Dreams. So many dreams.
They haunted him, reminded him of the days he’d lost. The memories never left him.
“Elias! Come over here,” Jewel laughed, pointing at the window of a pet shot. “Look at this cat. It looks so grumpy.”
“Want to share bites? Oh! Thanks,” she said, taking a nibble from his ice cream. Her eyes lit up, and she squeezed her face in delight. “That’s really good. Want to try mine?”
He was happy. All of his dreams were happy at the beginning.
“My clothes are wet,” Jewel complained as the rain thundered on the station’s covering. “I’m cold. You’re...really giving me that? Are you sure?” She smiled, and that had been enough for him. “Thanks. Do you want to...come closer? It’s cold. We need the warmth.”
The sounds of his heart were drowned out by the rain.
“I’m sorry I can’t tell you right now,” she said with a guilty look. “My parents would kill me. It’s fine? I’m sorry. Thanks for understanding. I promise I’ll tell you someday. I hope you’ll...stay with me then.”
He screamed, and the Jewel he knew was gone. Everything was darkness.
“How could you leave me? I was looking for you! You ignored me. It wasn’t my fault.”
No, it wasn’t. He had deserted her.
“Get a grip, Elias. What kind of adult are you, anyway? Grow up and accept things for what they are. If you hadn’t been such a jerk, maybe you wouldn’t have been abandoned by everyone.”
That wasn’t right. They had been the ones who hadn’t told him.
“It’s okay, Elias. It wasn’t your fault.”
Jewel?
No, it wasn’t her.
His happiness returned as he was embraced in a hug. Warmth and comfort flowed through every corner of his body, and joyful tears flowed out from his eyes. A gentle hand wiped them away.
“I’ll always be with you,” Crystal told him, gazing into his eyes.
“Do you promise?”
She smiled.
“Crystal? Can you promise me?”
She didn’t reply, and the warmth left his body. He was falling, his mouth in the form of an endless scream. Crystal was falling with him, her eyes full of kindness and sympathy.
He lurched into his bed, clawing for support. It was dark, and momentary fright gripped him,
No, he wasn’t falling. Getting up, he looked at the time on his wristwatch. It would still be dark outside. He didn’t want to get up.
Sighing weakly, he threw the blanket over his head and closed his eyes.
⤙ ◯ ⤚
“What a beautiful day,” Elias muttered.
The sun was shining, the clouds were sailing, the sky was blue, and his hair was a mess. Holding the scissors he’d found from the storage, he snipped the ends of his hair away, just enough so that he could see clearly. The last time he’d cut his hair too short...well, it had looked ridiculous. He was being careful this time with a simple trim—keeping it long allowed his mistakes to blend in. Not that anyone would see, but he didn’t like looking bad.
It was one of the limited comforts he had now.
When he was done, he swiped the pile away with a broom, letting it disperse as it fell from the monorail. After brushing the small strands away from his body as best as he could, he returned inside.
A good shower made him clean, and he looked at the mirror to admire his work.
It was decent, considering that he’d winged it. He smiled, putting his hand on his chin.
“Good morning, handsome,” he said. “You look spectacular today. Thank you! I appreciate it.”
He chuckled, feeling gloomy afterwards. Maybe he was finally going crazy.
Breakfast was served as usual, with the same food and same orientation. He chewed and swallowed. Chewed and swallowed.
“I hate my hair,” he said. “Crystal was a better stylist.”
The hole caused by her absence still hadn’t healed yet, and every day had started feeling like a chore. If life was going to stay like this, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to continue. But being the coward he was, he shied away from change.
“Pathetic. Another pathetic day. Does anyone hear me?! Anyone!”
No one answered. His voice echoed off of a building, filling the silence for a few seconds. Then all was quiet again.
He left the entrance open. He always did now during the day in hopes that someone would come to visit. The culprit who had destroyed his companion might as well come finish him off too, if he failed to get them first. He had three bullets left, which he always kept hidden behind a vending machine.
