by J G Smith
I mouth an apology back to him before he’s completely out the door.
David assures me that it’ll all be sorted by morning. Well, most of it. Now, the tour guides are waiting to address us.
As it turns out, the girl told them everything, which isn’t much. She told them she couldn’t remember anything and that she saw me with some guy chasing me. That creates a bit of a stir as I rehearse my obliviousness.
One thing, however, catches me by surprise. The tour guides are very interested in this man she claims to have seen. Lighkame. I feel my heart sounding in my chest. Did she tell them what I told her? Are they looking for someone? That man from the entrance. It comes as a light bulb. They must know he’s missing. That’s who they must’ve meant earlier.
“This would be easier if we had a name to look up,” comments the tour guide that interrogated the girl, looking at her. “But for now, we need to figure out what we’re doing with you.”
The girl looks worried.
Skye, though, is stunned when her parents volunteer to tent the girl for the night. “She’ll need a place to sleep before social services arrives,” they say.
I feel the angst build up, but Skye doesn’t contend. She keeps her concerns to herself. What is it that Skye isn’t saying? What is she worried about?
Skye is called to give her statement, but not before David, Dylan and Bradley suggest returning to the campsite.
“We can’t just leave them,” I try to interject.
“It’ll be okay,” says Skye. “It’s just a statement.”
“And we have the girl,” assure her parents.
The girl seems worried, but I nod to ease her concern. “It’ll be okay,” I say to her, adding “See you in the morning?” for her and Skye.
They both concur. Though, Skye glares at the girl’s response before vanishing into the room where she’s to give her statement.
“Rob,” calls Bradley, inviting me to leave with him.
It’s dark outside and the sound of beeping nighlops fills the air. Lightaia has set and Lunarea sits queen in the glittered sky. I brace myself, by putting my jacket on, to shield against the cold and the same awry feeling from this morning enters my heart. Something’s coming. Skye mentioned it and I can feel it. I need some time with Skye, alone.
At the campsite, David finds Andrew and they get into a bit of an animated discussion. Andrew has his phone in his hand – he must’ve called Jennifer and Stephen – and Kyle is waiting with his bag and towel.
“We should shower and prepare for bed,” he suggests. “It’s been a long day.” The gang agrees and readies themselves as well. Kyle then grabs my arm. “He’ll be okay,” he assures. “He’s just not used to this kind of stuff.”
He’s referring to his dad and my blackouts. We haven’t actually spoken about them. Not properly. But he’s always been a quiet ally. I push a smile to acknowledge and thank him for his support.
“I just haven’t seen it this bad before,” he tells me with a quiver of concern.
“Neither have I,” I whisper, barely able to get the words out.
“Then maybe it’s a good thing my dad is calling your parents?” he proposes, feeling conflicted.
Bradley keeps close to my side as we head to the showers. Kyle and Steve are in the lead. I stop at the mirrors where Dylan begins brushing, flossing and bleaching his teeth; a little excessive, if you ask me. But that’s beside the point. I need a moment to pull my thoughts and feelings together.
Bradley struggles between staying with me and heading off to the showers without me. He fiddles with his towel and toiletries. Something’s bugging him. It has him wrangled.
“You okay?” I ask.
“All good,” he says, nervously. “I’m glad you’re back.”
At that point I remember the tour guide telling me that Bradley was the last to see me. “I wasn’t gone for long,” I say, in an attempt to calm his nerves.
He smirks and then looks down. I feel a question coming on. “Rob,” he mutters, under his breath.
I respond with a simple, “Yeah?”
“Who is James?”
I shrug. “I dunno. Why?”
“Just curious,” he answers. “You mentioned him before you ran off.”
Again, I shrug.
He shrugs too. “It’s okay, though,” he tells me. “You did say you wouldn’t remember.”
Wait… “What?” I ask him.
“Don’t worry about it,” he says, taking a few steps backwards and heading for the showers. I lean back, hands and hips against the sink countertop. I don’t like this.
