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Chapter 14: The Wasteland

I focused on the journey ahead, letting go of the strange, awkward, ultimately satisfying night. I needed to get home, to see my Olivia again. I’d spent far more time away than necessary, but at least something good came out of it: the still-dead sphere that rested in my front pocket, and I would never forget my night with Eve.

I came across the dried up river on the hike back home, trying, and failing, to jar my memories forward once more. I just focused on the walk. The sun wasn’t high enough just yet, so at least it was more comfortable for the long march. To be home again, and away from Downtown’s evil, would be bliss. My doom lingered down there, but the answers were closer than ever. The sphere told me as much.

Something slowed my pace only a few blocks from my house. There wasn’t much around here, most everything was destroyed, broken, or simply gone. Looking around, I still felt like someone was watching, but nothing caught my attention. Just an awkward sense of illusion.

I took a few more steps but just couldn’t shake the feeling. I came to stop at an intersection, Thompson and Market. It wasn’t really anything that rang any bells, not like any memories in this particular spot, but something wanted to lead me away, further down Market and away from Olivia.

Market Street held the same destruction as before, with its cracked street, nature looming over everything, and it wanted nothing else but to pull me that way.

“Fine,” I said out loud. Whatever it was, it tugged at the back of my mind and didn’t let go.

I twisted left and set forward, moving about the destruction. I was strangely tired for having slept. Maybe the nightmare kept me on edge, but then again, it wasn’t that long since I’d been asleep. Shapes were beginning to form where things didn’t exist. Waves of dizziness came and left. Voices started to linger in the wind.

Market twisted to the right and shot into a dead end, bending around a large scrap pile some of the locals had built. A great desert stretched far as the eye could see passed Market Street. The sun glared off the crystalline sands, and waves of heat rolled off the distant mountains. Winds blew the sea of sand across the valley that surrounded the entirely of our broken city, all of Uptown, all of Downtown, everywhere.

Walking into the desert wasn’t like crossing the barrier. Anyone could willingly walk into the barren region, and many had attempted it before. They either had made it to whatever other side existed and never made the return trip, or simply died in the sands without us knowing about it. No one had ever returned.

The desert was already burning hot compared to the somehow moderate environment of my home town. The sand pelted my face, forcing me to shield my eyes as the wind blew westward. The feeling pressed me forward, and I lost myself a good distance before realizing how far I had traveled. Twisting around and looking back, the city had grown to just a speck in the distance.

“What are we looking for?” I asked out loud. There had to be something drawing me out this way. A wave of vertigo nearly put me down on all fours, coughing and heaving, though I recovered. Another spout of dizziness set me reeling backwards, head crashing into the sand. My world was spinning so fast I could have been in the clouds.

It hit me in that moment. This had happened before, only twice, but in the same way. Instead of fighting it, I laid back and watched the white, billowy clouds drift by.

“Well let’s have it then,” I said before the sequence began.

It wasn’t so much a dream. I don’t think I would call it a memory either. It was more like living another life, a life that could be mine, but just maybe wasn’t. The first time happened when I was leading the group down to the city in the beginning. It happened when I laid eyes on those dark clouds for the first time.

The second time, it happened when I was shot.

Everything was black and white, washed with traces of gray. Time remained frozen as I stood in the middle of the sands just like before. But things soon changed. No longer was it the desert I stood in. Instead, a lush and vast forest careened into existence off to my right, while the desert remained everywhere else. Though the strange part was the trees were rotting, dying. One was in full bloom, leafs and flowers on the end of each branch, yet it was rotting near the base. Though frozen in time, the sands of the desert appeared to be devouring all of the woodland.

Somehow I was closer to the familiar city, but it wasn’t broken like before. Towers touched the sky, full and shining in their brilliant, garish tone. Glancing to the left, I saw myself, a mirror image as if seeing my reflection. But this was no mirror. This was a haunting realization of me watching myself and not fully understanding what I was looking at. I just knew it was me, frozen in the moment, awaiting what was going to happen next. I tried to shove the anxiety down as I moved closer.

The scene came to life. Looking away from this doppelganger and back toward the forest, I witnessed the reality of how things may have come to pass. It wasn’t a slow or natural decay that consumed the forest. This was more. The sands were eating away anything that was green, or, at least what should have been green. The sands swept quickly, with such ferocity that anything that should have resembled a forest quickly decayed into nothingness.

