Lies and Legends

by Logan Keys

  I shut my eyes at his almost glare. “That’s being unfair, I know it. He could be dead. He could be undead. But thanks to you we have him.”

  The doctor’s blue eyes are like shields for his thoughts instead of windows to his soul. “Are the pamphlets helping?”

  I shrug. “I’m not there to find out, am I?”

  “What do you plan on doing?”

  “I plan to return to Anthem. But. He has to come with me. It will revive him to see the city, I think.”

  “When?”

  I shrug, angrily. “When will he be healthy enough?”

  “That’s why I’m here. Maybe you should sit down.”

  “What? What is it?” The weight of the world crushes down onto me, but I say, “I’m good.” Refusing his offer of a chair.

  The doctor sits instead. “All right. Jeremy won’t be ‘healthy’ probably ever again. I’ve brought people from other things. But not from fully purged and back again. I’m not as worried about him becoming like a guard as I am him becoming comatose and…”

  I swallow. “Turning…?”

  “Yes.”

  “Undead. You think he’ll turn? I mean soon?”

  “I do. Eventually.”

  I nod. “Because we all will, right? The purge wasn’t spiders it was zombie stuff. We know more about what they do.”

  “I always knew. But, yes.”

  “So. We are infected.” I give a dry laugh. He nods. “You can’t fix that, though?”

  “No.”

  “Is Liza infected?”

  “No. The machine made the zombies yes, similar output, similar side effects, but different results.”

  “How?”

  “They are more like infection from over there, without purpose, a mutation. They are a corruption of it. The specials, Phillip, Liza, and the soldiers, they are all what Simon and I created using the elements from Chronos… I guess you could say in a controlled environment, properly. They are a separate thing, purposefully introduced straight from the source. Zombies are a reaction from the carelessness of mixing impure strains of the elements we’d collected, samples, into a dead person. The deadness is what causes an issue. And even that I can circumvent if I am the one there to cure the dead, but it’s rare that the results are good. One in a million actually.”

  “Like Liza and Phillip? There aren’t more?”

  “No. Only those two after many, many experiments. Because I don’t have the machine, and because they are from what I could keep with me, and also from me.”

  “From you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Your blood…” I say it breathlessly.

  “Yes. Somehow I lived through my visit through the machine. I think it has to do with how a person is made. Some go in and die. Some go in and morph into zombies. Others become as Simon and I are. I had to see.”

  I feel sick. “They are like children to you, almost.”

  “Sort of. Simon had a child. He did the same. It worked. She was a special from that transfusion without going into the machine and not corrupted, but rather healthy. I don’t know what became of her, but she was probably the purest and strongest of everyone. I thought maybe with Liza and Phillip, I could do that.”

  “But Phillip has been purged too.” I hold my stomach. It’s all too much. Would I lose them both? Phillip and Jeremy?

  “I’m not sure it will hurt him like it did you. He’d be possibly immune after being treated here.”

  “Why would you treat Phillip?” But I already know. And then later, Phillip had brought me to the doctor for help. “That first person who was corrupted in the machine, they became a zombie and then that infection spread somehow. Why would Simon do that?”

  “He was trying to save the life of someone he loved.”

  “Who was it?”

  “It’s not important.”

  I raise a brow and cross my arms. What would he gain by hiding something from me at this state?

  “So, you left him to his madness after the infections spread?”

  “I did. I stole one thing before I left. A sword. It was made from the same things as Chronos. I believe in the dark ages someone forged it from the steel. They may have used it against the undead. It might have been a thing that has happened several times.”

  “It’s not in history books.”

  “The truth gets lost. Especially when there is no one hardly left to write it. Especially when it sounds like fiction.”

  I nod. That might make sense, I suppose. Each civilization falling under the weight of their abuse of the machine in some way.

  My eyes burn when I think of Jeremy’s plight. “You can’t just, I dunno, uncorrupt us?”

