Not bothering to grab his book, Wayne took off his glasses, shut off his bedside lamp, and drifted to sleep.
Dreams came easily enough. In a timeless succession of breaths, he was metaphysically transported to an open pasture. Naked, he stood alone in the middle of a giant blackened circle out in the middle of an unfamiliar wilderness. He was aware of the swelling sounds and smells of a cooling fire. Faint crackles and pops puffed up little clouds of dust from the ground around him. Phantom structures of fallen trees that were instantly incinerated lay for miles within the circle; salted pillars of dead cells piled on top of one another like ancient sandcastles. The circle’s outer circumference was edged with thick stands of charred pine and maple. Soft winds fanned the embers, causing the ground to momentarily glow at each gust. The flat earth at his naked feet felt hot, the thick layer of soot protected his pink skin from burning on the sweltering rocks rising from the brittle soil. What used to be miles of green grass and trees was scorched to a fine powder. Reverted elements floated about and around the open patch of land like dirty snowflakes.
Wayne tried to walk to the treeline, but couldn’t. His legs moved ahead of him, but the distance never lessened. The distant line’s edge, barely visible on the horizon, seemed to move along with every step he took. He felt as if he were walking in place, feet sliding against the moving black tread warming his heels. Delirious, Wayne twirled around and around, running in different angles trying to escape the center of the giant cinder. He sprinted for what felt like miles until tripping over his own feet and falling flat on his face. Lungs over spilling like an ashtray, Wayne rolled onto his back, heaving and spitting up into the unfiltered air.
Staring up into space, his eyes shrank and his body violently trembled at what floated above him.
Looking down through the clouds of drifting dust was himself. His mirror image filled the sky like a picture folded in on its face. Looking up into his own astral reflection made him feel like tearing out his eyeballs with a rusty melon baller.
It is time. We require assistance.
The alien voice boomed at him from his own lips above. Its stern voice echoed across the hills. He listened as the words bounced off every object, their vibronic intensity toppling phantom pillars of ashen trees. Wayne was powerless to look away as his sky bound doppelganger reached out through the clouds. With eyes of glass, he gazed up as the other him extended its arm, index finger pointed out, and kept reaching. The arm dropped miles at a time, falling straight to Earth like a comet on a string,
We require another harvest. The time of assimilation is now.
He knew that voice. It was the voice of a thousand voices speaking at once. An artificial tongue manufactured with symbiotic technology from beyond the veil of space and time. Wayne didn’t want to admit it to himself, but there was no point in denying it any longer.
They were back.
An unseen force pinned him in place as he watched through the curtain of clouds separating the kissing twin planets. Negative fields of immense pockets of gravity grinded against his naked body as both massive objects spun against each other. Wayne laid helpless, arms and legs pinned to the ground, as the arm stretched closer and closer. Gaining velocity, Wayne watched in paralyzed terror, bracing himself for impact.
With the hold over his mouth broken, he screamed and thrashed his chest about, the ashes beneath him coating his sweat-laced body in soot. No matter how much he fought, some invisible force held him down as the celestial hand closed in. Shutting his eyes against the touch, Wayne felt the sensation of two hands, one alive and one dead, simultaneously tap him on the forehead. He felt an immense pressure behind his skull and then a searing bright light turned the folded-up sky to a white sheet.
For no time, and all time, from primordial birth to the death of aeons; he existed in the void.
When Wayne’s physical eyes opened, he was sitting up in bed, fully awake.
This time there were no questions.
He knew exactly what needed to be done.
Ionic Resurgence
Book Two of The Doll Man Duology
Coming 2018
Ionic Relapse: Book One of The Doll Man Duology (Volume 1) Page 19