“Jackson! You here lad?” a voice questioned.

I whipped my head around and saw a new figure come into the scene. He walked from over a mountain, wearing glasses on a bulbous nose. He was a stocky little man, and completely out of breath.

“Over here,” my mirror image announced. This other me looked so much fuller than I was. His hair was brushed and slicked back. He had clean clothes, clean face, but his expression was something near ill. There was some kind of gadget in his hand that beeped and whistled, but it was far too advanced for my mind to comprehend.

“According to the data…” the pudgy guy said as he took a second to catch his breath.

‘I know,” my doppelganger interrupted. He was punching keys on the device while simultaneously looking at his wristwatch. He seemed to be counting down to something, mouthing numbers or calculations, but doing so in his own private world. The other man remained quiet.

“Okay, okay… okay… okay…” The second me muttered. “Fifteen minutes. It will be over in fifteen minutes. The forest will be dead.”

“We need to go, Jackson. The area will be flooded in less than an hour,” the other commented.

“I know… I know.” My doppelganger shook his head. “There just isn’t enough time. The power plant is going to take at least three hours to get up and running.” This second Jackson looked over at the other man, and appeared to be getting choked up. He kept an edge to himself, somehow, while looking downright ready to burst into tears.

An unexpected uproar assaulted my senses. Turning away from the scene, I tried to find the incoming drone. I couldn’t see much through the black and white haze of this strange, nightmarish reality.

“Well, that’s earlier than expected… ummmm, who would have flashed it this soon?” the other man asked.

“It’s close enough,” Jackson groaned. “Damn it, there just isn’t enough time. We should go. We can still make it to the bunker.”

The other guy suddenly grew downtrodden, removing his glasses and looking towards the oscillating sound.

“What is it?” Jackson asked.

“I’m going to the city,” the man in the glasses replied.

“What, why…” Jackson trailed off.  “No, no, how? I thought you were immune?” Jackson could barely maintain himself. This other me was mystified and broken.

“Contracted it back… ah hell, you know what? It doesn’t matter. The medicine did its job, slowed it down long enough.” The man grabbed Jackson by the arm and shook a little bit. “Lad, I know you’ll figure it out. You’re the only one who can.”

The two hugged.

I couldn’t help but watch in shocking, muted horror. I needed to understand this, but it wasn’t coming to me. Whatever this man had contracted it was something awful enough to warrant an embrace. Time froze again, the two caught in a never-ending hug.

This always happened when this altered reality came to an end, and I knew I would wake up soon. Instead of drawing my attention to them, I shifted back towards the direction where that crazy sound was coming from. Even in this black and white universe, the cityscape was just a bit darker on the horizon, like something had exploded with an unnamable darkness.

What was less than an hour away? What was a power plant? Why transform the surrounding forest into an impassable desert, and just how the hell did someone do that?
Soon the vision started to blur, as it came back to life once more.

This hadn’t happened before. The vision always ended and never came back. But now my world was spinning on a slight tilt.

Jackson and the other were saying words I couldn’t understand over the loud buzzing coming from the city. My sight was either fading or drawing to something unholy, a darkness that hovered as if alive on the horizon. It was coming this way.

I took a few steps forward and strained to make out shapes on the neutral colored skyline. It looked like a swarm, a shade against a dark background. Whatever it was, it was screaming towards us incredibly fast.

“I think it’s going to be here quicker than your estimation, lad,” said the other man, his voice somehow resonating over the noise. The deafening sound seemed to die away, or the dream wanted me to hear the interaction of these two men. The other man wiped away a few tears and looked toward the black clouds.

“So it would seem,” Jackson replied. He started to shake his head, and sighed deeply. “Why?”

“Why what, my boy?”

“I shouldn’t be immune. I just, shouldn’t be. It’s a cruel joke.” The mirrored image of me cried.

The conversation between the two drowned out, and the billowing black cloud of noise was close enough to see. Whatever it was, it didn’t make sense. I closed my eyes to think, just for a moment. When I opened them again, I was caught within the storm. Black particles swirled and spun around. I couldn’t quite explain it. The sound was too much, but I ignored it.