  “No.”

  I can see it in his windowless eyes. Our fate is sealed. “Oh, well.” I give a fake laugh. “By all means. Just give me the bad news, doc.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  I frown and rub my forehead. “Don’t be. It makes sense. I’ll be the thing I fear most. No big deal.”

  “You won’t.”

  I glance up at him. “If Jeremy turns, I am already dead anyway.”

  Chapter 28

  Dallas

  I recognize him right off.

  A handsome man with bright hair and a glowing face---opposite to what I know him to be, but I still spot him straight out of the group of others. It’s like I knew him all along. But as the crowd flows by, they don’t see him.

  He doesn’t see me either, he’s too busy staring at the rude people running into him, almost over him, in their rush.

  They ignore him as he says, “Hey. Excuse me.”

  People start brushing into him even harder. Then they almost knock him down.

  I try to get to him, to help, and soon a wave of people has overcome the tall man in the hustle.

  “Shade,” I call out, but then wonder if in dreamland he’d even answer to that name.

  He wasn’t always Shade. Then again, I wasn’t always Dallas.

  Careful, because I know how easily it upsets a person when they find me inside of their dreams---I’ve tripped into a few, it’s too personal---they become aware, then they become embarrassed. I learn their fears, their loves, what they miss most.

  I’d hate for them to be in my dreams, so I get it.

  But when Shade is swarmed with bodies, run over, and is beaten down, suffocating beneath an endless flow of humans, I can’t help myself.

  I rush over, and I yank people away until I find his hand. Gripping him tightly, I pull him out of the pile.

  He breaks free, shrugging me off, running from the crowd a few steps, breathing hard, eyes wild.

  Shade looks so haunted that I feel like I should look away, give him privacy.

  When he turns to face me, confusion clouding his bright green eyes, a gorgeous color of moss ---no more red lasers, no shadow face, these irises are clear and baleful, but now his gaze flickers between anger and fear---he whispers, “Dallas…?”

  I sense his shame, but he stands tall.

  “I understand,” I say with a lame gesture toward the people who now walk around us without disruption.

  “Do you?” he asks placing his hands in his pockets.

  “Yes,” I try. “I don’t get to live in the day. You don’t get to live in either. That part, from my own past, yeah, I get it. Being invisible.”

  I place a hand through my hair, then drop it by my side.

  He stares at my hand, and I try to distract from the awkwardness of his gaze of longing.

  My smile is easy. “You are mighty handsome there, Shade.”

  I want to ask him his real name. But…how dare I?

  “This is a new look for you, as well.” He motions to the mirrors that appear along the wall.

  In the image, I’m me. The normal version. Auburn hair, freckles, green eyes much darker than his own, and without any vampire moonlike skin. Gone are the bright red eyes, and the scary teeth. Jeans and a t-shirt cling to my frame instead of leather.

&nb
sp; “What now?” I ask. “I’ve never just hung out in a dream before.”

  He smiles. It’s too brilliant to be real. “We could get something to eat.” He turns and creates a food court.

  “Food,” I say, frowning. How long has it been since I’ve eaten a regular meal? “Can you eat? I mean when you’re awake.”

  “No.”

  “Not at all?”

  “Not at all,” he says, and the words drop like a thousand-pound elephant in every room.

  Maybe I’d prefer that.

  “But in here,” he says, “we can eat normal food. Sounds nice, huh?”

  I’m the one knocking people over now. I want a cheeseburger. “We can have anything we want, right?” I ask, and Shade grins.

  And we do. We eat burgers and fries and it feels so real. We people watch. His mind hasn’t forgotten a thing of normalcy and our past.

  “I miss this,” I say.

  “I figured you were too young.”

  “Yeah grandpa, I was born after the zombies, right?” I shake my head. “They were about when I was probably nine, but nothing endemic. The world was the same longer to me than anyone. We stayed at the farm far after the Authority left and built Anthem. It was like a bubble that all of that evil couldn’t touch.” I clear my throat. “Tommy… and I…” I nearly choke on my dream burger.

