by Alex Fall
I felt a sheepish smile creep on my face, so I looked away to hide it.
"I saw that."
"Shut up," I whispered. I wasn't mean about it. In fact, it was almost my own form of playing.
"Truthfully though, I've always been here. I was watching your dreams every night, I just wasn't in them."
I looked back at him, somewhat flustered.
"You're going back to your old ways," he said.
"I know!" I nearly yelled. "I know..."
"What's going on with Sharon?"
"Arty," I began to say but shook my head. "Keegan, please..."
"What's going on with your crew?"
"Stop."
"And the sleep pills?"
"I said stop!"
He paused. "I just want you to think about what all happened."
"I have been! Didn't you see me with a gun in my mouth?" I was irritated, but ashamed that I was irritated.
"I did. I was a little surprised."
"I get it," I mumbled. "You were right. I understand that now..."
"Wow. How'd that taste saying that?"
"Please, I don't..." I closed my mouth and let an angered, confused breath out of my nose.
"I'm going to tell you now...you will have nightmares because of this," he said bluntly.
"I know."
"You'll never forget it."
"I know!"
"You won't ever be quite the same."
"I know! I'm sorry! I failed! What do you want me to say?"
"I just want you to see the error of your ways. It'll keep you from going back to them."
I looked to the ground again. I couldn't think of anything to say that was appropriate for the moment.
"Erin?"
"...what?"
"I have a very special something I need you to do for me."
"What, cello?"
"I'm serious...I want you to come find me."
I looked up again to read his face. "What do you mean, come find you?"
"In the real world. It's the only way to make things right."
"Way to not get the big head."
"Erin, I'm serious. Can you make it on your own? Can you fix everything alone?"
I looked aside. "No..."
He tilted his head and smirked. "Are you happy to see me?"
I felt my cheeks flush. "...maybe."
"It’s alright, that's not a bad thing. Come find me in the real world."
"I don't know where you are."
His hand cupped the side of my face and turned me until I was looking in his eyes. "That's why I'm going to show you."
What?
An image flashed into my mind. It was the city, Lenburg. It was a part I was unfamiliar with, more cluttered and closer together. There were people walking about on the ground. To someone else it would be familiar, well traveled. Did this someone long to travel it again? Then, as if I were soaring over the city, the image carried me to a certain building. An apartment building. How I knew that, I'm not sure. I sensed danger there. I also sensed someone of importance. Then the image blurred and changed. I was standing in a room, small and slightly cluttered. A room not Ilavoan. I've been in this room before, in my dreams. It overlooked the city, the city that I had just seen from above. This was his room. This is where Keegan lived. I also felt his presence. He was hurt I think. Protecting someone? Protecting me. Why would he protect me? Worrying about someone? Worrying about me. Why would he worry about me?
I fell back when he released me from the image. I stared at him in surprise. I...understand now. He's stuck. The Reds own him. They beat him up and threaten him to get answers about the people living in the city. He doesn't want them to know where I am, so he takes punishment to protect my location. That's why I felt pain coming from him.
He smiled a little. It seemed to please him that I saw things from his point of view. "I'm not as strong as you in a way. I have to feed them information sometimes, or they'll think I'm completely useless and get rid of me," he said.
"How...did you...?" I asked, still reeling from the images.
"I'm a seeker. Information can go both ways. I can give it when I need to."
"You...protected me?"
"Sure. Lots of times."
"But...they hurt you. I hurt you too!" I said, sitting forward. I understand, but at the same time, I don't understand.
He shrugged. We sat in silence for a moment while my mind further condemned me. All those times I ignored him and he was taking consequences for it willingly...
"Stop doing that," he said.
"Stop doing what?"
"You're bad mouthing yourself in your head."
"Wouldn't you?"
"That's...beside the point. You need to come find me."
I bolted up. "Before they kill you, right? I got that from you! I know you know that!"
"OK...I didn't want that slipping out."