The blackness wasn’t totally engulfing like it was around the center of this broken city. This was more of a wind, a pitch-black gust alive with purpose. It breezed past us in an instant, and screamed away from the shining city. With that, the noise settled.

“Feel any different?” Jackson asked.

“Can’t say that I do, but that’s the point, isn’t it?” the other said and managed a smiled.

“I’m so sorry, Adam. I didn’t mean for any of this,” Jackson started.

“No lad. This wasn’t your fault. But you will fix what they broke. Well, my journey’s at an end it would seem. Have as good a life as possible. I know you’ll figure it out. Goodbye Jackson.” Adam hugged Jackson again.

It was gut-wrenching to watch, feeling so disconnected as I did. From what it looked like, I should remember this Adam somehow, someway. I knew he was dying, knew that something was happening.

“I promise I will,” Jackson called after Adam, who was already walking toward the city. Adam didn’t turn around, just continued marching onward. Jackson sighed loudly, and froze in place as the dream seemed to have ended.

I was left with the absolute feeling of loss. And, somewhere deep in my wounded memory, knew exactly what had happened to this city, because I had a hand in its breaking.

Chapter 15: Ploy

Coming out of the nightmarish vision, dream, or whatever it was, left me spinning and sick. My head felt heavy enough to fall off. The back of my eyes hurt, and pin pricks sparked across my skin. The feeling didn’t leave as I tracked back toward the city. It felt like my life had unraveled before me, an inescapable logic that, somehow, I had a hand in all of what happened.

We were living in ruin, fighting for life, and dying in the middle of it all because of something I should remember. The black wave of hovering particles was a beginning, a strange, unanswerable question. All I knew for sure was that this Adam, whoever he was to me, contracted something, maybe an illness, and marched himself to this city.

It took only a few minutes to backtrack to the city, but the vision remained alive. The conversation between Adam and myself, that younger me, kept replaying before my eyes, kept repeating what Adam was saying. But it begged another question: why would Adam march himself here, into this city? I stood on the edge between pavement and sand, thinking.

“Twenty-eight days,” I said out loud. My turning loomed in the not-too-distant future, screaming closer with each new day. With every second that passed, the center of the city called louder and more distinct. If I failed to understand all of this soon, all of these questions weren’t really going to matter. The turning didn’t care who I was or what was going on. It would come, it would grab me, and take me away.

“Just how the hell…” I trailed off. An odd sensation overcame me as I stood there staring at the ground, something that I had never noticed before. It seemed so weird, but strangely right. The wind in the desert was strong, and powerful enough to blow sand into our city. Yet it never crossed the threshold onto the pavement, hadn’t for years.

The edge between sand and city formed a perfect border. It was a flawless line that ran all the way down, as far as the eye could see. Testing a theory, I bent down and picked up a handful of sand. I threw the sand hard and fast towards the city. It flew back almost instantly, chucking the lot back into my face.

I spat out the grains and picked up another handful to test the hypothesis again. The same result occurred, though I wasn’t foolish enough to have it come blasting back at me and stood off to the side. Whatever was causing the particles to fly back was keeping the entire desert out of the city, almost magically. Something else was at play here, something scientific and capable of being answered, but I couldn’t grasp it.

I picked up the last handful and cupped the grains with both hands, creating a tight ball with my fists. The second I walked onto the pavement the sand tried to break loose. As I pushed further in, the grains dug into my skin, the pressure increasing exponentially as the sand tried to escape. After a few more steps I couldn’t hang on. I turned around and released them. They flew with ferocious speed back over the threshold, and came to a rest just outside the line of pavement.

This was insanity. This was the definition of my life right now, everything compounded in such a way I was going to fall into madness. The insomnia, the timer, the dreams, visions, or whatever they hell they were, all built questions I couldn’t answer. And I had a fucking sphere that managed to break all the theories, and let me go where I shouldn’t be able to go. But I had no memory to answer what I was supposed to do, and guessing might take too long to get any solutions.

I pushed back towards my initial destination: home. These thoughts bounced through my mind, lingering even though I had no clue what they meant. The sun did it’s best to pull my attention away. It was plenty hot now with the sun nearly at its peak, but I remained trapped to my own ideas.