  “So, you’ve never been to Anthem.”

  “Nope.”

  “I have. I mean, early on. I saw the walls. Never got inside. Sometimes I wonder if it’s still there or if the guards are just rogue and running off a memory.”

  I shrug. Conspiracy is the way of life now. “Then we went to the Underground here. We joined.”

  “And?”

  I shrug again and squirt some ketchup out of the bottle, staring at it like a marvel.

  He gets me. He stops asking.

  Chapter 29

  Dallas

  I’m in Shade’s dream again today.

  “You came,” he says.

  “You nap a lot,” I reply.

  So, Shade must day-sleep like I do. So few people are actually asleep during the day. Bradford must get his night’s rest at certain points, because I can’t lock onto his mind whatsoever.

  Then I find myself drifting to Shade. I can’t help it. “I’m supposed to be in Bradford’s.”

  “I just worked out in the gym,” he says. “I imagine all these cool machines we never had.”

  “Did you do that a lot? Before?”

  “Yeah.”

  I keep watching him even as he strips down and enters the shower. The dream does that to people. It’s like being drunk. They don’t feel sober enough to worry about things like nudity or embarrassments because it’s not real. And I don’t worry about seeing them naked because it’s like watching a movie for me. You don’t feel embarrassed for the people on the screen.

  Shade’s under the spray, water dripping off his perfect face. He turns away, and his back is ripped with muscle.

  “I know you’re still there,” he says.

  “You dream of showering.”

  “Yeah. I dream of normalcy. A good hot shower. Man, I miss that more than food. Our generators are shot. We only use them for light now. Which I don’t need, anyway.”

  “The girls have hot water.”

  “Figures. They are smarter. Wanna join me?”

  I back away. This too, I’ve noticed, is the bolder sense of “unreal” that becomes part of the dream. You can make mistakes in here, because, what does it matter?

  It matters.

  “No,” I say, and I look away. I’m trying to get out of his dream. I try to control it.

  “Dallas,” he whispers.

  And then I’m back in my bed.

  Chapter 30

  Dallas

  I’m in my own dream today. I’m in my kitchen, and the same as always, I’m in a normal outfit and cooking. I glance out of the window, the place is overgrown already, and when I check again, my outfit has changed and everything is aged.

  So soon? This is premature to my other dreams like this.

  Outside, the sky is orange and there are no children.

  I risk a glance where he should be, but there is only a shadow in the furthest corner.

  Shade is here. And he’s watching me.

  “Are you really there?” I say.

  Is he a dream? Or is this himself brought into mine?

  “Yes.”

  I wildly glance around, and shout, “You must leave! What if he comes back!”

  Or what if Shade sees the other part with my father? Or with Toby.

  What if he sees Tommy?

  “Get out!”

  I sit up in my bed, sweat soaking my clothes, my eyes searching the room just to be sure. I relax when I verify I’m good and awake, and alone. I curl into a ball.

  The dream is gone.

  I’ve wished it all away from my head successfully.

  As soon as it’s dark, I leave the room to walk in the shadows, hoping to hide from Shade, but I sense him all too soon for my liking. I’m not sure if he’s haunting me or if I’m haunting him.

  Maybe we haunt one another.

  I turn to face him. “Stop following me.”

  “Stop following me into my dreams.”

  “Stop following me into my thoughts.”

  Shade charges forward, unaware of his spatial issues, and crowds me until I’m forced to either let him invade my area, or back away. He seems ready to say something but then grabs me.

  He kisses me. His shadow face is light as a feather, and firm and cold and otherworldly at the same time. It’s mind numbing. And I like it way too much so I pull away.

  “You’re thinking of him again, aren’t you?”

  “Him who?” I ask, panic gripping my throat.

