by T. Rudacille
***
By then, my curiosity far exceeded my common sense. The reason my level of intelligence was so high above that of others around me was because of my never fully quenched thirst for knowledge and my curiosity that had always bordered on recklessness. I read every piece of writing available regarding things that interested me and even on some things that did not for as long as I could remember. So, when James offered to show me his proof that the world was ending, I couldn't refuse, despite not trusting him. I just had to know the whole truth.
When we arrived back at his apartment, though, I did exercise a little common sense by staying close to the door. As you have learned by now, I am not a fool.
“I am trying to figure out if I am stupidly gullible or if I can actually trust you.”
“I don't expect you to trust me right away, Brynna.” He replied absentmindedly as he pulled a small shoebox from the bottom drawer of the desk in the corner of his living room. He brought it over to where I was sitting and allowed me to open it. I explored the contents: web pages that were printed out, whole phrases and single words highlighted; transcripts of phone conversations and email correspondences, and lastly, pictures of people I didn't recognize.
“I have to start off my explanation by telling you that all of this began with a dream. I saw everything that I just showed you at the diner in that dream.”
I was listening but not looking at him. I was still too busy studying the papers in the box. A highlighted phrase on one of the pages read “Pangaea is ready to be colonized.” What the hell?
“Now, I know that you are familiar with night terrors. I was, also. But this...” He shook his head slightly, and I looked at him, seeing that genuine fear come over his eyes once again. It flashed by for just one fleeting second that almost convinced me I had imagined it. “It was like nothing I had ever experienced. I can't explain it. All people say after a bad dream that it was so real, and that's why it was so terrifying. But with this, I could feel the blast and I could feel my skin burning when the fire reached me.”
“What is it? What is going to explode?”
“I don't know.” He replied, shaking his head and avoiding my eyes. “It must be a bomb. A nuclear weapon, I’m guessing.”
“So there is going to be a nuclear war?” I asked, and my heart started to pound quickly again.
“I think there is. Others are sure. That's the next part of the story. I tried to push the dream out of my mind. I tried to go about my life as usual. Do you know how when you have a nightmare, for those few minutes right after you wake up, you still feel the same fear that you felt while you were dreaming?”
I nodded.
“Well, I felt continually throughout the days and just assumed that my mind was going back to the dream periodically, or that it was kind of stuck there, at the back of my mind. But I couldn't shake it. I couldn't shake the feeling I had. Not that first day, or the next, or the next. So, finally, I went online and searched for everything I could think of to explain away what I had felt. Here's where it gets very, very weird.” He rustled around in the papers until he found the one he was looking for. It was a print out of a discussion on a message board. “You know about online Trends, I'm sure. Searching trends?”
“Yes.”
“Well, 'lucid dreaming' was the number one search for days. I don't know if you noticed that.”
“I did not,” I replied, “And even if I had, I wouldn't have thought anything of it.”
“No one would have unless they had experienced what I did. So when I searched, the first link that came up was this message board. It was created two days after I had the dream. Read it.”
My eyes scanned the page. All of the posters were recounting the same dream, the same apocalyptic vision that James had shown me. The details of the dream were minute, except for the place in which the worst of it occurred. One poster was from California and had seen Hollywood Boulevard going up in flames. One poster was from London and had seen Big Ben fall to the ground in a mass explosion. Quite disturbingly, one poster said he was from Australia and had seen the blast coming towards him across a long, endless plain.
“Landmarks,” I muttered, “Most of them, anyway. That's odd.”
“I thought so, too. I think it's symbolism.”
“That's what I was thinking.” I agreed. “James, these details…” I scanned the page for one, “‘Exactly one minute and fifteen seconds after the blast,’ '…remember noticing the sun being blocked out by a light even brighter than it is...'”
“Exactly.” He nodded. “So, we met. About seven or eight of us who lived here in the US decided to meet in Boston, but more than seven or eight showed up. It was closer to fifty. If you saw these people, Brynna,” He trailed off again, “You couldn't know. The fear was so strong. We were all terrified. We knew beyond any doubt that we had seen the end of the world. During that meeting, we matched up the details of our dream again and said we'd keep in touch. Of course, at that point, we didn't know how much time we had left.”
“Do you know now?”
“I'm getting there. That night, we all had another dream. This time, we saw faces of people we didn't recognize and names. We knew that they could be found in the areas around where we lived. We also saw the Reapers and other things that I won't burden you with.”