The sphere. It was my be-all and end-all, my grand prize. The thought had crossed my mind several times, but this time I focused on the strange instrument. It was left up in that building like it wanted to be found, like I was supposed it use it. Strange as it was, it felt right in my hands as I pulled out the device and examined it. The perfectly, round metal sphere, with its etching that failed to light up. It was weightless. I should have been able to crush it, but I couldn’t. The metal was so firm.

              “Tell me,” I ordered, shaking the sphere like it would talk back. If it was only so easy. Returning the sphere to my sweatshirt’s front pocket, I noticed the intersection coming up ahead. I turned left and continued toward our block. Soon enough I passed the Palmer’s house, though I couldn’t bring myself to look up at the giant yellowed building.

Maybe I feared that someone would be looking out those windows, and those were faces I still couldn’t look upon. What happened two nights ago was just too much. I pushed past the home and walked in the middle of the street, keeping my eyes glued on the pavement.

              It was quiet out here. I couldn’t say if that was really normal or not.  This place stood in stark contrast to how alive downtown was the night before. Only the sound of the wind whistled against my ears, and maybe the scrub of my old tennis shoes that were a size too big scraping along the concrete. When I was well enough away from the big yellowed house, I looked around. Everything seemed normal enough. Yet something was different, was wrong.

              Angling towards Kyle and Susan’s, nothing appeared out of place. It wasn’t like the door was kicked in, or windows were broken. I didn’t know what I was expecting. But a little girl hadn’t come running out of that house yet, nor was she staring through a window. Everything remained still, soundless.

              I approached the front door and pushed an ear against its surface, waiting. Nothing.

              I didn’t knock, just grabbed the doorknob and pushed through. The place was in shambles, broken furnishings tossed from one side of the room to the other. Silverware was flung about the floor. Knives stuck out of the wall. Glass shards were scattered about, the carpets stained a deep crimson, and a smell emitted from somewhere deep within the mess.

That scent stung, attacking my senses like I was slugged in the ribs, ribs that still burned from the night before. An overpowering fear grasped the back of my neck.

“Hello?” I struggled to ask. “Kyle? Susan? Olivia?” I pushed through the debris. There was nothing but destruction, not a sign of my friends or my little girl. Spots of blood drove me nearly mad with worry.

              I followed the stains on the carpet as the blood twisted and turned. The smell that hung in the air tasted coppery and reminded me of days in the past, days of war and death. It smelled so awful that I had to pull my shirt above my nose and mouth.

              The aroma grew stronger as it led me to a set of stairs heading into the basement. My heart leapt into my throat. That deep crimson seeped into the carpet at the top of the steps. It looked fresh, and even had chunks of flesh mixed in. Flinging the door open to the basement, my senses screamed as a whoosh of stale blood-fueled air flew up. Glaring into the darkness of the basement only raised more fear.

The most sickening thought was the lack of noise, no crying or screaming, just the awfulness of nothing. I flew down the steps, not worrying about being graceful, and slipped on the blood-soaked wood, nearly breaking my neck after falling down the rest of the way.

              Only the light from the open door allowed me to see. There wasn’t so much as a whisper of help coming from the space, but the smell remained coppery and shocking. I only wished I wouldn’t find anyone down here. I flung my arms in all directions and strained to discover something against the bleakness.

              An outstretched leg tripped me and sent me tumbling. A moan escaped. Someone was alive enough to make a sound. I got up quickly and felt my way around. I touched skin, wet skin. It was someone’s arm, and a big one at that.

              “Kyle? Kyle!” I shouted. “Come on buddy, talk to me!” I shook, my hands slipping from his skin as I tried to get a grasp on him.

My vision adjusted just a bit to catch a glimpse of his face and body, but what I saw was beyond imaginable. His face was pulp, puffed up beyond recognition. Drool mixed with blood oozed from his mouth, his jaw offset and broken. Dried blood mixed with sweat clung to his shirt and body.

              “Jacckkksssonnn…” Kyle choked out.

              Tears streamed down my cheeks. He was dying.

Unable to talk, I felt around Kyle’s legs and arms. There were no bindings tying him down; he was just sitting in the chair, somehow upright and awake.

              “Jackson,” he whispered again.

              “Come on Kyle, let’s get you outta here,” I said.