"But...It'll take me a day or two to get there from where I'm at."
"And I have to tell them you're coming. Otherwise when you get here, there won't be anyone here to make you laugh." He smiled. I didn't. This was too serious.
"Anyway...there will be lots of guys here when you find the place. Don't worry, I'll still be around when you get here. But you won't be able to come in and get me out, not both of us unharmed, unless..." He paused. "You do it my way."
"No killing?" I asked with a sigh.
"None. Not ever again. There's more than that, but I'll have to discuss it with you when you have more dream time. When you find the building, whatever you do, don't charge in. Wait until I talk to you in your dreams first...what's this look you're giving me? I don't know this one."
"I...I'm sorry. For being me."
"You're not a problem."
"Yes I am. I ignored you, took you for granted. I disappointed you, don't you tell me that's not true!" I said and pointed in his face. He said nothing in reply. "And I'm sorry, but I'm going to do it again. I can't help myself. It's my defining quality."
"Erin, that's not true," he said consolingly.
"It IS true! I disappoint everyone! I hurt everyone! I let down my crew by killing Vick! I let down Sharon by hurting and abandoning her! I got kicked out of the camp because I disappointed Rick! I mean, even the...THEY never got me right. It was one failure after another! I'm just a *cussing* failed experiment!"
"Hey now, don't cuss..."
"See?!" I shouted to prove my point. I felt my heart rate increase as we were talking.
"Erin...this is your stress talking. I told you that you'll be never be quite right from it."
"I've NEVER been right! Ever!"
He put his hands on my shoulders to break my train of thought. "That's a discussion for another day. Tell you what, I'll forgive you...on one condition."
I was afraid of his next words. The silence weighed heavily on my imagination. But he didn't say. He wanted me to ask, I could tell. I shrugged his hands off to release some of the tension.
"What?" I demanded in suspense.
"Come find me. I want to see you with my actual eyes."
He...doesn't know what I look like? This whole time, he had a blurry mental image of me, just like I have a false one of him? No, he sees me in my dreams. I look like me here. I don't understand.
"Will you do that?" He prodded.
"Fine."
"No, try again. Will you do that...for me?"
"Yes, whatever."
He smirked. "For as smart as you are, you're not one for fancy words. I'll be waiting. See you when you go to sleep again. And Erin, please take care of yourself."
He timed that perfectly. I woke up right as he finished his sentence. My shotgun was on the ground beside me, and I was still stuffed into the corner. Dawn light began to peek into the building I was in. I was very cold, and in still in a heap of pain, but for some reason...I felt better. Actually, I know the reason. It was him. Why he hasn't given up on me yet is beyond me, but in the meantime, it kept me from my own self-destruct
mode. A defiant voice in my head pointed out that I don't need other people to survive, that I've lived through the impossible all on my own before. While that may be true, it's not ideal...supposedly. I picked up my things and began my morning conditioning while meditating on that point. Maybe I can see his perspective again. Doubtful. Maybe at the very least, I can expand my own.
After forcing my way through the pain, I finished conditioning and training, made a light meal, took a few more medications, then began my journey towards the "dream tower."
At first, I kept an eye out for a vehicle or something that would speed up my pace, but soon my mind wandered back to him. Mind reader. But only of dreams? Are my mental barriers stronger than normal? Weaker? The same as everyone else's? In all those adjustments, did the Directorates ever think to mess with mental barriers? And transfer of information? Why does he need to touch me when he does it? Is that just how his mind perceives it? Has he done it before? I've been in his room before. Oh wait...I've been in his private living space. Now that I think about it, that's kind of embarrassing. Did he want me there? Surely... He doesn't LIKE me? Doesn't that require attraction? I'm not attractive in the slightest. I'm not like the pretty girls back in the Decapolis. For one thing, they're not covered in scars! They're not killers! They're more socially graceful, kinder, though less intelligent, and certainly a lot less like me. He can't like me, that's not even a plausible explanation. No, he needs me for something, for freeing him. And then what?
