Aurora Wasteland Quarantine

by Vaughn Ashby

  I checked my watch. The time for my appointment was getting closer. I tried the front door a few more times, all with the same result, step outside and end up right back inside. As weird as it was, I was used to weird now. So, I tried my back door, then my garage door, no luck. Next up was windows. I had two that opened on my main floor. I climbed out both and ended up back inside my house on my hands and knees. I broke one of the other windows that didn’t open, and well, I really wish I hadn't because I ended up back inside anyway. I checked my watch again, if I left now I’d just make it in time.

  My house has two levels. I sprinted up to my second floor and opened the window in my bedroom. I climbed out onto the roof and ended up back in my bed. I’m not really one to give up, at least I like to think of myself that way, so I went to my attached garage, grabbed a large hammer, I’d used it to put my fence up. Then returned back into the house, picked a wall I was sure didn’t have any plumbing in it and started smashing a hole through to the outside.

  The hole took way longer to make than I’d expected. By the time I had one large enough for me to fit through, I was sweating and had long missed my appointment. Worst of all was, I ended up back in the house again after I climbed through.

  I stood in the middle of my living room defeated as the wind blew through my new house hole. I stared at it, the hole that is, watching the world continue on outside without me. I almost wanted to cry, but I couldn’t, I hadn’t since this all started, The Virus that is. I think maybe I’m just repressing things, thoughts, and worries. Or maybe the Aurora Wasteland in all its terror and strangeness has jaded me to the world.

  I watched as a white spider, the size of a quarter, clawed its way through the fresh hole, and down the wall. There are few things in life that the human race can agree on, spiders are gross to the max is one of them. They should all die for their grossness. I, like everyone else in the world agreed and quickly brought my foot down on the spider. I pressed down so hard that I imagined the atoms around the spider compressing, killing it, driving it down. But that’s not exactly what happened. Yes I did manage to kill the spider, but that was only the beginning, well I guess the door was the beginning, well technically the end, oh whatever.

  As I raised my foot, a cluster of spiders escaped from beneath it, and scattered in every direction. I wanted to yelp, my brain told me to scream, but I just stared at what I’d witnessed. I squished one spider and managed to create dozens more? Was the big spider pregnant? Was it some sort of spider death cloning thing? Whatever it was, it was fucking gross.

  I watched as the tiny spiders skittered away and found new hiding places around my house. It was then and there that I decided I needed to burn the house to the ground. If there were no walls, then I could just step out freely, plus you know, it would kill the spiders.

  As I turned to grab a gas can and lighter from my garage, I noticed something strange out my front door. At first, I tried not to look, but it was too hard, there were too many of them. I ran to the front door, with my hands on the frame, I peered outside. Hanging from the houses across the street were dozens of bodies. They swayed in the wind. I was mostly certain they weren’t real. I would have seen them only seconds ago, but I hadn’t, so they had to be fake. The ropes around their necks creaked in the wind. A tear streamed down my cheek. There were so many of them. What was happening to me? Had the Aurora Wasteland cracked me, cracked my brain? I had to get out of the house, and I was running out of options.

  I sprinted to the basement, which was unfinished, the cold dirt floor felt nice against my feet. I could feel my heart pounding through them. I didn’t care about getting my shot anymore, well I did, but not at that moment, I just needed to get out. I dropped to my hands and knees and dug. I started in the middle of the room, which looking back, was stupid. Where was I going to dig to, China? Eventually, I smartened up and started digging from the near corner The further I dug, the clearer I felt like my brain was getting. I didn’t need to get out of the house, I just needed to turn off whatever was keeping me in. There had to be something strange going on below my house. I was sure of it. I then found a hole… maybe it was more of a cave... I hadn’t expected, descending down below the house. I had no objection to climbing down into it.

