dive.
“Thank god...” Brettell wheezed, his voice a dry rasp but clearer now. His eyes, though bloodshot, locked onto Jim with an intensity that hadn’t been there before. “Jim, I’m... glad you’re here. I... I didn’t even know... the extent of what was happening.”
Jim’s breath caught in his throat as Brettell started to convulse, his limbs jerking violently. A stream of saliva dribbled from the corner of his mouth, his eyes rolling back. Jim swore under his breath, grabbing Brettell’s shoulders, shaking him.
“Brettell! Stay with me!” he shouted, fury and frustration flaring in his chest. He couldn’t afford for this man to pass out now—not after everything.
But Brettell was gone, slipping deeper into unconsciousness. His body relaxed after a few moments, lying still on the mattress, his chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. The drugs had taken hold, and whatever fleeting clarity he’d had was gone, leaving Jim alone in the dim, stinking room with more questions than answers.
“Dammit,” Jim hissed through clenched teeth. He shook Brettell one last time, but the doctor was out cold. It was clear he wasn’t going to wake up anytime soon. Frustrated, Jim stood and paced the room, running his hand through his hair, trying to figure out his next move.
He pulled out his phone, opening the list of names he’d compiled during his investigation. There, near the top, were George and Anne Milnar—the couple who had reported a strange child claiming to be theirs. They’d requested a DNA test, confused by the appearance of a daughter they had no memory of. Jim checked social media, they were scheduled to be at the zoo today—just ten minutes away.
Decision made, Jim scribbled a quick note to Brettell: I’ll be back. Call me if you wake up—Major Adams. He left his number at the bottom of the page and placed the note on the desk next to the bed.
Just as he was about to leave, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He fished it out, glancing at the screen. It was Michael. Jim stared at the name for a moment, his thumb hovering over the answer button.
If this world was different, maybe Michael wasn’t the backstabbing bastard Jim had known. Maybe things had played out differently here. Maybe, just maybe, there was a chance...
Jim shook his head, silencing the thought. He wasn’t ready to deal with that—not now. He ignored the call, shoving the phone back into his pocket as he left the apartment, the door closing with a quiet click behind him.
The zoo wasn’t far. If he was going to get answers, maybe George and Anne Milnar would provide some. He couldn’t wait around for Brettell to wake up. Something strange was happening, and every second mattered.