In front of me is the stall with ashen sand. It’s still there, I think to myself. I wonder if the tour guides are looking for this person as well.
Dylan finishes up flossing and starts preparing his bleach infused mouthwash. He notices my gaze and steps closer. “You should’ve been here earlier this afternoon,” he starts, having a glimmer of satisfaction in his eyes. “Steve decided to use that toilet like a girl and, when he closed the door, I swear – no lies – there was a flash of red light.”
Right then, the room goes quiet. I see, from the corner of my eye, that Dylan is chuckling, but I don’t hear him. I hear my heart beating instead, slowly. I feel a piece of me being snatched from the inside and I cannot move. I stop breathing. Dylan realises that something is up and starts waving to get my attention. I see his lips moving, but I cannot hear a single word he’s saying. Even the showers seem to have stopped running.
My only thought is, Steve?
A tear rolls down my right cheek. How did I not see it? A wave hits. I’m numb. Another tear rolls down my left cheek, faster than the right. Dylan continues trying to get my attention, more and more aggressively, but it’s as if he’s still on mute.
I swallow. I feel my skin begin to tingle and start to see, in my mind, the static images of what’s around me. But my eyes are wide open. I see all the way to the showers… the splashing water, still running. My focus quickly shifts to Ste—Lighkame. How did I not see it?
The restroom lights flicker and I feel electric jolts now coursing through my veins.
Lighkame. He killed my friend.
CHAPTER FIVE
THE YOUNG BOY
Flash forward a few thousand years after the Mai fatality and the story continues with us—well, her. You see, there were a few of us here, on Earth, with certain peculiarities and varying experiences with alternate verses. Naturally, we were trying to figure it out on our own. But, admittedly, it was without much success.
A place called IRFGTA (International Research Foundation for Global Transversal Anomalies), or ‘the institute’, approached us and offered us guidance. They offered us safe passage into a whole new world. Or, should I say, a whole array of new worlds.
They started by teaching us what they knew about Alversia and increasing transversal anomalies. Then, they made it clear that we needed to be involved. I didn’t want to be. Seems selfish, I know. I was a teenager. I didn’t realise how important it’d be, or how much was actually at stake.
As our ventures progressed, we were recruited and shown the chamber project.
“Send her,” they said. “If anyone can do it, she can.”
I didn’t want her to go. But it happened anyway.
She was to find her Alversia. That was the intention. Unfortunately, things didn’t go according to plan. They almost never went according to plan. Instead, she ended up in Spectum. Instead, she ended up meeting Robert.
From there she went with Skye’s parents. They were nice people. They offered her a place to sleep when she had nowhere else to go. Skye, however, didn’t trust her sudden arrival. Especially after the dreams she’d been having. If I remember correctly, Skye was an oracle.
That’s something the two of them had in common – the dream part. That’s what made her the ideal candidate, said the institute.
Yes, we knew she’d lose her memories. That’s what happens when you force your way t
hrough a wall. Exploiting a weakness and railroading a bleed in natural laws always has its consequences. Oliver saw that.
I remember discussing it with him as I passed the chamber she left through, day after day. We had no idea when she’d return. That was the problem. While she was gone, we had no clue what was happening. All we could do was wait, trying to imagine how she felt.
It was only a matter of time, they said, before her visions would kick in… before she saw the past and not only the future. They were right in that regard. Though, her visions of the future would prove to play an equally important role.
When I think of her first dream, in that place, I’m reminded exactly why.
It took her to the top of a colossal skyscraper. There, she saw two large blue suns effulging brightly from the sky and a young boy with a determined look on his face. The suns’ rays danced graciously in his multi-toned hair.
Behind the boy stood three others; an older man, a wailed older woman and a younger woman facing the opposite direction. They were close together, holding themselves and each other back from following the boy as he started walking.