  Excited at the thought, I climbed down the opening and into the tunnel. I’ve been told to add a disclaimer here by the Aurora Wasteland. Don’t climb down into holes, the outcome is always bad. When I asked for clarification on the whole ‘bad’ thing, they simply replied with, ‘it would be bad.’ So there you have it, don’t climb down holes because it would be bad. Only for myself, it wasn’t bad. It was disappointing for one, confusing for another.

  The tunnel ended at the edge of the house. There was, in fact, nothing exciting buried under my house, and as far as I could tell, the tunnel ended right at the edge of where I would consider the house to be. And from there, the further I dug, the more I seemed to get nowhere, so much so that I paused and sprinted to the garage to get my shovel, only to be distracted by the TV as I passed it. Panting, dirty, and out of breath, I stared at the TV screen I didn’t remember leaving on. Rosario the red haired news anchorwoman was talking about how her co-anchor had disappeared. No one seemed to be believing her. Her frustration was evident as her tone shifted to anger. Confused, she looked around the news studio. She kept screaming about how there was nowhere he could have gone, and how did no one not notice this. Then, almost like I blinked, she was gone. I patted my pocket looking for my phone, only to remember it was sitting on the front porch, just out of my reach.

  I rubbed my eyes, what had I been doing? Was I really trying to dig a hole out of my house? Why didn’t I try my computer? I made my way to my office. My legs and arms were killing me from the whole hole hoopla. I logged in and pulled up my messenger app. My buddy from work, Steven, had messaged me. He knew I was getting the shot today, and said that if I was feeling ill after, that I should pick up that new video game, Elysium. He had sent me a free promo code for it, said I’d love it, and that you can do whatever you wanted in the game. He then went on to tell me how the game was so damn good. I sighed as I checked when he’d sent it, it had been hours ago. My fingers hovered over the keys. If I told him that I was trapped in my house, he might have me committed, but maybe that was a good thing, maybe I was losing my grasp on reality.

  I closed my eyes as I considered what to send him. I had to word it just right. Tears streamed down my face. I’d read a lot of strange and weird things. Honestly, it was kind of fun, but when it's happening to you, well… the whole thing takes on a different meaning. I had to… a hand touched my shoulder. I opened one eye through my tears to see a woman standing there. She was wearing a black dress, her eyes were glowing white, and blackness like tar was rippling up her neck from her dress. She smiled at me. I smiled back. Around the room, I could see spiders, the white ones from before. I got to my feet and rubbed my eyes. This time I opened the other eye, only to see a man in her place, he looked almost the same as she did, just a suit instead of a dress. I switched eyes again, the woman was back. She smiled at me again. I preferred her to the man.

  As I stared into her glowing eyes, it was like we were talking without talking. The furniture in my office vanished, then the wall on the inside of my house vanished. The woman tugged at my hand and led me down the hall towards the only piece of furniture left in it, my bed. She helped me in and ran her finger through my hair. I thought of my kids and my wife, I thought about the board games we played together, I… did I have kids? A wife?

  As if from the heavens, static from a radio filled the air, it was like someone was fine tuning the radio dial. Then, a newscaster echoed around the empty house. She talked about The Virus. How it was spreading, how no one believed it was even real, how… the radio clicked off as the woman rested her hand on my chest. I felt warmth and comfort. I felt like I understood The Virus, the pandemic, all of it. There was something bigger at work. Something created this virus and picked this mom
ent to release it. Whatever it was, it had to do very little, the world was primed for this. It waited for this moment in history to take advantage of us. It wanted us dead, and a large percentage of the human race was doing exactly what it wanted.

  I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep. I could feel the world around me changing, rearranging itself, and here’s the thing, I didn’t care. I was content where I was. The worry of everything slipping away.

  When I woke up both the man and woman were standing there, their glowing eyes gazed at me through sympathy. My house was gone, the world I knew was gone. A black viscous liquid flowed above and below me. It was thick like tar. I think it was alive because I could feel it calling to me. It wanted me to just get up and jump in, but I didn’t.