Then he leaves. He'll try to convince me that he won't. He'll keep showing up in my dreams for a while, pretending to take an interest in me. Even if he sincerely wants to help, he'll quickly notice how ineffective it is. I know I've already disappointed him. He's losing patience. Eventually he'll leave, especially after he's free to go wherever. I'm purposeless, weaponized, repulsive, and morally degraded. People don't develop loyalty to someone like me. It's just human nature not to develop human feeling for something that's not human, for something like me.
Consider all the things I've done. How many people have I?...
I stopped to take a breather against a light pole. I rubbed my temples, trying to ward off the enormity of my despair. I closed my eyes to stabilize my weaker half. I have shattered emotions. The Directorates had an adjustment session to tamper with them once, trying to dull my sense of social consequences. I felt unchanged after that one. Both the scientists and myself dismissed it as unsuccessful, but now I'm beginning to wonder. No, I know what I am doing. I liked being a monster for a time, but when the world is in a state of healing, it doesn't need a blight like me. I have no purpose. Even my creators are no more. I don't belong. No one claims me. I don't even claim myself. I represent the worst qualities of mankind, put together into something no longer human.
Again, I halted. The pain in my heart began to stir once more. I replayed Fake Arty's voice telling me to "stop doing that." But I couldn't obey. I just keep swinging back to my mistakes, or how much I hate myself. I wanted to think about him instead. How could he say he wasn't as strong as me? He's like a patience genius! I mean, my god, he spends his nights talking to me! On purpose! What quality is required of you to do that if it isn't strength?! I'm the weak one! I...
I lightly punched a concrete barrier in the road, enough to jar my damaged hand and force my mind to focus on physical pain. I've been walking this whole time with my head down. I never do that. I'm always watching corners and the sky for danger. Now I was only occasionally looking up, but mostly because it was perfunctory. What's happening to me? I kneeled against the divider and slid until I was sitting, staring into the sky.
Keegan...why did you give me a conscience if all its going to do is hurt me?
I found myself next to what appeared to be an interstate. There were wide roads with concrete barriers and occasional bridges that lifted high off the ground. Something in my mind recognized this as an appropriate route, something that I got from him. Another part of me acknowledged the lack of cover in case there was a fight. I guess I'll keep my Templar Unit on for that reason. Still, I need transportation. I felt a sense of urgency coming off Fake Arty, whether he wanted to admit it or not. My mind translated that as a need to hurry, which would be far easier if I wasn't injured or if I had possession of a vehicle. What's around here that would work?
I saw a garage that would likely house at least one wheeled vehicle. I remember seeing a permanently docked carrier airship a while back. It would likely have a loader, or even a lifeboat shuttle. There's a sports shop across two roads from me. It’s possible to have something. There's a couple more old shops along the way. There might be a forklift in one of them. At the very least, they would have a dolly for downhill slopes. I'm not entirely certain that would speed me up though. Garage first.
The windows are shattered. This building could have been looted already. Nonetheless, I entered a broken window, wary of the glass edges. I've already been in contact with too much broken glass the last couple of days. I still have glass fibers here and there to remind me. The garage was in a state of disrepair. Papers were strewn everywhere, most of them illegible now. A metal desk still remained, pushed into the corner over some wires that were exposed. The building smelled old and oily, with rusty and rubbery overtones. In one corner of the room, it also smelled like something died. But the doors leading to the back had fallen off their hinges, revealing a small, low altitude flight transport that was stripped to a shell. Other than that, there were only some basic tools, chains, and a busted lift rig. There was nothing useful here.