I wrapped his massive arm around my shoulder and lifted with all my might. Somehow he rose to the occasion, though slowly. We stumbled across the darkness towards the stairs. This way I could get a better look at him, and deal with it from there.

Climbing the stairs with Kyle clinging to my shoulders was difficult. My ribs and shoulders burned from my earlier wounds, but I remained focused on the task at hand. Kyle nearly collapsed twice, but we managed not to slip on the blood.

Bursting through the opening, we both crashed to the floor. I lay breathless for only a second before turning my attention to him.

“My god,” I whispered. I had to look away.

              Kyle’s face was smashed like it had been beaten with a brick. His eyes were puffed enough that he wouldn’t be able to see. I didn’t know how he could even talk. His jaw was a half inch off-center. His shirt was white in places, but the rest was red. I lifted his shirt to see the damage and counted eight, no, nine stab wounds. Vomit rose from my stomach.

This was all wrong, and it was all my fault. I should have been here. I shouldn’t have left.

              “Jackson,” Kyle spoke with an almost certain clarity. The words slurred through his fractured jawbone. “You… have… to…” He tried to talk. He lay there, unmoving.

Shallow breaths came far too few. He still bled. I took a blanket from nearby and tried to hold it against all of his wounds. He didn’t even groan with the pressure. He wasn’t feeling anything.

              “Shhh… shhhhh… just keep quiet. We’re going to get you outta here, get you some help,” I choked. I couldn’t keep my voice from cracking. Tears trickled down my face and I wiped them away with the back of my sleeve. I noticed how bloody my own shirt had gotten from carrying Kyle.

              Kyle’s hand found mine. When I looked down, I imagined he was looking at me.

“No,” Kyle whispered. “You have to…have to… find her.” His voice was deep, like it wasn’t his own. His head rolled back, and tension gripped his body and shook a few times. He held my hand tight for a moment before his chest rose one more time, then settled forever.

              “No,” I whispered. “No, Kyle, come on. No, no, no, no….” I shook him, felt for a pulse on his neck. I moved my hand to his chest but there was no heartbeat. He wasn’t here anymore. My friend died right in front of me. Yet, he wasn’t thinking of himself when he went.

“I’ll find her. I promise,” I whispered. With renewed vigor I set out to find my Olivia and Susan.

              I stumbled away from Kyle and rushed into the living room. The room was spinning, and I chocked down vomit.

              “Olivia!” I shouted. “Susan!”

              I screamed, not caring if the murderers were still here. I needed to find the girls, to fulfill my friend’s dying wish. I stormed through the rooms on the bottom floor. There was only scattered remnants of the struggle. Kyle must have put up one hell of a fight, he would have done his best to protect his kin. Everything was silent, though. There wasn’t a trace of the girls at all so I turned my attention to the top floor.

              An idea took hold: everyone I knew was violently being ripped away from me. Everything that I had come to love could be dead, and gone for the rest of time. I sprinted upstairs and rushed into the first room.

              “Damn it, no,” I chocked. My heart stopped as I entered the room. In the middle of the floor, just like Kyle in the basement, was Susan. She was strapped down in a chair, unlike Kyle. Her head was down, her hair soaked in blood and sweat. A pool of red lay near her feet. It leaked from the holes that covered her arms, her shirt just as red as Kyle’s. She didn’t move.

              “Susan?” I said with little power.

Nothing.

I slowly approached the girl and was overwhelmed with just how much I cared for her, more than she would ever know. The place in my heart that desired Susan was burning, but it was falling apart, dying just like the world.

I knelt by her side and looked her over closely. She was dead. Susan hadn’t clung to life like Kyle. Her head was angled downwards, neck careened all the way forward. I swept the hair from her forehead just to make sure it was her, and pretended for a moment that it was going to be someone else. Susan’s eyes were glazed over, streaks of tears covering her cheeks. Her mouth was open in a silent prayer.

              “Why?” I asked Susan.

              She didn’t respond. She had deep, red and purple marks around her neck. Gashes were scattered about her arms, and her fingernails were covered in bits of flesh. She’d fought, just like Kyle.

The bleakness of my situation was coming quicker. Nothing would ever be the same, yet the fact remained that nothing would change. I was going to die in a twilight hell, be it walking into the darkness downtown, or gunned down by whoever had committed this gruesome crime. But I still had one act, one person, to discover: Olivia.