Three months he’d spent cowering inside of the station. The first few weeks had been miserable, and he’d lost a good chunk of his muscles before he’d regained his motivation. He was in better shape now, but it was still a fraction of what he had been.
Without having Crystal to curb his pain, exercising had turned from a rewarding session into an excruciating punishment. He hated running, he hated swinging his MUP staff, he hated sweating, he hated being breathless—he hated every moment of it.
The pain kept him sane, and the routine put some order into his disoriented life. When he didn’t hone his body, he’d felt wretched. He’d cry himself to sleep and his thoughts would wander off to somewhere dark, a place he didn’t want to return to. Pain was a distraction from reality.
He was becoming used to the pain. It, in turn, gave him numbness, and through that, he could forget about the depression.
What would Crystal have told him? Get those muscles moving or you’ll become fat. Something like that.
Elias took in a deep breath. Today was a day of change.
He retrieved the bullets from the vending machine and placed them inside of his pocket. His bag was filled with two meals and water for his trip. In his hand was his MUP staff. He’d thought about leaving it because it was annoying to carry around, and if whatever had destroyed Crystal wanted to destroy him too, a long stick would do little to protect his life.
Yet, there was a strange reassurance that came from holding the staff. Maybe it was because it had been with him all the way through, or maybe because he had taken many hours maintaining it (he knew each component by heart now), but whatever the reason was, it was a part of him. He couldn’t leave it behind.
Still, it got in the way. He split the staff in half and put it inside of his bag.
Now he was ready.
He wasn’t expecting much. Crystal’s remains had disappeared by the time he had mustered the courage to recover them, and it had sucked. That was last week.
He hopped into the monosphere and turned it on, pressing some controls to drive the vehicle out of the station. It gently began to accelerate, and he was soon zooming past the city’s otherwise mundane buildings. The incorporation of plants on the structures provided the city with its only color, lots of green against the white and grey.
Elias had forgotten about the landscape because of the snow, but it was more plant-infested than he had expected. It was a reflection of the place outside of the walls, but neater, cleaner, and much more organized. Now that the plants had started growing back, the city was transforming.
There were some growths that were too messy, too overreaching that added a tinge of wildness to the neat background. They probably hadn’t been tended to by the city’s drones. He hadn’t seen any drones other than Crystal’s since he’d arrived in the city.
Eerie. The machines were running, but the drones were gone.
Subtle panic rose from his stomach. For all he knew, he could be in the middle of something horrible, touring the city while the monsters observed him. Maybe he was a kind of specimen, stranded in the city for someone’s amusement.
He spotted a camera. Who knew what was watching.
It doesn’t matter, he told himself. Everything I’ve loved is gone. Even if they come to torture me, I couldn’t care less.
The last thought was a lie, but no one was there to argue against him. He wished there was. The silence was unnerving. Being alone was unnerving.
After half an hour, he was starting to grow impatient. He’d looted some of the vending machines in the other stations by using the keys he’d found inside of their offices, and while the extra candy was great, that was it.
He desperately wished for a map. Navigating the city would be so much easier. Without it, he could only stay on the rails. Without Crystal, he would lose himself in a matter of minutes, wandering around.
The monosphere slowed to a stop at a station, and the door opened with a small psh. Elias stepped outside.
“You know what? Who cares,” he said, taking another step. Then another. “I can just go to a random station if I get lost! Take that, stupidity.”
Feeling dumbly proud, he marched down the stairs and emerged into the streets. There were more gardens in the vicinity, filled with flowers and grass and weeds. Not beautifully arranged like they should have been, but randomly sprouting where they could. The few trees that lined the roads were lush with vibrant green; their heavy branches drooped down from their overgrowth.
There was so much life. Untamed, unrestricted life. For a second, Elias forgot about his worries and stared at the scenery, captivated.
“No one told me about this.”
Perhaps this was why Crystal had urged him to go out so much. There was beauty in the unexpected, wonder in the unknown. This was why people in his books had begun their adventures despite the dangers that had followed—for a sense of fulfillment. For the sensation of existing.
He felt alive.
Elias gripped the straps of his bag and began to walk.