  I smiled and waved at the two glowing eyed people, they both waved back.

  I asked them if I could have one last go around.

  And without hesitation, they said yes.

  Then I was back in a body, there was no snap or sudden shift. I was there as if I was always there. It was cold, there was snow, and I stepped on a spider.

  I was at home, building something, a doorways of sorts. I pulled another version of myself through one of the doors.

  I was making eggs, they tasted so good, and I thought of the woman that left them for me.

  I was driving my kids out to see my mom, I’d lost my job for some reason. God, my kids are amazing.

  I was in a bathroom, I was a man, then a woman, then… it didn’t matter. I was trapped there.

  I was crammed into a small room, during a job interview. Someone vanished.

  I was laying on my back looking up into the ash filled sky.

  Then I’m back in my house, eventually the bed. The two glowing eyed people are staring at me again. And just like last time I ask to go around again.

  Newspaper Headlines

  “NDE breakthrough at University of Alberta” - Edmonton Epoch

  “Near death experience team gets research grant from NASA” - Brightness Falls Gateway

  “NDE device begins beta testing” - E-Calgary Science Digest

  “Aurora Wasteland Researcher volunteered to NDE trials” - Aurora Wasteland Newsletter

  “NDE device to be fast tracked due to The Virus” - Lethbridge Dark Times

  Notes from the NDE team

  The patient who refers to himself as The Narrator was diagnosed with The Virus during its 3rd wave. As it became apparent that he was not going to survive, he volunteered for Indigo's Near Death Experience, or NDE, machine. Indigos' machine had been fast tracked to test on virus patients in the hopes of capturing their final seconds. The machine is able to hack the human mind and capture the dying patient's last few seconds.

  There is a theory that the last moments of consciousness before death can feel like a literal eternity, one where your mind can create entire realities, from blissful to horrifying. So, in a way, the threat of enduring eternal suffering is entirely possible.

  These stories are extracts taken from The Narrator's mind as he looped around spending what we can only perceive as eternity, reliving them over and over again.

  CLOSE FROM THE NARRATOR

  THERE IS A THEORY THAT THE LAST moments of consciousness before death can feel like a literal eternity, the Natural Eternal Consciousness theory or the NEC. An Eternity where your mind can create entire realities, it can relive past moments, or it can do both at the same time. Such is the case with these stories, and they are that, stories.

  At the height of the pandemic, people were dying alone. Either at home quarantined, or in the hospital behind layers of protection, either way, they were alone, away from their families, friends, and loved ones. Life simply ended for too many people as a whisper.

  Then came an invention by a group of grad students, studying at the University of Alberta. Their field of expertise was the afterlife, and primary focus was what happens to someone at the exact moment they die. Their invention, while taking the NEC theory into account, made it possible to record the relived memories at the point of death.

  These stories were created in the mind of the narrator and extracted using the team's invention.

  The name of the narrator has been redacted. Though the details of his death can be shared. The narrator died during the pandemic of The Virus. He spent weeks in ICU before being let go. But before he died, the university team was about to test their invention on him.

  Because of the nature of the stories, it’s unclear if the invention worked properly. They each seemed to be skewed to the unknown, paranormal, or strange. It’s assumed that the mind of the narrator may have been altered by The Virus, but it’s unlikely The Virus would have altered the memories. The team assumed that there was an issue with the device until they discovered the Aurora Wasteland was a real thing. They learned that the stories conveyed were likely real.

  When asked for a comment from the website, they received a single sentence reply. “Welcome to the Aurora Wasteland.”

  TETHERED

  LIFE SHOULDN’T BE MARKED BY THE NUMBER of days that have passed since your birth, it should be counted by the number of days you can remember. Those days don’t come by often enough for most, myself included. Most of the time we have no control over when they come or what they bring. In 1982 I had one of those days, I remember everything about it. Some days are like that, some days are with you forever.