“No, please, burden me. I want to know.”
There was that reckless curiosity again. Luckily, James had my best interests at heart and didn't unload those particular details on me then. I would have curled up on the ground and awaited my fate, petrified of having to face the other things.
“Later. Now is not the time. I don't know why the Reapers are after you, Brynna, but I have seen what they do to most people once they get them.”
I bit my tongue to keep from asking for the gory details.
“So I saw you and knew everything about you inexplicably. I knew I had to find you and convince you to come with me.”
“Come with you where?” I asked, feeling a surge of desperation for finite answers suddenly. “Is that what this is?” I showed him the paper with the diagram of the planet they were calling “Pangaea.”
“Yes. Several of us worked for the government: NASA, the CIA, the military. The ones from NASA were the ones who told us they have made huge leaps in space travel over the years that they've never told anyone about.”
“Why didn't they tell anyone?”
“Because of this. They said they didn't know why, but they had been told to keep this a secret. So, they did, out of fear of losing their jobs. That's good for us, though. A spacecraft has been built. It's large enough to hold five thousand.”
“How did they build something like that without anyone snooping around?”
“That's the next part of the story. You are well aware, I'm sure, that things go on behind closed doors in our government that we never know about. I mentioned that to you earlier.”
“Yes.”
“They have known about this, Brynna. They have known that the end is coming, and the spacecraft was built to take them away from here before it hits.”
“But they're responsible for this!” I exclaimed as fury overtook what fragile hold I had on my self-control. “If it is nuclear, if it is an act of war, then they started it!”
“They did. But since when does anyone's personal responsibility override their need to survive? They were planning to leave us all here to die.”
“For their mistakes!”
“Yes. But that is not our main concern. It will please you to know that we have other ideas. Our job right now is to gather as many people as we can and leave here before this thing happens.”
“How many people had the dream? How many people are out there trying to gather up others?”
“In the US, about sixty, I've been told.”
“Sixty?!” I actually put my face down on my knees, needing a moment to process the grave impossibility ahead.
“Sixty.” James said calmly. “In othe
r countries, put together, about four hundred.”
“Four hundred and sixty people are responsible for gathering up five thousand...” I took a deep breath that was meant to soothe me but only gave my heart the jolt it needed to beat faster. “We will never get enough, James.”
“We will. More and more people are having the dream, Brynna. More and more people are starting to realize what they have to do.”
“Why has no one said anything? Why has no one gone to the press?”
“Since when has the press ever believed anyone who predicted the end of the world?'
I did not reply, for I knew he was right.
“Plus, can you imagine the panic if people were to believe it? They're going to let this unfold without ever saying a word. No one will be warned.”
“So many people are going to die.” I whispered, more to myself than to him. The rush of blind consternation that went through me as that realization took hold is beyond anything I can describe. “There are billions of people in the world. There are good people who are all going to die now. There are children...”
It seemed ridiculous to say, but I just could not imagine a higher power so cruel that He would smite the world while children inhabited it. The notion of the innocent paying the price for the guilty crept into my head and forcibly turned my stomach.
“I know.” James told me, and I looked up to see my sadness reflected in him. “I can't believe it, either. But the fact is, we were given these visions for a reason. We were meant to save everyone that we can from this and start over somewhere else. We'll never be able to save them all. But we can save as many as possible, Brynna.”
I nodded, knowing, hating that he was right. I would have some choice words for a higher power as soon as my mind slowed down enough to think of them.
“Why us?” I asked, “Why were we the ones that were chosen?”
He studied me for a moment, clearly trying to decipher the answer to that question himself. All he could come up with was:
“We're lucky, I suppose.”
“Lucky by whose definition?” I asked before running my fingers through my hair. “What about supplies? This other planet is completely uninhabited, correct?”
“As far as we know.”
“So, how are we supposed to build a civilization out of nothing?”
“The ship can also hold five tons of cargo. The people who think that they're leaving have been gathering things for years.”
“I would call them such awful things. But I just cannot think of anything that is quite awful enough.” I looked at him, “James, how much time do we have?”
Once again, he fell into a lapse of silence and studied me. As the seconds ticked by so distressingly, I began to dread his answer more and more, until the feeling became so unbearable that when he opened his mouth to reply, I almost covered my ears to avoid hearing it...
“A day.”