⤙ ◯ ⤚
He was admiring the details of a vine-covered wall when explosions erupted in the distance. Elias immediately ducked and tried to hide. His heart pounded in his chest as the adrenaline rushed through his body, making his skin throb with blood.
After all this time? He couldn’t believe it. They’re finally here to kill me.
But the sounds were muffled and the smoke faint. Nothing around him blew up, and his limbs weren’t blasted off. He realized that the attack was nowhere near him and got up—it was at least two to three blocks away from where he was at. Another ear-splitting crack filled the air, loud enough to make him flinch.
“The heck?” he said. “There’s someone else?”
Quickly, he began to run in the direction the smoke was coming from. A part of him told him to run away, but he knew he’d regret it if he didn’t take this chance to see what was happening. No—he wanted change. This moment was hope.
Had he been more cool-headed, he would have taken another direction, but after weeks of instability, who could blame him? He pushed the sensible fears away, and excitement took their place.
He let out a laugh. It wasn’t a happy laugh—more like a wow, now-things-decide-to-change? sort of laugh. A weak burst of whimsical breath.
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Was he feeling anger? Probably. If he ever found the one who had taken Crystal away from him, he’d bash their head in. Yes, he was angry. All the shit he’d had to endure—it was all because of them.
The explosions weren’t as frequent now; instead, he heard something like barking.
Dogs?
A volley of gunshots started blaring away, and it wasn’t even that distant anymore. He could see the rubble where the buildings had been torn into, charred and broken. Strangely, some areas of damage weren’t burnt at all; he suspected they were using some kind of physical weapon.
He knelt momentarily and picked up an ammunition shell. It was warm and smelled of smoke.
While the fighting raged on close by, he rapidly constructed his MUP into a rifle. Fumbling a bullet from his pocket, he loaded the weapon and cautiously made his way to where the sounds were coming from. The noise had died down, and the gunshots weren’t as frequent anymore.
Elias peeked around the corner.
There, on the sidewalk, stood a figure who was cloaked in grey. Their hands were on a rifle—a legitimate one with scopes, a grip and trigger, and a gunstock. His shooting stick looked pathetic in comparison.
The figure pulled the trigger, and a sharp crack rang across the city. The thing they had aimed at—a four-legged creature, now without a head—collapsed on the floor. It would have been a vast understatement to call it a dog; it was bigger than a wolf, reaching two—no, three times his own size. A large, metallic, gun-attached-to-its-back type of monster. Or was it a canon? It was definitely a canon.
He didn’t like the vibe the figure was giving off. They held the weapon like someone who was experienced in their craft. Elias lowered his body to the floor and aimed, just in case something happened.
Just then, something jumped from underneath the rubble towards the figure. It caught the figure by surprise, and both of them fell on the floor, loudly. The dog-shaped automaton snarled and clamped its jaws down on the figure’s neck, swinging violently. The figure went limp, dropping their gun.
Elias didn’t have time to think. His arms were steady and his aim ideal. He held his breath—and fired.
The dog jerked to the side as the bullet smashed into its eye, spraying bits of metal out of its head. Elias was about to load his second shot when the machine loosened its hold on the figure, falling to the side. It didn’t move.
He did a silent fist of victory. Had he missed the shot—
Well, I’m glad I didn’t.
He paused before he approached the fallen figure. While he was excited to see who it was, he was equally afraid of the new entities roaming the city. When nothing jumped at the body, he got up and carefully stepped towards the figure.
The body was hidden underneath the cloak, so he gently turned it over with his hands.
The person was masked, wearing a black helmet whose only features were a narrow, one-pieced visor and a low, edged line through the center of its face. Her long, black hair flowed from underneath, covering her shoulders. Her adolescence was evident to him—or she was malnourished, which wasn’t possible since her athletic limbs were clearly visible under her tight clothing. There was no visible skin anywhere.
And she wasn’t moving.
Elias gently pressed his hand on the girl’s neck. He pulled it back in horror when he felt something wet, and his eyes widened when he saw that his fingers were coated with blood. It was hot on his skin, and his heart dropped into his stomach.