  It was summer and I had the kids working at the shop with me. Back then we didn’t have a lot of money, so every summer the older kids would come with me to work. Most of the time I’d give them small simple tasks. My eldest son Vince was old enough now that I could start giving him real responsibility. It was nice, it was like having an extra employee around, except he was ten and I didn’t have to pay him, perk of being the boss I guess.

  I’d opened Moe’s Trailers two years previous and I hadn’t taken a day off yet. Not because I was a workaholic or anything like that. You see it was because nothing ever got done when I wasn’t there. People would be stealing, not money but time. They just wouldn’t be doing what they should have been doing. So I had to be there.

  The day that changed everything was Aug 26, 1982. It was a busy one, people coming to rent trailers or buying hitches, trying to get things done before the end of the summer. I had Vince hooking up hitches in the lot. He must have done at least ten already that day. For a small town with a population less than 2000 that was a lot, granted there are a lot of farmers in the area, but still, it was a lot for us and he was getting good at it.

  Because of the population size, most people in Barrhead either knew each other or knew of each other. So, when I saw Smith for the first time I should have known something was up because well, I didn’t know him. He pulled up in his dull silver-colored Ford Taurus. A model I came to learn later wasn’t in production for another couple years. I didn’t see him walk up to the store but I remember seeing the car pull up, then I became distracted by another customer. The Taurus must have parked there for a good ten minutes before he came in.

  I had my second oldest in the shop with me, she was six and loved playing with the money. She’d take the cash from people and then hand it over to me. I liked having her there, people were less likely to want to rip off a six-year-old girl.

  When Smith finally came in he didn’t look around at all, he came right to the desk and asked for one of our trailer hitches. I’d like to say he made an impression on me then, but he didn’t, I remember he was pale, that’s all. If someone had asked me to describe him I’d simply tell you he was average and pale. He could have driven away and I’d never had thought about him again. But he didn’t - wait I’m getting ahead of myself.

  He paid for the hitch in cash, which Nicole took and I sent Vince out to hook it up for him.

  Like I said it was a busy day and the second he left the shop I was busy helping another customer. Vince knew what he was doing, and I didn’t have time to check on him. I thought nothing of it and moved on. Every
so often I’d steal a glance out the front window to make sure Vince and the other guys were still working. They always were, but it was a habit. So when I looked up and saw the man push Vince back against his car and raise his hand as if to strike him, I thought I was seeing things. But then it happened. A stranger brought his fist down on my ten-year-old boy.

  I calmly reached down under the desk and pulled out my baseball bat. It was my insurance. Occasionally people didn’t want to pay or felt they had been cheated. This was my way of making them pay. Only once before this had I ever had to use it, and it was to stop a robbery attempt. Most people see it, decide it isn’t worth it so simply pay and leave. Today the insurance was coming out for round two. Looking back, I’m surprised at how little I was thinking. Everything seemed to be slow but fast, no time to think just time to act.

  With the bat in my hand I hopped the counter and burst through the door, leaving Nicole in the shop. I only remember taking two steps across the parking lot, I felt like I was flying. The bat was cocked back over my shoulder and before the man noticed me, before he could even turn around, the bat was connecting with his head which caved in as if he were made of soft clay. He dropped to his knees then to his chest. Blackness pouring out of where his head used to be. I expected red, I expected blood, that’s not what I got.

  I grabbed Vince by the arm and pulled him up, I checked his face, it was red but he looked fine. Must not have been hit very hard. He was a tough kid. I remember telling him to get inside the shop and to lock the door behind him, which he did.

  I looked at the bat and noticed that it had black on it. Black from inside the man. My eyes went from the bat to the man and back again. What exactly was I looking at? Slowly the man’s insides flowed out of the hole I’d created in his head and ran across the parking lot to the sewer drain. The black tar moved slow and my heart beat quick. The amount of blackness running out of him as extraordinary.