  “Your friend, Dallas. Your dream is pretty much a shrine to him. I can tell you have a hard time letting him go, but it’s never too late for a new dream. One that doesn’t include aprons. How do you know you even love him like you think you do? We aren’t who we once were.”

  When I freeze over, eyes glazed, unfocused, seeing the past, unwilling to let it go, no matter what’s right in front of me, he sighs.

  “You don’t know anything about me,” I say, spilling out the lie, rewarded with its bittersweet aftertaste.

  “Look,” Shade says, the back of his fingers grazing my cheek. “I know you want to live in the shadows, you thrive there. Who can understand that better than I?”

  I step away. “It’s easier there. I’m not sure I can love anymore. In my heart, there’s a place that loves people who can’t return it, who are gone, because it’s like that’s all I can do. Love memories.”

  “Someday, you’ll find the strength to love through the hatred.”

  “Hate? Who said anything about hate?” My lip quivers and in that moment, I do hate. Him.

  He’s so fast I don’t see him move, or even notice anything has changed, but he’s cradling my face once again.

  “Oh, Dallas,” he says. “There are no lies between us. Aren’t we the same? We have shared our dreams, our yearnings, our past, what more can be shared? Two of the dark hearts, and hatred is our fuel for life. Our plight is similar. I know you have more in your past to hate than to love, and I know you feel like you can’t let go of any of it… but I wish that you would.”

  I push him away. “Don’t come into my dreams anymore.”

  “Don’t come into your dreams or your heart?”

  “Either.” Trying to soften the blow, I add, “I’m not worth all of this, anyway.”

  He smiles. “You don’t know how lovely you are to me. And it only makes you lovelier. I’ve been looking for you my entire life. With or without the shadows, the fall of this place, our new nature, I know that I would have found you.”

  “And I’ve been looking for someone else.” I blink through the tears. “But that’s all pointless now.”

  Shade laughs, self-deprecatingly. “Is it this? Is
it my face?”

  I start laughing. I can’t help it. I bend over, hands on my knees, breathing deeply, then letting it out in guffaws. I almost fall over with the release of emotion. I laugh and laugh and then I start crying. I let myself slump down to my knees and Shade bends over me. “What?”

  I pound the dirt with my hands and I whip my head back and forth in negation. I cry for me. I cry for Shade. I cry for Joelle. I cry for Joseph. His son. Even his stupid wife. I cry for Tommy. I let myself feel it once again. But most of all, I cry because of the men in my life who robbed me of my future. A love I could feel, a sensitivity I must have lost. A hardness they beat into me with each abuse.

  “How can the span of a life hurt so much when I’m barely eighteen?”

  “Oh honey,” Shade says, coming to his knees as well. “Is that all? You’re just a girl. The dark gift has made you seem older. I’m so sorry to push you. It’s too soon.” Shade tilts my chin back up to look up into what would be his eyes. “Nobody said it would be easy. Right? They just pushed us out into existence and they thought our future would be bright but not without hardships. No one could know what kind of darkness we’d wind up a part of. Or what we’d have to do to start over.” He points to the sky. “But, look,” he says.

  It used to be starless. Now they are twinkling bright. The smoke is moving away day by day.

  “It’s not your face, Shade,” I say. “I never even thought about thinking you weren’t good-looking enough for me. I’m the ugly one here. I mean, in my eyes. I’ve been too ugly for everything in my life.”

  “Such a shame,” he says.

  “Why?”

  “Because you are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Perhaps too beautiful for everything in your life. And not just your face. Inside.”

  I put my hands onto his face and touch the darkness. It’s as ethereal as always. Firm, but cold and made of… other.

  “Kiss me again,” I say. “I won’t push you away. You haven’t rushed me at all. I’m not… new at this. Not even, well, that’s not the issue. I want to prove to you that it’s not how you look, Shade. I know how you look. Every inch. You are perfect. Okay?”