No. Not again.
“Hey. Hey!” he shouted, slapping the person’s helmet. “You can’t die like this!”
The figure didn’t move. He wasn’t about to let her die—if she hadn’t already. Breathing in while moisture filled his nostrils, he felt for a pulse again. It was there—weak, but it was there.
He saw her chest heave up slightly.
Crystal had never taught him to take care of stab wounds on the neck. Something major had burst since the blood was creating a puddle on the floor. But as long as he had a chance, he couldn’t let someone die. Ripping his jacket off, he tied its arms into a tight knot around the person’s neck, just enough that she’d still be able to breathe.
“Oh, fecula. Oh, fffffff—”
The thick smell of blood had entered his nose. It was like warm vapor, like a thin fog of ooze that covered his nasal membranes. Or was that his? His fingers were warm, and the sweat that clung to him felt like it was a part of his body.
I’m so sorry.
He apologized to the person after neglecting her for a few seconds to sling the rifle she’d dropped onto his side. He couldn’t just leave it there. And considering the amount of blood that was continuing to flow out, the person’s chances were very low, if not nonexistent. He quickly broke apart his MUP and stuffed it into his bag, lest it hindered him.
He was surprised at how light her body was. That, or he’d gotten stronger, but he’d never actually carried a person before. Things he’d done in the Otherworlds didn’t count. As fast as he could without making the person’s head dangle too much, he panted his way towards the station—the only place he knew where the right supplies would be.
His body was sticky now, blood soaking his clothes. It was too much.
How long had it been since he’d run? The person’s head was limp on his shoulder, and her legs swung aimlessly before his arms. It felt like an eternity before he’d reached the station, and he was sure he was carrying a corpse by then. His hope was lost, but he was still clinging to his delusions when he gently placed her on the bench.
“I’ll get you something,” he told her, dashing to the control room. The station’s layout was the same, and the emergency button was where it had always been, but covered with glass.
Without giving it a second thought, Elias bashed his fist into the glass, shattering it. Immense pain filled his mind, but he smashed his other hand into the button and heard the station groan as its mechanisms came to life. Gritting his teeth from the pain, he pushed his way into the shelter and storage room with his injured hand tucked in front of his stomach.
First aid, first aid, first aid—
He found the supplies in one of the drawers. Grabbing as many emergency bags as he could, he struggled his way back to the bleeding girl and dropped everything before the bench.
With trembling fingers, he removed his jacket from the girl and examined her neck. The blood has stopped flowing as strongly as before, but the drops were continuing to emerge. The clothes that covered her neck were too dark to tell how serious the injury was, so he fetched a scissor from one of the bags and cut the cloth away.
Deep, thin gashes streaked her skin in scarlet lines, and with the clothing off of the wounds, began to flow once more, quickly dying her neck in crimson. The dogs had had razors for teeth. Parts of the wounds had widened from when the machine had shaken the body. Cursing, Elias got the stitching tool and pressed it onto the wound, pulling the trigger as the apparatus knit the gaps together with tape. When he finished, his hands had been stained with blood. Blood that started to smell like rust.
Ass. He hadn’t sanitized the wounds. Fumbling a bag in his hands, he got the disinfectant spray and squirted it over her neck. He panicked when the stitching tape became translucent, but the material held on. His breathing was all over the place. Taking a roll of bandages, he was about to wrap her neck when he realized that he had to put the padding on first.
After a mess of what was his first actual first aid, he collapsed on the floor, panting. He’d failed—he’d taken too long. One look at the red washed everything was enough to tell. The person’s chest wasn’t heaving anymore, and he was too afraid to feel for her pulse.
His lungs were still shaking, so he forced himself to calm down.
He’d done all he could.
Numbly, he made his way to the bathroom. He washed his hands, his arms, his face, then wiped the moisture off with his clothes—and became stained again. Sighing, he weakly pulled his clothes off while walking to the shelter, dropping them below him. He wouldn’t use this place anyway.