Leaving that place behind, I checked the sports shop next. If I found nothing here, I would backtrack and examine the carrier. The sports shop appeared to have had something break down a wall long before I arrived. My best guess was a Brute that got excited over his newly acquired powers, based on the small, hand sized indentations on the exterior of the wall. I entered the meter and a half tall hole in the structure's side. Thin metal shelves and racks that once stood in orderly fashion now laid in piles or pieces. Boxes of assorted merchandise were skewed about the sales room, mixed with busted light fixtures, glass, plastic, and pieces of the wall. Metal and small rodents dominated the scents in this room. This place was ransacked in a large way, and yet I spotted a couple frames. They were bicycles. After making my way up to them, my mind assembled the information I needed.
The gear system looked specific and hard to tamper with, so the first frame was out because it had a damaged back wheel and chain system. The second frame had a broken chain, and was missing a pedal on one side. The third frame had a destroyed front wheel. It seemed the easiest to fix. I worked quickly to acquire the tools needed to make repairs from the garage, then set about locating parts from the rubbish around the shop. I swapped rims with another bike that wasn't as bad, but the front wheel was still bent, even after attempting to bend it out. In the clutter, I found new inner tubes, pumped them up enough using a jury rigged pump, and reused the original tires. The whole thing still felt like it needed serious tuning, but it would work. If Lori was here, this thing would be in prime condition.
The bike was meant for someone smaller than me. It only had one working gear, and the front wheel being smaller than necessary and wobbly made handling it a bit rough, but it would serve its purpose. After wasting over a couple hours on the whole endeavor, I finally set off down the road. I had trouble at first managing my pack and the cello case, but after some practice and rearrangement, I made it work. It wouldn't be long until I was lost in my thoughts again. When such times arose, I would stop to break my thoughts, though the exercise helped keep my thoughts at bay.
This cycle continued throughout the day, stopping occasionally to eat or rest. As night fell, I found shelter in the second story of a medical office. It seemed to be some sort of dentistry place, but the waiting room still had a gel cushion couch that felt welcoming to my tired muscles and aching wounds. It served as my bed for the night. And no matter how hard I tried, sleep wouldn't come without the m
edicine.
* * *
This is most assuredly the place. A tall apartment building in the more lively part of Lenburg, it was a conspicuously preserved building, painted a maroon color and built with more modern architecture. The night before, Fake Arty had stressed how many people would be out and about. He told me to stay off main roads, showed me places to set up camp, and reminded me: absolutely do NOT enter the building once I find it. I was to wait until the next moments of sleep for his instructions. True to his word, there was an increase of people as I drew closer to the building. More shops were active, more restaurants were open, more vehicles passed by on the streets and in the air. There were even people walking here and there occasionally. I had to abandon the bicycle early and switched to moving at dusk to avoid being spotted. I also moved to avoid the street level as much as possible.
Now, per his instructions, I was hanging out in the third story parking level of an active hospital. He mentioned to stay near the northern wall of the third story, which I now see wisdom in. There were small holes (some kind of damage from either a fight or reckless use of power) in the ground of the third story parking for about half of the level, deterring people from bringing any kind of vehicles near. That meant a wide open area for me to roam around on, and since there was one more parking level above me, I couldn't be detected from above. To add to it, the northern wall faced away from the actual hospital building and towards the apartments that housed Keegan.
Using binoculars, I scouted my destination, noting how many people were in and around the building. The structure looked very transit, like it was a hub for Reds. There were statues and artistic metal structures all around the building, but no plants, trees, or bushes. Cover was minimal approaching it. Also, whatever kind of establishment it once was required a bigger than normal lot for an apartment building, so there were no structures as close as the rest of the city was.
I returned to a cluster of concrete slabs that were piled up on the third story, possibly put there to be out of the way. They would serve as my shelter for tonight, hiding me from view unless someone were to specifically approach this area of parking. I took a few sleep pills to begin the process of going to sleep, but passed the time by eating what little food I had left for dinner. My meal consisted of a handful of granola bars, a package of very artificially flavored muffins, a protein bar, water, and a couple of dried cranberries. It left a lot to be desired, but it was unquestionably better than nothing, which is how I've spent several of my nights as of recently.