There was a shimmer—a shift in his position, to where he broke into a sprint. He was holding something. Then, it seemed, time skipped another beat, to where he was over the edge. His back could be seen as he plummeted facedown to the ground. Splat!
Then, the sky went black. The two blue suns struggled desperately to peer through a sudden black fog. Shadows.
The hazy scene then lingered on Reuben’s lifeless body, shrouded in darkness, before a purple feather covered in black spots appeared, taking centre stage. It swished delicately through the wind and came to a gentle rest over his body.
Then, as dreams do, it changed. The scenery faded grey and the purple feather became an engraved image on a black wall, above a coffin. She felt something—something familiar.
Pulling back, through a maze of a corridor, she saw the entrance of a tomb. Engraved on it was the name Oliver Curie. Now, that’s a mystery I’ve yet to solve. Under his name was the title The GiniFowl Herald and a spotted infinity symbol scratched through.
Pulling even further back, she was taken outside to the forest she was in earlier that day; the Phantom Forest, as Robert’s world called it. There she saw the peculiar building.
And that’s where her dream ended.
She woke up understanding that what she had seen was a dream; yet couldn’t shake the feeling that it was so much more. She couldn’t go back to sleep.
“Aren’t you cold?” asked Skye, still awake and tightly wrapped in her single blanket.
“I’m okay,” she responded, plainly. She was still in the same clothes as earlier; short khaki pants and a long-sleeved black top. Her scarf was next to her; along with the blanket Skye let her use.
Before Skye was able to express her dubiety on the matter of her not being cold, a loud siren went off. The two girls were on their feet and out of the tent almost immediately.
Red and blue lights flashed and spun for all to see, alerting an emergency.
“What’s happening?” inquired Skye’s father, also outside – along with his wife.
“It looks like it stopped at the men’s restroom,” reported Skye’s mother.
Instinctively, Skye took out her phone and tried calling Robert. His phone went straight to voicemail. She tried calling Bradley, but all it did was ring. There was no answer. She had a worried look on her face and seemed to know that they were somehow involved.
CHAPTER SIX
GHOST
“Rob,” calls Bradley, barely dressed. His hand is on my shoulder, trying to shake me awake. He’s okay, I think with a sense of relief.
I see Lighkame in front of me, nonchalantly dressed in Steve’s body. There’s a faint tug in my chest, interrupted by a sharp ringing in my ears. I’m flat on the ground. My head is spinning. I see clouds and a bright white light, but the power in the restroom is out.
I hear Kyle to my right. Only, his words are muffled by the incessant hum.
“Rob,” calls Bradley, again. I hear him.
I try lifting my arm to let him know, without success. I feel just as weak as earlier in the forest. My muscles are aching. My side is throbbing, burning, then numb. What did I do?
The restroom door swings open and a few paramedics enter. I see David enter my field of vision and rush to assist on my right. Dylan.
Bradley is sent to stand further away. A lady places her hands under my neck and tries speaking to me. Another grabs my wrist. I hear mumbling and random phrases over the chimes, then something cold on my shoulder.
“Robert,” echoes a faint voice, as if from a distance. It sounds like Bradley, but something says it isn’t. It sounds a little eerie.
The paramedics lift my shirt and peel the bandage off my side. It’s a gnawing discomfort, but it fades – as does the ringing. The room goes from loud to quiet, from gloomy to bright. My shoulders feel light. The aching is gone. I feel free.
The paramedics seem to have vanished in the light, along with everyone and everything else. I lift my head to look around and feel my body rise as I do. I’m brought to stand just above the ground. I’m floating.
I stretch my arms out and very nearly see through them. Nope, I tell myself. I couldn’t have. I take a deep breath, but feel nothing enter my lungs. I think I know what’s happening. I just don’t want to think about. Maybe it goes away, like the other things. It’ll work itself out, I tell myself.
In the midst of my focus, I hear my name, again and get a fright.
“Robert,” echoes the eerie voice. Not as faint as before. Bradley? No.