After fetching a fresh change of clothes from the storage room, he took a shower for the longest time. He sat on the ground, leaned on the wall, thunked his head against the water. His hand ached from smashing the glass from before, enough to make him think that it was broken. He hated the throb that made him wince every heartbeat.
He’d finally found someone, only to lose them. It was as depressing as it could get. Not to mention the machine-dogs that he’d seen; those were a brand new threat on their own. First the Shadows, now this?
Someone had died in front of his eyes. He’d seen bodies before—grey, deformed husks that looked more like ghouls than people. But this was someone who’d been alive in front of his eyes just moments before, and he could bear to watch her take her last breath—if she hadn’t already.
He was a coward. But there was nothing he could do.
Elias bit his lip. He’d at least give the body a proper burial. The garden in front of the station sounded like a good place.
He felt light-headed when he walked out of the bathroom. It was strange, walking through a hall that was so familiar, yet so distant. The small touches of life that he and Crystal had littered their station with were missing, and only the cold, concrete walls remained.
On his way out, he grabbed a large blanket from the storage—something to wrap the body with. He’d never buried someone before and he’d only seen it done in his books and old movies, but he’d at least need a coffin of sorts.
The smell of blood was stronger now that he’d cleansed his body. It was beginning to dry, and crusts had formed where the liquid had fallen on the platform. Not beautifully red as they were before, but brown like dirt. The girl was still on the bench, lying as still as a corpse.
Today had been a good day. He’d thought that he’d finally mustered up the courage to move on. And just when he’d thought that he’d finally have someone to talk to, they’d been killed right before his eyes. If he’d been faster, maybe she’d be alive.
Not wanting to get dirty again, he kept his distance as his eyes examined the body. He sighed. He hadn’t even removed her helmet so she’d be able to breathe properly. Though it was too late, he wondered what her face would look like, so carefully, he pulled off the covering.
Elias forgot how to breathe. This was an angel, a being of perfection.
Bluntly, she was just his type. Almost too perfectly.
His sorrow grew as he buried his face in his hands. He’d let such a person die. The possibilities he could have seen, all torn away from him. He raised his eyes towards the sky where sunlight was glimmering through the glass.
“Please, let her live,” he whispered. But he knew the puddle of blood was too large, too thick. The bandages were ripe with lost life, a harvest that yielded no fruit.
He couldn’t. It had been fine when he didn’t know of her existence. But now that she was before him, all the determination he’d gathered was crumbling away.
Carefully, he wrapped the body around with the blanket and held her in his arms. She was lighter than before, and it weighed heavily on him. Gently, tenderly, he carried her step by step to the shelter. He didn’t have the heart to bury her today, and he didn’t want to leave her on the bench where the cold night would get to her.
Tomorrow. I’ll do it tomorrow.
Softly, he placed her on a bed. The wound had stopped bleeding—there was likely nothing more to come out.
Who was she anyway? Why had she carried around a rifle? He’d gone out to search for answers, only to return with more questions.
Half an hour had passed when he realized that he’d been staring at her the whole time. Slapping his cheeks, he went to fetch his bag and the rifle that the girl had dropped.
Two bullets left. They were in the pocket of the pants he’d taken off. Dreadfully lacking if he wanted to go on. Daylight wasn’t safe anymore, and those dogs had looked more terrifying than the Shadows. Seriously, dogs with guns?
One for me, if things go south. He shook his head after keeping his eyes on the bullets for too long. He’d made it this far, hadn’t he? Today was just another unfortunate day.
Yep. Just an unfortunate day.
While the sun descended, Elias prepared. He readied the shovel that he’d use tomorrow, as well as the food he’d eat. The candy bars in the vending machines were a small delight he’d lacked for months, and it lightened his heart, if only by a little. He cleaned his MUP and the new rifle in his possession, using the maintenance kit he carried around. Deconstructing the majestic weapon was easy enough, though he had to forage through the storage to find a smooth cloth that wouldn’t damage the scopes. After testing the mechanisms of the rifle, he knew he’d fallen in love with the weapon.