I take a step forward, feeling nothing beneath my feet. Please, no. I’m starting to feel cold, much colder.
“Robert,” attempts the voice once more, more coherently.
“Hello,” I call, with my voice sounding hollow.
I see a figure in the distance, struggling to hold its form. “There isn’t much time,” it says – the same voice which had been calling my name.
“For what?” I ask, with my voice still hollow.
The figure dissipates completely. I look around, verging on frantic. What was that?
“There isn’t much time,” it repeats, appearing before me. “You need to find her.”
Who? I feel the words ‘I don’t understand’ ready to slip from my tongue.
The figure has the shape of a man – mid-twenties with nothing but a pair of tracksuit pants and a pair of shoes. Tribal tattoos run down his right arm and toned upper chest. He has short hair, ridiculously familiar eyes and a bluish tinge and a faint glow. The kicker? I can see right through him, except for the tattoos. He’s a ghost and I’m afraid that I’m one too.
“Robert,” calms the ghost, his voice now soft and gentle – despite the eerie echo. “I know it’s a lot to take in. You don’t have to worry, though. You’ll wake up soon.”
His voice, though. I know it from somewhere. “Who are you?” I ask.
“We don’t have time for that,” he states.
“Tell me who you are,” I demand, feeling more confident.
I haven’t been in control of a lot of things today and I’ll be damned if I continue to let that happen.
“I can’t,” he says. Where have I heard that before? He remains collected. “I can tell you that I’m here on behalf of Rex.”
“Who’s Rex?”
“You’ll find out soon,” he tells me. I feel the space around me begin to warp. “Now, you need to find the Arcane Messenger. She’ll have a message to deliver, alongside the herald. Listen. The fate of reality depends on it.”
What? I think to myself. What is he on about? I feel an uncomfortable tug attempting to pull me back to the ground. Who is the Arcane Messenger?
“She’ll be able to explain everything,” echoes his voice. “Though, not to you.”
What?
“Find the Arcane Messenger,” he repeats. “She’ll see the future, and she’ll have a mes
sage to deliver.”
A strong electric pulse strikes my chest. The ghost evaporates and I’m hauled to the ground, back to where I was. The paramedics are around me. The light is gone and my muscles are aching once more.
“We have him,” I hear someone say, sounding relieved.
I’m back. I—I don’t…
§
The morning breaks with scattered rays across the room. It’s quiet, except for the reassuring beat coming from a vitals monitor attached to me. I’m in a hospital bed; the only one in this room. The mattress is soft and the sheets feel crisp.
Across from me is Bradley, seated in what looks to be an old, worn-out chair. His head and arms are rested on the mattress. He must’ve been here all night. That’s my person.
“Robert,” shrieks a panicked, yet relieved, voice. It’s Jennifer, coming from the other side of the room.
In chorus, I hear a haunting mimic. It’s the ghost, playing at the back of my mind, calling my name and telling me to find the Arcane Messenger.
“Are you okay?” she asks, concerned. I nod.
Bradley wakes up. “Hey,” drags his voice, happy to see me, but still half asleep.
“Hey,” I say in answer.
“It’s good that you’re okay,” interrupts Jennifer, sounding a little frantic. “Now I can ask, what’s going on? Your friend’s dad called to say that you were causing a whole lot of trouble. Then I hear that you’re being rushed to hospital. We had to come all the way from our vacation. Can’t we let you go anywhere?”
Bradley’s smile twists and his face becomes contorted, as if to say, “I’m sorry, dude.” I’m sure he has his own questions, though. I haven’t even wrapped my head around what happened in the restroom.
Jennifer puts her hand to her head. “We’ll talk about this later,” she says, sighing. “I’ll go find your dad and let him know you’re awake.” As she walks out, she adds, “I put your phone on charge. It’s on the table, corner of the room.”
Bradley rubs his eyes and gives a gargantuan yawn. “You feeling okay?” he asks.