Maybe she was someone who was sent to hunt me down, he told himself. Other stupid justification sprinted through his mind like pests, but he was too dazed to care. There wasn’t anyone to judge him—no one to read his mind.
Finally, when he was satisfied, he went back to the body with a wet towel in hand. He removed the various pouches attached to her body, as well as the shoes and gloves she wore. He’d put them to good use. He kept the suit on. While the material was like no other he’d touched, he couldn’t strip her. He knew he’d be going down a weird path if he did. Now that he’d removed the bandages, he could see that the blood had completely stopped. He left the stitching tape on.
So much scrubbing. The dried blood refused to come off easily. He wiped it off where the skin was visible—from her face, hands, and neck. But the fluid had not dried completely, and the blood kept smudging where he’d wiped it off.
“Fecula, I’m not a weird person,” he said out loud. He had nothing else to do, and what he did do, he liked making it as perfect as possible.
Elias carried her body to the showers where he pulled off her clothes. The stickiness hindered his progress, so he used water to wash it away. The girl was wearing flexible underwear underneath, which he didn’t remove. They’d dry quickly enough.
A girl’s body. He’d hugged Jewel many times, but seeing a belly button was a first for him.
He was careful not to agitate the body too much. He’d hate it if she began to bleed again. Carefully, he placed her head on his arm and used a shower head with the other. When he was done rinsing the body, he placed her on a new sheet he’d prepared and began to dry her off with towels. After carrying her to a bed, he pulled some fresh clothes on her. Now, she’d be more comfortable.
She’s dead. After a quick reality check, he wondered why he’d even bothered.
The girl looked so peaceful lying there. He could have believed it if someone told him that she was only sleeping. But she no longer breathed.
After cleaning the rest of the station with a mop and a bucket (he threw the dirty clothes into the showers and left them there), he made sure that the station would be safe for the night and closed the door of the shelter, locking it. He didn’t feel like working out today. He’d expended himself plenty enough.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow, he’d bury the body.
Not wanting to sleep next to a corpse, he grabbed some books from the storage and sat down at the tables. Luckily for him, they were different books; it seemed like each station had its own collection. He even spotted a book he’d read a long way back, back before he’d met Jewel, back before his life had changed.
Those were the good times, he thought. But given a choice, he’d still choose the Otherworlds.
⤙ ◯ ⤚
His body hurt all over when he woke up. Worst was his hand; it was probably fractured, because every movement made him jump with pain. He couldn’t ball it into a fist. Wiping the little spit he had on his lips, he stumbled to the bathroom and washed his face. Cold water helped ease the pain.
Right. He’d have to bury the body today.
How he’d do it with a broken hand—well, he’d find a way. But if he took too long, the corpse would begin to rot, and it would be terrible. Grunting, he went to where he’d placed all of the items he’d need for the day and reviewed the supplies.
Shovel, check. Blanket, check. Ropes, check. Everything was good to go. And the corpse—she’s sitting there, looking at me.
He looked down at his injured hand.
Wait.
What?
He jerked his head to the girl—their eyes met, and Elias froze.
No, it wasn’t possible. He’d checked her breathing. He’d checked her pulse.
What else didn’t breathe and didn’t have a pulse?
Shadows.
She opened her mouth, and Elias ran towards the end of the hall, towards the combread storage where the escape hatch was. Around halfway—two seconds had passed—he was yanked back, and he landed on his bottom. Yelling, he struggled to get up—but something kept him on the ground. The Shadow’s long tendrils, probably.
Well, this is how I die.
It had been an okay life. He’d messed up at the end, but he’d had his share of good memories. He was getting tired of living anyway.
He screamed as he clawed on the ground, trying to pry himself from the force that kept him down. The footsteps neared, and he finally dared to look back, finally giving up.
The girl stood before him, her expression blank. Elias couldn’t close his eyes when the girl reached out and took his hand. He winced from the pain.
Then the pain was gone.
The girl got up, walked down the hall, and went to bed again, pulling the blanket over her.
All Elias could do was to try and not die from both shock and embarrassment.